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<\|description\|>Emilia Rose Carter Dr. Emmy \| Carter \| Emmy --- --- "When life gives you lemons, make some lemonade!" --- --- Birthday & Age May 6 \| 29 Santa Ana, California Gender & Sexual Orientation Female \| Closeted Bisexual Other Labels Sweetheart \| Caucasian \| American \| Agnostic \| Liberal Occupation Pediatrician Specialized in Neonatal Medicine --- --- "I'm walking on sunshine, woah! \| And don't it feel good!" --- --- Personality The Positive: * Sweet * Kind * Patient * Energetic * Loyal * Caring * Affectionate The Negative: * Emotional * Too Trusting * Wears her heart on her sleeve * Can be a little annoying sometimes * Naive Evaluation Observations: Upon first encounters, you may notice that Emmy is this bubbly, energetic ball of sunshine. She always has a smile on her face, and no matter the circumstances she sees the bright side of things. She's the type to try and cheer up her coworkers and bring little baked goods for everyone every once in a while to brighten up their day. She's also very patient, kind-hearted and smart. Actual Personality: When you get to know Emmy, you realize that what you saw in your first encounter is what you get. However, the fact that she's single with no children makes for a rather lonely life, as there is nothing more that she wants so badly than to have a family of her own. Rumor has it that she can get a little too attached to her tiny patients because she doesn't have children of her own. Sometimes, when she lets her guard down, you could catch her crying over not being able to help a patient or some other little thing (once she cried over not making enough cupcakes for everyone because she'd miscounted). --- --- "Live life to the fullest, and focus on the positive." - Matt Cameron --- --- My Dreams Even though Emmy has achieved most of her dreams by becoming a pediatrician and saving the lives of many newborns and children, there are still some things she wants to do. One of Emilia's dreams is to live her own love story, get married to that special someone, and to have a few of those wonderful babies she loves so much. In order to achieve that, though, she needs to find that Prince Charming first. Fears * Infertility * Being Eternally Single * Losing her job * Losing a patient Likes * Babies and Children * Pop music * Her job * Cheesy Romantic TV Series * Cheesy Romance Novels * Romantic Comedies * Coffee * Margaritas Dislikes * Self-centered people * Drugs * Cheaters * Hard liquor * Tequila shots (after a rather memorable college incident) * Any life-threatening ailment to her little patients Reputation The resident sweetheart with the heart of gold, who wears that very same heart on her sleeve.</s> <\|message\|>Christopher Lewis Freeman Christopher Freeman I'm not gonna swallow the lie that I'm fed Cos I want the world coming down on my head You're gonna find out you're already dead And I was the world coming down on your head --- "I don't think you understand, son. There's an emergency. It's probably an absolute ruckus up there. Do you think my ears can handle that kind of noise? No, precisely. So you'll have to deliver the flipping blood samples yourself, won't you?" It was common knowledge among interns that you do not want under Dr Christopher Freeman. Ever. He would work them hard and use them for menial tasks that are too dull for him. This one was impressive, he had been working under Christopher for three weeks and his spirit hadn't been broken. Christopher liked the young man's spunk and determination, and therefore felt the need to work him harder than usual. As the boy ran off with the blood tests, Christopher moved quickly to the young man's work station in the lab. He seemed to be working on some equation he couldn't get the hang of for school. Topher was also known for being helpful towards those who he respected, so sticking to that image, he wrote out the hardest part of the work for the young man, and left him a note telling him that he just earned a 30 minute coffee break. He returned back to his desk, cleaning up various test tubes and watch-glasses. This was the menial part of his job, cleaning up his mess. He truly adored his work, but it could be a bit tiresome. Nonetheless, without him the entire hospital would collapse. He was one of the best lab techs in the U.S., and everyone knew it, including himself. What he was doing was important research for the sake of the country. Or something like that, the usual spiel his mother gave him whenever she visited him. He nodded at the intern as he came back. "Right then, I'm off on my break. I think I'll go and help with the ambulances. You'll know where to find me." His voice was unnaturally slow and he meticulously pronounced each syllable, a trick he learnt from speech therapy. "Are you sure, Dr Freeman? I mean, you just said you wouldn't go up there... And you look exhausted..." "Calm down, Lucas. I'll be just fine. What's the point of working in a hospital if you can't help 24/7." As he entered the auditorium, the wailing sirens screamed over his thoughts. It almost hurt him, sending him into a state of panic. He was tired, and his sensitive ears were getting the better of him. He needed to get out, but he wanted to help. That was his job. That being said, he never usually had to deal with this kind of noise. Taking a few deep breaths, he prepared for the worst. If distressed relatives needed help, he'd be there. If an impromptu blood test was needed, he'd be there. He looked around the room, spotting Tamara Hayes standing around, presumably as determined to help out as he was. He didn't think she was particularly bad company, so he walked up to her, coughing to make his presence know. "Well hello there. Someone looks tired today. Were you working all night or...?" Small talk was, clearly, not his forte.</s> <\|message\|>ari saleh alnaeli SALEH ALNAELI --- They day started like any normal day that he would have had coming back from his one free day off. Saleh got in an early morning work out at the gym followed by a stop at his favorite coffee joint for a dark coffee with no sugar. The darker the better as it helped energize and fuel his body for whatever was going to come next during his shift. Things were always unpredictable at Caduceus Memorial Hospital, something Saleh secretly enjoyed. Sure he was a man who favored routine, but being a doctor there never really was a routine, just rituals one did before the day would begin. That's what kept him sane, having rituals to keep his thoughts aligned on the straight and narrow. Being at CMH for a little more than a year, Saleh was still trying to integrate himself more into the community. Sure he was well liked by most of his superiors and the interns, but his other colleagues he needed to find more time to get to know. That was one thing he knew that he was lacking in as he was always throwing himself onto a case rather than getting to know those around him. His father would have been proud of all the work he has been doing, but his mother on the other hand would have bickered that he didn't have any friends to keep him company while he was there. As he pulled up into the Caduceus Memorial staff parking lot his phone's emergency text vibrated and rang. There was a colossal mess of an accident and his name was on team one of the triage. Without hesitation he bolted out of his car and rushed inside, leaving most of his belongings in his car other than his badge and scrubs. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into his car, swapping on his scrubs as he entered the hospital lobby, making his way to the trauma center. Saleh hadn't read who else was on the triage team as it never really mattered, the only thing that mattered to him was that he was summoned so he was going to do his job. But, it did ease his mind at who he was teamed with as all the doctors at CMH were competent enough, he knew with confidence those who stood before him were some of the best there. "Dr. Kim, Dr. Ivanov." He said with a respectful greeting bow. "Glad to be working with you today." Sure Saleh sounded like a kiss-ass with his good morning's, but it was how he was raised and it stuck on him like glue.</s>	<\|message\|>Emilia Rose Carter 'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know, the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah. No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no --- --- Once Xander had left the room, Emilia decided it was her turn to depart the premises as well. Sighing, she got up from the bed, stretched and glanced around the room, trying to locate every piece of her clothing. Once every item was accounted for, Emmy began her treasure hunt, taking the opportunity to do some retrospection about her life -and what she'd failed to accomplish in it so far. At the tender age of eighteen, right after graduating high school, young Emmy had decided to make a 10-year life plan for herself. Said plan consisted of the top five things she was dead-set on accomplishing in the next ten years: get her Pediatrics degree, land a job in one of the top medical facilities in the country, afford the car and home of her dreams, get married and have at least one child. Out of five, she'd managed to accomplish three of her goals. But for the blonde, the two goals she'd failed to reach were the ones the held the most significance to her. Not only had she not done so in the time period established, but she was also three months shy of that dreaded 30th birthday… And no sign of settling down in sight. Dressing herself, Emilia tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which things had gone wrong. Had it been when she'd decided to part ways with Wilfred Thompson back in her senior year? They'd been such a serious, stable couple for the best part of two years- until their career choices had taken them down different paths. Maybe if they had found a way to make it work, he could possibly have been the one to grace her with the blessing of marriage and children… Or had it been when she'd refused to take back Julius Kennedy back at the end of her sophomore year of college? Sure, he'd been a serial cheater and an overall douchebag. But what if her love was the key to him turning his life back around? What if, by neglecting to save Julius, she'd really lost her one opportunity at making her two biggest dreams a reality? Or had it been back that last December, when she'd ended up in Dr. Alexander Ivanov's bed after having one too many martinis and margaritas at the Christmas staff party? Had it been then, when she'd failed to hold her ground in her search for her soulmate and instead had consented to what would end up becoming a sting of meetings for casual sex? No matter how hard she thought about it, Emmy would never know which had been the second in which she'd fallen down this pit of despair; the one that had turned her into the kind of woman to hook up in broad daylight at her own workplace. Sighing, Emilia would take one last glance at the scene of the crime before making her 'Walk of Shame' to the nearest staff bathroom. She'd secretly prayed that the room would be empty on her arrival to save herself the judgemental looks. However, said prayers went unanswered, because as Emmy opened the door she found herself staring at none other than Victoire Bailey. Emmy died a little inside at the disapproving look Vic shot her as she washed her hands. "Someone's had a good morning," the raven-haired woman had commented, drying her hands on the cheap paper towels close to her. "You could say that…" the blonde sighed, taking up a spot on the first sink. She took a paper towel, wet it a little and began to wipe the mess that was her mouth and jaw. "You know that means the rest of the day will probably go to hell, right?" "Well, you know what I always say: when life gives you lemons, you just have to make some sweet, delicious lemonade." Emmy replied in her usual bubbly fashion, rummaging in her purse for her makeup bag. She quickly touched up the bottom half of her face with some powder foundation, put on a fresh coat of lipstick and fixed up her disheveled hair before turning back to Victoire. "Actually, Vic, I was heading down to the lounge for some coffee…" she trailed off, having second thoughts about what she was going to do but deciding to take a shot anyway. "And I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me? I kind of want to talk to someone about something, and I thought that maybe you could be that someone…?" Both women were making their way out of the bathroom when a familiar voice greeted them. Looking up, Emilia realized it was Abraham Cross: Victoire's partner in crime and resident hotshot lawyer with which the blonde had a story with… More news at 10. "Hey, Abe!" she happily replied to the man, shooting him the brightest of smiles. When asked about the haircut, Emmy giggled and waved a hand. "Nope, no new hair! Just same old me."</s>
<\|description\|>Athena Victoire Bailey CMH Personnel File Birthday & Age May 1st, 29 Gender & Sexual Orientation Female, Bisexual Other Labels Bitch. She got called 'Elsa' once, does that count? No? Well she's about as white as any other Caucasian lady, isn't into finding out any of that ancestry crap, so...it is what it is. Occupation Resident Lawyer, or as she so lovingly puts it, Professional Ass Shield --- --- "You're making me Ice Cold." --- --- CMH Psychological Evaluation Personality The Positive: * Has an excellent memory. Pretty good at remembering people's names and occupations, as well as their general personality and little things they mention to her. * Knows how to talk to anyone, and can handle even the most annoying patient with relative ease. * Genuinely does whatever it takes to make sure the hospital doesn't get sued for how much it should be, famous for taking lawsuits and belittling them into smaller, more affordable settlements if she doesn't outright get them dismissed. So in a sense, she's a real team player. The Negative: * Doesn't care enough about people to form reasonable relationships with them that don't include sex. Is currently making an effort to correct this. * Doesn't want to commit to anyone, this extends to her own bullshit problems. * Unwilling to compromise. While professionally she understands that sometimes things can't be helped, in her personal life she's way too fucking stubborn and has a 'my way or the high way' mentality. Evaluation Observations: Professional to a tee and obsessed with work, Victoire is a known workaholic who pours whatever free time she has into her job. Once she was granted the position, she etched her claws into it to make sure she wouldn't lose it. As a result she's always somehow always seen but never seen. Her office's open door policy is always inviting, and while she's usually all smiles and getting to the point, people who try to steer the conversation towards personal life tend to crash into a metaphorical wall that she slams up. She outright refuses to talk about her personal life, wanting to focus on the case at hand and preventing her doctors from losing their licenses and jobs. One patient described her as the nicest sheet of ice that they had ever met, so that's a pretty good summary. Still, she's been warned more than once to cut her stealth insults and sarcastic quirps, so she's working on that. Actual Personality: There isn't too much of a difference, though her real self is just always tired. If she could just stay home and sleep all day, she would. She knows she puts too much pressure on herself, but continues in a masochistic cycle to purposely torture herself. She hates everything about herself, from the way she looks to how she acts, as she's aware her personality drives people away despite her longing to make meaningful connections to people. She is actually quite the romantic, dreams of having her own family, and wants all that gushy, cliche love life. Her insecurities drive her self esteem to the negative. Despite everything, she has never publicly shown this side to anyone. --- --- "Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work." - Aristotle --- --- Off the Record My Dreams Goals in life : Starting a family of her own. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. Fears * The idea that she won't actually be able to have a family of her own someday tears her apart, even though she knows it's her fault she hasn't started yet, but her phobia of commitment constantly gets in the way. * Being deliberately ignored or forgotten, though this has more to do with her childhood. * Her fear of abandonment just couples with her other two fears. Likes * Working. * Sex. * Drinking. * Her pack of cigarettes that she breaks out whenever she gets too stressed. * Plants, her apartment is full of them, with her having an orchid in her office. * Adores music, mostly classical, is quite talented with her violin. Dislikes * Days off. * Boredom. * People who think they know more than she does in a subject she literally has multiple degrees in. * Lazy people. * Overconfident people. * Newcomers who think they know shit, though admittedly she does enjoy watching them fall apart as they all do. * Oatmeal raisin anything. * Neglectful parents. Reputation Helpful, but cold. If she shows up, it's not usually a good thing. Extra information Loves the color blue, has dyed her hair a variety of colors, has a pet rabbit named Fifi, has an allergy to strawberries, majored in Medical Law & Ethics with a minor in music, plays the violin, once jumped out of a three story window and only had minor injuries.</s> <\|message\|>ari saleh alnaeli SALEH ALNAELI --- They day started like any normal day that he would have had coming back from his one free day off. Saleh got in an early morning work out at the gym followed by a stop at his favorite coffee joint for a dark coffee with no sugar. The darker the better as it helped energize and fuel his body for whatever was going to come next during his shift. Things were always unpredictable at Caduceus Memorial Hospital, something Saleh secretly enjoyed. Sure he was a man who favored routine, but being a doctor there never really was a routine, just rituals one did before the day would begin. That's what kept him sane, having rituals to keep his thoughts aligned on the straight and narrow. Being at CMH for a little more than a year, Saleh was still trying to integrate himself more into the community. Sure he was well liked by most of his superiors and the interns, but his other colleagues he needed to find more time to get to know. That was one thing he knew that he was lacking in as he was always throwing himself onto a case rather than getting to know those around him. His father would have been proud of all the work he has been doing, but his mother on the other hand would have bickered that he didn't have any friends to keep him company while he was there. As he pulled up into the Caduceus Memorial staff parking lot his phone's emergency text vibrated and rang. There was a colossal mess of an accident and his name was on team one of the triage. Without hesitation he bolted out of his car and rushed inside, leaving most of his belongings in his car other than his badge and scrubs. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into his car, swapping on his scrubs as he entered the hospital lobby, making his way to the trauma center. Saleh hadn't read who else was on the triage team as it never really mattered, the only thing that mattered to him was that he was summoned so he was going to do his job. But, it did ease his mind at who he was teamed with as all the doctors at CMH were competent enough, he knew with confidence those who stood before him were some of the best there. "Dr. Kim, Dr. Ivanov." He said with a respectful greeting bow. "Glad to be working with you today." Sure Saleh sounded like a kiss-ass with his good morning's, but it was how he was raised and it stuck on him like glue.</s> <\|message\|>Emilia Rose Carter 'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know, the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah. No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no --- --- Once Xander had left the room, Emilia decided it was her turn to depart the premises as well. Sighing, she got up from the bed, stretched and glanced around the room, trying to locate every piece of her clothing. Once every item was accounted for, Emmy began her treasure hunt, taking the opportunity to do some retrospection about her life -and what she'd failed to accomplish in it so far. At the tender age of eighteen, right after graduating high school, young Emmy had decided to make a 10-year life plan for herself. Said plan consisted of the top five things she was dead-set on accomplishing in the next ten years: get her Pediatrics degree, land a job in one of the top medical facilities in the country, afford the car and home of her dreams, get married and have at least one child. Out of five, she'd managed to accomplish three of her goals. But for the blonde, the two goals she'd failed to reach were the ones the held the most significance to her. Not only had she not done so in the time period established, but she was also three months shy of that dreaded 30th birthday… And no sign of settling down in sight. Dressing herself, Emilia tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which things had gone wrong. Had it been when she'd decided to part ways with Wilfred Thompson back in her senior year? They'd been such a serious, stable couple for the best part of two years- until their career choices had taken them down different paths. Maybe if they had found a way to make it work, he could possibly have been the one to grace her with the blessing of marriage and children… Or had it been when she'd refused to take back Julius Kennedy back at the end of her sophomore year of college? Sure, he'd been a serial cheater and an overall douchebag. But what if her love was the key to him turning his life back around? What if, by neglecting to save Julius, she'd really lost her one opportunity at making her two biggest dreams a reality? Or had it been back that last December, when she'd ended up in Dr. Alexander Ivanov's bed after having one too many martinis and margaritas at the Christmas staff party? Had it been then, when she'd failed to hold her ground in her search for her soulmate and instead had consented to what would end up becoming a sting of meetings for casual sex? No matter how hard she thought about it, Emmy would never know which had been the second in which she'd fallen down this pit of despair; the one that had turned her into the kind of woman to hook up in broad daylight at her own workplace. Sighing, Emilia would take one last glance at the scene of the crime before making her 'Walk of Shame' to the nearest staff bathroom. She'd secretly prayed that the room would be empty on her arrival to save herself the judgemental looks. However, said prayers went unanswered, because as Emmy opened the door she found herself staring at none other than Victoire Bailey. Emmy died a little inside at the disapproving look Vic shot her as she washed her hands. "Someone's had a good morning," the raven-haired woman had commented, drying her hands on the cheap paper towels close to her. "You could say that…" the blonde sighed, taking up a spot on the first sink. She took a paper towel, wet it a little and began to wipe the mess that was her mouth and jaw. "You know that means the rest of the day will probably go to hell, right?" "Well, you know what I always say: when life gives you lemons, you just have to make some sweet, delicious lemonade." Emmy replied in her usual bubbly fashion, rummaging in her purse for her makeup bag. She quickly touched up the bottom half of her face with some powder foundation, put on a fresh coat of lipstick and fixed up her disheveled hair before turning back to Victoire. "Actually, Vic, I was heading down to the lounge for some coffee…" she trailed off, having second thoughts about what she was going to do but deciding to take a shot anyway. "And I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me? I kind of want to talk to someone about something, and I thought that maybe you could be that someone…?" Both women were making their way out of the bathroom when a familiar voice greeted them. Looking up, Emilia realized it was Abraham Cross: Victoire's partner in crime and resident hotshot lawyer with which the blonde had a story with… More news at 10. "Hey, Abe!" she happily replied to the man, shooting him the brightest of smiles. When asked about the haircut, Emmy giggled and waved a hand. "Nope, no new hair! Just same old me."</s>	<\|message\|>Athena Victoire Bailey The literal ray of sunshine wanted to talk to her? Saying it was a surprise to Victoire was a complete understatement, her eyebrows raised in fascination as Emmy asked. The way she saw it was that the golden retriever puppy wanted to play with the vicious Rottweiler. Not that Victoire disliked anyone in particular, her general discontent for humanity doing that for her, but it was just...weird. Yeah, the woman must be desperate to go to her to talk. Maybe it'd be a good thing. Abe was always telling her that she was much too grouchy, that she needed to 'socialize' more. Or something. Speaking of the devil, before she could give Emmy a response, Abe himself seemed to pop out of nowhere. Go figure, he would show up right after she considered his words. Victoire couldn't quite respond the same way Emmy did, that is with a general cheerfulness and good natured thanks, but she figured she couldn't be a complete dick. She figured she should be as polite as Ms. Sex Hair, so she tried (and failed) to put on a convincing smile. "Impeccable timing as always," Victoire replied, silently berating herself. So much for trying to be nicer. Clearing her throat, she looked at Emmy, giving her a slight shrug. "Uh...and sure to...what you said." It was like her brain had been turned off or something. Hopefully coffee would help, or wake her up, or something.</s>
<\|description\|>Mariah Paris Fowler Birthday & Age October 31st \| 30 years old Gender & Sexual Orientation Female \| Bisexual Other Labels ϟ Bitchin' Badass ϟ Hardcore Occupation Attending Orthopedic Surgeon --- --- "Thank God I ain't have to smack a bitch today" --- --- Personality The Positive ϟ Easygoing ϟ Hardworking ϟ Passionate The Negative ϟ Uninhibited ϟ Short-Tempered ϟ Intense Evaluation Observations To everyone around her, Mariah is a brilliant young surgeon who isn't afraid to take risks. She's very dedicated and passionate about her work, spending the majority of her time in the hospital helping patients. To most of the interns, she's actually very likable; she cracks jokes whenever she can, doesn't talk to them as if they were children, and usually takes the time to teach them everything they need to know about her field of work. When it comes time for surgery, however, she is a completely different person; while sometimes giving an intern the reigns when she feels that they're ready for it, she does not screw around when it comes to the patient. She'll often yell or remove an intern or resident from her operating room if they're not up to the challenge. Mariah is also known for playing music (hip-hop or rock) and singing along as she operates. Actual Personality Despite being an open book, there are a few things about Mariah that not too many of her coworkers know. Not only is she a risk taker in the operating room, but also in the outside world. In her lifetime, she's gone rock climbing, skydiving, bungee jumping, and more. She's always been a bit of a thrill seeker. Many of her coworkers also know that she has a bit of a temper, but they haven't seen anything yet. Mariah's closest friends know all about her heated arguments in bars and near brawls with stupid men and shady women. She never has been and never will be one to hold her tongue. Despite all of her shortcomings, however, Mariah is a very dependable and fun-loving person who would go to hell and back for the people she holds dear. Anyone who pays attention can see that. --- --- - Queen Latifah --- --- My Dreams Mariah is living the life she envisioned when she was a young girl; she's secured a position as the attending Orthopedic surgeon, she drives an Audi, and she lives in a beautiful condo. All that she really dreams about now is broken femurs, being published, and taking a vacation to Waikiki. Fears ϟ Oblivion ϟ Making a costly mistake and losing her job ϟ Fear itself Likes ϟ Drinking beer ϟ Playing music while operating ϟ Rock Climbing ϟ Caffeine \| She drinks her weight in coffee ϟ Fixing (and occasionally breaking) bones ϟ Boxing ϟ Waking up early Dislikes ϟ Her therapist ϟ Laziness ϟ Most interns ϟ Bananas \| She's mildly allergic ϟ Being undermined ϟ Cigars, Cigarettes, etc. ϟ Not getting enough sleep Reputation Mariah is known as the hardcore, risk-taking Orthopedic surgeon. Extra information She has a dog named Scooter and drives an Audi.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Victoire Bailey --- The literal ray of sunshine wanted to talk to her? Saying it was a surprise to Victoire was a complete understatement, her eyebrows raised in fascination as Emmy asked. The way she saw it was that the golden retriever puppy wanted to play with the vicious Rottweiler. Not that Victoire disliked anyone in particular, her general discontent for humanity doing that for her, but it was just...weird. Yeah, the woman must be desperate to go to her to talk. Maybe it'd be a good thing. Abe was always telling her that she was much too grouchy, that she needed to 'socialize' more. Or something. Speaking of the devil, before she could give Emmy a response, Abe himself seemed to pop out of nowhere. Go figure, he would show up right after she considered his words. Victoire couldn't quite respond the same way Emmy did, that is with a general cheerfulness and good natured thanks, but she figured she couldn't be a complete dick. She figured she should be as polite as Ms. Sex Hair, so she tried (and failed) to put on a convincing smile. "Impeccable timing as always," Victoire replied, silently berating herself. So much for trying to be nicer. Clearing her throat, she looked at Emmy, giving her a slight shrug. "Uh...and sure to...what you said." It was like her brain had been turned off or something. Hopefully coffee would help, or wake her up, or something.</s> <\|message\|>Sarah Charlotte Rossi It's been such a long time coming I'd thought you'd understand @Syn @Denny --- --- CODE TRIAGE EXTERNAL - PREPARE FOR CASUALTIES - ALL AVAILABLE STAFF REPORT TO TRAUMA BAY Dr. Tiffany Archer was roused from her sleep as her phone blared. The annoying, but ominous alarm echoed throughout her empty office. The young Chief of Staff had fallen asleep on a stack of papers that she was supposed to get signed off and delivered to her secretary by the end of the day. But apparently, the hospital had different priorities for her at this moment. Whatever had happened was severe enough to trigger the alarm on her phone, and she was at the highest position a doctor could have at this hospital. She rubbed the bridge of her nose before pushing herself off of her mahogany desk. She was lucky she had scrubs on. It would've saved herself some extra time. Glancing down at her phone once again, she saw that she was picked to be on one of the external triage teams. Wonderful. A change of scenery was great for her. Looking at the coat rack in the corner of her office, she snagged her hospital jacket and made her way down to the trauma bay. Hopefully there was an ambulance for them right when she got there. She didn't feel like waiting around, especially in a situation like this where it was essentially all hands on deck. Taking a walk, she headed into an elevator and was going down to the floor the trauma bay. Taking a quick moment to observe her environment, the sea of eager looking nurses and doctors had basically told Tiffany that every single person in this elevator had the same idea. Now would be a great time to get an idea of what exactly had happened just. She nudged the nurse right next to her and leaned over to her. "Hey, do you know what just happened? I just got called after some rest and I have no idea what's happened." "Oh, I think it's a really big car accident. Over forty cars involved, I think. All of the hospitals in the area are being filled with patients." Tiffany nodded and thanked the nurse for being so informative and helpful, even to a Chief of Staff that was supposed to know what was going on in the hospital. Once the elevator arrived, everyone in there poured out and made their way to the trauma center. Watching patients rolling in past her, the severity of the situation hit her like a punch in the gut. Luckily for her, the rest of her team had arrived just as she did, which was great. Slipping on her jacket, she pinned her ID on the outside and grabbed the triage bag which had been conveniently set up by some extra staff. "Come on, people. Let's get moving! There's a ambulance outside waiting for us." Walking outside, there was an ambulance waiting for their particular triage team. The paramedic in the ambulance had urged them to get inside quickly so that they could start treatment sooner. Once everyone was inside, the ambulance took off like a bat out of hell. Tiffany had her hands folded on top of her triage bag, looking outside the little window just to see how fast they were going. The more she saw, the more she understood the severity of this event. Seeing all of the cars pulled over to the side made her feel like she was Moses, parting the red sea as they made their way to the scene. A few minutes later... Stopping in a diner parking lot, the paramedic sitting closest to the door opened it and revealed a scene that was pure, organized chaos. Firefighters, policemen, paramedics, and even other doctors and nurses were all running around trying to treat patients. Some doctors would be going off to the treatment areas to treat those with higher priorities, some would stay in the triage area and assess patients instead. Treatment was not up Tiffany's alley as she was a doctor, so she would be coming to assess patients and place tags on them as necessary. Getting settled in, Tiffany got set to start triaging. She walked up to a patient on the ground. It was an older male, probably late 50s early 60s, in fairly good shape. However, just by looking at him, she could tell he was at LEAST a red tag. Kneeling down, she took out her stethoscope and began examining the patient. With her examination, she was quickly determining that he wasn't going to make it. He looked whiter than snow, and he was cold to the touch. Taking her tag, she tore off the green, yellow, and red sections before scribbling in his vitals. Placing it on the patient, she took one last look at him before moving on. Hopefully he was able to go peacefully. The next patient, looked like they were in better shape. Hopefully she was able to designate this person a green tag. A female, late teens, looked like to be in perfectly good shape as well. Taking her assessment yet again, everything about her seemed perfect, save for a few scratches and cuts here and there. She was going to be fine. This was a green tag. She grabbed a tag from her triage bag and scribbled her vitals on there, before handing the green tag to her. Thank goodness she was okay. Getting up, Tiffany took a look around and realized that she, Eugene, Saleh, and Xander were going to have their hands full for quite a while.</s> <\|message\|>Abraham Simon-Francis Cross Pretty Lies @Hero --- Seeing these two beauties was always the highlight of Abe's day. And it was as if the gods themselves were in favor of his good fortune. Every day before he and Vic went to the legal floor, which towered above the medical wings, he would greet them with a smile, kind words, and if he felt lucky, maybe get some words in return. As it would turn out on this particular day, he was most fortunate to receive what he had given. Well, half of what he gave. Vic couldn't be bothered to even fake a smile for his sake. Emmy being Emmy had no problem doing as such. It was, of course, it's her nature to bring nothing but sunshine to the oft gloomy profession of working at a prestigious hospital. A breath of fresh air she was. "And yet it — and you — look positively glowing this morning." Abe, like a never-ending train of charm, said to the blonde Emmy. His eyes went to his fellow lawyer colleague, Vic, letting out a low chuckle. "I couldn't possibly have anything other than that, Vickie~" He simply told her, not letting her lack of awareness affect the good mood that had overtaken him. But something would undoubtedly do that as, not even a full minute later, came the announcement of Code Triage External. That resulted in a sour, yet somewhat-amused, whistle from Abe's mouth, resulting in him saying, "Guess break time is over."</s>	<\|message\|>Mariah Paris Fowler Daydreamin' its real when we wake up Gave my all but can't say I gave up They wonder what these dreams are made of --- --- TRYING TO DEFINE YOURSELF IS LIKE TRYING TO BITE YOUR OWN TEETH, impossible and preposterous. Sure, you can learn to understand what makes you tick and what your thought processes are, but how can you truly define who you are when you, as a person, are constantly changing? Every day we evolve; we're constantly gaining new life experiences that ultimately shape and remold us into our current selves. Therefore, it'd be foolish to characterize or define ourselves by some temporary quality, right? Mariah Fowler didn't try to define herself. Sure, she was the bad ass Orthopedic surgeon from Compton who was completely in love with her life and confident in who she was and where she was at, but is that who she would still be in the next couple of years or months, even? What if she woke up one morning and realized that, after spending a whopping twelve years preparing for her dream occupation, she no longer had that fiery desire to be a surgeon? What if she realized that who she really wanted to be was a professional skydiver or timid housewife? It was highly unlikely that either of these things would happen, but Mariah couldn't help but wonder as she stood in her bathroom mirror and carefully brushed her teeth. It was almost nine o'clock in the morning, just a few minutes before she would have to throw on her nearest pair of shoes, grab a quick cup of coffee, and drive down to the hospital. The young woman had went home the night before at eleven, right after she'd spent a couple of hours performing a femoral neck fracture repair. Thankfully, she wasn't on call for another day, so she'd enjoyed a good night's sleep. At least, she did after she'd finished fooling around with one of her interns. "I'll catch you at the hospital, babe," the younger male suddenly appeared behind Mariah, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She simply chuckled, spitting into the sink and rinsing her mouth before shrugging him off and heading out into the living room. "I'm not your babe, Hicks," Mariah said, quickly slipping her feet into the pair of sneakers that sat next to her couch. The younger male sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and followed Mariah to the front door. "Y'know, I just thought since we've been spending so much time together-" "Let me stop you right there," Mariah said, holding up a finger as she grabbed her car keys from the hook next to the door. "You're a good lay, Sidney. That's all that this is, and all it ever will be. Casual sex." Before the younger man could protest, Mariah pulled the front door open and stepped aside, motioning for him to exit first. As soon as he stepped foot onto the concrete, however, she slammed the door shut, locking it after yelling something about forgetting to grab her coffee. Hicks waited on the front porch of Mariah Fowler's home before he finally got the memo and left. Meanwhile, Mariah sat at her kitchen table, sipping from a coffee mug and absently scrolling through her social media accounts. Soon after, Mariah found herself speeding down the highway in her bright red Audi, bobbing and weaving through traffic to make up for lost time. By the time she'd gotten into the hospital and into her scrubs, word had begun circulating around that a multi-car pileup had just occurred on Highway 5. Upon hearing the news, Mariah simply shook her head and sucked in a deep breath. She could only imagine just how many lives had been lost in the accident. Sighing, the young woman then closed her locker and headed down towards the emergency room, ready to assist when the wave of the dying would finally arrive.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Finding themselves assailed by the press, Vivian soon found that she didn't have to do the talking as everyone else leapt in to deal with the reporters in their own unique way. Of course it was all definitely ended as a wall of earth rose up, forcing them to leap back or they'd get tossed like so many bowling pins. "Well I guess that settles that," Vivian remarked as she turned away from the hubbub. Her work here was basically done. Or at least she tried anyway, giving a tug only to find that Alice had a firm grip on her arm that didn't look like it was going to be released any time soon. Still, Alice had offered to buy dinner. Vivian wasn't the type to turn away a free meal and knowing Alice it would at least be a good restaurant. So she supposed that it was worth the hassle that shopping for furniture would end up being. "Alright," she conceded with a sigh. "Just don't blame me if it ends up all being tacky." She wasn't exactly a decoration guru.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart The reporters jumped back from the earth spikes, and after a quick look at eachother came to a singular conclusion: their lives were worth more than the news story. They refocused on the more amicable girls, no one noticing once Isana returned. Those who remained and were willing to talk gave similar stories, the honest one: they had no idea what was going on. Like Vivian, Emily remained quiet. Some of the reporters wanted to stay and ask questions, but for the most part they backed off to a distance as they recorded one of the news girls speaking: "Have they lost their edge? Hiding information? Either way, you heard them, folks. Our heroes, now older, have returned to save the city once again! Be sure to send any reports to the website W W W dot LIGHTYOURHEARTJUSTICEHEARTS dot Info as it is still up!" They seemed a little skeptical, but at least they seemed to be willing to forgive their want of privacy now - they had won a lot of good will with the city in general when they were younger. Looking over at Goldenrod, Emily frowned at the passed out body of her little sister. "Um, maybe it'll heal C-errr ... Justice Goldenrod? Magical Girl powers and stuff?" That probably wasn't a good answer, and if they went to a hospital it was very possible that their identities would be revealed. "... hey, JUSTICE HEARTS, we have an injured member ... ummm White Heart-" These names were ridiculous. "Is the lair still open for us? Could we talk together in there? Privately?" She hadn't heard Alice already making date plans, but with her own magical abilities she could make the entire group arrive quickly. "And Justice Yellow, please don't destroy their equipment unless they try to follow us." They didn't want the lairs location revealed, that much was certain. Isana was already transformed, but she'd find her own way. If Alice gave the confirmation, she'd wave her wand and she'd drag Goldenrod back to their prior home base.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Sofa Shopping --- Well, the reporters backed off, though by force more than her words. "Huh? Lair? I mean, yes. It should still be there. My parents have been too busy so they forgot about it. Thinking about it gave me episodes of depression so I stayed away... It'll be a little dusty." That was the part she sounded embarrassed about. Se figured Emily would take them all there, so she dragged Vivian over to the serial escapist, Isana, and took one arm and wrapped it around hers. "Is this what they mean by a flower in each hand?" She questioned before giggling. She couldn't let Isana run away like she knew the woman would. Alice's overarching goal was for everyone to be friends again... Perhaps... Perhaps this recent string of attacks was a sign? .... Maybe she should look into this a bit more. Discreetly. Not like she lacked the time to do so. "Anyhow, Emily, if we're going now would be the time since I have these two ruffians locked down!"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Ah, it was cold. The Chinese food had been sitting too long. Isana frowned, pausing in her indulgence...before continuing to eat the Chinese. Oh well, it was still great. What to do now though? Alice wanted to go couch shopping and she was bringing Vivian along. Out of all of the other justice hearts that were still active, Vivian was at least tolerable on some level. They may have had a mildly shaky history with the girl, but Isana always at least, respected her attitude. Hmm...maybe she could convince Alice to buy them one of those really expensive and extremely comfortable ones if she went. Seemed like a good idea so she'd stick around and talk with Alice once they were done. And no, Courtney no one wanted to...well, okay, maybe she took a quick peek at the other justice hearts butt, but she quickly stopped looking as soon as Emily mentioned that place. Oh no. Before she could make a speedy escape, Alice was already next to her and had her firmly locked in place. "I'm not a ruffian," Isana flatly stated as she held the half-eaten container of chinese food in her hand. "And I have no desire to go to urgh, that place with those people."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Justice Goldenheart To the bottom of these situations! --- Truly for that brief moment Isana was a trooper, because who would really want to look at a bloodied buttocks that had a chunks of epidermis missing. Well of course there was the not injured right side of the buttocks, but even that had a bit of the transfer from it. As for how this might prove more of an issue now than it did before, who knew. It might've been the fact the impact was so strong and in the heat of battle it did not register. Perhaps it was as Emily suggested and magical girl powers were at play. But the bottom line was simple; generally being struck by a poisonous barb from a shadow monster was a negative effect. At no point did Courtney ever consider such a thing to be a good thing. Well there was one good thing at least, it appeared they could still crash at a guest house. Maybe Courtney could finally find one of those old trinkets she lost there that one time! Or maybe, the real pressing deal of course, she could figure out how much she needed to worry. Justice Goldenrod didn't have anything to add, at least in terms of speech, while she was grabbed by Emily.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart Some of their members were being held (partially against their will), some of them were passed out, and some had wounds of various seriousness - but as Star Heart waved her wand and the celestial path lit up on the ground it only was a short trip for them to arrive at the lair. As Emily opened the door it was difficult for her not to visibly cringe at their previously terrible taste. At least the place seemed to heal them, and the members of the team with wounds would find themselves recovering from the damage they had taken - their magical girl powers still seemed to feed off the adorableness surrounding them, buffing their ability to regenerate. Emily dropped a drunken Elise onto a couch with enough plushies on it to give every child in China one before turning to the still awake members of the group. "Alright ..." The fast food worker dispelled her costume and lowered herself down onto one of the couches, taking a deep breath ... if they'd be using this place again, they'd need some serious renovations. "... hello. Again." The adult spoke awkwardly, unsure how to say hello to many of the members after having avoided many of them for two decades. "I assume no one has any clue whats going on? No one summoned the monsters or anything, right?" The mother hoped this conversation would be done and over with quickly so she could get back home and take care of her daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Alice's comment caused Vivian to roll her eyes as she was pulled along, Isana soon joining them in the iron grip of the rich magical girl as they were forcibly taken back to their lair. Not that she overly minded the place, she just didn't see a reason to go back there. She might also just have dim memories of what it was like, so her perspective was clouded. "Isn't this how we broke up the last time?" Vivian asked sarcastically in response to Alice's comment. She was pretty sure that that was indeed the case, or at the very least it was typical enough for Alice that she could confuse herself otherwise. As they headed towards the base, she shrugged. "I dunno, these attacks were too precise to be coincidental. It's worth talking about at least." It seemed like it might be someone attacking them, but who? There wasn't anyone around, or at the very least they would have heard of it by now Entering the base, Vivian went along wherever Alice dragged her, left without an option to do much else in this situation. "Which of us would even know how to do something like that?" Magical constructs were one thing, but actual monsters/ That was whole other matter. Besides, she was fairly confident that none of them hated the rest of the group quite that much</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright And lo, by the sweet nature of childish wonder, did Justice Goldenrod feel the ailments of the ass alleviate at an astounding rate! With a smirk on her face the magical girl did bend a bit and smack her own posterior. "Aaaaaah....", spoke out Justice Goldenrod as she reached towards her glasses. "...Good as new!" Flicking her glasses up and down Justice Goldenrod reversed the transformation and returned into her civilian attire. Unfortunately the pants still needed to be mended as they did in fact still have the hole from the monster incident from earlier. But that wasn't the important thing right now. Striding over towards the hot chocolate machine, Courtney casually leaned against it before glancing among all the members. "Only time I summon monsters is when I have to substitute for a colleague in Vice." Raising a finger she began to point around towards all in the base. "That in mind, it's totes obvious what we, like, need to do. Sting operations and stake outs. Carefully watch 'em while we set out one of us as bait to attract, then if we can catch any sorta smarty one alive we can interrogate." Courtney clapped as she smiled from ear to ear. "Who wants to be bait?!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Vivian grinned as the others began to agree with her, pleased by her own success in that regard. it was a lot better than just sitting around while someone played dumb and waiting for something to happen, and she had always been a bit more on the proactive side of things. Resisting the urge to facepalm at Courtney's antics, she instead addressed Isana's rebuttal. "hey could have assumed that we didn't keep in contact enough to know how to easily find each other, and it'd be stupid to use something that we could handle without breaking a sweat on our own." At least, if she was thinking as a villain anyway. The other suggestion was one that she couldn't disagree with even if she had wanted to. In fact, she was quite glad since it meant she got to get out of couch shopping with Alice. "Sounds good to me," she agreed with an aloof shrug. Of course, before she could address anything else the last member of their missing group showed up and made her presence known. Turning towards Ramona, Vivian couldn't help but scoff. "They probably figured you were too busy cosplaying as a Ren Fair to be worth bothering," she challenged in response. She didn't have a clue, though she did think it was kind of unfair. What made Ramona so special? After a moment she glanced back to the others. "I'll check out some of the Dollmasters old hideouts. I should be able to tell if anything has changed." She knew those places better than the rest of them after all.....</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Not Breaking Down... For now. --- "OWIE!" Alice complained as Isana pulled on her ear. "That's my cute ear!" She complained further. Whatever droopy mood she was in seemed over with that for now. [color=FAEBD7]"Fine, fine! I'm following Isana...." Isana obviously wanted to go, and she did come all the way here after all. From her current state, she noticed Ramona come in. "Hi Ramona! Don't fight with them or I'll cry." She said with a happy smile while having her ear dragged. She wasn't in control of her own body at this point was she? Isana had her by the ear after all! "Ahh! Wait, Isana. I'll call Keri up real quick and she can drive us home. She doesn't live all too far from here." She somehow made it out of Isana's grab and pulled out her smartphone. She went to contacts and clicked the one labeled "She-Devil", put the phone to her ear and waited a couple of seconds. "Hi Keri! Can you do me a favor?" A couple of seconds. "N-no... I don..." A couple of more seconds. "No, I just... Ride home..." A couple more. "No! I mean, I was going to faint..." You know by now? "I'm not on drugs!" ... "Just get to our old clubhouse or no tips next week!" With that she hung up. She sort of realized what she yelled and looked to everyone. "Ahahaha... It's kind of common in my field and uhh, my manager just wanted to make sure."</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s> <\|message\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion Ramona Saturday "Pyrrha" --- Any good feelings Ramona had about returning to the hangout spot of her sordid youth was burned away almost instantly at the mood that greeted her when she arrived. First Vivian being catty, then Isana and Alice leaving in a hurry (at least they didn't seem pissed off at her like everyone else), followed by... well. It looked like nothing had changed between Emily and Elise. Ramona glared at the ground sadly as Emily swept past her, throwing one last barb practically over her shoulder as she stormed out with Fiona in tow. Ramona sighed- there were myriad reasons why Justice Heart collapsed the way it did, but Ramona's ire always fell on Emily first and foremost. It was her stupid decision to get knocked up that knocked everyone else down the slippery slope to where they were now. She grit her teeth, then moved toward the last two she was left with. Without saying another word, she practically dashed over to Elise, wrapping her old friend in a tight hug. Aside from Isana, Ramona had always had the most kinship with Elise. "The Ken to your Ryu," she once referred to herself as, their friendly bickering over the "Strongest" title always having been good for a laugh. It would be nice to get back into the swing of that again. "Hey, Flower Girl," she said, giving one last squeeze before backing up. "Saw you on the news today. Didn't think I'd given you permission to use my title," she laughed with a crooked grin. She turned to Courtney afterward. "To answer the question that everyone's been askin', by the way? No. I don't know why I wasn't attacked. Maybe the dragon-girl thing scared 'em off?" She shook her head. "Anyways, as much fun as this is going to be, let's try and get it done ASAP, a'kay? I got swords to finish." At Courtney's suggestion of her taking a cab, Ramona shrugged. "I mean, I don't know if you guys remember, but I can move under my own power. If any of you can ride, you can take the bike. Though, don't tell Katja. Or wreck it. She'll kill me dead if she finds out someone else touched her baby..."</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster 9:00pm, Exploring the old Locations Woodcreek High - Courtney, Elise, Ramona When they wanted to go to the old schoolhouse, the party may have forgotten the place had been renovated and was actually still in use - kids weren't around this late at night, but some lights could be seen in the building where janitors were still working. This was actually the school where Emily's daughter, Mary, attended. There were a few locations they could go to - there was a small stadium for sports games and other school events, with seats added since the girls had been here. Nearby there was a small athletic facility, lights completely off. Inside were showers, lockers, and an area for storing various gym supplies and some weight machines. A tennis court was adjacent. The girls would likely remember fighting various sentient bits of sports equipment as they struggled to fight the dollmaster. The school building itself had two sections - one expanded onto more recently - with the old side having a large auditorium and a library. Previously the dollmaster had scared students in a plot to fill fear feeding monsters with powers in the auditorium, but the library had also been a place where she had possessed children with 'evil' knowledge. Standing outside of the fence to the school grounds, what would they do? Were they in civilian or magical girl clothes? Abandoned Theater - Alice and Isana The site of many plays and a hard battle with stage props, the Woodville Theatre had been abandoned as part of their adventures. After discovering the events that occurred on stage would have some (usually unfortunate) effect in the real world, the Justice Hearts had convinced the manager to give up on his family business and instead pursue his real dream of being a skydiving instructor. Currently the front was covered with wooden boards with old KEEP OUT tape wrapped around it. Though they hadn't seen it in many years, the girls would likely remember the general layout. Docks - Fiona and Emily With both of their cars decently damaged, Emily used her spell and they traveled across town magical girl style. It was a pit embarrassing - but in the end, the pair of them arrived at an old, abandoned dockyard. Previously the dollmaster had released a tentacled monster here - Star Heart winced slightly at the memory not that she thought about how she'd been caught up in it before and instead focused on their surroundings. Emily remembered that something had come out of a nearby sewer that was shut down for environmental reasons, but she figured a nearby warehouse would be the best place to explore first. Already in their magical girl costumes, she figured no one would question them as they actually looked busy. Bringing the other mom to the front door of the warehouse, Emily sighed. It was locked, of course. "Hey, Justice SolarFlare, mind blowing this thing open?" It wouldn't count as property damage if it was abandoned, right? Old Hideout - Vivian and Carrie Caves - the easiest place for anyone to hide. It didn't take long for Vivian and Carrie to arrive a small distance, and the pair of them would find the front front steel gates were open - perhaps the pair had forgotten, but the old hideout had become a tourist trap - and it was still open with a yawning security guard outside as it approached its closing hour - one disappointed couple was shooed away - they had likely come to check the area out given the events only a few hours earlier, but closing time was closing time. The pair would remember the general layout of the Dollmaster's lair. Beyond this gate was the trap room, with various traps having been 'partially deployed' with props and descriptions beneath them. There was also a gallery, showing the Justice Hearts in one of their final battles as depicted by a news crew - and group photo, taken the victorious day afterwards when they were all recovered. What would the two do?</s>
<\|description\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale "Money makes the world go 'round kiddo. You can have your love and friendship all you want, but that don't get you shit now does it?" Appearance: Standing at just over 5'7", Isana has an overall fairly slender frame. Sporting flawless pale skin and amber colored eyes, most would probably consider her fairly attractive. Typically, her white hair is kept long and not styled, though well kept and it's obvious she does at least, take care of her appearance somewhat. Oddly, she doesn't have to do much to maintain her appearance. She attributes this in no small part to her previous nature as a magical girl - obviously, she has to look fabulous whilst killing bad guys or it just isn't worth it. Cool girls don't look at explosions and all that. While at work or out and about, Isana comes off as fairly business like and professional. Sporting suit jackets and a plethora of other dressy clothes, one doesn't find her outside not looking at least somewhat fashionable in some manner, though if one were to look closely they'd realize her clothing are the 'cheap' kind of dressy. At home or when lounging about, she has a hard time even putting her shirt on. Often times she can just be found lazing about her room on a couch munching on chips and playing a video game. Magical Girl Costume: Honestly, maybe Isana got rather lucky with her outfit, though at the time it probably earned her a bit of negative attention since hers wasn't the usual frills and bows that the other magical girls possessed. A long black cape situated over her shoulders, and a rather professional looking uniform that could possibly remind someone of the military, or at least someone of rank. At her side, rests her large earthen blade, Vale Scar. Powers: To put simply, Isana's powers are completely earth based. In its simplest form, it allows her to manipulate rock itself to fight for her. She herself, doesn't particularly care too much about giving them fancy or embarrassing sorts of names, though she does have a few specialized more powerful moves in her arsenal that she uses on a regular basis. A few of her strongest abilities seem to incorporate being able to heat the earth, turning it into lava. Aside from this, she also has a few other perks thanks to her affinity for earth. It should be noted, that she has continued to develop a lot of her abilities since the good old days, and many of her abilities are a far cry from what they once were. Stoneskin, Earthen Heart, Strength of Atlas: To put bluntly, she is incredibly difficult to injure. It'd take a lot more force than normal for her to be injured in any capacity. When others relied on you to fight, then this was a necessity. As well, it allows her to really, go all day. It'd take her a long time to become tired when fighting and her physical strength isn't something to be trifled with despite her slender form. Marbled Perfection: A rather needless ability to always look her best. Hair's never out of place, clothes always clean. That sort of thing. What's it's use? Well, aside from looking fabulous all the time, not much. Combat Abilities: Rampart Spike: Spikes of Earth shoot from the ground, creating a field hazard and otherwise impaling anything under them on them. Castle of Stone: 'Castle of stone' is at its core, a defensive ability. Effectively she can create massive walls of earth and stone to trap and prevent people from escaping or otherwise halt advances. Diamond Breaker: Back in the good 'ol days, this was her signature, and most powerful move. Draws up reserves of crystals buried deep beneath the earth and uses them to attack foes. The crystals are just clumps of concentrated magic and reflect all kinds of light and at one point, filled her comrades with a small sense of comfort and assured victory. Vale Sever: Her strongest ability, yet to have been seen by most of the others. Developed sometime after the original adventure. Splits the earth in two with a mighty swing of her blade, causing a massive earthquake and eruption of magma from deep within the earth. Quite devastating, and magma tends to burn. Source: The ruby-red earrings are the 'source' of her abilities. History with Justice Heart: With Isana, her introduction came at the hands of a magical girl by the name of Chloe. A rather irritable and somewhat less than friendly older girl who wasn't exactly the nicest nor did she get along with other magical girls, often keeping them at a cool distance. Isana though, relished the chance to get some of the action. With a not so great home life, letting loose some of that aggression felt nice, and was a good way to blow off some steam. Often times she found herself fighting on the front lines, doing her best to take as many baddies as she could at once, while the others either focused on a bigger threat or otherwise fled if things got bad. Eventually, she even found herself starting to well, value their company and friendship. History after Justice Heart: For many years after the original adventure, Isana kept in touch with many of her former teammates. She liked them, and valued their friendship above all. After all, they were friends right? Friends watched out for each other. Friends didn't let bad things happen to their other friends. It was made hard though, by her parents continued failing financial situation and the fact she kept getting into trouble at school. Fights, mostly. She broke a guys jaw one time. As well, many of her former teammates ended up going to different schools or simply after some time, grew apart. But that was fine, that was life. Isana liked to think that when it came down to it, she ended it all on a good note with all of them. The only one who stuck around with her, was Chloe. Chloe hadn't been rather well liked by the others, but even so Isana considered her a friend. During highschool, they practically did everything together and were the epitome of 'besties'. Chloe even mellowed out a bit by then, and Isana's own personality seemed to start rubbing off on her a bit. Despite both of them being high school, neither of them could give up the one thing, they still loved to do - which is fight bad guys. Of course...just being the two of them, things were bound to go awry sooner or later. Chloe stumbled onto something big. Something bad. Or perhaps she had always been aware of it. She had been into some shady stuff as a kid - either way, Chloe disappeared and when Isana tried to get help from the others, they were all to busy or couldn't be bothered. Moved on with their life. When Chloe turned up murdered not long after, Isana's own reality seemed to shatter. She fell into depression, for a time, deciding that her so-called friends were nothing more than just fake people. She blamed them, and if her so called friends didn't want to help her, fine, she wouldn't help them. She buried herself in her studies, the final two years of her high school life having little to do with anyone else other than spending time shutting herself in her room with her computer, and studying. Eventually, she graduated high school with honors and found work as an IT specialist at a company, working a fairly mundane 9-5 job. Even so she objectively excelled at her job, and was considered to be one of their most valuable employees she couldn't help but to feel utter apathy towards everything, except her next paycheck. Today she moonlights as a bit of a vigilante on her off days, though not out of any sense of justice. She's bored, and the potential fight makes her feel like her old self. Plus, a good way to vent frustration. She's currently sharing an apartment with Alice...who's she still questioning whether that's a good idea or not. She hopes at least one day, to have enough money she doesn't have to work any more. Relationships: Parents: Doesn't see them much, considers talking to them a pain. One of the only few number of people in the world she gives money too, since they're still struggling somewhat. Alice: The only one on the old team Isana really keeps in contact with. Mostly for her money. Equal parts annoying and loved. When she's not busy stealing Isana's food and putting her in the red for the month, she's not so bad. They fact she's got money doesn't hurt either. Honestly speaking, that's the only reason Isana currently puts up with her. Elise McGillis: In one word, Annoying. Great source of stress relief by the way of beating her to a bloody pulp if they run into each other, but aside from that, absolutely irritating. Most of the time, she has better things to do than run around and be goaded into a fight. She has a job, one she rather likes, and for the most part this chick needs to slow her roll. Back in justice heart they had a friendly rivalry going, but now...well, Isana can appreciate her enthusiasm, and the fact she can actually give her a pretty entertaining fight...but honestly? She could do without her. If she just upped and vanished, she wouldn't care.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom With everything that was happening, Elise could only blink stupidly from her position on the ground. Running her head, she slowly got up and looked over to the fight. It looked like Courtney had caught a stinger to the ass, but she seemed to be handling it well enough. She'd managed to transform too, although the bug she was fighting probably wasn't going to make things easy for her. "Well, I guess it's time I got started too." She said, standing up shakily and grabbing her necklace. "As the darkness fades, I'll open up to face the dawn! Justice Bloooo-" And then she was cut off, as the electric monstrosity that she may have forgotten was also there threw her through the window of a nearby shop. For a moment, she simply lay there, slumped against the pile of glass and smashed furniture. To any onlookers, she may very well have looked dead. That is, until a single, glowing gold flower petal floated past her face. Suddenly, a second, a third, and a fourth joined the first, and it continued until a full stream of petals was floating around her. And then she grinned. "Promised Petal Blade." And as she spoke, the stream flowed to surround her sword, which she promptly slashed upwards. As she did so, an arc of petals flew from the blade, colliding with the black lightning monster and sending up a cloud of dust and debris. "You know, I'm pretty sure the old monsters at least gave us time to transform..." She said, cracking her neck as she reemerged from the smashed storefront. "Still though, considering you're fighting the strongest member of Justice Heart, I can't say I blame ya!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie knew she was outgunned. One on one, her versus the snake was likely to be in her favor, but she'd never been good at getting her attacks to penetrate any sort of armor, and if that shadowy monstrosity got its hands on her, she was dead. Fortunately, Emily gave her an out. Sliding onto Emily's ribbon of light, Carrie entered the car NASCAR-style. "Get us out of here!" she yelled. This serpent, the armored monster- she'd fought them before. Another piece of evidence that Dollmaster was back, and eager for revenge. The thought chilled her to the bone. Lily was still hammered, and it wasn't pretty. The other girl was barely functional. Carrie looked at her friend, knowing that they'd need her help to survive this. "Lily, listen to me. We're being attacked. You need to heal yourself, whip up a cure for drunkenness or something like that." She made a mental note to make Lily promise to lay off the booze, at least until the current crisis was over. Turning to Emily, Carrie asked, "Do we have any plans? Meet up with the other girls, try to get some numbers together? Anything's better than just running aimlessly."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "You might be the strongest but I am the fastest!" chirped up Justice Goldenrod hearing the boastful declaration of Justice Bloom. Goldenrod gasped a bit noticing how far the barbed spike had gone-through. Stumbling upwards, due to a myriad factors such as the bloodloss from removing that spike, the fact her costume had roller-blades and whatever was in that spike, she eventually emerged from behind the trash-can! Flailing her arms from side to side, "Eeeeewwooooa-" Justice Goldenrod squealed out as she found herself skating a bit off balance on the side walk. With a brief moment of thinking about why she wanted to have roller-skates, Justice Goldenrod found her traction. "Let me shoot from the heart~ YEAH!" declared Justice Goldenrod as she pulled out her twin guns and performed a quick pose. This wasn't cop business, this was magical girl business so she could afford to be more stylish and 'quippy' here! With that said she rollerbladed down the side-walk as she began firing blasts of yellow hearts from both guns at the dragon-fly monster.</s>	<\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Isana's and Alice's Apartment --- "Ha!" Isana laughed, Vale slamming into the couch hard enough to cut it cleanly in two. The large, earthen blade wasn't particularly sharp, but boy, did it pack a punch. Her victory was short lived, however. Whatever spirit had possessed the couch and rudely interrupted her dinner, flew right into the kitchen and started making a mess of the place. "Tsk-hey!" It had gotten into the refrigerator. A container of leftover spaghetti came flying at her, barely having time to avoid it and causing it to fly at Alice. "I was gonna eat that for breakfast!" Gah! How was she supposed to fight something she couldn't see!? It annoyed her to no end. These sorts of enemies were always the worst. Used to, she'd just attempt to blow everything to smithereens, but that wouldn't exactly be a good idea some thirty floors up indoors. As pots and pans continued to fly towards her, she expertly deflected them with Vale, sending them clanging and scattering off the blade and falling towards the ground. "Any bright ideas, Alice!?" She shouted. She hated being on the defensive like this, or relying on someone like Alice in this sort of situation, but she didn't have any ideas unless she wanted to level the entire apartment building in the process.</s>
<\|description\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale "Money makes the world go 'round kiddo. You can have your love and friendship all you want, but that don't get you shit now does it?" Appearance: Standing at just over 5'7", Isana has an overall fairly slender frame. Sporting flawless pale skin and amber colored eyes, most would probably consider her fairly attractive. Typically, her white hair is kept long and not styled, though well kept and it's obvious she does at least, take care of her appearance somewhat. Oddly, she doesn't have to do much to maintain her appearance. She attributes this in no small part to her previous nature as a magical girl - obviously, she has to look fabulous whilst killing bad guys or it just isn't worth it. Cool girls don't look at explosions and all that. While at work or out and about, Isana comes off as fairly business like and professional. Sporting suit jackets and a plethora of other dressy clothes, one doesn't find her outside not looking at least somewhat fashionable in some manner, though if one were to look closely they'd realize her clothing are the 'cheap' kind of dressy. At home or when lounging about, she has a hard time even putting her shirt on. Often times she can just be found lazing about her room on a couch munching on chips and playing a video game. Magical Girl Costume: Honestly, maybe Isana got rather lucky with her outfit, though at the time it probably earned her a bit of negative attention since hers wasn't the usual frills and bows that the other magical girls possessed. A long black cape situated over her shoulders, and a rather professional looking uniform that could possibly remind someone of the military, or at least someone of rank. At her side, rests her large earthen blade, Vale Scar. Powers: To put simply, Isana's powers are completely earth based. In its simplest form, it allows her to manipulate rock itself to fight for her. She herself, doesn't particularly care too much about giving them fancy or embarrassing sorts of names, though she does have a few specialized more powerful moves in her arsenal that she uses on a regular basis. A few of her strongest abilities seem to incorporate being able to heat the earth, turning it into lava. Aside from this, she also has a few other perks thanks to her affinity for earth. It should be noted, that she has continued to develop a lot of her abilities since the good old days, and many of her abilities are a far cry from what they once were. Stoneskin, Earthen Heart, Strength of Atlas: To put bluntly, she is incredibly difficult to injure. It'd take a lot more force than normal for her to be injured in any capacity. When others relied on you to fight, then this was a necessity. As well, it allows her to really, go all day. It'd take her a long time to become tired when fighting and her physical strength isn't something to be trifled with despite her slender form. Marbled Perfection: A rather needless ability to always look her best. Hair's never out of place, clothes always clean. That sort of thing. What's it's use? Well, aside from looking fabulous all the time, not much. Combat Abilities: Rampart Spike: Spikes of Earth shoot from the ground, creating a field hazard and otherwise impaling anything under them on them. Castle of Stone: 'Castle of stone' is at its core, a defensive ability. Effectively she can create massive walls of earth and stone to trap and prevent people from escaping or otherwise halt advances. Diamond Breaker: Back in the good 'ol days, this was her signature, and most powerful move. Draws up reserves of crystals buried deep beneath the earth and uses them to attack foes. The crystals are just clumps of concentrated magic and reflect all kinds of light and at one point, filled her comrades with a small sense of comfort and assured victory. Vale Sever: Her strongest ability, yet to have been seen by most of the others. Developed sometime after the original adventure. Splits the earth in two with a mighty swing of her blade, causing a massive earthquake and eruption of magma from deep within the earth. Quite devastating, and magma tends to burn. Source: The ruby-red earrings are the 'source' of her abilities. History with Justice Heart: With Isana, her introduction came at the hands of a magical girl by the name of Chloe. A rather irritable and somewhat less than friendly older girl who wasn't exactly the nicest nor did she get along with other magical girls, often keeping them at a cool distance. Isana though, relished the chance to get some of the action. With a not so great home life, letting loose some of that aggression felt nice, and was a good way to blow off some steam. Often times she found herself fighting on the front lines, doing her best to take as many baddies as she could at once, while the others either focused on a bigger threat or otherwise fled if things got bad. Eventually, she even found herself starting to well, value their company and friendship. History after Justice Heart: For many years after the original adventure, Isana kept in touch with many of her former teammates. She liked them, and valued their friendship above all. After all, they were friends right? Friends watched out for each other. Friends didn't let bad things happen to their other friends. It was made hard though, by her parents continued failing financial situation and the fact she kept getting into trouble at school. Fights, mostly. She broke a guys jaw one time. As well, many of her former teammates ended up going to different schools or simply after some time, grew apart. But that was fine, that was life. Isana liked to think that when it came down to it, she ended it all on a good note with all of them. The only one who stuck around with her, was Chloe. Chloe hadn't been rather well liked by the others, but even so Isana considered her a friend. During highschool, they practically did everything together and were the epitome of 'besties'. Chloe even mellowed out a bit by then, and Isana's own personality seemed to start rubbing off on her a bit. Despite both of them being high school, neither of them could give up the one thing, they still loved to do - which is fight bad guys. Of course...just being the two of them, things were bound to go awry sooner or later. Chloe stumbled onto something big. Something bad. Or perhaps she had always been aware of it. She had been into some shady stuff as a kid - either way, Chloe disappeared and when Isana tried to get help from the others, they were all to busy or couldn't be bothered. Moved on with their life. When Chloe turned up murdered not long after, Isana's own reality seemed to shatter. She fell into depression, for a time, deciding that her so-called friends were nothing more than just fake people. She blamed them, and if her so called friends didn't want to help her, fine, she wouldn't help them. She buried herself in her studies, the final two years of her high school life having little to do with anyone else other than spending time shutting herself in her room with her computer, and studying. Eventually, she graduated high school with honors and found work as an IT specialist at a company, working a fairly mundane 9-5 job. Even so she objectively excelled at her job, and was considered to be one of their most valuable employees she couldn't help but to feel utter apathy towards everything, except her next paycheck. Today she moonlights as a bit of a vigilante on her off days, though not out of any sense of justice. She's bored, and the potential fight makes her feel like her old self. Plus, a good way to vent frustration. She's currently sharing an apartment with Alice...who's she still questioning whether that's a good idea or not. She hopes at least one day, to have enough money she doesn't have to work any more. Relationships: Parents: Doesn't see them much, considers talking to them a pain. One of the only few number of people in the world she gives money too, since they're still struggling somewhat. Alice: The only one on the old team Isana really keeps in contact with. Mostly for her money. Equal parts annoying and loved. When she's not busy stealing Isana's food and putting her in the red for the month, she's not so bad. They fact she's got money doesn't hurt either. Honestly speaking, that's the only reason Isana currently puts up with her. Elise McGillis: In one word, Annoying. Great source of stress relief by the way of beating her to a bloody pulp if they run into each other, but aside from that, absolutely irritating. Most of the time, she has better things to do than run around and be goaded into a fight. She has a job, one she rather likes, and for the most part this chick needs to slow her roll. Back in justice heart they had a friendly rivalry going, but now...well, Isana can appreciate her enthusiasm, and the fact she can actually give her a pretty entertaining fight...but honestly? She could do without her. If she just upped and vanished, she wouldn't care.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s>	<\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- "Tsk," Isana's face scrunched into a scowl as Emily continued speaking, shooting a glare that could melt holes in metal towards Courtney. "For your information, I'm being practical, not broody." She retorted, leaning against a wall and as she flipped through some texts on her phone. "For all we know this was a one off thing. I don't have any interest in getting involved in something when I was just basically offered a promotion that could get me a lot of money." An excuse? Maybe just a small one. It was true her boss asked to speak with her on her next work day about something, and she highly doubted that it was for anything other than a job of some sort. "Unlike you lot, I've managed to be somewhat successful with my life and I don't have any intention of ruining that." She waved a hand dismissively as she put her phone back into her pocket, crossing her legs and folding her arms against her chest. Sure, on her off days she blew off steam by finding some 'bad guys' and giving them a lesson, but she didn't want to make a career out of this again. It wasn't much of a career to start with. Just something to blow off steam and escape from the troubles of home back in the day. She didn't want to get into a fight or argument here, but her patience was wearing thin.</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett It was so sudden that Vivian almost didn't see it coming, focusing on getting to the police bar as she was. As a result she was taken off guard when she rushed past the people she recognized as the fellow members of Justice Heart each taking on their own problems in their own particular way. She hit the brakes, quickly slowing to a stop as she turned to face the monster that had been chasing her for so long. Now they could handle this bit of business. She didn't have to say anything before Lily noticed her problem, sending an attack to ignite the thing on fire and hopefully kill it. At the very least it had a better chance of working than anything she had done so far, so she would have to be grateful for that. As much as she could be considering she'd barely heard from some of them for the past couple of years. The motorcycle parked, Vivian hopped off the bike before removing her helmet as well. "Alright, what did you guys do?" she challenged, figuring they were the cause for why she had just been attacked by a monster out of the blue. Who else would be culpable for something magical like that? She then noticed the conglomeration of furniture, held in place for the moment yet with no one else addressing it. "What, you guys couldn't handle a couch without me?" she asked with a hint of incredulity. Nonetheless she faced towards it, hefting her hammer and concentrating energy in it before launching another Dark Pulse at the thing. With it concentrated where it was, that would hopefully crush it down to nothing but splinters and debris, finishing it off for good. @shagranoz@AtomicNut@Rune_Alchemist@RabidAnubis</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed the water monster had been dealt with, and not a moment too soon. Other monsters of all shapes and sizes were attacking the girls, but at least they had the numerical advantage now. Carrie wiped her brow, feeling a little tired. Maybe she was out of practice, or perhaps years of reality had beaten the Friendship out of her, but she wasn't able to keep up the magic the way she had all those years ago. Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight; that just wasn't her style. The electrified magical girl looked around for her next target. The furniture monsters were made of wood, and therefore probably resistant to her attacks. The air monster seemed to be a better option, so she went for that just as Lily's attack hit hard. A blast of lightning slammed into the creature from the other side, hopefully speeding up its demise. "Could somebody get Goldenrod some duct tape for her mouth? She could really use it."</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:35PM Short Distance from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord As Isana did nothing but observing, the eternal twelve-year-old blasted the monster constructed of air with a magical attack along with her lightning wielding former companion - the attacks seemed to disrupt its internal bonds as they were enhanced by the bards singing, bringing the monsters tirade to an end as Lily cursed loudly in her victory and Carrie complained loudly. Also enhanced by the singing, Vivian forced the furniture demon's 'soul' to a single location, crushing it beneath her mighty hammer and ending it justly. Sure, her teammates furniture would evaporate in the attack, but wasn't that worth a victory? Now, only the electricity monster attacking their companion remained. And some news crews that were currently flying up in the air, viewing the after math. As for Emily, she sighed. "Come on guys! Courntey needs us!" Star Heart formed a trail to the enemies beacon, jumping on it to increase her speed as she fire a bolt to assist Justice Goldenrod from a far ranger - it missed, but at least she tried? She hoped neither Justice Goldenrod or Justice Blood died. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA Algorithm@Hero - Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar The surviving monsters were now in full retreat, aside from the one attacking Carrie. - Outside of Police Bar (GM NOTE: RabidPorcupine has done nothing, so I'm gonna write an assumption here.) Despite her desperate cheers for her teammate (that would probably make anyone cringe, including the vast majority of the people watching the news at the moment) Justice Bloom flew into the tavern from a mighty punch dealt by the lightning monster. Now it turned to look at Courtney, the remaining person acting as a 'threat' - it tilted its head once more, but seemed even more perplexed. What would Goldenrod do? Aside from likely ignoring Courtney's complaints, of course. How could anyone reduce her cheer?</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Ow fuckin Christ in a handbasket!" Elise shouted, having been thrown through the wall of yet another building by the electricity monster. However, on a brighter note, she soon realised that said building was the police bar, and she was currently slumped against the counter. Looking to her left, she saw a full bottle of whiskey, which she grabbed without a moments hesitation. And then, she nodded at the petrified man behind the counter and marched out through the hole she'd made in the wall, downing the entire bottle as she did. "Alright!" She slurred. "I'll admit it, these are beginning to hurt! I just wanna make it clear though, I am very drunk, and I may have been underestimating you because of that, I may have been underestimating you. I was just playing with you! PLAYING!" And then she smirked, casually chucking the bottle to the side. "Let me correct that now. Petal Prison!" As she shouted, a large whip of petals erupted from her sword, lashing through the Lightning creature again and again. With every lash, part of the creature split off, and although it quickly reconnected with the rest of the body, the part where the petals passed through remained gone. And with that knowledge in mind, the answer was simple. Death of a thousand cuts. Over and over again, the petals whipped through, getting faster and faster until the air was filled with a yellow blur. And just as she'd hoped, the creature was rapidly shrinking, as she continued to shred away at it. "STRONGEST! MEMBER!" She shouted, the excitement as clear in her voice as the alcoholism. "Hey Courtney, it's working right?! I'm awesome, right?!"</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Justice Goldenrod spun around on her heels as she turned to face Justice Bloom. Courtney raised up her hands and began quickly clapping. "Wooo~!" she declared and continued to clap. After a few moments of clapping Justice Goldenrod paused as she glanced up in the horizon. "Oh! Oh! Look! Look!" Justice Goldenrod declared as she the 'shooting star' bolt in the distance, whizzing past some news crew helicopters. And of course she heard the song of the one they called White Heart, though Courtney herself couldn't make out a few of the lyrics. "It's either a shooting star OR they are coming to the metaphorical light of your strength!" declared Justice Goldenrod to in an attempt to make Justice Bloom feel awesome. "OH! You know what we totally need to do, well assuming it isn't just a shooting star!? CHOREOGRAPHED POSES!" bubbly shouted out Courtney as she once again leaped into the air, this time kicking her feet behind her. "After you can't properly judge a warrior unless you've seen them posing. After that maybe we can work on coordinated cheers; cause like we need both voice and posing..."</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Alice's comment caused Vivian to roll her eyes as she was pulled along, Isana soon joining them in the iron grip of the rich magical girl as they were forcibly taken back to their lair. Not that she overly minded the place, she just didn't see a reason to go back there. She might also just have dim memories of what it was like, so her perspective was clouded. "Isn't this how we broke up the last time?" Vivian asked sarcastically in response to Alice's comment. She was pretty sure that that was indeed the case, or at the very least it was typical enough for Alice that she could confuse herself otherwise. As they headed towards the base, she shrugged. "I dunno, these attacks were too precise to be coincidental. It's worth talking about at least." It seemed like it might be someone attacking them, but who? There wasn't anyone around, or at the very least they would have heard of it by now Entering the base, Vivian went along wherever Alice dragged her, left without an option to do much else in this situation. "Which of us would even know how to do something like that?" Magical constructs were one thing, but actual monsters/ That was whole other matter. Besides, she was fairly confident that none of them hated the rest of the group quite that much</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright And lo, by the sweet nature of childish wonder, did Justice Goldenrod feel the ailments of the ass alleviate at an astounding rate! With a smirk on her face the magical girl did bend a bit and smack her own posterior. "Aaaaaah....", spoke out Justice Goldenrod as she reached towards her glasses. "...Good as new!" Flicking her glasses up and down Justice Goldenrod reversed the transformation and returned into her civilian attire. Unfortunately the pants still needed to be mended as they did in fact still have the hole from the monster incident from earlier. But that wasn't the important thing right now. Striding over towards the hot chocolate machine, Courtney casually leaned against it before glancing among all the members. "Only time I summon monsters is when I have to substitute for a colleague in Vice." Raising a finger she began to point around towards all in the base. "That in mind, it's totes obvious what we, like, need to do. Sting operations and stake outs. Carefully watch 'em while we set out one of us as bait to attract, then if we can catch any sorta smarty one alive we can interrogate." Courtney clapped as she smiled from ear to ear. "Who wants to be bait?!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- "Tsk," Isana's face scrunched into a scowl as Emily continued speaking, shooting a glare that could melt holes in metal towards Courtney. "For your information, I'm being practical, not broody." She retorted, leaning against a wall and as she flipped through some texts on her phone. "For all we know this was a one off thing. I don't have any interest in getting involved in something when I was just basically offered a promotion that could get me a lot of money." An excuse? Maybe just a small one. It was true her boss asked to speak with her on her next work day about something, and she highly doubted that it was for anything other than a job of some sort. "Unlike you lot, I've managed to be somewhat successful with my life and I don't have any intention of ruining that." She waved a hand dismissively as she put her phone back into her pocket, crossing her legs and folding her arms against her chest. Sure, on her off days she blew off steam by finding some 'bad guys' and giving them a lesson, but she didn't want to make a career out of this again. It wasn't much of a career to start with. Just something to blow off steam and escape from the troubles of home back in the day. She didn't want to get into a fight or argument here, but her patience was wearing thin.</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Awww, someone could use a hug." Courtney said with a smarmy grin as she placed both of her index fingers against the edge of her smile. Cartwright placed her hand on her hip and continued to speak. "Nah, practicality is getting this done and over with, which means tracking whatever it is and hunting it down as soon as possible. Cause, narrative laws -while not as binding as law-laws, are still a thing. And narratively speaking this is just the prologue bit, the events that spark up an even greater and more dangerous chain of events." Sauntering towards Isana, Courtney quickly reached over to place a hand on Isana's shoulder. "Dunno if you understood the merit of this; how about I offer you another proposal?" Staring Seiger square in the eyes Courtney continued on, "If you quit your bitching and do your part for this one thing of trapping and catching the bastard, at the very least staying the entire time even if it is fruitless, I will owe you one." "One favor, whatever you may request and that is within my limits of course. Y'might forget dolly, but I am a member of the Force, that "Thin Blue Line" which separates the animals out there and those just trying to live their life."</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Appearance: Magical Girl Costume: (It's probably similar to how she use to look as well.) Powers: A basic explanation of her abilities would be the Manipulation of Sound, though that would be a bit misleading. In more words, Alice's abilities are that her words hold power in them, strengthening her allies and weakening enemies. She can also direct her words to making music note-like projectiles that exploded into sonic booms. If she felt like it, she could make them instead be words of power for her friends. She is great at supporting her friends in the back and could fight somewhat when she needed. Her outfit even included a microphone that projected her voice. She also seemed to have slight mesmerizing abilities, enthralling others with her song. Source: Alice originally got her powers through her love of singing. In time though, it turned into a love for her own voice. History with Justice Heart: Alice liked to think she was the pushing force behind the origins of Justice Heart, sinking much of her free time (which she had almost nothing but) into the endeavor and even convincing her rich parents to afford one of the guest houses to be their meeting place with all the biggest TV, games, and other miscellaneous things money could buy. She insisted they all take code-names of sorts so that the bad guys wouldn't know their real names and insisted she'd be White Heart. (Though not everyone seemed keen on her color coded heart system.) History after Justice Heart: Sadly not all things last, and neither did the Justice Heart. Alice tried as she could, but was unable to keep the group together for multiple reasons. She found herself going through a minor depression and only two things cheered her up. The first is that she loved the sound of her own voice. At first, that was just singing to herself for a long time. Soon, it developed into lust. Not for males as it seemed to work for others of her group, but for females instead. Perhaps the loss of her female friends for the most part manifest as such. Perhaps she is just a rich girl that does what she wants. Either way, Alice made her way out of her depression and worked towards a career that utilized her favorite tool, her voice. At first, she tried singing but found something much more entertaining... Voice acting! She enjoyed animated things and video games so what better way was there to utilize the greatest tool given to her... It didn't hurt that her power might have a bit of sway over people's affections for her, but that didn't need mentioning. She may or may not use her position to sleep with women that were attracted or admiring of her. She moved into an apartment (a rather large one) that her family owned and invited one of the people that she had somehow more easily stayed in contact to move in with her, Isana Sieger. For now, she lives her "normal" life and tries to stay in contact with her old friends if she can. Some are of course, more successful than others. Relationships: Parents: Alice is on decent terms with her parents now. They don't fully agree with her life choices on her chosen career, but there was little they could do as they never planned on making her take over the business. Justice Hearts (In General): She was sad when everyone disbanded eventually. She kept trying to do get togethers, but everyone had their own lives and jobs so she really could never get them together like she use to. She could never really bring herself to hate anyone though... It's possible that the breakdown in the group is what brought her to what she is now. Isana Sieger: Isana is an old member of the Justice Hearts that Alice is currently rooming with. She thoroughly enjoys messing with the money loving girl, and has enough money to be as lax as she wants... Including taking Isana's food and paying the consequences... Almost literally.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- "Woman," Isana began with a mildly annoyed expression as she pointed her fork at the other woman. "I just took my clothes off and I'm not putting them back on to go help a midget with her alcoholism and deal with a pedo." Isana sighed in response to Alice's insistence. "And love is something I have very little of towards anyone, especially lesbian nymphos who don't know the meaning of the word 'no'." Ugh, this woman was impossible. "...but as long as you don't hurt my budget, do what you want." Agh, today was tiring in general. Whenever the others were brought up it always made her stressed. Angry. Annoyed. Agitated. Ahh...She wanted to beat someone up. It seemed though, the world was about to grant her wish. Before she could question what was happening, it almost felt as though something slammed into her back, trying to crush her against the seat of the sofa. "Gah!?" Isana yelped in mild surprise, barely having enough time to react, bringing her legs up to the apparent mouth of the couch and her hands to what was once the back of the couch. Was...the couch trying to goddamn eat her?! Fine, this thing wanted to have the stuffing beat out of it, she'd beat the goddamn stuffing out of it. Thankfully, she was fairly confident in her physical ability and flexibility. First things first though... Isana's body was surrounded in a bright, white light as her usual clothing seemed to change, the fabric elongated and darkening in color as it extended to cover most of the rest of her body. The white light coalesced, finally settling and transforming into her old, magical girl outfit. A black and red uniform, along with a small cloak, boots with her constant companion, Vale appearing at her side as usual. "HHMPH!" Isana pushed back against the top of the couches mouth, the metal springs hardly even being an issue. She could have probably done this without transforming - this thing was hardly all that strong to begin with. Regardless, she pried open the things mouth, long enough for her to leap out of it and land readily next to Alice, not sparing a glance at her roommate. "I am goddamn sick and tired of things in this goddamn apartment always trying to eat me..." Isana rather grumpily huffed, drawing Vale from her side and pointing it at the monster. Even after all these years, she still had a penchant for trying to look overly cool. "Well, at least I can kill you." She lunged at the couch monster, slamming the weighty earthy sword horizontally into the top of it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett "That will be $8.79, do you need a bag with that?" 'God let it be over' Vivian groaned inside of her own head, suffering through the boring existence that was working behind a cash register. Money changed hands and a product was bagged up, and the customer was sent on his way. Much to her relief as she waited for the next person to show up. There was no other pressing business that she had to tend to at the moment, so she could just stand there and wait for her shift to end. This wasn't exactly the best job one could have, but it met her needs well enough in terms of money and mostly importantly of all it provided her with plenty of free time. This wasn't how her parents had imagined she would end up, and to be honest she hadn't either. Though it was still a major drain on her nerves and personality. But at last her shift ended, and she was free to head out to her life away from customers and pretentious idiots and all that. "See you later," she called to her replacement as she swept out the door, heading into the evening light. The sweet taste of freedom embraced her, and she wasted no time in heading towards the parking lot to retrieve her motorcycle. There was a spring in her step now that she was off the clock, and Vivian was very much looking forward to enjoying her day. The vehicle soon came into sight, a burgundy color for a lean machine that she had spent way too much time, effort, and devotion to customizing in any way that she could with her own particular skills. It was her ticket to freedom after all, and she cherished her machine as much as anyone in the same position would. Not that her parents cared about her dedication and ideals but who cared about what they thought. She hadn't talked with them in a long while regardless, and she was just glad that San Francisco was big enough to keep it that way. She was just stowing away her things for the trip when the phone buzzed to indicate that she had a text. An eyebrow rose as she glanced at it, trying to figure out what was actually written before it clicked. At which point she went back to ignoring it in general. "Nice try, now pull another one," she muttered aloud in disbelief. Twenty years and then this? No fucking way. This was probably some drunk prank or something, that was the only explanation. At least, up until that telepathic presence made itself known in her head. "Geez, give a girl some warning," she protested as she hopped onto her bike. "They're tough girls, I'm sure they've got it under control." Roaring the engine, she headed off into the city and in the general direction of her predetermined destination. She wasn't in any sort of hurry to leap to their defense, not for something she was confident they could handle in their sleep.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- Alice was surprised when she saw the couch just about eating Isana. "Isana!" She exclaimed. She didn't have time to worry about the toughest of the Justice Hearts though, as a water monster thing appeared from the nearby bathroom. Well, this was fun. Before it could grab her by the leg, she quickly transformed. She could only assume it came out of the toilet... She didn't want such dirty water touching her! She grabbed her Magical Microphone and sang a high note, causing a music note to escape her tool. It floated gently into the middle of this car sized water monster and was ready to explode. "At least most things don't eat you for food. And can you try not to completely destroy the couch? I really like that one." Alice asked, not really seeing that it was pretty much destroyed anyhow. She kept her attention on the water monster thing now. "Anyhowser... Can you explode now?" Alice asked, snapping her finger and causing the typical sonic bomb of a music note to explode. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the creature reverberate to it's non-existence.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright Police Bar – Exterior --- "Okay!" Courtney eagerly said with a nod and a bounce in affirmation that they had to be stylish in heroics. Cartwright moved close to Elise and slung her arm around her shoulder. Leaning in Courtney began to speak. "So like, we gotta remember the most important things about dramatic entrances is that..." And as if on cue, to prevent this important piece of information from revelation, a power line snapped and landed in front of them! Shortly thereafter the monster was crafted from the wreckage. "OHMYGOSHSORRYNOTSORRY!" shrieked out Courtney as she valiantly pushed Elise to the side for a bit of help in avoiding the electrical monstrosity! But alas this gesture was probably not the best move for Courtney's self-preservation due to a horrid little, well smaller than that colossus of electricity, creature's set of attacks. Though it was safe to say it was a more heroic endeavor. While Cartwright was not hit by all of the spikes of the creature, one of those poisonous spikes did hit its mark and landed firmly in the left buttocks. Wincing in pain and landing down upon the sidewalk upon her belly she tried to crawl behind a nearby trashcan in order to take a bit of shelter. Hopefully she would be able to get a bit reprieve so she could, well for one thing remove that pain in her ass (the literal one) and figure out what sort of poisonous nasty she was inflicted with, and of course access her "magical accessory" so that she could properly transform. Oh and remembering that bit of advice she wanted to tell her friend about dramatic entrances would be a nice little cherry if the other things panned out!</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin If Carrie had been a normal woman, she would have been snake food. Fortunately for her, she wasn't. A quick dip of her shoulder and a twist of her hips sent the serpent sailing past, though she did take a slicing wound to her shoulder. What was worse, she went into her maneuver right as Emily threw the car into a turn, causing Carrie to lose her balance and plummet to the asphalt. Carrie was in a bad way. The armored monster was slowly advancing from behind, but she couldn't deal with it until she took out the snake, which had sped out of the storm drain for another assault. This time, though, it came at her face… which was the one place you didn't want to attack a magical girl with elemental breath powers.. "Thunder Breath!" Carrie exhaled a blast of lightning, catching the snake full-on and sending it reeling. It didn't finish the monster off, but it did give her a chance to get to her feet, staff at the ready. The snake circled her warily, not wanting a repeat of the previous rebuffed attack, and the armored monster was almost in range. She called out to Emily, "Yo! A little help would be nice here!"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Judge Cinnamon Eileen Fang AKA Justice Violet and Judge Cinnamon 7:32PM on the road "Hah!" Cinnamon cried out. "Wh-what's wrong?" Eileen asked, continuing to drive in a hunched over posture, like an old woman. Cinnamon was sweating bullets. How had his senses been so off? "This is bad!" he projected telepathically to all the girls, "Th-there's at least one monster for EACH of you! Abort rendezvous! Your top priority right now is survival! Fend off the one that is currently attacking you and report!" Cinnamon was shaking. Something of this magnitude had happened only once. Right before the final showdown with Dollmaster, Dollmaster had resurrected all past defeated monsters for one final blitz. Justice Heart was able to fend them off, but that was when they were at their peak. Cinnamon wasn't even sure if Justice Heart, old and rusty as they were now, could even handle one monster without taking a few casualties. "Wh-what?!" Eileen asked, unconsciously swerving from Cinnamon's announcement, eliciting a loud, annoyed honk from behind. The offended car changed lanes and zoomed past Eileen's car, but not before the driver rolled down his window, flipped her off, and shouted, "Crazy Asian woman drivers!" "Uuh...uuuuuuuugghhh..." Eileen slumped into her seat and slowed down some more, sobbing. "N-now's not the time for that!" Cinnamon said, "There are two heading right for us! Two? Cinnamon looked out the window and saw Justice SolarFlare's car driving beside them. That made sense then. "Quick! You two should get out and transform!" Cinnamon announced telepathically only to Eileen and Fiona, but as the creatures began to catch up, Fiona started accelerating. Taking her cue, Eileen followed suit. "Wh-what are you doing!?" Cinnamon demanded, frantically attempting to buckle up his tiny plush body into the passenger seat. He missed the days when he traveled everywhere either being carried around in the bosom of one of the girls, or riding in one of their totebags. He had never gotten the hang of riding in these flimsy, tin suicide machines known as 'cars'. "I-I'm j-just following..." Eileen squeezed out. As a timid driver, she had never driven this fast before. But due to her nature, she was usually perceptive when others gave her non-verbal cues, as her need to please others had become a sort of second nature. What happened next was a blur, and before she knew it, Eileen was leaving a fireball of a wreck behind her, while rolling down the window to let her comrade and mother of two inside the car. Cinnamon was unable to escape as Fiona sat right into him, crushing him against the back of the passenger seat. "G-good evening...oh what a day, what a l-lovely day..." Eileen replied, her brain and tongue confused from all the excitement. "Oh, uh...y-you're sitting on the Judge..." Eileen pointed out. Communicating telepathically, since all his mouth could achieve at this moment were muffled mumbles, Cinnamon said, "That collision won't have killed it, and it has a friend. You girls should probably get out and transform."</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:32 PM Fleeing "Geeeh." Lily weakly protested as her body still reacted to the ruckus going outside. She really wanted to be sleeping and taking a rest right now, believing her part had been done. But there was an awful racket outside. "Buzz off". She groaned, still half drunk. It was then when Carrie's voice awakened her once again. It was Carrie. She was on top of the roof, and more magical girls were arriving. But still, the fact that her old comrade was back despite her life pains, and was already kicking ass, all while her sister was looking there still trying to drive and look panicked, awoke something in the eternal 12-year old. "cksake." She half motioned as she pulled her pendant out of her purse, initiating a quick transformation complete with sparkly moves and the most tepid entonation of her transformation spell ever. "Star Transformation Water Lily whatever." She mumbled, as she pulled the door open and flung herself in the roof in the fray once more, her healing spells already burning the alcohol out of her body. She looked in top shape, in no in small degree the fact that she still fit the same childish dress of 20 years ago. "Time to kick ass!" She yelled as she aimed her wand and..." Moonlight BeeEEEEEGHRRMG!" Apparently that wasn't the type of projectile attack she wanted to do, but with the sudden jolts of the car, the healing rush, and the alcohol, the contents of Lily's stomach were flung at high speed towards the creatures. Oh well, it would serve as a distraction.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:32PM Fleeing by Vehicle from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz Carrie seemed to heavily injure the snake like monster with her Thunder Breath, the lightning electrocuting it to a critical state. The serpent was fast, but lightning was faster. It seemed this magical girl was ideal for fighting this creature. That wasn't the case for the armored creature running towards them however, which was barreling down on the now exposed lightning based magical girl. "L-Lily? What are you doing!?" The older sister watched her little sister climb out of the car window and get on the roof. Did she use to be this crazy? No, she was just drunk. The projectile vomit flew towards the armored creature. The attempt to have it be a proper distraction was effective though, with even the shadowy armored creature stopping at the display and blankly staring for a few seconds in complete confusion. Emily took her opportunity. "H-Holy on Lily!" The car spun around - thankfully not into oncoming traffic, as the cars behind the fight had stopped and were desperately try and run away. "Carrie! Get in, now! We can't fight it!" Carrie's powers were useful against a mobile target, she knew. But an armored target would likely be more resistant to her attacks. As she waited for Carrie to hop in, Emily sung the ridiculous tune that was needed to make her transform. "Celestial world come to me! Starheart Transformation!" The ridiculous costume she wore as a young teenager appeared on her body, wand in hand. In an attempt to help out her teamate, Emily drew a path to the car door her companion would be able to move more rapidly across. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA @Stern Algorithm - Driving together The car transference was nothing short of epic, as the car crashed into the plastic market both setting it alight as a pile of smelly, burning plastic and likely driving up Fiona's insurance rates considerably. The pair of them were focused on bigger things however, as Cinnamon continued his desperate job despite his current, crushed state. The plastic monster was slowed down, but the shadow monster was directly behind them in the car, hiding behind their seats from the angle of the sun. "Kzzzzkreeet!" The shadow monster lunged for the driver - it'd probably be good to transform before the attack hit her normal body. - Driving Fortunately, Vivian would find herself receiving an additional warning before a gust of wind flew by her, shaking the motorcyle and likely tilting it slightly and lifting one of the wheels off the ground before slamming back into the highway. In front of her appearing was a gigantic, humanoid, storm like creature that materialized next to the motorcycle, moving alongside and and reaching it's fist back. Driving would likely find itself a secondary concern for Vivian shortly. As Courntey's pain in the ass was easily removed - the poisonous spines were barbed however, so it carried a bit of extra skin along with it. She'd feel a little woozy from the blood loss and from something the spine had in it, but the transformation would fire off successfully, the twenty-year old costume assembling on her body with both pink guns materializing into her holsters. As she'd look up, she'd see the strange monster strafe throughout the sky, trying to find a favorable bead on it's currently hidden target once again. Before Courtney would get too comfortable, the trashcan with ring loudly - with one of the spines sticking halfway out of her own side as the monster started to fire at it. @Pyromania99 - Apartment The couch was easily cut in half, pieces of wood shattering and fabric tearing as Vale sliced it in two. An ethereal shadow briefly appeared, before flying into the kitchen. Cabinets began to open, drawers began to roll out, and their contents began floating as if carried by some unfindable force. Then they began to fly through the air at the earth-based magical girl. As for her companion in more ways than one, the water monster indeed did explode, detonating by the soundwaves into a million tiny drops, soaking the floor. If Alice felt relieved for a couple seconds though, she was foolish: detonating a liquid monster wasn't exactly the most lethal thing in the world, and the drops recoalased into a bigger, larger monster, with more water still flowing into the apartment. It was clear as the water elemental began to swing that the landlord would not be happy with them.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom With everything that was happening, Elise could only blink stupidly from her position on the ground. Running her head, she slowly got up and looked over to the fight. It looked like Courtney had caught a stinger to the ass, but she seemed to be handling it well enough. She'd managed to transform too, although the bug she was fighting probably wasn't going to make things easy for her. "Well, I guess it's time I got started too." She said, standing up shakily and grabbing her necklace. "As the darkness fades, I'll open up to face the dawn! Justice Bloooo-" And then she was cut off, as the electric monstrosity that she may have forgotten was also there threw her through the window of a nearby shop. For a moment, she simply lay there, slumped against the pile of glass and smashed furniture. To any onlookers, she may very well have looked dead. That is, until a single, glowing gold flower petal floated past her face. Suddenly, a second, a third, and a fourth joined the first, and it continued until a full stream of petals was floating around her. And then she grinned. "Promised Petal Blade." And as she spoke, the stream flowed to surround her sword, which she promptly slashed upwards. As she did so, an arc of petals flew from the blade, colliding with the black lightning monster and sending up a cloud of dust and debris. "You know, I'm pretty sure the old monsters at least gave us time to transform..." She said, cracking her neck as she reemerged from the smashed storefront. "Still though, considering you're fighting the strongest member of Justice Heart, I can't say I blame ya!"</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie knew she was outgunned. One on one, her versus the snake was likely to be in her favor, but she'd never been good at getting her attacks to penetrate any sort of armor, and if that shadowy monstrosity got its hands on her, she was dead. Fortunately, Emily gave her an out. Sliding onto Emily's ribbon of light, Carrie entered the car NASCAR-style. "Get us out of here!" she yelled. This serpent, the armored monster- she'd fought them before. Another piece of evidence that Dollmaster was back, and eager for revenge. The thought chilled her to the bone. Lily was still hammered, and it wasn't pretty. The other girl was barely functional. Carrie looked at her friend, knowing that they'd need her help to survive this. "Lily, listen to me. We're being attacked. You need to heal yourself, whip up a cure for drunkenness or something like that." She made a mental note to make Lily promise to lay off the booze, at least until the current crisis was over. Turning to Emily, Carrie asked, "Do we have any plans? Meet up with the other girls, try to get some numbers together? Anything's better than just running aimlessly."</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- "G-h-hey! My Chinese food!" Isana shouted in despair as she was suddenly yanked by her cape by Alice, dragging her out the window and down onto the streets below. At least she was going to be too upset about it. Alice was right, if they had continued to fight there then it would have likely cost them both a little money. Still...but thinking about that delicious food she had just lost, made her more irritable than she already was. More importantly though - "ISANA!" The voice of someone she'd rather not have heard ever again. She scowled, turning her head towards the source of it. Emily. Less than favorable opinions of her aside, she was not someone that Isana wanted to deal with, or speak to right now. A quick look at the situation though, it seemed they weren't the only ones present either. Lily, Carrie, and Justice Bloom were there too. Sickening. It almost made her want to fight them instead of the monsters. Hmph. If Alice wasn't here, she very well might. Well, whatever. She'd take her frustrations out on that rock monster. They were having trouble with that thing? Pathetic. It didn't even look a bit dangerous or large. Fine. She'd finish this in one blow so she could get back to her Chinese food...or whatever was left of it. When Isana hit the ground, and without missing a single beat or instance, a rampart raised from the ground beneath her, launching her with force towards the earthen creature wordlessly, not even acknowledging the other Justice Heart's presence. "DIAMOND..." She gripped the sword in her hand with both hands. Pillars of earth rocketed from the ground around her, before shattering into many bright, shining gemstones of some sort. Each flashed brightly, shimmering with magic. "...BREAKER!" Swinging the sword horizontally, Vale slammed into the midsection of the car sized monster, causing the beast to stagger backwards as it obviously hadn't expected such a quick, frontal assault. In the next instant the gemstones flashed, slamming into the monster at high speed, each hit causing it to lose more and more balance until it had finally fallen over. "Hmph." Isana landed on top of the monster, or whatever was left of it. some of the rock from it had been chipped off, scattering into pebbles around the area. She hefted Vale, resting it on her shoulders. "Weak. Too easy." She said in an almost emotionless, completely uncaring tone.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Eileen had transformed, much to Fiona's chagrin. She wiggled herself up, yanking Cinnamon by his ears so he wouldn't be crushed between her and the seat, though she let him go as she gasped. Shoot, the monster was attacking! She looked at Eileen, who meekly asked her to transform to take care of their enemy. Eileen may have been gung-ho about all this, but Fiona was a grown woman now! Well, they both were, but still! They had defeated the Big Bad, this was supposed to be their ever after! And her future did NOT include returning to the battlefield. She had a family, if she got hurt or lost her life, there would be repercussions! "Please don't call me that...!" Fiona couldn't help but whine her response at Eileen. No, she didn't want to transform! She didn't want any of this! Letting out a whimper of defeat, Fiona let out a groan as she fished her transformation trinket out of her pocket. Her heart raced against her chest as she gripped it tightly, forcing herself so go through the motions. Letting out a yell of frustration, Fiona rolled down the window on her side, exiting through it. The speed of the car whipped her hair around as she climbed to the top of the car, a death grip on the stupid trinket. "I summon the Passion of the Sun! Justice Solar Flare!" She called, wincing as flames covered her physical body. As they dispersed, her conservative, motherly clothing was replaced with something that a high school girl would wear to a rock concert. She visibly shivered, her outfit leaving her a lot more vulnerable to the winds. At least her hair was in a ponytail, but her exposed skin caused her to visibly cringe. She was much too old to be dressed like this! Regaining her composure, she drew her fist back, flames gathering, and she punched them forward at the monster.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Snickering to herself Justice Goldenrod performed a quick twirl and returned the gun in her left hand back into a holster. "Told you I'm the fastest." beamed out Justice Goldenrod clearly proud of what she accomplished. Though with that said, when she was younger chances were that she wouldn't have to oh, get shot with a mysterious barb, to defeat it. But hey a win was a win. While Justice Goldenrod had defeated the one monster that was endangering her, well not just hers after all it was very popular with colleagues and friends but it was one of her regular hangouts, turf there was still the other monster at play. The electrical abomination which Justice Bloom had the fortune, or misfortune rather, of facing! With that a slew of thoughts came into Courtney's mind. Would Elly be mad at me for taking a few shots at the thing? She is strong... Which quickly led to another thought, Maybe just one would be okay. She could beat it up afterwards. Again more flurry of thoughts had occurred to her. God I wish this thing was gone, I could scratch my ass. But wait, proooobably shouldn't do that! ...BUT IT'S SO ITCHY! Grimacing and shaking her head, Courtney focused on the situation at hand which again led her to more thoughts. Oh hang on. ...Didn't the other ladies need help? They couldn't have gone thaaaaat far. It's only been what, a minute? Two? Snapping her fingers, with the hand that didn't have a pistol in it of course, Courtney came up with an idea that would probably help out her pal without stealing the spotlight, and letting the others know for sure where the Hell some of them were. Justice Goldenrod opened up the magazine of her family-friendly-firearm and began motioning her index finger to make a series of presses upon the ammo within. "Pixels of Pixies, hic, prepare my pretty pretty pistol..." Courtney chanted out as she prepared the ammo for a more important attack. With that incantation, of sorts, finished she returned the magazine back into place. "Hey Sparky!" she taunted towards the creature, both as a mechanism for possible distraction and more of just wanting to get in some verbal jousting, "Time for a little heart to heart!" With that line shouted out, Cartwright fired the striped polka dotted heart at the electrical monstrosity hoping for a proper impact and more importantly marking the creature for tracking.</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:34 PM Lily stared blandly at the chaos unfolding before her, adjusting her suit and no worse for the wear after the stunt. There had not been much time to kickass, apparently. As flawed and annoying some of the former girls had grown, the instinct to fight monsters, bicker later was still running strong. The alcohol of her system healed and flushed, she spun her wand in a combat stance, her eyes eyeing the gathering of girls. Glorious clusterfuck if they ever saw one, as she eyed Emily in the dress once more. She remembered the first time they had gone all together, and how the dress seemed to look on her. Now, it looked atrocious. On everyone but herself, a stark reminder that, she alone, was still the only one who looked like a proper magical girl. Even though Justice Heart was long and done, it was at least a bit heartwarming that despite these issues they had still enough moral compass to tackle monsters before their personal problems. She narrowed her eyes, trying to scan for clues, her healing magic at standby. She gritted her teeth. "Somehow I doubt this is over, stay sharp." She blurted out. After years of dealing with crime, she knew that dropping one's guard was inviting failure. She grimaced, hoping that the reinforcements behaved. Isana was a selfish bitch, and Alice just had that stupid habit of treating Lily as either a doll or a kid, whichever she fancied. But well, Carrie was there. She was kind of reliable. Unlike Emily at times. Her sight lingered on her a bit too much, before making a sort of introspection. Why here, and why now? And why does it seem like the monsters are actually matched to our abilities?</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Glancing over her shoulder, Vivian was pleased to see that her hammer had effectively locked the monster in place by the force of gravity. But it was not dead, and if it could stand up to that then it could probably take all her attacks short of Meteor Strike. Which wasn't exactly something that she was going to break out in the middle of the highway. "Well hanging out by the police isn't exactly my idea of a good time," Vivian muttered as she received the message telling her where to go. "But I guess I can make an exception." Hopefully they wouldn't turn her in, or stick up for her if one of the actual cops noticed. Or something. Revving the engine, she made a sharp turn as she headed in the general direction of where she remembered the police bar to be. Those girls had better not be too busy, because she was not going to turn around just because they weren't. For a moment she actually felt pretty cool, riding on a motorcycle while swinging a hammer like a paperweight. Then she remembered that she was in her mid thirties, fleeing from a monster that by all rights she should have been able to smoke when she was in her prime. She hated being older. The creature rapidly closing in reminded her that she needed to focus, and she leaned forward with her hammer extended behind her, drawing closer to her destination. Hopefully they weren't too busy, because she was coming in hot.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed everybody had converged, both magical girls and monsters alike. In some ways, that was a good thing- if Justice Heart could focus all their attacks on one monster, that would probably wipe it out and tilt the odds in their favor. Downside was, the monsters might well be thinking the same plan, only in reverse. Then, Carrie saw the water beast flowing out of the apartment building, and she gave a killer smile. She'd played enough Pokémon in her youth to know what to do. Carrie considered her options. Wrath of the Storm would certainly fry her target into oblivion, and maybe even do some nasty collateral damage to another monster, but she wasn't sure she could channel so much electricity after being out of practice for twenty years, and some of her friends might well be caught in the blast. The latter problem was also in effect for Electric Explosion, and Thunder Breath was best used as a counterattack to charging enemies. With her choices reduced to a singularity, Carrie felt the power racing through her. How had she gone so long without this? "Electric Pillar!" Carrie slammed her staff into the ground, and a bolt of lightning ripped through the monster's watery hide. Hopefully, that would do some significant damage.</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:35PM Short Distance from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord The armored figure was crushed easily beneath Isana's blow, shattering into a thousand pieces as she continued to watch over it. Following them were several pieces of furniture and a monster made of water, but the water monster exploded into a thousand tiny droplets as whatever made up its magical core detonated - and it seemed to have no intent of reforming in the face of Carrie's execution. The pieces of furniture threw themselves at Isana once again, but from the car Emily waved her wand towards the ground, collecting the pieces of furniture onto her magical path and gathering them into a single location - hopefully Isana would be smart enough to allow someone with a more magical attack to try finishing them off now that they were collected. As Lily watched, she'd see Vivian riding into the scene, some sort of wind-like monster following her - it would be the ideal chance to fire off her beam of moonlight at the damned thing. While it wasn't strong, it was the ideal chance to deal some damage that would hopefully stick to it. "A-Alice! Just do something useful!" Emily had stopped the car at this point - their group seemed far more collected, and they didn't need to flee anymore. She fired a shot at the pieces of furniture, trying to deal a bit of damage to them - hopefully someone would arrive shortly to finish it off. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA Algorithm@Hero - Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar The shadow monster lunged forward, the movement of the car sending its mark off kilter on the tech girl driving the car - only causing a rather nasty gash on her arm. However, as the shadow monsters mortal enemy appeared - a magical girl practically comprised of the sun - its eyes widened as it let out a death screech, obliterating into nothing in a single blow. There were no ashes, although perhaps a few burn marks stretched around the car. It seemed the middle class mom had a few aces up her sleeve. The plastic monster was far enough behind, that if they continued driving they would find themselves arriving shortly. As for Judge Cinnamon, he'd detect that the serpent that had been after Lily had backed away from the fighting for one reason or another, fleeing from the scene. Shortly afterwards, it would wipe itself from the radar as if it was truly gone. - Outside of Police Bar As her companion fought the electrical monster, Goldenrod now left alone focused her lasers at the monster - it seemed the non-physical damage caused a hit, as the electrical being was hit by the magical woman's abilities. A large beacon appeared above them, making it apparent to the other magical girls where they were. The monster wasn't finished yet - the shot wasn't nearly effective enough to wipe it out, after all. However, it perhaps would clue their companions in on what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Oh good! Her shot fired true as it seemed the power of the pixies were with her. Justice Goldenrod smiled proudly at her craftsmanship, knowing full well the beacon would probably convince the rest of the gang to come to them instead of the other way around. Courtney tilted her head as she thought about the best course of action to take now. Well there was always the option of helping Justice Bloom defeat the electrical menace. But Elise totally had it in the bag! So that was a no go. Since the beacon was up there was no real point in chasing down the streets for the other gals. And Courtney couldn't just do nothing and idly wait. It was then she knew what she could do! Returning the remaining pistol back into its holster Justice Goldenrod cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered out. "LET'S GO JUSTICE BLOOM! LET'S GO!" She emphasized her cheering with a pair of claps. "LET'S GO JUSTICE BLOOM! LET'S GO!" Justice Goldenrod began skating from side to side while shaking her butt around. After a few moments of doing a potpourri of performance moves, which were seemingly took longer than they did, she pointed at Elise, with a large smile on her face. "KNOCK IT, ROCK IT, BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD!" cheered out Courtney as she jumped up kicking her legs outwards in a split. "DON'T STOP UNTIL IT'S DEAD! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!~"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- The rock monster dealt with, Isana took a moment to observe the others to get a grasp of the situation. Alice was being her usual self, Lily was surprisingly sober seeming, Emily was being bossy as always, and Carrie was...doing whatever it was she normally did. To put bluntly, they were doing pretty much exactly what she thought they'd be doing. No surprise there, and she cared little to spare a second thought about them. Instead, she just calmly observed the going on's. Part of her wanted to completely level that ghost thing but that would be an effort in futility at the moment. Ugh, annoying and boring. These monsters weren't even halfway competent. It was like the monsters were playing with them. Plus, what were the chances of them all being targeted on the same night? Something smelled fishy here, and she didn't like being toyed with. "Tch, give me something fun to fight if you're going to send monsters after me..." She grumbled, lightly tapping Vale against her shoulder. As much as she wanted to fight those amalgamation of their furniture...she also wasn't stupid enough to try it. So for now, she simply watched and waited idly.</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:36 PM Somewhere not over the rainbow. @shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord@RabidAnubis "Alice, being useful?" Lily just shook her head. "She's a support type, just like me, haven't you heard?" Lily just feigned mock despair, as she eyed the dregs of the monster attack still coming at them. She scoffed slightly at Isana's flippancy. Some things just got worst with age, didn't they. She saw Vivian, the bad girl of their lot. Well, the first Bad girl of the group. These days... well, nobody had gotten with life without a stain or two. Even her older sister. Lily breathed deep, focusing her annoyance, but only failing to partially curb it. She fumbled with her phone for a second, only to then suddenly take the initiative. "Still, don't you worry sis!" She said, for a moment completely mimicking the inflections she had when she was 12. She didn't need to actually try to make her voice any different, since her voicebox had never changed. "I shall punish the evildoers!" She added as she spun her once staff in the air, making an exaggerated pose. "Piriririparu!" She added, launching her staff high in the air, her eyes aiming at the air monster. The battery of her cellphone flied away to meet the supposed "Face" of the storm monster as she did so, an innocent-but-not-quite so smile forming in her lips. "Moonlight beam!" She said in her sweetest diabetic intonation, before dropping her tone a few octaves "Lithium battery mishap special." FWOOSH. The hit was dead on, coating the air monster's face with a fast-spreading flame, and given that the thing was actually pure air, it would hopefully spread fairly quickly, disrupting any integrity the thing had. "How 'bout that, you mutant Hobo Fart! This is for messing with the Justice btches, you fcker!" She finished her spiel with a predatory grin.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Performance Time - @Ugii@RabidAnubis@shagranoz@Flamelord@AtomicNut@Hero@Rune_Alchemist@Stern Algorithm@Rabidporcupine --- Alice was feeling dismayed at the negative vibes from Lily. She didn't exactly feel anything sexual from her, but she thought she treated her well, just like the others back in the day. Not that she showed it on her face, but it dug deep... Well, deeper than the broken plates and stuff. There was still stuff she could do now though! Her song could reach far and wide. That was her power after all. Perhaps even now, she could reach out to the Justice Hearts and inspire them. Unlike the others, she had been practicing for years, mostly because singing was something she could do in her civilian form. "Fine, Lily! Be rude to me. Just because I sit this support role, it doesn't mean I'm useless." She gave a light bit of a pout to Lily before bursting up into the air. "I'm an idol now! Listen now to a popular new song, "Starful Night Sky!" She spun her staff-microphone into the air and caught it, holding the mic close to her mouth. "Can you see the stars tonight? Painted, across the sky!" She continued to sing her high pitch, bright toned song. All the magical girls would be able to hear the song and likely instinctively know that it was Alice's doing. "Let them light up your path but your compass is your heart!" They'd find themselves noticeably stronger now, perhaps more inspired or sure of themselves. Something Alice thought Lily might need.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett It was so sudden that Vivian almost didn't see it coming, focusing on getting to the police bar as she was. As a result she was taken off guard when she rushed past the people she recognized as the fellow members of Justice Heart each taking on their own problems in their own particular way. She hit the brakes, quickly slowing to a stop as she turned to face the monster that had been chasing her for so long. Now they could handle this bit of business. She didn't have to say anything before Lily noticed her problem, sending an attack to ignite the thing on fire and hopefully kill it. At the very least it had a better chance of working than anything she had done so far, so she would have to be grateful for that. As much as she could be considering she'd barely heard from some of them for the past couple of years. The motorcycle parked, Vivian hopped off the bike before removing her helmet as well. "Alright, what did you guys do?" she challenged, figuring they were the cause for why she had just been attacked by a monster out of the blue. Who else would be culpable for something magical like that? She then noticed the conglomeration of furniture, held in place for the moment yet with no one else addressing it. "What, you guys couldn't handle a couch without me?" she asked with a hint of incredulity. Nonetheless she faced towards it, hefting her hammer and concentrating energy in it before launching another Dark Pulse at the thing. With it concentrated where it was, that would hopefully crush it down to nothing but splinters and debris, finishing it off for good. @shagranoz@AtomicNut@Rune_Alchemist@RabidAnubis</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed the water monster had been dealt with, and not a moment too soon. Other monsters of all shapes and sizes were attacking the girls, but at least they had the numerical advantage now. Carrie wiped her brow, feeling a little tired. Maybe she was out of practice, or perhaps years of reality had beaten the Friendship out of her, but she wasn't able to keep up the magic the way she had all those years ago. Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight; that just wasn't her style. The electrified magical girl looked around for her next target. The furniture monsters were made of wood, and therefore probably resistant to her attacks. The air monster seemed to be a better option, so she went for that just as Lily's attack hit hard. A blast of lightning slammed into the creature from the other side, hopefully speeding up its demise. "Could somebody get Goldenrod some duct tape for her mouth? She could really use it."</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Eileen "Justice Violet" Fang Eileen Fang AKA Justice Violet and Judge Cinnamon 7:35PM Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar @RabidAnubis As Justice SolarFlare climbed to the roof of Eileen's car, Eileen began slowing down and heading to the side of the road, turning on her emergency lights for good measure. Suddenly, by some fluke, the monster dove straight at her as she was coming out of the car, slashing her arm. Eileen screamed as Fiona finished off the monster. "Lily..." Eileen panted, holding her arm, and recognizing that she needed medical attention. Looking back at the smoldering ruin of Fiona's car, many, many yards away, she noticed that the plastic monster didn't seem to be coming after them. "The monsters that haven't been killed are fleeing," Judge Cinnamon transmitted, "Do not pursue, regroup and we can debrief." "C-can you take us to the bar?" Eileen asked Fiona, suggesting that she drive Eileen's car. Eileen rarely sustained an injury of this magnitude as she was usually suited up prior to an engagement. She was also rather crestfallen that she had not had the opportunity to actually suit up and relive her glory days. Wordlessly, she crawled into the passenger seat, still cradling her arm, and giving the Judge time to move out of her way so she wouldn't sit on him. Eileen had been useless today, what else was new?</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| It's...retreating? Flare narrowed her eyes as the other monster made its hasty retreat, confirmed by Judge Cinnamon's mental announcement. Deciding it was safe enough and unwilling to bear the humiliation of her outfit any longer, Justice SolarFlare would immediately de-transform, her boots turning into heels as she jumped down from the car. She was relieved to be in her much more modest jeans and blouse as she turned towards Eileen, a frown on her face. She would completely forget about the monster entirely as she realized Eileen had gotten hurt. As much as Fiona wanted to just go home, there was no way she could leave Eileen in that state. At her request, Fiona got into the driver's side, although she couldn't help but give Cinnamon an irritated look. "I don't understand why this is happening," She stated as she would shift the car into drive, continuing on to where seemingly everyone was converging.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Quitting Time --- Alice finished her little performance and came to the ground where everyone was gathering. Well, perhaps more importantly, where her couch and other items were in pieces... Her heart cried out for the missing pieces... But most of all that couch... How many memories of messing with Isana did she have on that thing? How many woman had she seduced there? How many times did she have 'fun' with a multitude of her... Well... Perhaps it WAS time for a new couch... It was... Justice Verdant that did this, yes? Before she changed back, it'd probably be a good idea to make people disperse right? She put her microphone-staff close to her mouth and spoke. "Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Justice Heart reunion concert! As you can see, we're all done here so go about your way on your normal day! Thanks for joining us!" She exclaimed, acting as if it were some pop-up concert. Hopefully, her power would make it so normal people would stop paying attention to them. "OH! And don't forget to pick up your own copy of the new anime 'Orange', or even watch it on 'CrispyRoll'! Thank you!" She was shameless as always. With that, she made her way over to the one who destroyed her couch and changed back to normal once she was sure that no normal people were watching. She walked her way over to Vivian (if the woman were on the ground) and linked arms. "Heeeyyyy.... Vivian. Since you destroyed my couch, you get to have the honor of helping me pick a new one out." She tried her best to use that cutesy voice she used in some anime she was in.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Vivian nodded with satisfaction as her attack smashed the monster and finished it off for good. Seeing Dark Pulse in action always brought a sense of amusement to her with how it could destroy, and it felt much better to do it to that than to the wind monster she had been so completely ineffectual against. With that and one last monster dispatched, it seemed that the fight was over for now. Pity about whoever's furniture that was, but it probably wasn't relevant. Right? With everyone relaxing, Vivian took it upon herself to detransform back to normal as she stepped away from her bike for the moment. Much as she would like to go zooming off, she was at least dimly aware of the fact that without everyone else she would have been a smear on the highway somewhere, so she should probably give them some gratitude for the assist. Before she could say anything though, she found herself approached by Alice. Whoops, turned out that the couch belonged to her after all. Not that Vivian would have done anything different given the situation. "Not a chance," she replied firmly, crossing her arms defiantly. "That couch wasn't coming out in one piece after you let it get possessed by a monster. Besides, I'm sure you're rich enough that replacing that stuff shouldn't be a problem." She wasn't going to give in without a fight.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:38PM Short Distance from Police Bar Elise quickly dealt the final blow to the electricity monster to Courtney's cheering, letting out a final electronic scream before coming to an end the thousand cuts were delivered. After cheering her teamate on, Justice Goldenrod insisted on the party working on their choreography, which made Emily roll her eyes to the top of her skull. They weren't pre-teens anymore - did they have to be any more ridiculous? The newspeople weren't really something she was interested in dealing with, and were actually far more concerning to her now than they used to be. Especially now that the internet was more of a thing. "Please, Courtney." Emily watched Isana leave the group out of the corner of her eye - and Justice Star couldn't blame her. She didn't seem to like any of them except for Alice, and it was entirely possible that if they arranged anything Alice would simply pass on the news. Emily watched as Alice dismissed the majority of the standing crowd with her magic, which solved most of her concerns. As the voice actor approached to complain to Vivian though and enthusiastic high pitched male voice overwhelmed the remaining magical girls. "WOW! Incredible! After 20 years, the Justice Hearts have returned, and with a bang! White Heart, why don't you tell us what prompted this reuinion concert? Why are the monsters attacking? What's it like now that you've grown up - and where have you been? How's do you plan to balance this with your careers?" The mid twenties reporter spoke with incredible speed, his body practically vibrating with a youthful vigor that somehow made him resistant to Alice's powers. A microphone was in his hand, which he shoved in front of the women's faces. The remaining magical girls arrived on the spot as Lily passed out, still somewhat drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Sofa shopping --- Thankfully, the little incident hadn't happened too far from their apartment so it was an easy enough walk back. Just...one small problem... "Hey!" A cameraman crew and a reporter were chasing after her, likely wanting to get a nice juicy interview with a former magical girl. Isana merely sighed, shoulders slumping in mild annoyance. "You're Justice Gaia, aren't you? Or would you prefer we call you by your solo name of 'Luminous Vale?" The excitable reporter asked. Isana had to refrain from audibly groaning. She'd like to just send these two flying, but that would cause more problems than they'd help. "Hmm," Isana frowned, stopping and turning to look back at the reporters. "I'd prefer to get back to my Chinese food, and to convince my roommate to by the most expensive couch she can get her hands on." With that simple statement, she stomped her foot on the ground as the earth began to rumble. "Rampart Castle!" Several, large spikes of earth erupted in the ground between her and the reporters, spreading a thick wall of stone across the entire street, causing some of the street to suddenly have itself closed off and the reporters to have to jump backwards lest they find themselves stuck on top of the rampart. Isana of course, continued on her way back to her apartment. The rampart would dissolve by itself in a few hours, and it was easy enough to return to the scene of the incident. The building was empty as it ever was at this time, save for someone joining her on the elevator who was giving her a few odd looks. Easy enough to pass her attire off as Cosplay or something. Once back inside she finally transformed back to her regular appearance - meaning just a plain white t-shirt and her underwear. First things first, she picked up the remains of her Chinese food off the ground, a deep, mournful lamenting sigh leaving her lips. Well, whatever. Her computer was fine so she went about redressing herself in her usual attire. Cheap, but good looking red suit with a black tie and dress pants. After collecting what she could salvage of the Chinese food into a single carton, she headed back down. For now, she just watched idly from the sidelines again. She'd drag Alice off to the furniture store once the crowd dispersed a bit. For now, she'd enjoy the rest of her Chinese food that she could as she watched the rest of the events unfold.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Sofa Shopping --- Alice pouted a bit. This woman was a bit purposefully daft sometimes wasn't she? "Come on, Vivian. I'm telling you to buy it. Just help me pick it out. I'll even buy dinner." Alice said as she tightened her grip on the woman's arm. She wasn't letting her get away that easy! Nope. Not trying to get in her pants or anything at all. "You owe me this much after all these years don't you? Isana can be such a grouch, it'd be nice to have someone else look too." She added. Vivian was an enemy long ago, but she was a friend now! Or, suppose to be. Alice sort of wondered why a lot of the Justice Heart girls got kind of bitchy about things as they grew up. The rich girl still loved all of them, despite what they might think of her. "Come on, Vivi--" That was when the reporter appeared in front of her. So many questions she didn't know quite how to answer... "Oh, umm..." Right, they didn't know who she was for some reason. "Well, I'm not sure? I mean, these all took us by surprise I think... Oh, isn't it not journalistic standard to not divulge too much information when you don't have the full of the story? That's that on the monster issue. Otherwise... Ain't I looking good for a thirty-something? I'd like to the think it's a result of having been in the hearts and minds of fans for the last twenty years! Also, I think our careers are fine. Boy-o, would you mind letting us talk? It's a get together after twenty years and we'd love if you'd show a little delicacy." She tried to infuse a bit of her power into it. Hopefully he'll leave with a few of his answers.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Ugh, the fourth estate. Somebody should just tell them to leave us the hell alone. Back in the good old days, the media's electronic equipment had a nasty habit of overloading or shorting out around Carrie. Not that she'd ever owned up to it. Twenty years down the road, her attitude towards reporters hadn't improved a bit. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse with age. "Listen, right now we're confused, scared out of our wits, and generally trying to figure out what the hell is going on. No warning signs whatsoever, and this was too coordinated to be an isolated incident. As to whether it's Dollmaster or something else..." she shrugged. "No clue. Now, let us get back to doing what we do, okay?"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Not Sofa Shopping --- "Wait, wait, wait! You all. Stop fighting!" Alice said pushing everyone apart. Courtney and Isana notably. "Why am I having to be the reasonable one here?" The woman said with a bit of a pout. This was bad though. Everyone started arguing again didn't they? Bad, bad, bad, bad. If this keeps up she might have a breakdown. They had gotten all back together! Just now! "Come on! We're a team! We always were! We are now!" Her eyes... Didn't look good. They looked like they were desperately trying to cling on to some sort of hope... "Isana! You'll help fight at least, right! And keep an eye out on the way to and from work!? Nothing more to take up time in your day!" She then turned to the others. "That's fine, right!?" Her thoughts impacted her face a bit more than she'd like at this point. It kind of looked like she was under duress... It would probably be best if everyone at least agreed with her and sent her away for a bit even if they didn't mean it.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana almost escalated things. She wanted to just be done and out of this, but before she could make a retort Alice interrupted - and not in her usually happy mildly perverted way. Team? Don't make her laugh. They hadn't been a team since they split up all those years ago. Still...Alice was her roommate, and out of all the girls was currently the one she tolerated the most. It'd be trouble for her later, but playing along now would save her more trouble later it seemed. "Fine," She sighed irritably, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her dress pants. "I'll use my precious day off tomorrow to help you guys do whatever, but don't expect me to be overly friendly. After that, I'll not make any promises. I am not compromising my life just to help you guys on a wild goose chase." She looked over to Courtney, glaring at her. "And I'll keep you to that, but don't make promises your not going to keep." Who knows, having a favor might come in handy later....more importantly though. "So then...what are we going to do? If we think about it logically then this was obviously just a ploy to get us together. Using someone as bait wouldn't solve anything." She was going to help, so she'd help to the fullest of her abilities that she could. Unlike the rest of these fools, she actually kept her word. "If they were looking to kill us then they could have just picked us off one by one instead of forcing us to be together. Even if we all became aware of it after one or two of us had been dealt with, it'd be much safer for them. So unless whoever this is is an idiot, I don't think it'd work." She shrugged. "But perhaps I'm giving someone too much credit."</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Guuuh..." Elise groaned, her eyes blinking open. "Where... What happened..." And then she actually managed to pick up on her surroundings, specifically their colour scheme, and a splash of vomit flowed from her mouth without her expression changing in any way. She just sat there, almost as if she was unaware it was even happening until she looked down at it on the floor. "You know, I think that might actually look better..." And then she lifted her head to look at all the people gathered around, immediately picking out the three people who registered as 'most important' in her mind. "Oh hey Em... What's going on coughscumcough?" She looked down for a moment, rubbing her throat, before looking back up to their old leader. "Huh, sorry. I must have something wrong with my throat. You see, I called you scum. Just worried you might not've heard it with the cough n' all." She then turned to Isana, a wide smirk growing across her face. "And as if today wasn't great enough, my number one rival is here as well!" She shouted excitedly. "Could it be that you're here for another rematch? Because honestly, I can't quite see you coming back to this ugly-ass place of your own free will... It's gotta be that hot-blooded fighting spirit, am I right?!" And then she hopped off the mountain of stuffed toys and fell rather naturally into an over-dramatic pose. The coolness of said pose may have been lost a little, due to the patches of vomit still present on her chin, but if anyone thought something like that would stop her, they clearly never really knew her in the first place. "Coco!" She called, pointing frantically to her best friend. "I can't quite say I remember why we're here, but join me! Together, let us pose and shout everything we would normally say, specifically so we can annoy the shit out of Emily and Izzy!" And then she spun around, finishing in a completely different, equally dramatic pose.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Frowning, Vivian crossed her arms over her chest as her gaze swept the room while they discussed exactly how they were going to tackle this problem. Isana was reticent and she couldn't really blame her for that. Not like they had done much in the way of group activities for some time now, and this wasn't exactly the best situation to start trying to mend burnt bridges. Leaving the jokes aside, she added her own two cents to the current argument. "Isana has a point," she noted aloud. "We don't know how they're tracking us or coordinating their attacks. Whoever is responsible might know that the bait is bait, or they might just choose to attack someone else because they better meet whatever criteria they have. Though I don't think they were intending to bring us together, since the one that I fought seemed pretty tailored to be immune to my own abilities." Frowning, she sighed as she rubbed the back of her head in thought for a few moments. "We should go check out the Dollmaster's old haunts, see if anyone's decided to use them recently. Other magical hotspots from the old days would be a good bet too." Maybe they'd be able to find some clues there. She ignored Elise for now. That was a can of worms she wasn't going to get involved in.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart Even though she didn't want to be here, Emily was glad Courtney had her side. Isana continued to be upset, until their little microphone wielding friend - and her ex - started to have some sort of breakdown. After the girl's breakdown, it seemed the rock smashing heavy hitter finally put their brain to use and proposed something. It actually made a bit of sense, when she thought about it. But Emily's increasingly peaceful thoughts were wiped out by her other ex's sister. "Hey, pukestain, I-" No, that would be taking it to far. Still though. "Are you going to contribute or not, Elise? Or are you going to keep puking everywhere? Because if it's the second, I have a daughter that's probably at home wanting me to cook dinner." She had been putting up with childish acts for the past 16 years, and she wasn't going to let Elise break her now. She hoped that stung a little as she turned her attention to Vivian. "I agree - it seems like my monster was intended to kill me. I was never the rock smasher of the party. If they wanted to get us together, they would have had to known all of our schedules put us in a similar area." Star Heart looked at Vivian. "I think a little investigation wouldn't hurt - it's possible someone malicious is somehow using the Dollmaster's power again." She turned back to Isana. "Although I wonder why you'd think someone would want us back together. This can't be good for anyone meaning harm."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Oh speaking just from narrative's sake probably for some big moment like oh, totally destroying our base and thus hindering a lot of our ability for further communication and to make it a lot harder to recover from any damages in case the designated killing monsters failed." Courtney just blurted out as she listened to the various threads discussed by the group. "So you girls want to divvy it up then? A few going to old lairs of villainy to check while others go investigate the usual spots we got attacked at?" inquired Courtney as she began to ponder the other things that needed addressed. She cocked her head as she glanced towards Isana, "Noted. You may call it in whenever you may see fit." Whatever that favor might be, it probably would be worth it in the long game. Or maybe she made a deal with a devil she wished she didn't. Whatever at the moment that did not matter to Courtney. Nor did solving the problem at had and getting the plan together, she already asked those things. No what mattered now was something far more important. Courtney glanced towards Emily and soberly spoke, "You could've prevented this...Buuut that first liiine of address..." Dramatically pointing towards Elise, Courtney Cartwright spun around on her heels before jumping up in the air. "You've got it Elly!" Landing down on her knee she extended out both of her hands to the side, each one having a finger gun readied. "Prepare yourself! Faster than the speed of love~" Courtney declared as she sprung up extending her legs. Running side to side Courtney began firing off imaginary strikes, "Armed with the firearms of the faeries! Valor conquering villainy!" Performing a pirouette and striking a pose extending out a pair of finger guns, Courtney's eyes shimmered with an spark of energy. "THE GRINNING GUNNER AND PIXIE PISTOLEER, JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSTICE GOOOOOLDEEEENROOOOOOD!!!"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana merely glared coldly at Elise. She was looking to start something, obviously, but Isana had no intention of fighting at the moment. She just wanted to be done and out of here. While she might have roughhoused a bit with Elise had they met anywhere else, for now she just wanted to get through this with as little conflict as possible. So she ignored Elise, instead focusing more on Vivian and Emily. The two at least seemed like they both wanted to get this over with and go home without getting too much into it. "Because," Isana replied with a grunt to the question of why she thought this was a ploy to get them together. "Seeing you morons is giving me high blood pressure and detrimental to my own health, that's why." It was a sarcastic wise-ass reply to be sure, but she thought she could afford to be a little sarcastic with this. If the others had a problem with her attitude, they could get over it. "...but more seriously," She continued with a sigh. "Simple. They gave us monsters we couldn't fight by easily ourselves so do the math - unless any of us had a death wish, it'd be obvious we'd go and find another Justice Heart to help. Don't ask me why." She grunted, ignoring the two neanderthals...'posing'. "Or we'd just fight and either destroy half the city in the process, or exhaust ourselves." To what end though? Isana hadn't a clue. Maybe whoever it was had some bigger plan in mind. Maybe she was just overthinking it after watching to many mystery shows and objectively terrible anime. Could go either way, really, but exploring every possible avenue here was better than simply writing one off as wrong. Heh, maybe they were banking on them not helping each other and having them end up being a scapegoat for damaging the city in some way. Well, whatever. "Either way, if we're going to be investigating we should go in pairs so we don't get jumped again like this." Isana said, glancing over at Alice. She still didn't look like she was doing to well. With a sigh, Isana walked over and grabbed the womans ear and gave it a gentle tug to get her attention. "If that's what we're doing, then I'll take Alice and look at some of the old haunts. We can come back tomorrow evening after finish our investigating." Plus they could shop for that couch while they were out too.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin "Hmmm... I agree with Isana, as painful as it is to admit," Carrie commented. "We should all go in pair, as often as possible, and keep our cell phones handy. That way, if something nasty does show up, we can meet and take care of it, just like this time." She thought for a second, sitting back in the oversized chair. "As for how you all can keep track of me, what with the teleporting and all... perhaps some of us could requisition one of those ankle-tracker thingies? I mean, I can keep it in my purse, so I don't look like a parolee." "This keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- Alice was surprised when she saw the couch just about eating Isana. "Isana!" She exclaimed. She didn't have time to worry about the toughest of the Justice Hearts though, as a water monster thing appeared from the nearby bathroom. Well, this was fun. Before it could grab her by the leg, she quickly transformed. She could only assume it came out of the toilet... She didn't want such dirty water touching her! She grabbed her Magical Microphone and sang a high note, causing a music note to escape her tool. It floated gently into the middle of this car sized water monster and was ready to explode. "At least most things don't eat you for food. And can you try not to completely destroy the couch? I really like that one." Alice asked, not really seeing that it was pretty much destroyed anyhow. She kept her attention on the water monster thing now. "Anyhowser... Can you explode now?" Alice asked, snapping her finger and causing the typical sonic bomb of a music note to explode. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the creature reverberate to it's non-existence.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright Police Bar – Exterior --- "Okay!" Courtney eagerly said with a nod and a bounce in affirmation that they had to be stylish in heroics. Cartwright moved close to Elise and slung her arm around her shoulder. Leaning in Courtney began to speak. "So like, we gotta remember the most important things about dramatic entrances is that..." And as if on cue, to prevent this important piece of information from revelation, a power line snapped and landed in front of them! Shortly thereafter the monster was crafted from the wreckage. "OHMYGOSHSORRYNOTSORRY!" shrieked out Courtney as she valiantly pushed Elise to the side for a bit of help in avoiding the electrical monstrosity! But alas this gesture was probably not the best move for Courtney's self-preservation due to a horrid little, well smaller than that colossus of electricity, creature's set of attacks. Though it was safe to say it was a more heroic endeavor. While Cartwright was not hit by all of the spikes of the creature, one of those poisonous spikes did hit its mark and landed firmly in the left buttocks. Wincing in pain and landing down upon the sidewalk upon her belly she tried to crawl behind a nearby trashcan in order to take a bit of shelter. Hopefully she would be able to get a bit reprieve so she could, well for one thing remove that pain in her ass (the literal one) and figure out what sort of poisonous nasty she was inflicted with, and of course access her "magical accessory" so that she could properly transform. Oh and remembering that bit of advice she wanted to tell her friend about dramatic entrances would be a nice little cherry if the other things panned out!</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin If Carrie had been a normal woman, she would have been snake food. Fortunately for her, she wasn't. A quick dip of her shoulder and a twist of her hips sent the serpent sailing past, though she did take a slicing wound to her shoulder. What was worse, she went into her maneuver right as Emily threw the car into a turn, causing Carrie to lose her balance and plummet to the asphalt. Carrie was in a bad way. The armored monster was slowly advancing from behind, but she couldn't deal with it until she took out the snake, which had sped out of the storm drain for another assault. This time, though, it came at her face… which was the one place you didn't want to attack a magical girl with elemental breath powers.. "Thunder Breath!" Carrie exhaled a blast of lightning, catching the snake full-on and sending it reeling. It didn't finish the monster off, but it did give her a chance to get to her feet, staff at the ready. The snake circled her warily, not wanting a repeat of the previous rebuffed attack, and the armored monster was almost in range. She called out to Emily, "Yo! A little help would be nice here!"</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| As Fiona drove, the pit in her stomach grew heavier, especially when she spotted a familiar white car next to her. Eileen?! Great, it looked like an unwanted reunion was coming soon. As the thought crossed her mind, a light in the rearview mirror caught her attention. Letting out a groan, Fiona would decide to floor it, hoping Eileen would take the hint. As she did, however, she realized that whatever that thing was, it was faster, and would advance on them sooner rather than later. Shoot, what should she do? Seeing as how she had remained out of the action for some time, the first thought was calling the police, but in this case she technically was the police. Sort of. Taking in a deep breath, she gave herself a silent prayer of forgiveness to her husband as she closed her eyes. She had to discard her role of a housewife and get back into her daredevil, brash ways. Opening her eyes, she pressed down on the acceleration, taking off her seatbelt as her car would zip forward. Keeping an eye on Eileen's car, she would inhale and exhale out any second thoughts,simply waiting for the right timing. Closer and closer the monster came, and once she deemed it close enough, she slammed on the brakes. Yanking on the emergency break, she threw her door open and jumped out, her legs letting her leap high into the air. Her car would go crashing into one of the monsters, resulting in an explosion of gas and fire. As she came down, she found her timing to be as good as ever, managing to land on Eileen's car she she passed by. That being said, she was still a housewife, and would have went flying off the car if she hadn't grabbed the hood for dear life. "I'm not supposed to be doing this sort of thing anymore!" She wailed as she clung onto Eileen's car, her hair billowing behind her. Slowly and carefully climbing her way to the passenger side, she tapped the glass, and once the window was opened, she slid in. Her eyes were wide with annoyance, and she huffed as she put on her seatbelt. Fixing her hair, she leaned back in her seat, trying to regain her composure. "Good evening, how are you?" She asked, her voice meek as she tried to pretend everything was normal.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Eileen "Justice Violet" Fang "Why haven't you transformed yet!?" Cinnamon screamed mentally, panicking as he sensed the shadow monster swiftly close the distance. "I-I'm d-d-driving..." Eileen stammered, but a quick look into her side mirror sent her into a panic as well. "I-it's time for Justice!" Eileen called out, her voice cracking. Letting go of the wheel, a dangerous and stupid thing to do, Eileen did her best to perform her transformation pose, which normally involved her raising her hands above her head, her magical transformation pocketwatch in her right hand, while her left arm circled in front of her body, mimicking the hands on a watch face. When her hands reunited above her head, she would transform. As it was, the tiny hatchback was too small to accommodate full range of motion, so what Eileen ended up doing was a cramped, awkward, and extremely dangerous maneuver. Still, the magical laws of the universe accepted it, and in a violet glow, Eileen transformed into her skimpy magical girl outfit. This wasn't going to protect her though. But if she suited up right now into her mecha armor, the spiky bits of her materializing armor would rip right through her car. This not only could potentially hurt Fiona sitting next to her, but it would destroy their last form of transportation, since Fiona had already wrecked her car. Without any transportation, Eileen didn't know how they were going to rendezvous with the others, a vain goal that Eileen still hoped to achieve. "F-Flare...c-can you take care of the monster for a bit while I park on the side of the road?" Eileen asked timidly. "WHAT!?" I-I don't wanna destroy my car...w-we'll still need it..." Eileen replied, quiet and sullen.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- "G-h-hey! My Chinese food!" Isana shouted in despair as she was suddenly yanked by her cape by Alice, dragging her out the window and down onto the streets below. At least she was going to be too upset about it. Alice was right, if they had continued to fight there then it would have likely cost them both a little money. Still...but thinking about that delicious food she had just lost, made her more irritable than she already was. More importantly though - "ISANA!" The voice of someone she'd rather not have heard ever again. She scowled, turning her head towards the source of it. Emily. Less than favorable opinions of her aside, she was not someone that Isana wanted to deal with, or speak to right now. A quick look at the situation though, it seemed they weren't the only ones present either. Lily, Carrie, and Justice Bloom were there too. Sickening. It almost made her want to fight them instead of the monsters. Hmph. If Alice wasn't here, she very well might. Well, whatever. She'd take her frustrations out on that rock monster. They were having trouble with that thing? Pathetic. It didn't even look a bit dangerous or large. Fine. She'd finish this in one blow so she could get back to her Chinese food...or whatever was left of it. When Isana hit the ground, and without missing a single beat or instance, a rampart raised from the ground beneath her, launching her with force towards the earthen creature wordlessly, not even acknowledging the other Justice Heart's presence. "DIAMOND..." She gripped the sword in her hand with both hands. Pillars of earth rocketed from the ground around her, before shattering into many bright, shining gemstones of some sort. Each flashed brightly, shimmering with magic. "...BREAKER!" Swinging the sword horizontally, Vale slammed into the midsection of the car sized monster, causing the beast to stagger backwards as it obviously hadn't expected such a quick, frontal assault. In the next instant the gemstones flashed, slamming into the monster at high speed, each hit causing it to lose more and more balance until it had finally fallen over. "Hmph." Isana landed on top of the monster, or whatever was left of it. some of the rock from it had been chipped off, scattering into pebbles around the area. She hefted Vale, resting it on her shoulders. "Weak. Too easy." She said in an almost emotionless, completely uncaring tone.</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Eileen had transformed, much to Fiona's chagrin. She wiggled herself up, yanking Cinnamon by his ears so he wouldn't be crushed between her and the seat, though she let him go as she gasped. Shoot, the monster was attacking! She looked at Eileen, who meekly asked her to transform to take care of their enemy. Eileen may have been gung-ho about all this, but Fiona was a grown woman now! Well, they both were, but still! They had defeated the Big Bad, this was supposed to be their ever after! And her future did NOT include returning to the battlefield. She had a family, if she got hurt or lost her life, there would be repercussions! "Please don't call me that...!" Fiona couldn't help but whine her response at Eileen. No, she didn't want to transform! She didn't want any of this! Letting out a whimper of defeat, Fiona let out a groan as she fished her transformation trinket out of her pocket. Her heart raced against her chest as she gripped it tightly, forcing herself so go through the motions. Letting out a yell of frustration, Fiona rolled down the window on her side, exiting through it. The speed of the car whipped her hair around as she climbed to the top of the car, a death grip on the stupid trinket. "I summon the Passion of the Sun! Justice Solar Flare!" She called, wincing as flames covered her physical body. As they dispersed, her conservative, motherly clothing was replaced with something that a high school girl would wear to a rock concert. She visibly shivered, her outfit leaving her a lot more vulnerable to the winds. At least her hair was in a ponytail, but her exposed skin caused her to visibly cringe. She was much too old to be dressed like this! Regaining her composure, she drew her fist back, flames gathering, and she punched them forward at the monster.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s>
<\|description\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom Appearance: Magical Girl Costume: The sword she wields is named Morning Glory. Powers: Morning Glory can project a large number of small, phantasmal golden flower petals. These petals can be manipulated using specific movements of the sword into a number of different abilities: Promised Petal Blade A relatively simple move, where the blade projects a small wave of petals during a slash, causing them to form an arc that flies from the sword into the target. This can be either blunt or sharp, depending on Elise's intent. Projectile Petal/Torpedo Petal Projectile Petal is a relatively simple ability, where Elise rapidly fires petals from the end of her sword as soon as she projects them. This is fairly weak however. Torpedo Petal is a somewhat stronger form of the attack, where she takes a moment to project more petals, shifts into a shape resembling an American football, and then fires that at an enemy. (Number) Petal Barrier Elise projects a number of petals and shifts them to form a large barrier, which takes the vague shape of a flower. The more petals are poured into the barrier, the more petals the 'flower' will appear to have, up to a maximum of ten, with each additional petal signifying a stronger barrier. However, the number of petals the flower will have must be specified during the initial casting of the barrier, otherwise it will collapse. More petals also cause the barrier to take longer to cast. Petal Prison A move where Elise manipulates the petals into the shapes of chains or rope emerging from the end of Morning Glory, with the intention of wrapping around the target and preventing their movement, allowing them to be captured without doing too much damage. That being said, it can also be used as a whip, so it isn't purely for easy captures. Petal Platform Petal Platform is fairly simple, being exactly what it sounds like it is. Elise simply forms some of the petals into a solid, cloud-like platform which she can stand on, or more usefully, use to redirect herself while in midair. These platforms can move with her on it, but it takes a significantly higher level of concentration to accomplish this than it does to just make multiple stationary platforms and run across them. The Blade called Glory Elise's strongest attack, leaps and bounds ahead of any of her other techniques when it comes to raw power. In essence, its similar to Promised Petal Blade, except for one glaring difference. The petal arc of this attack is enormous. Because of its size and ridiculous power, Elise has barely used it, as to do so within the city would cause absolute chaos and disaster, likely tearing through at least a couple of large buildings before it dissipates. Source: A silver and gold necklace with a floral design at the centre. History with Justice Heart: Funnily enough, the only reason Elise was even introduced to Justice Heart came from a complete accident. One day while she was walking home from school, she found that her usual route home was undergoing roadworks, meaning that she couldn't get through unless she decided to try and walk on the road in the heavy traffic. Unfortunately, the next fastest route she knew was one of her brother Connors 'shortcuts', which meant that it was probably at least half an hour longer and would take her through a maze of alleys. Still, she was fast, and knew karate, so she thought she'd be fine. Little did she expect to encounter a large, dog-like monster deep in the alleyways... Ten minutes later, members of Justice Heart arrived, and were surprised to see that Elise, armed only with a small piece of rebar she found in the alley, had somehow managed to hold her own, and even get in a few well timed strikes at the monsters eyes. After they finished the monster off, they invited her to become one of them, an offer she accepted even before they'd finished speaking. After all, one of her dreams was to be a real hero, and save people! As Justice Bloom, she quickly proved herself as a more than capable fighter, often trying to take on the strongest enemies she could find all on her own. The thrill of fighting such a powerful opponent became a controlling factor of her life as a magical girl. However, despite managing to succeed a good chunk of the time, her blunt, boisterous personality mixed with her aggressive tendencies to make people think that she just didn't care about the rest of the team, or even something as simple as consequences in general. While this wasn't the case, she did tend to push people's buttons a lot, sometimes for amusement, but sometimes genuinely by accident. The fact that her brother somehow seemed to find himself involved in more of their fights than he didn't only seemed to make things worse. Miraculously though, by the time they fought Dollmaster for the last time, she'd managed to express just how much her teammates really meant to her, and she would stand by them to the ends of the earth. History after Justice Heart: As it turns out, Justice Heart ended long before the world did, and the friends she'd made were quickly torn away as she found herself in a school where barely any of her friends went other than Courtney Cartwright. Alone, with few people to turn to, she eventually decided to make do with Connor and his friends, although she did do her best to drag Courtney into their group as well. She's pretty sure she succeeded... One thing she quickly began to notice was that something was wrong with him, which began to confuse her. Over the next year, she began to notice him staring at her friends, looking extremely troubled by something, and would occasionally catch him hyperventilating whenever she talked to them for too long. She had a theory about what might be causing it, but she was worried what might happen if she brought it up. She thought that maybe, just maybe, he was somehow managing to recognise them, as well as her, as the members of Justice Heart who he always used to try to fight beside. She realised this wasn't a conscious recognition, and that even he didn't realise that he was making the connection, but that almost seemed to make it worse. By the time she was sixteen, Connor was having panic attacks pretty regularly, and it was beginning to affect his performance in school, making it look pretty unlikely that he'd be able to achieve his dream of joining the police force. This hurt her especially deeply, as only a few days after the final battle with Dollmaster, he had told her that it was only because he saw the way the members of Justice Heart never stopped fighting for what was right that he even decided on that dream. They were the ones who'd shown him what he wanted to dedicate his life to, and now, no matter whether they chose to or not, they were about to rip that dream away from him. She was about to destroy it. The way she saw it, there was only one way to help him now. And so one day, she told him everything. She showed him her transformation, her skills both as a magical girl and as a normal human, and he finally realised why the mere act of being around his sister had begun to terrify him. She didn't tell him which if her friends had also been magical girls, but she didn't need to. He only had to look at them to figure out which ones he must've known before. After this revelation, everything became clear to him, reminding him why he wanted to become a policeman in the first place. Unfortunately though, it turned out to be too late, his inability to properly pay attention in the previous years making it too difficult for him to catch up. Eventually he managed to find work as a bartender in a small place downtown, but the pay was never really great, and both he and Elise knew that entering the police force was well out of his reach. As could be expected, Elise felt terrible. This was her fault, especially considering that she made Courtney hang around with his friends as well. It was around that time though that Elise managed to reconnect with Emily Galbrett, one of the other members of Justice Heart she had felt closest too. For just that little while, she let herself believe that having her around might help her get over how horrible she felt, and she began to return to her normal, boisterous self over the next year. And then Emily got pregnant with Connors kid, and Elise felt more betrayed than she even knew she could. How long where they together before that night? Were they even together before that night? Connor had mentioned that he was getting more and more depressed with his own situation... Did Emily decide to take advantage of that? Take advantage of the poor idiots minuscule self esteem for an easy screw? Or what, maybe he was actually fine! Maybe while she was being torn apart by the guilt, the two of them had been giggling and whispering sweet nothings to each other in secret! Letting her suffer and not even letting her know she didn't have to! And now she was pregnant! Hell, Elise may have been an irresponsible person, but Jesus fuckin Christ! Nearly a full year passed before she even talked to Connor again, she felt so hurt. She threw herself into vigilanteism to try and deal with those feelings, getting through her emotional pain by dealing it to criminals physically. She quickly realised she was actually quite good at it, and it slowly evolved into her current job as a... 'private investigator'. Still, the only reason she even began talking to her brother again was when his depression got bad enough for him to start getting into some pretty brutal fights with random assholes around the city. Slowly, they managed to repair their relationship. However, Elise still despises Emily, now firmly under the belief that she took advantage of her brothers lack of self-worth to get what she wanted that night, despite his protests that that wasn't the case. Relationships: Connor McGillis Connor is Elise's shyer, more awkward brother, older than her by a year. Although they are both constantly fighting, its pretty clear to most that they're basically best friends. Each one constantly sticks their heads into each others business, and they'll defend each other to the death. He works as a bartender in a smallish bar downtown. Their relationship did become pretty strained after he got Emily pregnant, but after noticing his personality spiralling into anger issues and vicious self loathing, they managed to reconnect, and he is now back to his old, composed yet nervous self. Courtney Cartwright: Courtney is probably the member of Justice Heart that Elise has remained closest with, being pretty much the only one that went to her highschool. In fact, she would probably call Courtney her best friend, and along with Connor they formed a pretty close crew. When she was hospitalised, Elise went into one of her rare serious phases, trying to stick around her through her time in hospital and rehab and, in a less healthy resolution, track down the bastard who did it and ruin him for life. Isana Sieger: If there was anyone Elise would ever consider a true rival, it would be Isana Sieger. Back in Justice Heart, the two were constantly butting heads, making jabs at each other and fighting. Elise likes to think they still saw each other as friends, but pissing the white haired girl off was just so much fun! Nowadays, they tend to run into each other every now and then while she's on a job. Whenever this happens, she'll drop everything and try to goad her into another fight for old times sake. She's pretty sure they're still frenemies, although she's not sure how invested Isana is in their rivalry anymore. Emily Galbrett: Scum. Goddamn manipulative scum. Connor was in a bad place, where he was vulnerable and needed support, and she took advantage of that. Elise doesn't know if Emily really cared about her when they reconnected anymore, and the mere fact that this doubt is even able to exist in her mind has convinced her that the old Emily, one of her closest confidants, is dead and gone. Now the result is a sixteen year old niece she's never talked to, and a sixteen year old grudge she's never gotten over. Lily Galbrett: At this point, the best way to describe Elise's relationship with Lily is 'drinking buddies'. Her relationship with the woman's sister coughscumcough notwithstanding, she tends to enjoy their little 'bonding sessions', which she's gone out of her way to make a thing ever since she realised Lily drank at the bar Connor worked at. These sessions usually involve Lily telling her to piss off and stop being so annoying or other similar insults, to which Elise responds with underage drinking jokes and giggling fits.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s>	<\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion "Calm down, it's not the end of the world. Unless it is. Either way, I'm here, so you can stop your whining now." Magical Girl Costume: Powers: Ramona is a master of the forge- fire, steel, smoke, and sharp edges. Her power usually manifests as flaming metal blades or guns that rain molten bullets on her foe. Subtle, Ramona is not. Dragonscale Armor Ramona is really, really hard to hurt in her transformed state- even exposed skin is hard as steel. She's also basically fireproof. Battle-Forged Wings You know what wings have always needed? Jet thrusters. Ramona grows dragon wings made of flaming metal. She can also channel fire magic through them to give herself a speed boost. Demigod of Fire and Steel Ramona bears the mantle of Ignis' divinity. She possesses good health and longevity, even as a mere human. In addition, the gift of the King in Red gives Ramona the knowledge to forge marvelous weapons, and then call them to her side whenever the need arises. Where else did you think all those swords came from? Magic? Ha. Veins of the Earth Ramona can sense metal. Particularly precious ones, or ones good for making stuff out of them. Thus, she's never in short supply of... well, supplies. Howling Blades Ramona's bread and butter; a mandala of eight molten swords manifests around her, controlled by her will. She can either use them at medium-range to slashy-stabby something, or go straight-up "Gate of Babylon" on someone and fire them as projectiles. Roaring Dragon Fang For when the situation calls for "up close and personal." Big effing greatsword made of molten metal. Its use is obvious- crush the foe. Hell Dragon's Flight Like Howling Blades, but with guns! Eight rifles that spit molten bullets manifest. Bring on the dakka, with added fire. Wrath of the King in Red Ramona's magnum opus: A claymore the size of an apartment building, hurled pointy-end-first at the unfortunate bastard that just pissed Ramona off this much. Get hit with this, and you're not walking away- scraped off the pavement by a street sweeper is more like it. Unfortunately, it also leaves Ramona basically bereft of magical power for a while after using it, so she better make it count. Source: The Mark of the King in Red- A stylized dragon "tattoo" made of iridescent red metal on her left collarbone. Must be activated with the incantation, "Here standeth the Champion of Fire and Steel! IGNITE!!" History with Justice Heart: Ramona ran away from home at the age of 14, due to, "strong differences of opinion." A few months in, she was desperate, still living on the streets, when a man by the name of Cato found her. Apparently a traveler from another world, the man offered her a "Gift," in order to give his Lord a presence in their new world. Not having anything better to do, and hoping this "Gift" could lead to a hot meal, Ramona accepted, and was marked by Ignis, god of the forge in the world he once called home. Ramona became Pyrrha of the Forge, the most fucking metal magical girl of all time. Soon after this, she met Justice Heart. Their relationship was... rocky, at first. Ramona's obsession with comic books and shounen manga meant that her magical girl antics came with a severe lack of restraint- because superheroes never have to worry about things like collateral damage, do they? In short, accidentally exploding potential allies tends to alienate them. As the gravity of some of her actions began to reach her, and her desperation to belong to the group increased, Ramona was forced to learn the greatest and most difficult of lessons: restraint. Not by much, but she wasn't knocking down buildings left and right anymore. Little by little, she got to be friends with Justice Heart, and eventually allies, culminating in helping her new family banish the Dollmaster into oblivion. Ramona had finally achieved her dream: to be an awesome protagonist, a hero! History after Justice Heart: ...And then some idiot just had to get knocked up. As this incident, among others, began to chip away at their group dynamic, Ramona was forced to watch as her new family slowly began to tear itself apart. While she tried to stay in contact with her friends, eventually the pain of watching the group destroy itself got to be too painful, and she struck out on her own. It wasn't easy at first- her marketable skills were all better suited to a life in the Middle Ages, and selling too much gold had a tendency to draw uncomfortable questions from certain authorities. But she managed to find her niche when she discovered that certain nerds were willing to pay a lot of money for some fancy sword from their favorite book or show or whatever. Nowadays, Ramona is in high demand among fantasy circles, who commission her to smith (supposedly) decorative weapons for them. Heck, she even found love. Twice, in fact. Her girlfriends, Katja and Izzy, help her make her fancy nerd stuff, and keep her grounded when she's being particularly manic. Unbeknownst to anyone else, however, Ramona occasionally still moonlights as Pyrrha, hunting down the occasional monster or bank robber or whatever. But above all else, she longs for the glory days of her youth, when she and the rest of Justice Heart were in their prime... ...She never did like the name "Justice Vermillion," though. Relationships: Katja Volk and Isabel "Izzy" Santorini- "My girlfriends. Yes, girlfriends, plural. Calm your titties. Katja's some kinda Amazon, and Izzy is a punk rock kinda chick with bitchin' blue hair. They help me with my commissions from time to time, but they're mostly the ones who keep me sane." Cato- "The guy who gave me Ignis' mark. Some kinda priest in their old world. He's utterly forgettable in his human guise, very Clark Kent. Aside from the glowing eyes, anyway. Haven't seen him since the Big Guy went missing. Wish I knew where he was." The King in Red, Master of Fire and Steel, Lord Ignis- "The Boss. He marked me with his Gift, gave me powers, turned me into the literal spitfire that I am now. Apparently he used to be a god in his old world, or something. His true form is some kinda robot dragon or something. I haven't heard his voice in years; not since we put Dollmaster Katherine into a bottomless hole in the universe. But I know he's out there somewhere." Justice Heart- "Haven't seen most of the others in years. I catch Isana and Elise around sometimes, especially Isana, when I go out, ah... moonlighting. We still have our little thing going on from the old days. Even though it's obvious that I'm still the strongest member of Justice Heart. I mean, my swords can explode. Can theirs do that? I didn't think so. Check and mate~"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s>	<\|message\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion Ramona Saturday "Pyrrha" --- Any good feelings Ramona had about returning to the hangout spot of her sordid youth was burned away almost instantly at the mood that greeted her when she arrived. First Vivian being catty, then Isana and Alice leaving in a hurry (at least they didn't seem pissed off at her like everyone else), followed by... well. It looked like nothing had changed between Emily and Elise. Ramona glared at the ground sadly as Emily swept past her, throwing one last barb practically over her shoulder as she stormed out with Fiona in tow. Ramona sighed- there were myriad reasons why Justice Heart collapsed the way it did, but Ramona's ire always fell on Emily first and foremost. It was her stupid decision to get knocked up that knocked everyone else down the slippery slope to where they were now. She grit her teeth, then moved toward the last two she was left with. Without saying another word, she practically dashed over to Elise, wrapping her old friend in a tight hug. Aside from Isana, Ramona had always had the most kinship with Elise. "The Ken to your Ryu," she once referred to herself as, their friendly bickering over the "Strongest" title always having been good for a laugh. It would be nice to get back into the swing of that again. "Hey, Flower Girl," she said, giving one last squeeze before backing up. "Saw you on the news today. Didn't think I'd given you permission to use my title," she laughed with a crooked grin. She turned to Courtney afterward. "To answer the question that everyone's been askin', by the way? No. I don't know why I wasn't attacked. Maybe the dragon-girl thing scared 'em off?" She shook her head. "Anyways, as much fun as this is going to be, let's try and get it done ASAP, a'kay? I got swords to finish." At Courtney's suggestion of her taking a cab, Ramona shrugged. "I mean, I don't know if you guys remember, but I can move under my own power. If any of you can ride, you can take the bike. Though, don't tell Katja. Or wreck it. She'll kill me dead if she finds out someone else touched her baby..."</s>
<\|description\|>L'eonard Aldvin NPC LIST Age: 28 Species: Human Class: Magic Knight Rank: King of Meteora Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Personality: King L'eonard Aldvin has been described as young, brash and bold. He is a hothead but he has the power to back it up. He doesnt let anyone try to push him over as he is a very proud person. He holds that who he favors very close but everyone is expendable. For his goals he will sacrifice anything including his own life. Appearance History: Ask IC Powers/Abilities Blood of the First King: Is a bloodline ability passed down from generation to generation. It was said that the first king was a powerful mage he used both a sword and a staff. Anyone with this ability has +50 MP. Meteora Spell Book: A vast book of spells exclusively availible to the royal family of Meteora. Equipment: Unknown Extra: He loves Cookies King Level 45 Health 375 MP 600 Vitality: 15 Speed: 20 Strength: 15 Endurance: 15 Mana: 50 Name: Chett Ubecha Age: 38 Species: ???? Class: Beserker Rank: Champion of Meteora Homeland: ????? Personality: Quiet and Fierce. If you're not worth his time he won't acknowledge you. Appearance: History: ??? Powers/Abilities Beat of the Champion: This trait known only to the champion, increases all of his stats +10 for the first 5 rounds of battle. Equipment -Champions Scorn (Long Sword) - Bandages x4 - Chains x 20 Extra: Has absolute undying loyalty to the king Name: Apostle Knights Age: 15+ Species: All Races Class: Magic Knights Rank: Foot Soldier Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Appearance History: The Apostle Knights are the Meteora Kingdoms signature troops. The ways of old taught Swordsman foot soldiers so a knight was very unheard of. The first Knights were trained by King Aldvin himself. Utilizing a rare combonation of magic and might these Knights are ranked among the top in the world. Named "Peoples Heroes" because most of these Knights were either farmers or sons of farmers coming from improvished fields or looted villages. The people of Meteora celebrate them year round to keep their morale and loyalty at their peek. Powers/Abilities Flames of the Emporer - An sustained S class spell that constantly keeps the users weapons engulfed in flames. This spell is the secret to the power of the Meteora Kingdoms Apostle Knights. Equipment -Claymore -Dagger -Apostle Knight Armor (Increases Mana +10) -Health Potions x2 -Mana Potions x2 Extra: Apsolute undying loyalty to the King. Newbie Level 25 HP 375 MP 50 Vitality: 15 Speed: 15 Strength: 15 Endurance: 15 Mana: 15 Name: Sampson Ubecha Age: 25 Species: Beastman - Lizardman Class: Magic Knight Rank: Captain of the Knights Guard Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Personality: ????? Appearance History: ???? Powers/Abilities Flames of the Emporer - An sustained S class spell that constantly keeps the users weapons engulfed in flames. This spell is the secret to the power of the Meteora Kingdoms Apostle Knights. Heat Scale - Umong the Lizardman people, Sampson belongs to the Heat Scale clan. This particular breed of Lizardman have an adaption to night and fire making them accel at night time combat and have a high resistance to fire. The Heat Scale people originate from the equator. WAA Handbook Equipment -Captain Claymore -Captain Armor -Teleport Scroll -Health Potion x3 -Mana Potion x6 Extra: Brother to the Champion Name: Jack Tunic Age: 14 Species: Human Class: Keeper of Knowledge Rank: Scribe Homeland: The College of Knowledge - Nothing is known about the college besides the fact that they record every great even that happens throughout the world. Personality: ????? Appearance History: ????? Powers/Abilities: ????? Equipment -Codex of Monsters -Health Scroll x10 Monster List Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0 Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún "Mind if I take this seat? My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" Arwyn's first reaction as the human lunged towards her was to reach for her blade, but when she heard his name, in the strange gutteral tongue the foreignerrs used, her hand paused mid-gesture. "Yule?" She asked curiously, "Are you also of the wood?" As she spoke the elf glanced down at the man's attire. It didn't seem appropriate for the woodlands, but then again they were not currently in the woodlands and it was entirely possible he had chosen to change into clothing more suitable for the human nest. "I am named Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún of Glad-o Dú. I come in search of my destiny." Before their conversation could continue the meeting seemed to come to order, with one of the other humans addressing the crowd in front of him as though he were the assigned leader for this endeavour. As the 'King' spoke Arwyn studied him carefully. Nothing about his demeanour sewemed to indicate he was a great man in any way, everything from his posture to the turn of phrase he chose spoke of mediocrity, but for some reason the others in the room paid heed to him, and so Arwyn followed their lead. This was a strange place for her after all, and a person's true depths were rarely uncovered at first glance. As the King finished his presentation, turning to discuss another mater with the armoured individual seated across the roomn Arwyn found herself puzzled by the turn of events. "You said this 'Champion' of yours was sent on the quest, but now you gather us to go after him?" She asked, raising to her feet, the shadows of her cloak dissipating around her as she moved, Arwyn followed the King towards the doorway. "If you had need of our services, why was time wasted with someone not skilled in the task?"</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| The question briefly perplex him, not sure what it was supposed to mean. Ebonglen did have a large forest nearby he supposed and he did explore it often. Pitch-black eyes blinked in slight amazement at her long and elegant sounding name, even the tone of voice she used brought a certain majesty to it. And she spoke of finding her 'destiny'? He was sure what that was but it sounded very important. His attention turned to commotion around him as people left the room, leaving only a select few behind. The individual he idenified as the King began to speak, grabbing her all of their attention as a impressive map was laid down on the table. Magic wasn't his strong suit but it interested him nonetheless, as the minor amazement in his eyes could show. He immediately thought, If their champion was sent, then why call for us?. His question would quickly be answered, along with a troubling explanation. A dungeon was a notably infamous place in the WAA, full of untold dangers and traps. It did not matter to Arton, though he was attracted to this quest for the experience and gold...there was now the entire safety of a kingdom and its people at stake. That was enough motivation to spur him past any hesitance he might have. He got up from his seat and followed the king and other member of the adventuring group. Arwyn's question seemed perfectly fine to Arton, not really understanding the way it might come off. "Did the champion go with any others?" He decided to ask after Arwyn. If there were more people to look for, it was vital to know. No one was getting left behind if Arton could help it. Everything was kicking off rather suddenly, but he was prepared as he ever could be. Soon they would all be fighting together against heaven-knows-what in the dungeon. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\|</s>	<\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin As the King exited the building he was first approached by the Night Elf of the group. L'eonard had heard of the Night Elf people but he had never seen one before in person. A look of fascination crept across the king's face. He couldn't help but ponder her up and down, taking extreme note of her clothing. He couldn't help himself but intrude into her personal space and lightly flick her armor. He was quickly interrupted by Gunthrum clearing his throat very loud and abrupt. Taking a mental note of everything he just learned the look vanished from his face. He briefly cleared his throat. "Apologies.....Arwyn? To answer your question. Chett and I have conquered 2 dungeons in our time of knowing each other. He is very strong and knowledgeable. But even then it only took us 5 days max. I do agree with you though, that time has been wasted. The King came to a complete stop as the Draeni, Arton, asked his question. I mean this group looks really strong. How many dungeons have you conquered? I should have called the WAA in the first place." The group now stood in front of the front doors to the castle leading out into the courtyard. Before the King could answer the question for himself, Sampson spoke."15 Knights hand-picked from my own elite squad by me. They're ready to die to complete their mission!" After speaking, Sampson hawks a loogy on the floor. Gunthrum immediately begins cleaning it with a rag. The King glares at Sampson, letting out a slight killing intent. He points his finger at Sampson. "Bad Dog!" A small stream of water hits Sampson in the face through the opening in his helmet. Afterward, he releases the pressure and turns towards the door pushing them open. "What he says is true. 15 men. Try to find them but don't strain yourselves. Dungeons are perilous and sometimes infinite with millions of pathways. I recommend you lot stay together. The King began laughing loud and obnoxious like. "What am I saying?! Your all dungeon crawling badasses!" On the other side of the door were 2 knights. Sampson led the group out, while Gunthram and L'eonard stayed inside the castle. "These 2 knights will escort you to the dungeon. It is up to you to complete your task." The 2 knights stood on top of what seemed to be a carpet. Once everyone was standing on it, the 2 knights began to conjure magic spells that made the carpet float and then take off high into the sky. From that high up, the group could see the view of the entire city as well as ships sailing in from miles away. On the outer edge of the city was a formation of earth that looked like it obviously didn't belong there. The magic carpet was flying the group directly towards it. It was then that the usually silent boy began to speak. "Hey!! Look at that. It's the entrance...oooooooh. This looks interesting." Jack began spazzing out into his book. Upon getting closer the group could see the dungeon clear as day. The area around the entrance was scorched black, however, ash covered the majority of the area. The entrance itself resembled a giant head with the mouth serving as a gateway beckoning the heroes to go deeper. The eyes glowed red and emitted a smoke cloud that rained ash into the area. The place reeked of death and despair. Jack was the first off the carpet before it could even land. He was cycling through his book taking note of everything around him. From the way, the dungeon looked, to the ash clouds above that only lingered around the head of the dungeon. Anyone with magic affinity could feel darkness emitting from the cloud. Sampson quickly hoped off to catch up with the boy."Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful." The boy seemed hypnotized by the very essence of the dungeon. "Stay close kid you don't know what may come out of that pl-" Before Sampson could finish his speech a lone knight began walking out of the dungeon. Exhaustion could be heard from each step he took. One after another until he was finally visible to the entrance. He made brief eye contact with the group before collapsing. "Cap..tain?" His armor looked bloody and beaten. The soldier himself was missing an arm and his helmet. Sampson quickly rushed to his aid.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone "Watch out....they're coming...." This was the magic sentence that made Rio turn his attention to the entrance which was currently being guarded by the elf and that guy. From the dimness was a metallic clinking sound with a herky-jerky rhythm. The source of this noise would soon reveal itself in the form of a shuffling undead soldier. He saw it lurch over and start charging at the two as it screeched, with two other ones like itself in tow. As he watched the battle unfold he flexed his clawed hand in anticipation. He looked at their armor and figured what needed to be done to help out. Waiting for the two in front of him to finish their attacks, he then ran off to the side in indirect manner not wanting to draw the enemies' attention, and then ran at them them from the side to flank them and deliver an empowered slash at all three of them with his claw (rend). His goal was less to hurt them and more to specifically destroy that armor that get in the way of delivering blows to them. After delivering the blow he continued to run and then loop around back to the group.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 60------------------------------------------------------ The undead charged forward towards the entrance of the dungeon. They were first met by arrows that seemed to disintegrate into nothing upon making contact with the monsters. While Sampson accompanied the soldiers back to the carpet, Jack seemed to move in closer towards the entrance unsuspected. He pulled out a book that began to shine and make his eyes shine. "I just need to get a closer look..." The boy whispered creeping up behind Arton just as the monsters made contact with his shield. Artons defense was built to withstand even such a charge from the first undead as he holds his ground not budging an inch. As the second one impacts, the force increases. By the third one, Arton could be seen slightly getting pushed back. As Arton attacked back at the wraiths, the first would raise its arm to guard. However, this was a hopeless attempt as its arm was completely destroyed. From the side of the monsters, Rio charged in landing a critical blow on all of them. The wraith in the front taking majority of the damage. The first wraith was reduced to nothing but ashes as the other 2 scatter. One to the Left and one to the right. Just then Jack spoke, now appearing at Sampson's side. "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!! The boys' voice appeared to be strong and omnipotent, a complete change from the child that once spoke. Battle Calculations {Arwyns attack has no effect} {Arton Deals 25 Damage to Undead 1} {Rio Deals 80 Damage to Undead 1, 40 Damage to Wraith 2 & 3} {Undead 1 Destroyed} {Rio Looses Quarter Stamina} Undead 2: The monster slides to the right after suffering some damage from Rio's attack. After a unified screech with the other undead, it turns its sights to Arton. This soldier was carrying a large ax, however, any former skills the person possessed with the weapon was now gone. Its stance was sloppy and its movements were more than slow, its will remained unchanged. It charged once more towards Arton, this time lifting its ax and dropping it down with all its undead might. HP: 60 Undead 3: The undead rolls off to the right, in the same direction as Rio. This one seems to be holding a grudge from the attack earlier. This monster carried no weapon and yet it still charged reeling forward towards Rio. It releases a barrage of slow and sluggish punches towards him. HP: 60</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton was unable to catch any sarcasm, if there was any, and believed that Nanda was indeed the princess that she claimed. The kingdom she spoke of sounding way too good to be true, so that was enough to cause him to doubt it was as amazing. No kingdom was without their faults, that much he had learned. He didn't have time to respond as Rio kicked in the door. He was relieved that they found two more knights awaiting them on the other side, so far this mission was going far better than expected. This would be three extra lives that were saved if the other one survived. He briefly closed his eyes for he fallen soldier and spoke an internal, short prayer. Realistically, it would not be the last time he would have to do so. His guard did not drop as they stood in the room and agreed with Princess Nanda that they should not remain here for long. The benefits of a smaller party was the ability to move quickly. His attention was immediately grabbed by the sound of coming from one of the corridors. Quickly, he did his best to isolate where exactly it was coming from and took up position to engage them once they got into range "It is never a good idea to go off on your own in dungeons." Arton mentioned as they argued about what to do "I will take on the corridor the noises are coming from so whatever you plan on doing, just do it fast." He stated plainly. The first dungeon he have ever been in, one of the party was killed by a trap when he recklessly engaged a small group of monsters. That was when he knew that as long as you're in the halls of the dungeon, never assume you have the upper hand or are safe.</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The king patiently waited for the arrival of the rest of his guests. One by one they were each escorted to the meeting room. The last to enter, a young girl claiming herself to be a princess. The King waited 15 minutes after her entrance to begin his meeting. With a simple wave of his hand, the attendants, servers, and violinists all left the room. Gunthrum was the only one to remain, standing silently on the Kings left side waiting for an order. The mood of the room suddenly changed to a more deathly-serious tone. The King showed a welcoming smile before he began to speak. "Oi oi. Seems like this is everyone. Well, thank you all for joining us here in the castle. For those I haven't met yet, I am the King of Meteora Kingdom, L'eonard Aldvin. I assume that all of you have chosen to come here for whatever reasons, the goal will be the same." The King snapped his fingers never taking his eyes off his guests. Gunthrum placed a mat on the table. The map had been altered by some form of magic and thusly a more detailed map projected from the paper into the air itself. "This is a map of the area outside the city. About a week ago, a dark cloud appeared here shooting a bolt into the ground." The king pointed to the map and it instantly was marked with an X. "I figured that it must have been some sort of dungeon. So I sent my Champion to investigate." Up until now the Kings voice was happy and cheerful. Now it began to change into a more worrisome tone. "He has yet to return. I fear that something has happened inside the dungeon. Even worse, Meteora's enemies linger on the border. If they were to find out about the Champions absence they will surely attack the capital." The King stood walking over to a bag in the corner. This was the first time the King looked away from his guests. He returned, dropping the bag on the table. The sound of thousands of coins smacking together could be heard. I have 20,000 gold here for anyone that returns alive with my champion. The treasure you find inside is yours to keep. The knight Sampson began to speak. "My King, why have you summoned me here? Their adventures look skilled enough to take on this mission." True, however, I have a different mission for you and Jack. Jack is from the college of knowledge and will be a great help while moving through the dungeon. However hes just a boy. You will protect him Sampson. If you happen to reach the end and extract the artifact, there will be a bonus for bringing it back." The King moved to the door opening it up. Now if there are any questions please follow me and id be happy to answer them on the way out. Im afraid time is of the essence." The King exited the room first, followed by Gunthrum, Jack and lastly Sampson. The King was heading towards the Castle entrance where another platoon of Apostle Knights waited to escort the group across the plain and to the dungeon itself.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún "Mind if I take this seat? My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" Arwyn's first reaction as the human lunged towards her was to reach for her blade, but when she heard his name, in the strange gutteral tongue the foreignerrs used, her hand paused mid-gesture. "Yule?" She asked curiously, "Are you also of the wood?" As she spoke the elf glanced down at the man's attire. It didn't seem appropriate for the woodlands, but then again they were not currently in the woodlands and it was entirely possible he had chosen to change into clothing more suitable for the human nest. "I am named Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún of Glad-o Dú. I come in search of my destiny." Before their conversation could continue the meeting seemed to come to order, with one of the other humans addressing the crowd in front of him as though he were the assigned leader for this endeavour. As the 'King' spoke Arwyn studied him carefully. Nothing about his demeanour sewemed to indicate he was a great man in any way, everything from his posture to the turn of phrase he chose spoke of mediocrity, but for some reason the others in the room paid heed to him, and so Arwyn followed their lead. This was a strange place for her after all, and a person's true depths were rarely uncovered at first glance. As the King finished his presentation, turning to discuss another mater with the armoured individual seated across the roomn Arwyn found herself puzzled by the turn of events. "You said this 'Champion' of yours was sent on the quest, but now you gather us to go after him?" She asked, raising to her feet, the shadows of her cloak dissipating around her as she moved, Arwyn followed the King towards the doorway. "If you had need of our services, why was time wasted with someone not skilled in the task?"</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| The question briefly perplex him, not sure what it was supposed to mean. Ebonglen did have a large forest nearby he supposed and he did explore it often. Pitch-black eyes blinked in slight amazement at her long and elegant sounding name, even the tone of voice she used brought a certain majesty to it. And she spoke of finding her 'destiny'? He was sure what that was but it sounded very important. His attention turned to commotion around him as people left the room, leaving only a select few behind. The individual he idenified as the King began to speak, grabbing her all of their attention as a impressive map was laid down on the table. Magic wasn't his strong suit but it interested him nonetheless, as the minor amazement in his eyes could show. He immediately thought, If their champion was sent, then why call for us?. His question would quickly be answered, along with a troubling explanation. A dungeon was a notably infamous place in the WAA, full of untold dangers and traps. It did not matter to Arton, though he was attracted to this quest for the experience and gold...there was now the entire safety of a kingdom and its people at stake. That was enough motivation to spur him past any hesitance he might have. He got up from his seat and followed the king and other member of the adventuring group. Arwyn's question seemed perfectly fine to Arton, not really understanding the way it might come off. "Did the champion go with any others?" He decided to ask after Arwyn. If there were more people to look for, it was vital to know. No one was getting left behind if Arton could help it. Everything was kicking off rather suddenly, but he was prepared as he ever could be. Soon they would all be fighting together against heaven-knows-what in the dungeon. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\|</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin As the King exited the building he was first approached by the Night Elf of the group. L'eonard had heard of the Night Elf people but he had never seen one before in person. A look of fascination crept across the king's face. He couldn't help but ponder her up and down, taking extreme note of her clothing. He couldn't help himself but intrude into her personal space and lightly flick her armor. He was quickly interrupted by Gunthrum clearing his throat very loud and abrupt. Taking a mental note of everything he just learned the look vanished from his face. He briefly cleared his throat. "Apologies.....Arwyn? To answer your question. Chett and I have conquered 2 dungeons in our time of knowing each other. He is very strong and knowledgeable. But even then it only took us 5 days max. I do agree with you though, that time has been wasted. The King came to a complete stop as the Draeni, Arton, asked his question. I mean this group looks really strong. How many dungeons have you conquered? I should have called the WAA in the first place." The group now stood in front of the front doors to the castle leading out into the courtyard. Before the King could answer the question for himself, Sampson spoke."15 Knights hand-picked from my own elite squad by me. They're ready to die to complete their mission!" After speaking, Sampson hawks a loogy on the floor. Gunthrum immediately begins cleaning it with a rag. The King glares at Sampson, letting out a slight killing intent. He points his finger at Sampson. "Bad Dog!" A small stream of water hits Sampson in the face through the opening in his helmet. Afterward, he releases the pressure and turns towards the door pushing them open. "What he says is true. 15 men. Try to find them but don't strain yourselves. Dungeons are perilous and sometimes infinite with millions of pathways. I recommend you lot stay together. The King began laughing loud and obnoxious like. "What am I saying?! Your all dungeon crawling badasses!" On the other side of the door were 2 knights. Sampson led the group out, while Gunthram and L'eonard stayed inside the castle. "These 2 knights will escort you to the dungeon. It is up to you to complete your task." The 2 knights stood on top of what seemed to be a carpet. Once everyone was standing on it, the 2 knights began to conjure magic spells that made the carpet float and then take off high into the sky. From that high up, the group could see the view of the entire city as well as ships sailing in from miles away. On the outer edge of the city was a formation of earth that looked like it obviously didn't belong there. The magic carpet was flying the group directly towards it. It was then that the usually silent boy began to speak. "Hey!! Look at that. It's the entrance...oooooooh. This looks interesting." Jack began spazzing out into his book. Upon getting closer the group could see the dungeon clear as day. The area around the entrance was scorched black, however, ash covered the majority of the area. The entrance itself resembled a giant head with the mouth serving as a gateway beckoning the heroes to go deeper. The eyes glowed red and emitted a smoke cloud that rained ash into the area. The place reeked of death and despair. Jack was the first off the carpet before it could even land. He was cycling through his book taking note of everything around him. From the way, the dungeon looked, to the ash clouds above that only lingered around the head of the dungeon. Anyone with magic affinity could feel darkness emitting from the cloud. Sampson quickly hoped off to catch up with the boy."Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful." The boy seemed hypnotized by the very essence of the dungeon. "Stay close kid you don't know what may come out of that pl-" Before Sampson could finish his speech a lone knight began walking out of the dungeon. Exhaustion could be heard from each step he took. One after another until he was finally visible to the entrance. He made brief eye contact with the group before collapsing. "Cap..tain?" His armor looked bloody and beaten. The soldier himself was missing an arm and his helmet. Sampson quickly rushed to his aid.</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio kept quiet and let the scene play out between the elf woman and the king. He was somewhat amused at the insolence at display. The king's reaction was surprising as he was expecting a bit more annoyance than curiosity. But he was more focused on a far more important thing that was, that this champion of his would be lost despite his rather impressive credentials are dungeon running. It was shaping up to be a potential suicide mission, which didn't quite sit well with him. But then again, he knew the potential risks to be had by signing up for this mission. As he stepped onto the carpet he readied his weapon and waited. He had to admit this method of traveling was a bit unusual but at least it was pretty fast. He looked at the entrance the moment the boy spotted it. Its foreboding nature was quite obvious what with the face and ominous eerie smoke being belched out. His walking pace shifted to a sprint when the group spotted a soldier coming out that entrance. Rio followed suit after Sampson and the other soldiers that made way to their fallen comrade. He thought back to Sampson's line about the knights but with the number down by one. The possibility of a dead man greeting them at their arrival wasn't a great thing to start off with. Rio stood close but to the side of Sampson and his men as they attended this soldier. As he stood by for further instruction he cast his gaze upon the entrance. His ability was active as now would be a good time to make sure something doesn't pop out of that entrance. "Tell me if you need me to do something." was all he said among this commotion.</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton held his shield firmly in front of his chest, covering his vitals, as the soldier screamed. The wounded man wasn't just stumbling out of the dungeon, he was fleeing from enemies. He readied himself for combat as he was reinforced by the other members of their party, but he took the center. Soon enough, three figures emerged from the mouth of the dungeon...decayed and decrepit. They would not pass, not while he stood. He lifted his shield to block the wraith's attack, and to keep him away, then followed up with a powered strike(Hyper Slash) across the attacker's torso. Piercing attacks hardly did good against these kind of creatures. They were terrible abominations, evil monsters that must be destroyed. That much was certain "Send them back to their graves!" He chanted, a look of disdain on his face at the creatures.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone "Watch out....they're coming...." This was the magic sentence that made Rio turn his attention to the entrance which was currently being guarded by the elf and that guy. From the dimness was a metallic clinking sound with a herky-jerky rhythm. The source of this noise would soon reveal itself in the form of a shuffling undead soldier. He saw it lurch over and start charging at the two as it screeched, with two other ones like itself in tow. As he watched the battle unfold he flexed his clawed hand in anticipation. He looked at their armor and figured what needed to be done to help out. Waiting for the two in front of him to finish their attacks, he then ran off to the side in indirect manner not wanting to draw the enemies' attention, and then ran at them them from the side to flank them and deliver an empowered slash at all three of them with his claw (rend). His goal was less to hurt them and more to specifically destroy that armor that get in the way of delivering blows to them. After delivering the blow he continued to run and then loop around back to the group.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 60------------------------------------------------------ The undead charged forward towards the entrance of the dungeon. They were first met by arrows that seemed to disintegrate into nothing upon making contact with the monsters. While Sampson accompanied the soldiers back to the carpet, Jack seemed to move in closer towards the entrance unsuspected. He pulled out a book that began to shine and make his eyes shine. "I just need to get a closer look..." The boy whispered creeping up behind Arton just as the monsters made contact with his shield. Artons defense was built to withstand even such a charge from the first undead as he holds his ground not budging an inch. As the second one impacts, the force increases. By the third one, Arton could be seen slightly getting pushed back. As Arton attacked back at the wraiths, the first would raise its arm to guard. However, this was a hopeless attempt as its arm was completely destroyed. From the side of the monsters, Rio charged in landing a critical blow on all of them. The wraith in the front taking majority of the damage. The first wraith was reduced to nothing but ashes as the other 2 scatter. One to the Left and one to the right. Just then Jack spoke, now appearing at Sampson's side. "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!! The boys' voice appeared to be strong and omnipotent, a complete change from the child that once spoke. Battle Calculations {Arwyns attack has no effect} {Arton Deals 25 Damage to Undead 1} {Rio Deals 80 Damage to Undead 1, 40 Damage to Wraith 2 & 3} {Undead 1 Destroyed} {Rio Looses Quarter Stamina} Undead 2: The monster slides to the right after suffering some damage from Rio's attack. After a unified screech with the other undead, it turns its sights to Arton. This soldier was carrying a large ax, however, any former skills the person possessed with the weapon was now gone. Its stance was sloppy and its movements were more than slow, its will remained unchanged. It charged once more towards Arton, this time lifting its ax and dropping it down with all its undead might. HP: 60 Undead 3: The undead rolls off to the right, in the same direction as Rio. This one seems to be holding a grudge from the attack earlier. This monster carried no weapon and yet it still charged reeling forward towards Rio. It releases a barrage of slow and sluggish punches towards him. HP: 60</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Ananda HP 100 MP 24/50 The injured soldier's scream set Nanda on edge. Almost by instinct, she casted Fleeting Steps on herself, then soundlessly made her way around the group, taking a good measure of the dungeon's entrance. When the undead appeared, she was somewhat closer to the entrance than anyone ought to be. Fortunately the monsters more concerned with with attacking the nearest bulky adventurer than a particularly sneaky rogue. Nanda considered a sneak attack, but as the undead crashed and pushed back the bulky adventurer, she discarded it as a bad idea. Instead she focused on the adventurer, Arton. His muscles should be able to hold on harder than that, could they? Wordlessly, Nanda spoke to his Strength, convincing them that they're stronger than they seemed (Fool Sense +2). "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!!" said the boy all of a sudden. "Kid, you're not making sense," Nanda muttered. "They have magic resistance so we ought to use magic?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone The sound of his claw's attack was all Rio need to know that his attack was successful. As he slowed down to survey they damage he saw that one was taken out and the other two were worse for wear. His attack seemed to have angered one the undead soldiers seeing as it had followed him and was now in the process of attacking him. The attack were sloppy and uncoordinated, reminding him of drunken louts trying to fight. The kid shouted about them being weak to fire, but Rio didn't have on him any method so he'd leave it up to the others like Arwyn who was launching a fiery projectile to his side at the same undead. Rio took advantage of such sloppy strikes against him to use his gauntlet to secure a good grip on one of its arms and use that momentum of the sloppy punches to stagger it forward towards the fiery arrow's path.</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio picked out the gold pieces from that cinder pile happy that these undead soldiers were easily dispatched. He took his time to inspect the hopefully now permanently dead soldiers for anything of interest causing him to lag behind. Following the group into the dungeon he went to Sampson and asked, "So do we know anything about what happened?". Given what happened to the soldier it would be prudent to know what happened if they managed to get any information from him before sending him away. As they approached the door, Rio kicked it open.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 Stowing her bow Arwyn hung her head with shame. Despite the knight's supportive words she knew that her presence had done nothing to aid the party during the engagement, and in fact had placed one of her companions in danger from her poorly aimed attack. Her lack of knowledge about the creatures they faced, as well as her slow reactions and poor display of skill at failing to land even one solid blow on them once she'd been informed of their weakness, left her wondering whether she truly deserved to accompany warriors who obviously were far more skilled than she was in this situation. Watching the others carefully she hung back from the rest of the group, and once it was clear they were making their way forwards she used her natural ability to blend with the shadows (Shadowmeld ability), ready to observe their actions in order to learn from them and hopefully improve her own performance in future. If no opportunity presented itself her distance from the rest of the party would make it all the easier to slip away in the darkness rather than trouble them further with her disgraceful presence.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton crouched over the remains of the skeleton he had just finished, picking up anything worthwhile. He examined the decayed armor and bones trying to tell if this was one of their missing soldiers or just a spawn of the dungeon. Whether he managed to find answers or not, he rose back up to a standing position as Sampson called them to regroup. He decided not to correct the knight that what they faced inside of the dungeon would likely be far more dangerous than a few shambling skeletons. The man seemed keen on upholding his sense of authority. He walked close behind Rio, who was in the front, with weapons still in hand. There were sometimes 'safe havens' in these dungeons but finding them was quite rare so he wouldn't let down his guard. Arwyn he could tell was for some reason ashamed, perhaps because of her first arrows doing nothing against the skeleton's magical resistance. Before he could say anything, she seemed to slip into the very darkness of the dungeon itself. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting of the dungeon as he overheard the young boy talking to the woman referred to as Nanda. A princess? He recalled her casting some spell on him earlier and he could feel some kind of boost in his muscles "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" He asked curiously, turning his head back a little to talk. It was a shame really that he was so poor at picking up on sarcasm. Thinking back on the dungeon, Arton wanted to see if they could follow the trail of blood. It may be able to lead to more clues, but for now he readied his shield as Rio kicked down the door blocking their way.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin The deed was done, the undead has fallen, and there was no wound even to lick. That was a bit uneventful, was it? But good enough for a palate cleanser, especially since she saw something shiny from the ashes they left behind. Shinies which was quickly picked up by the two big guys of the group. "Aww, come on you two," she said, laughing casually. "We beat them together, did we? Don't keep the loot to yourself." She turned quickly to face the cavern, careful to make it look nonchalant, but she got her eye on where exactly they were putting those money. And then the young magic boy was suddenly all over her. "Uhm....Nanda? That's your name right? And..You're a princess?...Right?.." The boy would continue truly fascinated. "I've never met a princess before. My names Jack!" This was soon followed by the other guy, Arton? Asking the same question. "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" She grinned, then nodded and flourished her cloak the way she had seen royalty did. These poor innocent boys! They won't last a second in her hometown. "Pleasure to meet you, Jack. Well! You've both seen a King earlier today. Really, I don't know how a mere 'princess' like me could compare." As they walked into the dungeon, she regaled them with her story. "I came from the city of Zamrud. Have you been there? It's a beautiful place. Imagine towering castles side by side, their roofs gilded with jewels. Imagine a street where no one is hungry, where oh-" It was a very short story. Rio was kicking a door down. "Yeah, great. Dark creepy dungeon filled with undead and the first thing you do when you see a door is to kick it open. Perfect. Now all we need is for our dark elf friend to follow it up with a sneak attack." Speaking of which, she hadn't seen the dark elf in a while.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The conversations were cut short with the thud of the door being kicked open. The old doors slam against the walls, permanently indenting them into the wall. The door opened up to a large open room. To the left and right was a single line of pillars leading all the way across the room to the other side. There were no candles but somehow the room was lit with enough light to see across to the other side. Roughly 6 corridors led into the room. It was then that the group could notice that this wasn't just some room, but a battlefield. A good portion of the pillars was either destroyed or broken. Bodies of undead lay all across the room. The bodies being destroyed and some leaving no trail at all just ashes. "What happened here?" Sampson questioned to himself as he made his way inside. He went to go examine the bodies as a voice called out from the other side. "Captain?!" 2 Apostle knights stood on the other side of the room. Their clothes covered and dark soot and ash. The 2 had obviously been in an intense power struggle, but when and for how long? Sampson slowly made his way over to them with Jack sticking close behind him now. "Well aren't you a sight. I was starting to fear the worse. The captain responded. The knights sheathed their weapons making their way towards the group. "Aye. Its good to see you, captain. We've been locked in a battle with these creatures for days now. We sent Jackson for reinforcements. Looks like he made it in time." Sampson shook his head towards the soldier. "I'm afraid not. The King instructed us to come here. When we arrived, Jackson had barely made it out alive. He must have been ambushed by those things. Whats going on here?" The soldiers looked in dismay to the news the captain spoke. "Shame to hear it. Almost 3 days ago the Champion instructed us to return here from the 4th floor. He said something wasn't right and we should investigate. He dispatched 5 of us here. When we arrived this place was filled with wraiths. They were no big deal but they kept coming and coming. They wouldn't stop. They dragged Kyle off somewhere to do god knows what to him. When we finally got a break we sent Jackson for help. Zanzibar died covering his escape." He pointed over to a corpse in the corner that was badly mutilated. Sampson put his hand on the soldiers shoulder. "Do not fret. We are here to put an end to this madness." He handed the 2 soldiers each a potion. "Where is my brotha?" The soldiers quickly drank the potions recovering most of their strength. If you take the corridor all the way down, look for the Kings Seal. There's a hidden passage that will take you to the 4th floor. He shouldn't be too far from there." Sampson nodded turning to see what the remainder of the group had been doing. Just then the sound of scratching could be heard coming from one of the corridors. The sound growing louder and louder as it begins to draw closer to the room.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Well, damn, this is cool," Nanda muttered to herself when all the weapons in the room burst to flame. It was almost distraction enough against the undeads that were making a beeline for her. She tried to dodge away behind the knight, Arton ("Why, thank you, sir."), while at the same time throwing two now-flaming knives at her pursuers, aiming for their unprotected heads. Nanda glanced quickly around the room, assessing it. Arton and Rio seemed like they were doing fine defending their stance, but what about the other guards? The dark elf was attacking with flurry, and she seemed to have more luck attacking from behind. Nanda Fooled her arms to have more Strength and Agility, for stronger faster blows. Now where is the magic boy?</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 32 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: 80% Stamina: 75% Stamina: 70% Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ The group quickly springs into action splitting up to tackle the threat. Rio dashed to defend the boy Jack. The Undead were quickly outmatched in speed as Rio made it to Jack before they could. With a powerful blow from his furiously flamming fist, one of the flesh eaters was obliterated. It writhes backward as it screeched in pain before disappearing into a pile of ashes on the floor. The second flesh eater, circles around to the side of Rio brandishing a golden blade. It swings fast with a barrage of black slashes. "Dont worry about me old man just watch out yourself!!" Jack yells as he retreats further back. Meanwhile the remainder rush to help Nanda. The first zombie slams hard against Artons shield, yet his strength remained unwavering, as the blow smacks the creature in the face. It recoils back aiming to kill the defender when 2 knives meet its face next. Before the zombie could return attack it was met by a slash from Arton, severing its head. Meanwhile, the Elf found herself behind the zombies. Weapons brandished she unleashes a barrage of slashes finishing the monsters off before they could return an attack. Battle Calculations {Rio Destroys Zombie 1} {Arton, Nanda & Arwyn Destroy Zombie 3 & 4} The knights fight off the last of the horde. The 3 of them standing tall begin to generate high amounts of flame in their swords. With a powerful synchronized thrust from all 3, they blast the roof of the corridor causing it to collapse and cut off the path of the zombies.</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio ignores the kid's remark content to know he diverted the attention of that one pair away. The one zombie he manged to slay effortlessly but the other one seemed to have the insolence to no fall alongside its companion. Still using his enhanced speed and agility he did an effortless backhop to evade the zombie's wild slashes. Using the distance he ran at the zombie but jumped into as he brought down his flaming claw into the zombie hoping to finish it off. (speed buff & divebomb)</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton held his shield firmly in front of his chest, covering his vitals, as the soldier screamed. The wounded man wasn't just stumbling out of the dungeon, he was fleeing from enemies. He readied himself for combat as he was reinforced by the other members of their party, but he took the center. Soon enough, three figures emerged from the mouth of the dungeon...decayed and decrepit. They would not pass, not while he stood. He lifted his shield to block the wraith's attack, and to keep him away, then followed up with a powered strike(Hyper Slash) across the attacker's torso. Piercing attacks hardly did good against these kind of creatures. They were terrible abominations, evil monsters that must be destroyed. That much was certain "Send them back to their graves!" He chanted, a look of disdain on his face at the creatures.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Ananda HP 100 MP 24/50 The injured soldier's scream set Nanda on edge. Almost by instinct, she casted Fleeting Steps on herself, then soundlessly made her way around the group, taking a good measure of the dungeon's entrance. When the undead appeared, she was somewhat closer to the entrance than anyone ought to be. Fortunately the monsters more concerned with with attacking the nearest bulky adventurer than a particularly sneaky rogue. Nanda considered a sneak attack, but as the undead crashed and pushed back the bulky adventurer, she discarded it as a bad idea. Instead she focused on the adventurer, Arton. His muscles should be able to hold on harder than that, could they? Wordlessly, Nanda spoke to his Strength, convincing them that they're stronger than they seemed (Fool Sense +2). "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!!" said the boy all of a sudden. "Kid, you're not making sense," Nanda muttered. "They have magic resistance so we ought to use magic?"</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone The sound of his claw's attack was all Rio need to know that his attack was successful. As he slowed down to survey they damage he saw that one was taken out and the other two were worse for wear. His attack seemed to have angered one the undead soldiers seeing as it had followed him and was now in the process of attacking him. The attack were sloppy and uncoordinated, reminding him of drunken louts trying to fight. The kid shouted about them being weak to fire, but Rio didn't have on him any method so he'd leave it up to the others like Arwyn who was launching a fiery projectile to his side at the same undead. Rio took advantage of such sloppy strikes against him to use his gauntlet to secure a good grip on one of its arms and use that momentum of the sloppy punches to stagger it forward towards the fiery arrow's path.</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 The presence of Jack behind him encouraged him to hold strong against the skeleton attackers, when the first was obliterated by an attack that damaged the other two. Now that they were off him, he re-adjusted his grip on his sword and shield. He laughed at the indication to use fire "I would if I had any." Arton spoke aloud, the only fire he had was the one that burned in his soul. The un-dead with the axe seemed to wish to try its chances at his defense once more, a welcome challenge if it wasn't for the poor state of the creature. He lifted his trusted shield above him at an angle to absorb the strike, meanwhile swinging his sword upwards starting from his left-side waist and across to dismember the arm that held the weapon. If he managed to accomplish that, he would push for a frontal kick into the Skeleton's chest with all of his strength. Arton might not be agile like a rouge or a ranger, but he was fast with his sword and shield.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio picked out the gold pieces from that cinder pile happy that these undead soldiers were easily dispatched. He took his time to inspect the hopefully now permanently dead soldiers for anything of interest causing him to lag behind. Following the group into the dungeon he went to Sampson and asked, "So do we know anything about what happened?". Given what happened to the soldier it would be prudent to know what happened if they managed to get any information from him before sending him away. As they approached the door, Rio kicked it open.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 Stowing her bow Arwyn hung her head with shame. Despite the knight's supportive words she knew that her presence had done nothing to aid the party during the engagement, and in fact had placed one of her companions in danger from her poorly aimed attack. Her lack of knowledge about the creatures they faced, as well as her slow reactions and poor display of skill at failing to land even one solid blow on them once she'd been informed of their weakness, left her wondering whether she truly deserved to accompany warriors who obviously were far more skilled than she was in this situation. Watching the others carefully she hung back from the rest of the group, and once it was clear they were making their way forwards she used her natural ability to blend with the shadows (Shadowmeld ability), ready to observe their actions in order to learn from them and hopefully improve her own performance in future. If no opportunity presented itself her distance from the rest of the party would make it all the easier to slip away in the darkness rather than trouble them further with her disgraceful presence.</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton crouched over the remains of the skeleton he had just finished, picking up anything worthwhile. He examined the decayed armor and bones trying to tell if this was one of their missing soldiers or just a spawn of the dungeon. Whether he managed to find answers or not, he rose back up to a standing position as Sampson called them to regroup. He decided not to correct the knight that what they faced inside of the dungeon would likely be far more dangerous than a few shambling skeletons. The man seemed keen on upholding his sense of authority. He walked close behind Rio, who was in the front, with weapons still in hand. There were sometimes 'safe havens' in these dungeons but finding them was quite rare so he wouldn't let down his guard. Arwyn he could tell was for some reason ashamed, perhaps because of her first arrows doing nothing against the skeleton's magical resistance. Before he could say anything, she seemed to slip into the very darkness of the dungeon itself. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting of the dungeon as he overheard the young boy talking to the woman referred to as Nanda. A princess? He recalled her casting some spell on him earlier and he could feel some kind of boost in his muscles "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" He asked curiously, turning his head back a little to talk. It was a shame really that he was so poor at picking up on sarcasm. Thinking back on the dungeon, Arton wanted to see if they could follow the trail of blood. It may be able to lead to more clues, but for now he readied his shield as Rio kicked down the door blocking their way.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton was unable to catch any sarcasm, if there was any, and believed that Nanda was indeed the princess that she claimed. The kingdom she spoke of sounding way too good to be true, so that was enough to cause him to doubt it was as amazing. No kingdom was without their faults, that much he had learned. He didn't have time to respond as Rio kicked in the door. He was relieved that they found two more knights awaiting them on the other side, so far this mission was going far better than expected. This would be three extra lives that were saved if the other one survived. He briefly closed his eyes for he fallen soldier and spoke an internal, short prayer. Realistically, it would not be the last time he would have to do so. His guard did not drop as they stood in the room and agreed with Princess Nanda that they should not remain here for long. The benefits of a smaller party was the ability to move quickly. His attention was immediately grabbed by the sound of coming from one of the corridors. Quickly, he did his best to isolate where exactly it was coming from and took up position to engage them once they got into range "It is never a good idea to go off on your own in dungeons." Arton mentioned as they argued about what to do "I will take on the corridor the noises are coming from so whatever you plan on doing, just do it fast." He stated plainly. The first dungeon he have ever been in, one of the party was killed by a trap when he recklessly engaged a small group of monsters. That was when he knew that as long as you're in the halls of the dungeon, never assume you have the upper hand or are safe.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone A couple of days ago Rio was lounging lazily amidst the outdoor patio of the WAA building. He sat on a thick bough as he munched away on a ripe pear, whose flesh was so succulent that juice dripped to the ground with each bite. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw some greater amount of moment and voices from inside. Eventually the commotion got big enough that his curiosity was piqued and he just had to see what was going on. Approaching one of the attendant he asked, "Hey Neal, what's going on? " "The King of Meteora has sent a dispatch to all WAA branches asking for adventurers to come see him to investigate a dungeon that mysteriously appeared." replied Neal. "Huh, anything else?" Rio said. "Well if you want to get there first you should sign up as everyone else is going to sign up and rush to the call since there's the potential of a fat payout provided success." "Then sign me up! I'll be rushing to the next airship to Meteora then." Rio said cheerfully. While the potential rewards was great, his instinct told him that it was going to be a lot of work to go through. Still, it would be something to do that would hopefully let him gain rank and that license, perhaps he could find something that would help him learn further about his gauntlet as well. The flight over to Meteora was pretty uneventful and gave Rio plenty of time to rest up for the journey. A gentle breeze under the warmth of the noonday sun accompanied him as he made way to the castle. Already there was quite a bit other odd looking people, no doubt adventurers, who were moving around town. This city looked nice but he'd hopefully have time later to acquainted with Meteora once this meeting was over and perhaps during down time of exploring this dungeon. Upon entering the room he quickly scanned the room. He was surprised at the man who looked about the same age as him sitting in front of everyone. After being being escorted to a seat he thanked the old man and took a seat. It felt more like a formal dinner party with the music playing in the background. He didn't care for it but it wasn't a deal breaker either. He scanned the room around and saw some knight, a kid, and some flavor of elf. He closed his eyes for a moment only to be alerted by some worker offering a snack and refreshments. Seemed like it was a dinner party after all. A lazy "nah" floated out from his mouth as he closed his eyes again.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| In the couple of months after leaving his homeland and joining up with the WAA, Arton found himself in constant demand among the other other adventurers of his rank. It turned out that Arton was good, really good as hold down the front-line and defending others from getting overwhelmed. While others may turned away from such a task by its inherent danger, Arton found himself filling the role of a tank happily. However, he was feeling his growth halting where he was currently working out of. That was why when the call to travel to Meteora to assist its King came, he was all too eager to sign up. The countless looks from people as he passed through the street was something he had gotten used to already. It was not their fault he appeared so different from what they were used to, Draeni hardly settled outside of Roughann. What he sincerely missed was the communal spires of his home, these human kingdoms were so inefficient and difficult to navigate compared to Roughann's cities. Nonetheless, the city possessed its own unique charm. He managed to find his way to the front gate of the castle, where he was approached by the guard "Halt." He spoke firmly, Arton stood several inches over the armed soldier "Are you one of the adventurers here by our King's request?" He asked astutely, looking at the Draeni up and down. Arton nodded with a faint smile "That's right. Here..I got the papers right here." He had them in his hand already, expecting this to happen. The guard nodded with a solemn, unchanging expression "Mhm, Allen here will guide you to the room where the rest are." He pointed to a younger looking guard who gave a light salute at being mentioned. The interior of the Castle completely astounded him. His family was never wealthy so the ornate paintings and statues that decorated the halls were something new to him. It all was so different than what he was used too, therefore it was interesting to him. Allen led him to the room without saying a word, Arton was too busy gazing at all the sights anyway "Here you are, sir." He said plainly, though Arton could the nervousness expressed in his face "Thank you Allen, I probably would have gotten lost without you!" He laughed lightly, seeming to get the anxious guard to chuckle just a little "Yeah, well good luck." Allen replied a bit more friendly this time around, departing down the corridor. At last he had arrived, he could hear the dulled sound of a violin through the door. His hand opened the door and it grew much louder as he saw the others who had gathered here already. Slowly he made his way further inside, his expression appearing cold though this was merely because he slipped back into old habits. His dark eyes glanced between the characters in the room, one immediately striking him out as the king. The other four he had no idea who they were, but he hoped he would find out. However, one individual drew his interest over all the others. He wasn't even sure what she was, but her appearance and clothing were just so foreign to him that his curiosity couldn't resist. He walked over to the nearest chair to her and asked "Mind if I take this seat?" He asked rather politely, his expression solid and unchanging as he waited for her permission. Once had, he sat down after setting his bag behind him "My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" He asked directly, friendly in his tone. His people didn't waste time with asking pointless questions. Unknowingly, the person who he was talking to was a Dark Elf who held disdain for the culture of other kingdoms. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Interacting with:@Genni</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Are you wizard?" asked the little urchin boy. He was fast, even for an urchin. He was always one step ahead of Nanda as she slipped through Meteora's many alleyways. "Is that how you do that trick with the coins, earlier?" Nanda grinned. That trick earlier was nothing; something to impress people on the streets, and distract them from the urchins scurrying away with their purse. Perhaps not the best thing to do in a new city, especially since she was hired by the literal King of the place, but she couldn't pass the opportunity up. The kids were practically worshipping her now. "What do you think?" she said. She flicked her fingers and her cloak burst into flames... or at least that was what it looked like. In a split-second the flames seemed to be absorbed into her cloak, turning the drab black cloth into a burning red. A velvety, expensive-looking burning red. The boy stopped in his tracks and stared wide-eyed. "Sure, I'm a wizard." She laughed. "So you said you know where the castle is?" The boy grinned. --- "Ananda, princess of Zamrud," she announced herself to the elderly steward. She was no proper princess, of course, but she made sure to look the part, mostly through her cloak. It was a piece of wonder, fine red velvet decked around the edges with what appeared to be gems. Gunthrum said nothing as he read the official WAA parchment she had given him. Finally, he gave it back to her. "I though Zamrud doesn't have any royalty." "It doesn't," Nanda chuckled. "There's no royalty so anybody can be prince and princess." He sighed, apparently not seeing the humour in it. "Please, have a seat." Nanda bowed with a flair, then turned her attention to the room. There were a couple of people already, some she thought she recognized from the WAA. And there's the king! At the head of the table, of course. "It is an honour to meet you, your majesty," she said with a curtsey. This king in particular wasn't very much interested in court manners, she heard, but it seemed a waste not to pull it off. She then took a seat somewhere in the middle of the table, a good place to observe all the others, or to be seen herself.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún As the human poked her Arwyn's arm began to reach up to snap his finger, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed that even her small gesture of defiance had several of the nearby guard tensing up, their own hands moving towards their weapons or raising bows subtly towards her direction. After a moment's consideration she relaxed herself once more. After all she was here in search of her destiony and killing all of the guards would waste far too much of her valuable time. At least the little man had answered her question, although his response raised several more. Her own people would never contemplate sending an unworthy representative on a quest without them having passed the ritual testing to prove they were the best suited for the task. Even now the humans seemed to be simply choosing randomly from whomever gathered and throwing all of them at the problem, rather than having each compete for the right to complete the task alone, saving the others for tasks which would best suit their abilities for the greater good. They were soon introduced to even more candidates for the task at hand and Arwyn had to almost physically prevent herself from throwing her arms up in despair at the sheer wastefulness of the whole endeavour. The humans almost seemed to be trying to outdo themselves with unskilled combatants who would most likely not even last the first day in the dungeon which had been described to them. Especially not if their greatest warrior, who must assuredly have outclassed all of the knights presented before them, had already failed in the task. One of the armoured figures towards the rear of the group seemed particularly unsuited to the role, the bright red tunic he wore over his armour almost crying out to be shot at. If gambling had been something her people had experience with Arwyn would certainly have placed a large wager on that individual being one of the first to fall. Leading the group onto a waiting rimpa lán the knights began to chant what seemed a bastardised cantrip based on elven magics which had long been superceded by more enlightened enchantments among her people, but as the carpet rose swiftly into the air Arwyn had toi admit that even though outdated and obsolete the old spells still had some value to them. Before long the party were settling back down to the ground not far from a gaudily carved entranceway which seemed far more elaborate than the setting entirely required. Shaking her head Arwyn joined the several of the others as they made their way closer. When a figure began to emerge from the cave the shadowbow was immediately on guard, her bow in her hands before any of the human could react and the string pulled back as she began to channel her energies into the weapon. Her cloak immediately closed in around her, generating a mist which obscured her position until she began to relax, recognising the similar style of crudely crafted armour the other humans were wearing on the approaching stranger. Relaxing her posture, Arwyn let the magic seep from her bow, reabsorbing it into herself as the arrow vanished back into mothingness once more. Examining the newcomer from a distance she noticed he seemed to be missing some parts to his armour compared to the other humans, and while the removal of his helmet was understandable, as the rough piece of metalwork would do nothing but impair the wearer's senses and awareness of their surroundings, the missing gauntlet, vambrace and couter seemed a strange choice, especially considering his arm also appeared to have been left behind along with the armour pieces. Leaving the humans to deal with the presumably injured man, Arwyn quickly moved over towards the cave entrance, seting herself up in a position within its shade that gave her a clear view down into the ominous opening. With her bow held at the ready, prepared to summon and loose an arrow at a moment's notice, the elf settled in to guard the way ahead while the humans discussed matters amongst themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| It always astounded him how easily read the emotions of other races were, especially humans. A two-second glance was all it normally took him to figure out what they were feeling. The changes in posture and facial expressions were enough to dis-certain this. His first impression of Arywn was that she was rather unimpressed with everything around her. Hardly anything seemed be worth her time. When she asked him if he was of the woods, He couldn't help but think that the change in her expression came from the hope of some kind of familiarity. The more he learned of the Champion, the more he began to believe that this would hardly be like anything he's been through before. Arton had been through two dungeons along with a party of other adventurers, always able to rely on his solid defense to protect him and his teammates. Now he was now sure if that would be enough in this situation. The knight named Sampson replied to his question instead of the king, and he didn't like the use of die in his speech. The spit shot onto the floor was more confusing, Arton not understanding what that was supposed to mean. Arton didn't like the fact the King was so willing to let 15 of his supposedly elite guard just to die "There shall be no man left behind if I can help it, your majesty." He responded strongly. His advice was not all that helpful, they were taught that at the WAA rather early in their admission. Arton found the King...rather hard to read, he felt he was hiding something under his strong expressions. He simply admired the view of the city as they left it, turning his attention forward as they approached the dungeon. While menacing, it was normal of dungeons to have a sort of foreboding entrance. At the very least, its presence was enough to deter some ambitious treasure seekers who'd otherwise get trapped or killed. Their landing was rather quiet, the accompanying knights faces obscured by their helmets. Arton's body tensed as he spotted the figure, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his sword in its scabbard. It was only when the man spoke did he drop his guard some. He could see fear in the man's tired eyes, his body moved barely able to carry his own weight let alone the armor on him. A somber look befell the Draeni, the state of the knight did not bode well for the others. That did not mean he would relent in his personal mission to make sure as many came back alive as possible. Since he didn't know healing magic or medicine, he rushed forward drawing his sword and shield to guard at the mouth of the dungeon. His sword and shield greatly outclassed the appearance of his armor in both construction and design. His blackened eyes noticed that Arywn had decided to watch the entrance as well, giving him a bit more comfort knowing she was watching his back. From her earlier reaction, He had figured she was a rather sharp shot with that bow. As much as he wished to help the wounded solider, he was better suited where he was now. "I'm afraid I'm not of the wood.." He suddenly spoke out "At least, not in the way I suspect you mean it." Arton was not able to answer her earlier "So much for an elite knight though." It might have sounded harsh, but he spoke this with sadness. If they were truly elite, then whatever was in this dungeon could not be allowed to live. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Interacting with:@Genni</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Well, damn, this is cool," Nanda muttered to herself when all the weapons in the room burst to flame. It was almost distraction enough against the undeads that were making a beeline for her. She tried to dodge away behind the knight, Arton ("Why, thank you, sir."), while at the same time throwing two now-flaming knives at her pursuers, aiming for their unprotected heads. Nanda glanced quickly around the room, assessing it. Arton and Rio seemed like they were doing fine defending their stance, but what about the other guards? The dark elf was attacking with flurry, and she seemed to have more luck attacking from behind. Nanda Fooled her arms to have more Strength and Agility, for stronger faster blows. Now where is the magic boy?</s>
<\|description\|>Kinoko / Kinokou { Ignore the tail } Alias: Princess Kinoko/Kinokou, Princess of Saiyans (formerly), Son Kinoko/Kinokou, Universe 7's Last Female Saiyan, Third-Mightiest Saiyan. Date of Birth: April 18, Age 735. Age: 44 (physically 30-31). Height: 5' 7". Weight: 121 lbs. Species: Saiyan. Gender: Female. Relatives/Relationships: * Bardock (biological father; deceased). * Queen of Planet Vegeta (biological mother; deceased). * Raditz (older paternal-brother/former teammate; deceased). * Vegeta (older paternal-brother/teammate). * Goku (younger paternal-brother/teammate). * Tarble (younger paternal-brother). * Android 21/"Amaia" (younger adoptive-sister/teammate). * Gohan (paternal-nephew/teammate). * Goten (paternal-nephew). * Trunks (paternal-nephew). * Bulla (paternal-niece). * Pan (paternal-grandniece). * Chi-Chi (sister-in-law). * Gure (sister-in-law). * Bulma (sister-in-law). * Ox King (father-in-law). * Dr. Brief (father-in-law). * Panchy (mother-in-law). Occupation(s): Princess of Planet Vegeta (formerly); High-Class Warrior; Farmer/Grocery Clerk. Affiliation(s): Dragon Team/Z-Fighters. Former Affiliation(s): Galactic Frieza Army. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Black. Personality: Mature, Caring, Capable, Helpful, Intelligent, Optimistic, Confident, Honorable, Gentle (yet Tough), and Stubborn. (When Turned-Evil: Ruthless, Arrogant, Devious, Selfish, and Manipulative.) Power(s): Super Saiyan 1-3 (possibly 4), including Blue. Abilities: Superhuman Strength/Speed/Durability/Senses, Martial Arts, Acrobatics, Flight, Afterimage/IT, Telekinesis, Ki-Control/Sense/Transfer/Regeneration/Rapid-Fire, Kamehameha (descended from Bardock), Galick Gun (taught by Vegeta). Voiced By (actor/actress): Liza Jacqueline Live-Portrayer (actor/actress) {just for fun}: Chloe Bennet Theme Song:</s> <\|message\|>Froze There were a lot of things being said between the heroes of Earth just immediately following Frieza's sudden visit to Earth. It was soon learned that his troops used the Dragonballs in order to bring him back to life and with his renewed vigor tried to get his revenge but was soon stopped by Goku and Vegeta. The following day after that, all of them were within Bulma's home. Well, all except Goku and Gohan. Since Chi-Chi caught wind that Goku was back, immediately put him back to work in the fields. However everyone else had been there and decided to talk amongst themselves about that day's events. The first one to speak up was Krillin, who had just shown up after a couple of others had arrived. The rest had looked at him as he had flown in. "Hey guys! I'm here! Sorry it took so long, I had been training a bit before and realized what time it was. 18 had to come and remind me." he said with a chuckle as he landed down softly beside Yamcha. "Oh it's no problem. A lot of us just got here too. Don't know where Goku is but Vegeta is training as usual. Wouldn't kill him to show at least just a little interest after what happened yesterday." he said huffing a bit. "You already know how he is and I don't think Goku will be here. Last I heard, Chi-Chi caught him immediately and he's out there working in the field already." Piccolo quietly said, he was leaning against one of the pillars of the small patio out there in the backyard of the Capsule Corp. "Right, right. So what are we here for? Moreover, who told us to come here? I thought it was agreed we'd be training after what happened." asked Tien who then walked up to the rest. "I don't know. I got a call from Bulma and she told me to come here yesterday. Said something about the Dragonballs. I'm not really sure since she was shouting so loud. So glad 18's not like that..." Krillin had gave a light sigh. It was almost noon there in West City. Goten and Trunks were playing outside like usual, the Pilaf Gang were down in the lab along with Bulma' father who had been working on something for the past few days. Soon enough Gohan had came but unlike the tracksuit he was wearing when Frieza first came to Earth but his regular Gi just like his father. "Gohan." Piccolo said just as he landed on the ground. "Everybody. I decided to come after all. After what happened yesterday, I thought it'd be a good idea to keep myself in the know what might be going on or will be." the Saiyan said before looking around before raising and eyebrow. "Where's my dad and Vegeta-san?" he questioned. "Goku's working and Vegeta's training. Apparently neither of them has gone back with Whis this time. I figured at least Vegeta would but he's been acting kinda weird all day long. Bulma knows but she won't say anything about it." says Tien. Gohan was about to ask what he meant by that when a spaceship was seen overhead, everyone knowing who that belonged to didn't say anything until it touched down. Out of it popped out the Galactic patrolman that they all knew. "Whew, Bulma has a way with words. I was out on official duty when she called me. Sounded kind of important so I just couldn't ignore." Jaco said as he coughed into his hand. Everyone knew what he meant by that considering she kinda forced everyone to be here literally the next day but they figure it was important enough in light of what happened yesterday during the assault and considering it had something to do with the Dragonballs, they couldn't ignore it either. Piccolo had a guess to gather them so they couldn't be used again, at least to revive any enemies they may have had but considering they were stone until next year, that would be impossible to find them until they became active again. So they talked among themselves until Goku decided to sneak in and show up or Bulma came out, one of the two.</s> <\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko figured that Frieza's assault on Earth would make her push pass her limits of protecting her family. When Gohan, her eldest nephew, got repeatedly and nearly shot-to-death by the Emperor himself, the ex-princess had to step in, and cover him, right up to the point where Piccolo sacrificed himself to save them both...until her two brothers finally showed up: Vegeta, the eldest, and Goku, the younger. During that whole scenario, Kinoko kept both Gohan and Piccolo in her care, while she took care of the remaining soldiers who'd dare get any closer to them. This battle became one of those she would never forget. Even to this day of celebrating, it continued to haunt her; probably as much as was for Vegeta. She left her older brother alone to his thoughts, just knowing that those said-thoughts would continue to bother them both, as they contained the memories of their servitude for Lord Frieza himself, back in the past. The female Saiyan did consider going with him, in order to get those traumatizing memories out, including the ones involving the amount of abuse Raditz put on her. But then, she decided to stay behind, and look after her family. The Dragon Balls then came to her mind. If anybody wishes to revive their evil superiors, then the only option would be the retrieve them before it again ends up in the wrong hands. Floating above everyone, still in her battle outfit, and staring towards the sunset, she finally crossed her arms upon her chest, until Jaco arrived. That was when she decided to descend gracefully back down to the ground. It felt as if they wouldn't go away...the memories. As much as Kinoko wanted to forget them, she feared that the more they continued to bother her, the more she feared of becoming an uncontrollable Super Saiyan. However, the only reason she didn't was because of Goku and Vegeta, who've managed to convince her that she wouldn't. From there, she believed, thanked, and loved them. Whenever times like these began to take their toll, she would go to either go to Chi-Chi, Bulma, or Videl to talk about it. The ex-princess knows that she's really tough like her father, but yet, she was a gentle soul, like her mother. With much thought, she decided to use Instant Transmission to quickly change into something that was suitable for the occasion: a dark-blue midriff top, a pair of dark skinnies, and high-heeled boots.</s> <\|message\|>Froze Everyone had looked up when they felt Kinoko's presence, well, mostly Piccolo was the first to notice then the others did as well. All of them were rather fond of the Saiyan princess. After all, she had done much to help them in their long journey. They remember it like it was yesterday when she had came to Earth with Raditz. Some of that were bittersweet memories and even to this day, none of them knew what prompted her to switch sides like that but they couldn't have been more thankful especially Gohan as young as he was. They had gotten rather used to her fast soon after, considered her one of the gang with much help of Goku of course. Took Piccolo a lot longer to come around but consider she didn't kill him after he had no choice but to kill Goku that day to make sure Raditz had perished, he thought she couldn't have been that bad and he was right after he had mellowed out over the years. The others had various opinions of her, none of them were too out there...I mean, if we're talking about right now at this moment. "Glad you decided to join us finally, Kinoko. I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday but thanks for saving us both. I don't think we would've made it without you." Piccolo had walked over to her as he said that. "I agree. I didn't know that Frieza had gotten so much stronger. I should've been more careful...no matter how many times I go through it in my head. I feel like I could've done better then." Gohan said with a heavy sigh. "I wouldn't worry about it Gohan. None of us knew that he would get that strong. We're sorry we couldn't do anything to stop him at the time." Krillin had added. All of them agreed and had a moment of silence after that. Jaco had something he wanted to say, a joke to lighten the mood but he advised against it since he didn't want to get blasted just for making light of a dire situation yesterday. Probably the only time he seen Frieza up close, just thinking about it gave him the shivers something awful. It wasn't just him, however. All of them were more on alert after that. Peace had really gotten them soft and after what happened, it gave them a wakeup call that they should not be slacking off when there's no threat to be had just yet. No one really felt that more than Gohan, the more he thought about it, the more the strain on his face worsened a bit. His mind fell back on both Videl and his child, Pan. What had happened if Kinoko wasn't there? What if he had died as a result? He'd be leaving them and that thought alone really bothered him. He had asked Piccolo to train him again, from the basics up. He really didn't want to mess up again. Things may have changed but he was still a warrior, he needed to keep up with his father and everyone else. Sure he handled himself well against Frieza's henchmen but Frieza himself was so much stronger than him it wasn't funny. He looked down at his own hand and squeezed it, the only time he was horribly disappointed in himself. He was hoping he'd get over this wall pretty soon, he didn't want to be a burden to everyone like he was when he was a child.</s>	<\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko had landed a few feet away from Piccolo, and she had heard his every word when she had done so. As much as she knew about the Namekian, there was no surprise about when he knew detect her looming presence. "There's no need to thank me; I had to do what I had to do, and that's to protect my family; every call must be answered", she assured, giving him a friendly smile. It was a vow she was sure to follow, ever since the defeat of Raditz. The abuse had taken its toll, and it finally made her decide to kill him, probably for the first time without honor. That was the reason Kinoko had changed sides in the first place: She had enough of it. She looked at her nephew when he began to ponder about his own actions during the battle. "Gohan, don't doubt yourself. You did what you could; by giving it your all", the princess walked to Gohan, stopping next to him, and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt as if he was back as a child again; back when she had rescued him and Goku. This time, as much as she could remember, it was as if it would never get old. Like she said, she had a family to protect; as an aunt, and a sister, she will live up to that expectation. If she had to babysit her nieces, nephews, or her siblings, she would. It felt as if her sixth sense was her ability to detect the melancholy auras of people. Because she was certainly seeing it in Gohan. "Gohan, there was no chance that Frieza would ever defeat us. Know why? Because we are family. We fought as one; the bond is much stronger than you think", the princess smiled once more, before nodding, hoping to give him hope that they will succeed...and that there's always a way. In some ways, like how she is with Goku, she had gotten closer to Gohan, ever since the incident. Of course, before the eradication of their homeworld, she had remained really close with Vegeta, considering that they had obviously grew up together in the same status and household. As close as they were, rather emotionally, Kinoko just knew that, even though her older brother would be out training, he wouldn't put it above family-oriented scenarios. Especially when it comes to the wellbeing of his wife, his son, or his sister. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Saiyan prince will put their wellbeing before his own. Since there wasn't necessarily a place for her to reside, the princess normally stayed with Goku and his family. At first, she found Chi-Chi to be somewhat strict, but Kinoko could only understand that she just wants what's best for her family. As much as those expectations were overbearing, Kinoko tries to do the best she can, in order to help her younger brother with the amount of stress his wife puts on him. Sometimes, they were rather lucky in getting her to agree with them taking a break or two, but this varied. Especially when it came to Goku and training...</s>
<\|description\|>Kinoko / Kinokou { Ignore the tail } Alias: Princess Kinoko/Kinokou, Princess of Saiyans (formerly), Son Kinoko/Kinokou, Universe 7's Last Female Saiyan, Third-Mightiest Saiyan. Date of Birth: April 18, Age 735. Age: 44 (physically 30-31). Height: 5' 7". Weight: 121 lbs. Species: Saiyan. Gender: Female. Relatives/Relationships: * Bardock (biological father; deceased). * Queen of Planet Vegeta (biological mother; deceased). * Raditz (older paternal-brother/former teammate; deceased). * Vegeta (older paternal-brother/teammate). * Goku (younger paternal-brother/teammate). * Tarble (younger paternal-brother). * Android 21/"Amaia" (younger adoptive-sister/teammate). * Gohan (paternal-nephew/teammate). * Goten (paternal-nephew). * Trunks (paternal-nephew). * Bulla (paternal-niece). * Pan (paternal-grandniece). * Chi-Chi (sister-in-law). * Gure (sister-in-law). * Bulma (sister-in-law). * Ox King (father-in-law). * Dr. Brief (father-in-law). * Panchy (mother-in-law). Occupation(s): Princess of Planet Vegeta (formerly); High-Class Warrior; Farmer/Grocery Clerk. Affiliation(s): Dragon Team/Z-Fighters. Former Affiliation(s): Galactic Frieza Army. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Black. Personality: Mature, Caring, Capable, Helpful, Intelligent, Optimistic, Confident, Honorable, Gentle (yet Tough), and Stubborn. (When Turned-Evil: Ruthless, Arrogant, Devious, Selfish, and Manipulative.) Power(s): Super Saiyan 1-3 (possibly 4), including Blue. Abilities: Superhuman Strength/Speed/Durability/Senses, Martial Arts, Acrobatics, Flight, Afterimage/IT, Telekinesis, Ki-Control/Sense/Transfer/Regeneration/Rapid-Fire, Kamehameha (descended from Bardock), Galick Gun (taught by Vegeta). Voiced By (actor/actress): Liza Jacqueline Live-Portrayer (actor/actress) {just for fun}: Chloe Bennet Theme Song:</s> <\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko had landed a few feet away from Piccolo, and she had heard his every word when she had done so. As much as she knew about the Namekian, there was no surprise about when he knew detect her looming presence. "There's no need to thank me; I had to do what I had to do, and that's to protect my family; every call must be answered", she assured, giving him a friendly smile. It was a vow she was sure to follow, ever since the defeat of Raditz. The abuse had taken its toll, and it finally made her decide to kill him, probably for the first time without honor. That was the reason Kinoko had changed sides in the first place: She had enough of it. She looked at her nephew when he began to ponder about his own actions during the battle. "Gohan, don't doubt yourself. You did what you could; by giving it your all", the princess walked to Gohan, stopping next to him, and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt as if he was back as a child again; back when she had rescued him and Goku. This time, as much as she could remember, it was as if it would never get old. Like she said, she had a family to protect; as an aunt, and a sister, she will live up to that expectation. If she had to babysit her nieces, nephews, or her siblings, she would. It felt as if her sixth sense was her ability to detect the melancholy auras of people. Because she was certainly seeing it in Gohan. "Gohan, there was no chance that Frieza would ever defeat us. Know why? Because we are family. We fought as one; the bond is much stronger than you think", the princess smiled once more, before nodding, hoping to give him hope that they will succeed...and that there's always a way. In some ways, like how she is with Goku, she had gotten closer to Gohan, ever since the incident. Of course, before the eradication of their homeworld, she had remained really close with Vegeta, considering that they had obviously grew up together in the same status and household. As close as they were, rather emotionally, Kinoko just knew that, even though her older brother would be out training, he wouldn't put it above family-oriented scenarios. Especially when it comes to the wellbeing of his wife, his son, or his sister. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Saiyan prince will put their wellbeing before his own. Since there wasn't necessarily a place for her to reside, the princess normally stayed with Goku and his family. At first, she found Chi-Chi to be somewhat strict, but Kinoko could only understand that she just wants what's best for her family. As much as those expectations were overbearing, Kinoko tries to do the best she can, in order to help her younger brother with the amount of stress his wife puts on him. Sometimes, they were rather lucky in getting her to agree with them taking a break or two, but this varied. Especially when it came to Goku and training...</s> <\|message\|>Froze Gohan's face had soften at Kinoko's words, exactly what he needed to hear at the time. Although that didn't stop his drive from wanting to get better. Sure, he gave up fighting to focus on his family, he was never really much a fighter like his father and younger brother was but he realized in order to have that life he needed to help keep the Earth safe from harm. He nodded with a smile. "Thanks, Kinoko-san. You're absolutely right." he said pushing those doubts to the side now. Gohan never realized just how much of an impact that Kinoko had made on him in the amount of time he had known her. Well, coming from a human standpoint, Vegeta was exactly what Saiyans were like. Not that the way he acted was bad or anything, he thought. Seeing her though was completely different, maybe not all Saiyans were so hard to have a heart to heart with. Just then, Bulma came out side with a smile on her face and everyone turned to face her. He clapped her hands once to grab everyone's attention. "Everyone! Thank you for coming out here on such short notice." she said as she stood mostly in the middle of them with her hands on her hips. "Well, to be honest, you yelled for me to come. I was on official business, you know!" Jaco said rather defiantly. Bulma just rolled her eyes and wagged her finger in front of his face. "You protect this sector of the universe, right? Then this affects you just as much as us. Just be thankful you aren't out there fighting alone, hm?" she said with a bit of a smirk on her face. Jaco just awkwardly laughed and scratched his cheek, looking away a bit. Tien, however, stepped in. "So Bulma, what is this all about? Sounded pretty serious when you contacted me earlier. Is everything okay?" he softly asked. That's when everyone else had leaned in to find out just what was it that they came here for. Bulma rustled in her pocket a second then took out a Dragonball. Everyone looked at it a second but Piccolo instantly had noticed. "That Dragonball, it's not stone. It hasn't been too long since Frieza had been revived. It hasn't been a year yet, I mean." he said walking over. Everyone else's eyebrow raised as they thought about it. "Yeah, you're right. It should be stone yet here it is, not stone. What's that supposed mean? Do you think something happened at the lookout?" Krillin asked as he leaned in for a closer look. Piccolo frowned a bit before turning around and walking away. "Wait here, I'm going to the lookout to talk to Dende." he didn't really wait for anyone to answer, he just flew off at top speed. Gohan softly took the Dragonball from Bulma's hand then looked at it himself. It seemed normal to him but there was this unshakeable feeling that something was off about it. He frowned a bit and gave it back to her just then Yamcha said something. "Well that's good right? Just means we just find them and get them before anyone else does. If they're wish ready, I don't think that's all that special." he said crossing his arms. Bulma pursed her lips a bit and shook her head. "That's exactly the problem. You already know how these Dragonballs work. The fact that they're not stone would mean that something should be wrong. I don't like it. When you look at it, just looks normal but the feeling it's giving off..." she said just as Tien cuts in. "Makes it seem like something or someone tampered with them. Do you think it has something to do with wishes that Frieza's henchmen had made?" he asked but no one there knew. Bulma crossed her arms and thought about it a moment. "We don't know unless we collect them all again and see what Piccolo says when he comes back. I wouldn't be making such a big deal about this but the last time this happened, it wasn't so pretty." she muttered. However she looked back up again and took out a Dragon radar. "So that means you guys are on Dragonball hunting duty! Go find them and bring them back here so we can figure out what the problem is. I don't have a good feeling about this and it may be nothing at all but I rather not leave this up to chance." she says handing it to Krillin.</s>	<\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou For Kinoko to possess such traits were considered strange to many. Most Saiyans thought of her as being of non-fighting material, but they thought differently, when they came to discover that her kind and gentle nature was only a facade. On the inside, she does indeed have a fighting spirit, and that she possesses a great form of power that would surpass most of their planet's warriors; she was at least, an inch away from Vegeta's own strength. If not, she would be his equal. They both obviously haven't come close to surpassing Goku, so for Vegeta to continuously call himself by his royal title, Kinoko could only believe that her brother will be training long and hard to do so. And she literally means long and hard. For herself, as far as training goes, she tries, at least until everything is done around the residence of Goku and Chi-Chi. She had managed to learn about the aspects of finance from Bulma and Videl (considering that they were rich), so the idea of getting a job was an option with considering, if she ever wants to support her family. The princess became a full-time grocery-store clerk. Highly unlike her younger brother, Kinoko grew fond of the task, almost immediately. That also meant that she and Goku are on the same page and business in handling fresh food: he harvests and collects, while she stocks and gives them away. If she wasn't on her shift, she can make Goku's task a lot easier. After all, it's a win-win; the faster it gets done, the more time for training for the both of them! With the princess' eyes looking up at her nephew (since she was three inches shorter), Kinoko smiled gently and nodded back, with a hum. "Just know that if you want a training session, I'm open. Know that, Gohan", she added, with a friendly wink. And then, that was when Bulma announced for everyone's attention. Kinoko listened, before giving an amused chuckle at the blue-haired woman's interaction with the Galactic Patrolman. As long as she had known her sister-in-law, Kinoko just knew that Vegeta married a strong one, since she heard that became a major factor in how Saiyans find the right mates. Back on her homeworld didn't the princess to be worthy since she held a nature that was totally different to how a true Saiyan should behave. Only Raditz and Vegeta knew that she didn't get those traits from the king at all, who held pride and ruthlessness. It was then particularly guessed that she got them from Bardock and Vegeta's mother, who possessed fiery yet compassionate spirits. Looking at the Dragonball that Gohan managed to take from Bulma, Kinoko looked back at all of the times they had to hunt these relics down. Especially the time that she had to fight with Vegeta, when he ran off with them. As much as she loved him, as his sister, she had no choice but to face him in combat. The memory was painful, but she had to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Now, the other six were scattered, and they would have to find them once again. As much as the princess would like to go with them, she had to stay, and lend a hand with the others, who may not have the ability to defend themselves. After all, they might need someone powerful enough to protect them. The whole scenario with Frieza has made the circumstances a lot more difficult, and that meant they needed all the help they can get, if it ever happens again.</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus Tags: Villain lesson #1: Ignore problems and maybe they'll go away. The satisfying clicks of the lock tumbling into place met his ears, and he reached out a gloved hand to give the knob a jiggle. Perfect. It was then that the considerably less satisfying sound of a witness caught his attention. Raker stood, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to face the young woman. The blank, black fabric eyes of his mask stared at her, emotionless and indifferent. The fiend's own expression underneath wasn't much different. No matter; she was but a small gnat on the windshield of his plan. Mindraker did what he did best: he reached out into her mind, raking it over the hot coals of confusion and haze. Where am I? Keep walking. What was I doing? Saw nothing. Foggy. Leave. As he played his trick, he slipped into the office and shut the door behind him, locking it back. If he pretended he wasn't there, she would probably just turn and go away. Meanwhile, he very quietly proceeded to ransack the place. Raker pulled open drawers and cabinets, sorting through papers and manila folders. He pocketed a thumb drive and picked out a few papers, then neatly put them into a folder and tucked them into his hoodie. The process felt as though it had taken long enough for the woman to be gone, but just to be sure, the hooded man approached the door and leaned his ear up against it. Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian Location: His apartment Orren walked a few blocks to where his shabby apartment was nestled. Given his rough start on life, he'd had to work long hours and take short breaks to hammer out a life for himself. Government assistance helped a little. He noticed his elderly neighbor, Miss Renfroe, outside watering her lilies. She waved at him, and he offered her an awkward smile. His door creaked as he headed inside. He should probably spray the hinges soon...or not. Orren set is stuff down on his plastic card table and plopped into his beat up old chair. His tiny apartment was a little better than living on the street. It was cheap, the neighbors were loud, and he was pretty sure that he would be murdered if he didn't lock his doors, but it was home. He reached for his remote and turned the TV on to watch something before bed. Lately, Orren had been going to sleep earlier and earlier. He was always tired, and no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to feel rested. He had been to a couple doctors about it, even did a sleep lab, but everything came out normal. It was frustrating to say the least. Some times he wondered if his condition was coming back. God, he hoped it wasn't. As the show he had on played out, his eyes slowly got heavier and heavier. Maybe he could just nap here in his chair. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep when his phone sounded off the text alert tone. He grunted as he pulled it out, seeing a new text with a video attached, the caption reading "wake up".</s> <\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, hallway At first, nothing seemed to happen. The figure turned its head to stare at her, though she couldn't make out a face in the half-light. All at once, Dinah felt hazy, the kind of fog you feel after a bad trip or intense high. She forgot what she had been doing, or why she was here. She had been standing there for seconds, no hours? Minutes. Maybe she should go- A sudden stabbing pain flashed through her brain, her vision going red as she let out a yelp of surprise and hurt, knees buckling as she dropped to the floor clutching her head, the water bottle in her hand clattering to the floor and liquid spilling out onto the tile. She squeezed her eyes shut, palms covering her face as she struggled to recover. The pain reminded her of something she had long since forgotten, from a time long since past. She had forgotten all about the person by the door, but now she was confronting a whole new set of problems. She had felt something like this before, when she was a child strapped to a metal chair, wires and bright lights everywhere. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there before the black spots in her vision started to clear and she recovered control of her limbs. She exhaled sharply and shook her head as her eyes fluttered open once more to see an empty hall before her. What the hell was that? She thought, slowly picking up the water bottle and using the fountain to help haul herself to her feet. She had had panic attacks in the past, not so much anymore, but certainly never like this. She looked down at the dark glove on her free hand, fingers slowly closing into a fist as she regained her composure, taking one last look down the hall. Empty. Maybe she was just seeing things, the ambience had set her off. She hesitated before turning and hurrying back to the library. Man, this place was creepy when it was empty. Garry was still vacuuming, so she simply gathered her things off the table and stuffed it all into her backpack. That was enough for one night, she could finish the paper somewhere else. She shouldered her belongings and hurried back out into the hallway.</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: At Kinko's straight flippin' copies Soft footfalls lead away from the door. Raker waited until he was sure the coast was clear before he slithered out of the room. He'd fixed it back to make it look as though no one had been inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, gaining him the attention of the janitor as he vacuumed. The two exchanged brief glances. "Hey what are you-," The man didn't finished his sentence before he cut himself off, his brows scrunching in confusion. The masked man walked right by him while he stood there, trying to remember what it was he was going to say. By the time the janitor recollected his thoughts, the Raker was long gone. As Mindraker approached his new destination, his cohort was already waiting for him. The plain, black plastic of his mask stared blankly at him from under the black hood. Mask was crouching down in the shadows of an alley, hidden among the trash bags and discarded furniture. Mindraker approached and gave him a silent nod, and the man stood to follow him. The two silently slunk through the dark, heading down an adjacent alley that lead into the better lit street. They stuck to the shadows, like two rats out of the sewer. Finally, they reached their destination. A...Kinko's? A strange front for villainy, that was for sure. The office store was closed by now, the doors firmly locked. But that didn't stop Black Mask from teleporting them inside. They stood outside the glass doors, then in a blink of an eye and a bust of black smoke, they were on the other side of the glass. Raker slipped the files out of his hoodie and went to start up a copy machine while Black Mask glanced around for security cameras and/or guards. The sound of several pages being copied and printed filled the shop as the two began to meander around, waiting for the machine to finish. Fresh ink and the smell of slightly mildewed carpet wafted through the air. Once Black Mask was certain that they were in the clear, he let his guard down to peruse the magazine rack that stood near the check out. He picked up one of the glossy gossip books and began to flip through the pages, offered only meager entertainment at best. $12.99? Who bought this shit?</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song, a band of miscreants The equipment, once all unplugged and stashed into a large tote, wasn't exactly light. After this haul, they would have to return to their base to drop it off. Once Mindraker was done compiling it all, Black Mask came over to pick it up. He grunted as he shouldered the heavy bag. This would slow them down considerably. He walked slowly towards the door and peered out the window to make sure the street was still clear. All was well. So, like that, the two disappeared again. Black Mask put them in the alleyway next to the building, and the two began to slowly work their way past the homeless camp that occupied it. People were packed against the walls, snoozing in sleeping bags and small tents. Someone had a barrel fire going. No one stirred to bother the two villains, however. At this point, these guys had probably seen just about everything. The two crossed the street that the alley exited into and where about to slink into the next before they were stopped. A group of young men, dressed in baggy clothes and smelling of drugs, took notice of them. The leader of the pack, a lanky if not slightly muscular man with a brown paper bag in his hand to hide the booze, waddled his way towards them. He seemed to have misplaced his belt. His minions flanked him, looking every bit as disheveled. "This ain't your neighborhood, freaks," Was the opening line the man chose. He smirked as he looked them up and down. "What're you tryina' be? Some kind of bad guys? I don't know if you heard or not, but I'm the bad guy in this hood." There was a round of soft chuckles and a couple "Tell 'em man"s from the group. Mindraker wasn't interested. Black Mask eyed them as the two moved to get around the group, but their path was quickly blocked. "Oh he think he can't talk. What, you too good or somethin'? What you got in that bag, man? You just get done robbin' a bank in my hood, and you think you ain't gon' share?" This was getting ridiculous. Mindraker scanned his eyes over their numbers, about eight in total. He should be able to handle them without much strain, but lately he'd been having trouble tackling groups. Black Mask took notice of Raker eyeing the group; he had a bad feeling about this. Last time his cohort tried this, a couple weeks ago, it hadn't worked out so well. Just in case, Black Mask ported away, taking himself to a nearby rooftop to drop the bag off safely and reappearing by Mindraker's side to offer back up. "Oh! What the fuck!" That was the general reaction of the thugs as Black Mask reappeared. They were starting to cause a ruckus, trying to decide if they should try and take out the two not-so-normal villains. They didn't get a chance to finish before Raker entered their minds, collectively drowning the group in a hazy fog of confusion. The degenerates immediately lost their aggression and started to wander off. Raker kept his hold over their minds until they were far enough away to not start the scene all over again. Once he was satisfied, he released them and turned to stagger off. Mindraker took a couple clumsy steps, as if he were drunk. He used his hand to guide himself along the brick wall. Black Mask followed behind him, watching him intently. Was he going to...and then there it was. About halfway down the alley, Mindraker's legs gave out. He crumpled to the group, his body rigid. The hooded man began to convulse violently. Black Mask quickly glanced down either side of the alley, making sure that they were alone. He carefully rolled the seizing man onto his side and backed off to wait it out. He couldn't teleport with Raker like this, not unless he wanted to make it worse. He knew the best thing to do was to wait and hope they went unnoticed.</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The wait, just as the pursuit, proved all the worthwhile as a figure drifted so faintly to the window of the broadcast station. So they did manage to get inside, Song noted, but it was not long before the silhouette utterly vanished; apportation, perhaps some form of invisibility or phasing too. It had the man cross his arms, sleeves riding to his chest as his head canted to one side, pondering the events he bore witness to. At least his intuition was as keen as it ever had been, which only raised the question now of what to do with it; obviously their activity was criminal, trespassing, breaking and entering, probably some form of petty theft, but that wasn't the problem at its core, it was how to do something about it. Walking across the street casually, the black clad figure maneuvered about with as little haste as he displayed before, happening to come upon an alleyway. As it were, his sense of direction was about right; the two men seemed to favor the side streets and anything that kept them out of the open. Not an unreasonable tactic if one was attempting to be somewhat subtle as they had been, although the running betrayed their activity. So by the time Song came down that same path, illuminated by the licking flames of the barrel fire, he soon noted the stoop people and vagrants minimally milling about. Standing just between the two buildings that led down this way, the sense something was odd or off became more evident; people slunk off into alcoves, others down narrowed paths, some back into huddling among themselves, and then of course back to the warmth of the fire. Song adjusted his hood more and looked back toward the ground. Someone, rather two someones, had shunted these people back to their lives with a newfound sense of aimlessness, more than there already was. Walking past the drifters, turning a shoulder now and again to avoid a collision here and there despite not so much as laying eyes on them, the third hood kept on his way; just as he imagined, they ignored him for reasons inexplicable. There was a novelty to the experience and it made the man's tailing of the duo easier, though things took an odd turn. Some ways deeper down the narrow street, one made ever so faintly claustrophobic by the looming buildings, did their follower come upon a figure slumped on his side, seizing and convulsing, one who no less closely resembled a member of the two seen earlier. There wasn't much hesitation in Song, in fact none at all, as he then drew closer to the man and went to crouch beside him, reaching a hand out...</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song Black Mask glanced at his watch. It had almost been a minute now; they were starting to get longer each time. He leaned back against the cool brick behind him, hidden in the shadow of the building and a dumpster. He was tired, his eyes growing dangerously heavy. He had almost nodded off when he heard the ever so quiet sound of shoes on rough concrete. His eyes popped open. There was a man crouched over Raker, and Black Mask couldn't tell if he was trying to help or hurt. It didn't really matter, did it? Mindraker had stopped seizing, but was still unconscious. His limp form laid lifelessly on the cold ground. The only sign he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his ribs, just a bit too prominent under his too-big hoodie. Black Mask lunged. He seemingly materialized out of the darkness, aiming a hard kick at the man's side.</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The wait, just as the pursuit, proved all the worthwhile as a figure drifted so faintly to the window of the broadcast station. So they did manage to get inside, Song noted, but it was not long before the silhouette utterly vanished; apportation, perhaps some form of invisibility or phasing too. It had the man cross his arms, sleeves riding to his chest as his head canted to one side, pondering the events he bore witness to. At least his intuition was as keen as it ever had been, which only raised the question now of what to do with it; obviously their activity was criminal, trespassing, breaking and entering, probably some form of petty theft, but that wasn't the problem at its core, it was how to do something about it. Walking across the street casually, the black clad figure maneuvered about with as little haste as he displayed before, happening to come upon an alleyway. As it were, his sense of direction was about right; the two men seemed to favor the side streets and anything that kept them out of the open. Not an unreasonable tactic if one was attempting to be somewhat subtle as they had been, although the running betrayed their activity. So by the time Song came down that same path, illuminated by the licking flames of the barrel fire, he soon noted the stoop people and vagrants minimally milling about. Standing just between the two buildings that led down this way, the sense something was odd or off became more evident; people slunk off into alcoves, others down narrowed paths, some back into huddling among themselves, and then of course back to the warmth of the fire. Song adjusted his hood more and looked back toward the ground. Someone, rather two someones, had shunted these people back to their lives with a newfound sense of aimlessness, more than there already was. Walking past the drifters, turning a shoulder now and again to avoid a collision here and there despite not so much as laying eyes on them, the third hood kept on his way; just as he imagined, they ignored him for reasons inexplicable. There was a novelty to the experience and it made the man's tailing of the duo easier, though things took an odd turn. Some ways deeper down the narrow street, one made ever so faintly claustrophobic by the looming buildings, did their follower come upon a figure slumped on his side, seizing and convulsing, one who no less closely resembled a member of the two seen earlier. There wasn't much hesitation in Song, in fact none at all, as he then drew closer to the man and went to crouch beside him, reaching a hand out...</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song Black Mask glanced at his watch. It had almost been a minute now; they were starting to get longer each time. He leaned back against the cool brick behind him, hidden in the shadow of the building and a dumpster. He was tired, his eyes growing dangerously heavy. He had almost nodded off when he heard the ever so quiet sound of shoes on rough concrete. His eyes popped open. There was a man crouched over Raker, and Black Mask couldn't tell if he was trying to help or hurt. It didn't really matter, did it? Mindraker had stopped seizing, but was still unconscious. His limp form laid lifelessly on the cold ground. The only sign he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his ribs, just a bit too prominent under his too-big hoodie. Black Mask lunged. He seemingly materialized out of the darkness, aiming a hard kick at the man's side.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The ambusher had the advantage of surprise, materializing out of the veil of darkness that he had faded into, but Douglas Song was perhaps as much of a bewildering experience all his own too. This manifest as the moment the kick was launched, the blur of an attack in motion, the third man that had joined the earlier pair rolled backward, and from his supine position upon his back, staring up at the black clad attacker, he leapt to his feet and was standing already. The acrobatic display wasn't an exceptional feat, at least not superhuman despite being physically remarkable, though it were a fair indicator Song was no drunkard or streetperson. There he stood idle for no longer than a breath, raising a brow, before breaking the clinch range with a push that sent them both sliding backward, shoes grinding against the ground as friction struggled against their unexpected movement. Following the space of a few feet being made, the outstretched arm and hand of the interloper, the so called "Golden Tiger" whose fingers were flexed in and thumb cocked back, dropped to his side and the other arm chambered at the hip fell to rest along with it. Strangely the motion hadn't much more a sensation than just being pushed despite the apparent force involved, that which was enough to send two grown men backward. Either way, Song looked from the standing masked man, whose seeming "lack" of a face gave no obvious emotions, to the other limp on the ground. When he returned his attention to the conscious member he spoke plainly, fingers releasing their slight tension as he relaxed entirely. "Your friend isn't well." He expected no response, masked criminals either were tremendously vocal or not at all; it mattered little one way or another as it were.</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: Super secret evil villain liar Black Mask grunted as he was shoved back. He took another step forward, fists balled and ready to swing, before he thought better of it. He knew what Raker would say: this isn't the time or place for a fight. Especial with said Raker slumped on the ground. Mask glared at the man from behind his facade and stalked over to his comrade. Black Mask crouched down beside him and rolled him back a bit. The hooded man stirred ever so slightly, groggily regaining consciousness. Black Mask took this as a sign that it was okay to move him. He scooped the lanky villain up and turned to give the other man one last look before he headed off down the alley. Once he reached the end, the two vanish in a cloud of black smoke. Mask reappeared the next street over. He would have to go back and get the equipment on his own. Right now, he needed to worry about getting Mindraker home before someone else decided to confront them. As with before, he took the back roads and alleys, keeping to the shadows as he approached the hideout. The villain slunk onto a very old residential street, one nestled in the ghetto of the city. It was filled with mostly crack houses and meth dens. One of the many boarded up townhouses sat empty and dilapidated. The former home loomed over the street, looking every bit like an old ghost haunt. Black Mask went around to the overgrown garden in the back and slipped inside. There was a door that sat half on its hinges that led into the basement of the home. Said basement was clearly the only part that was being lived in. The wooden stairs creaked in complaint as Mask slowly descended them. The dreary dwelling was just barely lit by a street light shining though a small window from outside. There was an old mattress, the springs that stuck out having been taped back in place. It was covered with an old blanket, and a comforter on top of that. Furniture was made out of plastic milk crates and boxes. A lantern sat on the makeshift night stand. Black Mask laid Mindraker down on the mattress and tossed the blanket over him, then plopped down on the foot end. It was cold, no heater and poor insulation. On worse nights, Black Mask had seen his own breath down there. He honestly didn't know how Raker lived here. Maybe because he didn't have any other choice. Raker seemed content to rest for now, and Mask wished desperately do to so as well. Unfortunately, it was supposed to rain in the morning. If he wanted that equipment to be any good, he had to go back for it immediately. He let out a sigh and stood, heading silently back towards the stairs.</s>
<\|description\|>Jason Ryker Alias: "Hijack" Alliance: None. All supers need to go. Appearance: Jason is 6' 2", lean and muscular. He's not stupidly overbuff, but he likes to keep athletic, nimble and strong. He has to be if he has any chance of standing up to Supers. He's usually wearing hoodies, ripped jeans and graphic design tees when he's not fighting as "Hijack". However, his attire quickly changes when he's on a mission. He switches to black, military gear. Sort of like SWAT gear, but instead of the blocky white logo that the SWAT would have, he has opted for a crimson red Anarchy symbol. The A is especially prevalent on his ballistic face mask. The A takes up the center of the mask, which is put on over his balaclava. He uses black paint around the parts of his eyes that would be showing. Age: 24 Gender: Male Personality: Jason is a cold, calculated fighter. However, most of all, he hates Supers. Any chance he gets presented with to take one out or take the fight to them, he'll be on the front lines. Although, he much prefers a more... tactical approach. In a world of gods among mortals, how does a non-believer fight the unnatural. It takes time, patience. Bombs and and a hail of bullets will do nothing against an impenetrable wall. It takes a systematic demolition. The right trap, the single squeeze of a sniper rifle, the opportune moment to slide the knife. This is Jason's mantra. He doesn't like talking about why he hates Supers, not until his respect has been earned. He can be seen to have a one-track mind, usually only wanting to discuss a mission and nothing but that mission. He's distant from what people would call "normal society" and that makes him hard to get along with. He doesn't care. He's not there to make friends, he's there to get revenge. Powers: Jason is a human. He does not have any powers. He does, however, have guerilla training and a good armament of weaponry. His custom, M4 assault rifle is his usual weapon of choice, usually fitted with a foregrip, a 4x ACOG sight, tactical stock, extended magazine, and sometimes a suppressor if the situation calls for it. However, he does have a couple more weapons in his home, if the situation calls for it. Including pistols, sniper rifles and flashbangs and tear gas grenades. He also has a grappling hook launcher, allowing him to scale up tall heights to get vantage points. History: Jason was an ex-marine, who was given discharge to take care of his ill sister in Centerville. However, little did he know that Centerville was a Warzone in it's own right. He kept his physical fitness up when he wasn't taking care of his sister, able to rent a cheap apartment nearby. However, his mind hit the mental switch from sane to not so about two weeks later. Him and his sister was caught in the crossfire when a fight broke out between two supers. It seemed like there was no care for the civilians around them in this explosive fight, and because of that, his sister was caught beneath some rubble. Surviving throughout this city had been a nightmare, but he had to be there for her, and they took it away all for personal gain. Of course, Jason was wrong in his decision that ALL supers were like that, but he didn't care anymore. He went off grid, and started preparations to start his personal crusade as "Hijack"... Theme song:</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongSanders Street - News 41 Broadcast Station The majority of the night life had remained just as tame as it had started, perhaps more promising than it should have been here, but nothing as that ever lasts long in the city; cities never sleep after all. Far down by now, having walked perhaps an hour or so, minding his own tempo, Song noted two figures break from the concealment of an alleyway and with blind, but apparently directed motivation, dash across the street. Looking up for the first time everything as as off as one imagined it to be. Two masked men in black, running? Darting between one alleyway and another, all while running out across an open street? Even if they were not criminals they kept things lively, enough so that as soon as they came, they were already gone. Song had a moment to decide his course of action. He looked to his left, then to his right, noting no real attention from the line of sight of his hood before he shrugged to himself. With a short sprint across the equally devoid street, Song's boots soon left pavement and a stride stepped atop the roof of a car with no more sound or force than a gust of evening wind, and soon he was upward bound to a fire escape. Catching the chill metal railing with his hands, the man pulled himself up to crouching atop it with four points of contact. Having already covered two stories, the last couple were no more than a leap off the rail, a jump from a windowsill, and a few steps run up the vertical brick. Landing atop the roof and skirting along its ledge, Song hadn't an issue getting sight of the two men from a distance, dropping from one roof to another after without so much as a noise. He laid low, but never once crouched, stooped or slunk, just calmly walking to keep in sight of the two equally black clad men. Of course the trailing followed with a reward of sorts, the kind that he really hadn't been expecting. That was assuming he had a reason to expect anything at all like this; it sort of happened, a happy accident, rather an unhappy one that could be made well, perhaps. The duo stood there at first, peering into the window. Song knew from his own experience the men were scoping the place out, after all, a local radio station at night, well after closing hours, while dressed in black and hustling from cover to cover in the bad part of town? The real question was not what they were doing, but why. There was really no getting a better look at this distance, the observer walking behind a rotating vent that poured out a faint steam, all to obscure his presence, but by the time he rounded it only one thing was certain; they both had vanished. "Interesting." He noted, hands back again in his pockets, not to spite the brisk air but think more of what he just witnessed. There was a short period of pause, a few minutes, before it was clear they either had vanished physically or just appeared to have. Whatever the case was, it was a far cry from normalcy and something that merited a bit of investigation. Looking over the ledge, some fifty feet up from the concrete, Song made himself sure that no one would notice a shadow slide down a darkened corner, one cast into more darkness between two buildings. Boots silently grinding against the brick, he let off at the last bit and landed crouched, a palm steadying him. Good, no one seemed to notice he was here, but now finding where the other two figures went at the broadcasting station was the only challenge remaining. How did they manage that disappearing act and why here? The building was somehow related, considering they sought to get inside. So the first place to check? The inside of the building, but that would come soon enough.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song, a band of miscreants The equipment, once all unplugged and stashed into a large tote, wasn't exactly light. After this haul, they would have to return to their base to drop it off. Once Mindraker was done compiling it all, Black Mask came over to pick it up. He grunted as he shouldered the heavy bag. This would slow them down considerably. He walked slowly towards the door and peered out the window to make sure the street was still clear. All was well. So, like that, the two disappeared again. Black Mask put them in the alleyway next to the building, and the two began to slowly work their way past the homeless camp that occupied it. People were packed against the walls, snoozing in sleeping bags and small tents. Someone had a barrel fire going. No one stirred to bother the two villains, however. At this point, these guys had probably seen just about everything. The two crossed the street that the alley exited into and where about to slink into the next before they were stopped. A group of young men, dressed in baggy clothes and smelling of drugs, took notice of them. The leader of the pack, a lanky if not slightly muscular man with a brown paper bag in his hand to hide the booze, waddled his way towards them. He seemed to have misplaced his belt. His minions flanked him, looking every bit as disheveled. "This ain't your neighborhood, freaks," Was the opening line the man chose. He smirked as he looked them up and down. "What're you tryina' be? Some kind of bad guys? I don't know if you heard or not, but I'm the bad guy in this hood." There was a round of soft chuckles and a couple "Tell 'em man"s from the group. Mindraker wasn't interested. Black Mask eyed them as the two moved to get around the group, but their path was quickly blocked. "Oh he think he can't talk. What, you too good or somethin'? What you got in that bag, man? You just get done robbin' a bank in my hood, and you think you ain't gon' share?" This was getting ridiculous. Mindraker scanned his eyes over their numbers, about eight in total. He should be able to handle them without much strain, but lately he'd been having trouble tackling groups. Black Mask took notice of Raker eyeing the group; he had a bad feeling about this. Last time his cohort tried this, a couple weeks ago, it hadn't worked out so well. Just in case, Black Mask ported away, taking himself to a nearby rooftop to drop the bag off safely and reappearing by Mindraker's side to offer back up. "Oh! What the fuck!" That was the general reaction of the thugs as Black Mask reappeared. They were starting to cause a ruckus, trying to decide if they should try and take out the two not-so-normal villains. They didn't get a chance to finish before Raker entered their minds, collectively drowning the group in a hazy fog of confusion. The degenerates immediately lost their aggression and started to wander off. Raker kept his hold over their minds until they were far enough away to not start the scene all over again. Once he was satisfied, he released them and turned to stagger off. Mindraker took a couple clumsy steps, as if he were drunk. He used his hand to guide himself along the brick wall. Black Mask followed behind him, watching him intently. Was he going to...and then there it was. About halfway down the alley, Mindraker's legs gave out. He crumpled to the group, his body rigid. The hooded man began to convulse violently. Black Mask quickly glanced down either side of the alley, making sure that they were alone. He carefully rolled the seizing man onto his side and backed off to wait it out. He couldn't teleport with Raker like this, not unless he wanted to make it worse. He knew the best thing to do was to wait and hope they went unnoticed.</s>	<\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s>
<\|description\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ "Mɪᴅᴀs" ▪ ʜᴇʀᴏ ▪ 21 ʏ/ᴏ ▪ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ There's nothing striking about Dinah or anything that screams "hero" when you look at her. A 5'5 ectomorph, she not an intimidating figure in the least, and her physical abilities extend about as far as hitting the gym regularly to stay in shape. She's not notably curvy or thin either, floating somewhere in between, though you wouldn't be able to tell anyway because she wears a lot of baggy clothes. Her blonde hair is wavy and reaches just below her shoulder blades usually pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. Her face is round with smooth features and hooded lids. She sports soft blue eyes and an array a freckles across the bridge of her nose, cheeks, extending down to her shoulders and upper back. There's a small "013" tattooed to her inner left arm closer to the crease of her elbow from her lab days. Dinah is a cautious and reserved individual, but very genuine. She's mellow by nature and a fairly easy person to get along with once she gets to know you a bit. While she is friendly and approachable, she's careful of who she places her trust in, and is generally a fine judge of character. She's a survivor type, and tends to look out for herself first, but not at the cost of other people. Those she is close to are the people she is the most open around, and the shyness melts away to show a quirky and energetic young woman. In the time since she was returned to her family, she has become much more vivacious and outspoken as opposed to her earlier years. She's very intelligent and witty, someone who is driven by common sense and practicality rather than emotion. She won't do something unless it is the logical thing to do. She doesn't have much in the way of a sense of humor, not much of a jokester type, but she does love to laugh, and enjoys being around people who are funny. She is far from naive and has a sense of quiet wisdom about her, the kind that comes with growing up too fast. Despite that, she's terrible at letting things go and is apt to hold a grudge. While she managed to move past what happened to her as a child, sometimes it still haunts her, and there's a part of her that wishes she could find those people and bring them to justice, the ones that got away at least. Her anger is of the cold variety, the kind that slowly builds up and festers before cumulating at a breaking point. As she's not typically an angry person, this hardly occurs, but she becomes sloppy and emotional when it does. Much like her name sake, everything she touches with her fingertips turns to gold. Everything, even people. She is immune to the effects of her touch, but anything else is fair game. The smaller the thing is, the faster it changes. Larger objects, like cars, she can touch but it will only turn parts of it. However, it doesn't last long. The effects reverse after a few hours as if nothing happened. This is due to the fact that, on the molecular level, the atoms changed are unstable and will revert back to their original makeup. That is, if what she's touching is not alive. People, animals, and plants suffer a harsher fate under her touch. While the body will change back to normal, the initial act of their atomic structure changing will kill a living creature. There are limitations to this, as the more she touches, the more exhausted she becomes, and with no real physical powers, she becomes drained fairly quickly. To prevent something unfortunate from happening, she wears a pair of gloves at all times, thin and dark blue in color. As a child, she didn't remember a time not living in the facility, surrounded by doctors and scientists. There wasn't anything necessarily cruel about the place; she had her own room and was fed regularly. The tests were awful, but the nurse was always kind. The adults were stern, but if she did as she was told, she wouldn't get in trouble, and she saw no reason to rebel. It wasn't until she was 10 and the lab was shut down after a devastating electrical fire that she realize that she had been abducted as an infant and experimented on by a corporation in the business of making super soldiers, or in her case, finding alternative ways to fund the research. The series of experiments she was involved in was code named "Midas", and she was the one child to survive those tests. To this day, she doesn't know the name of the corporation that did this to her. Once the government extracted the people being held inside the lab, she was placed in a hospital to monitor her vitals, and it was concluded that, physically, she was perfectly fine aside from a few tiny scars here and there. She insisted they not take off her gloves, as she knew the consequences. Her files were burned, so the nature of her supposed "abilities" was never discovered. She was placed in the foster system, and after living in a home for a year, her original parents found her and she returned home with them. After that, she lived a pretty normal life, aside from wearing her gloves all the time. She told everyone it was because she was a germaphobe and generally no one questioned it. She hardly ever used her ability, there wasn't much reason to. She tried to leave the the past behind and move on, more concerned with enjoying having a real family and her plans for the future. Now in college, she is pursuing a degree in atomic physics so that she might figure out what was done to her, and more importantly, how she can undo it completely. ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ: Gold -- Imagine Dragons</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker Hijack --- On the outskirts of Centreville, Jason was taking refuge in an abandoned apartment block. No one ever came by this part of town anymore, so it was an obvious choice for Jason to set up his base of operations. It was time to begin his crusade, and no one was going to stop him. After he called in some favors, Jason managed to set up all of his equipment and armaments in his apartment. Everything was meticulously organised in place, which including a rack for a small amount of weapons, all ranging in sizes, and another wall rack with attachments onto it. Jason had finally laced up his boots and looked at his ballistic mask one more time. Once this was on, he knew Jason was gone, and Hijack would have to take over. However, this is what he wanted. Finally, payback was close. Payback on every super that ran about thinking they can do whatever the hell they want without repercussions. Even some of the so called "Heroes" held their battles with wanton destruction of their surroundings. They all had to go. Jason affixed the mask and then looked at his weaponry. He had everything else on him. A couple of flashbangs, his grappling hook, and a combat knife. He looked on his wall and picked up his prized M4 assault rifle. It had a sling on it, and Jason began to affix the rest of the attachments. He wasn't about making loud statements, but being the silent killer. He screwed on the supressor, and then clicked in the extended magazine and slid on the 4x scope. He slid out the stock and then made every check before setting out. Hijack kept mostly to the rooftops, stalking the streets below, keeping an eye out for anyone that caught his interest.</s> <\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, Library Dinah wasn't one for late nights studying in the library, but her roommates had picked tonight of all nights to host a party in their apartment, so this was the only other option. She had a paper due at midnight and had done very little of the required reading for it, so the endeavor was taking longer than she would have hoped. Tired of staring into the screen of her laptop, the blonde sat back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply before raising her head to look around the room. She realized that she was the only one left in the room, which made sense for campus on a Friday night. If only her professor had given them till Monday, she thought to herself glumly. She jumped slightly when a voice behind her asked, "Hey, Dinah, you planning on being here much longer?" The young woman turned her head to see the middle aged janitor standing in the doorway between the library and the hall. "Give me another hour?" she pleaded, "I'm nearly finished, I'm sorry, Garry," she apologized, getting up from her chair with a slight stretch as she looked at the time on her phone. "You can be here until I have to leave," he conceded, "Although I'm going to vacuum in here, so it's going to be noisy," he warned, plopping his mop in his bucket and rolling it off to the side as he began to unravel the vacuum cleaner's long cord and plug it into the wall. "That's fine," Dinah replied, "I need a breather anyway," she grabbed her empty water bottle of the table and slipped out of the room as Garry turned the vacuum on, the load hum of the machine filling the library and echoing into the hall. Dinah walked down the dimly lit passage and fished in the backpocket of her jeans, smiling when her gloved fingers closed around a roll of cash. A snack from the vending machine didn't sound too bad right about now, she was craving pretzels. She turned the corner and stopped next to the water fountain, unscrewing the cap of her thermos and holding it under the spout, patiently waiting as the water trickled into the bottle. She stopped filling it when the faint sound of metal scraping metal reached her ears. It was then she realized that she wasn't alone, slowly turning her eyes down the dark hall to see a human form crouched in front of one of the doors the red light of the "exit" sign beyond silhouetting them in a crimson glow. She wasn't sure if this person had noticed her presence yet, or what they were doing (though it look suspicious), but she was rooted to the spot, unsure of whether she should approach, go get Garry, or pretend she hadn't seen anything.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus Tags: Villain lesson #1: Ignore problems and maybe they'll go away. The satisfying clicks of the lock tumbling into place met his ears, and he reached out a gloved hand to give the knob a jiggle. Perfect. It was then that the considerably less satisfying sound of a witness caught his attention. Raker stood, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to face the young woman. The blank, black fabric eyes of his mask stared at her, emotionless and indifferent. The fiend's own expression underneath wasn't much different. No matter; she was but a small gnat on the windshield of his plan. Mindraker did what he did best: he reached out into her mind, raking it over the hot coals of confusion and haze. Where am I? Keep walking. What was I doing? Saw nothing. Foggy. Leave. As he played his trick, he slipped into the office and shut the door behind him, locking it back. If he pretended he wasn't there, she would probably just turn and go away. Meanwhile, he very quietly proceeded to ransack the place. Raker pulled open drawers and cabinets, sorting through papers and manila folders. He pocketed a thumb drive and picked out a few papers, then neatly put them into a folder and tucked them into his hoodie. The process felt as though it had taken long enough for the woman to be gone, but just to be sure, the hooded man approached the door and leaned his ear up against it. Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian Location: His apartment Orren walked a few blocks to where his shabby apartment was nestled. Given his rough start on life, he'd had to work long hours and take short breaks to hammer out a life for himself. Government assistance helped a little. He noticed his elderly neighbor, Miss Renfroe, outside watering her lilies. She waved at him, and he offered her an awkward smile. His door creaked as he headed inside. He should probably spray the hinges soon...or not. Orren set is stuff down on his plastic card table and plopped into his beat up old chair. His tiny apartment was a little better than living on the street. It was cheap, the neighbors were loud, and he was pretty sure that he would be murdered if he didn't lock his doors, but it was home. He reached for his remote and turned the TV on to watch something before bed. Lately, Orren had been going to sleep earlier and earlier. He was always tired, and no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to feel rested. He had been to a couple doctors about it, even did a sleep lab, but everything came out normal. It was frustrating to say the least. Some times he wondered if his condition was coming back. God, he hoped it wasn't. As the show he had on played out, his eyes slowly got heavier and heavier. Maybe he could just nap here in his chair. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep when his phone sounded off the text alert tone. He grunted as he pulled it out, seeing a new text with a video attached, the caption reading "wake up".</s>	<\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, hallway At first, nothing seemed to happen. The figure turned its head to stare at her, though she couldn't make out a face in the half-light. All at once, Dinah felt hazy, the kind of fog you feel after a bad trip or intense high. She forgot what she had been doing, or why she was here. She had been standing there for seconds, no hours? Minutes. Maybe she should go- A sudden stabbing pain flashed through her brain, her vision going red as she let out a yelp of surprise and hurt, knees buckling as she dropped to the floor clutching her head, the water bottle in her hand clattering to the floor and liquid spilling out onto the tile. She squeezed her eyes shut, palms covering her face as she struggled to recover. The pain reminded her of something she had long since forgotten, from a time long since past. She had forgotten all about the person by the door, but now she was confronting a whole new set of problems. She had felt something like this before, when she was a child strapped to a metal chair, wires and bright lights everywhere. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there before the black spots in her vision started to clear and she recovered control of her limbs. She exhaled sharply and shook her head as her eyes fluttered open once more to see an empty hall before her. What the hell was that? She thought, slowly picking up the water bottle and using the fountain to help haul herself to her feet. She had had panic attacks in the past, not so much anymore, but certainly never like this. She looked down at the dark glove on her free hand, fingers slowly closing into a fist as she regained her composure, taking one last look down the hall. Empty. Maybe she was just seeing things, the ambience had set her off. She hesitated before turning and hurrying back to the library. Man, this place was creepy when it was empty. Garry was still vacuuming, so she simply gathered her things off the table and stuffed it all into her backpack. That was enough for one night, she could finish the paper somewhere else. She shouldered her belongings and hurried back out into the hallway.</s>
<\|description\|>Vigilante Watch The no. 1 resource for vigilante enthusiast We are a free website and every donation will help. Help us keep tracking superheroes with a dollar today. Vigilante Database>Centerville>Currently Active>Hotshot Hotshot Birth Name: Believed to be Richard Chang. Have yet to be validated. Other alias: The Backburner, The Human Heater Age: Believed to be 28 years old. Gender: Believed to be male. Notable affiliations: None that is known of at the moment. Appearance: Hotshot is primarily known for his iconic yellow overall costume which spans the entire length of his body except for his hands, feet and head. While the dominating color of his costume is yellow, it has notable black and orange trims that run across the edges of his costume (Where his gloves, boots and headgear end). He also wears what appears to be costume heavy-duty gloves, boots and headgear. The make of his costume has yet to be identified but it is notable for being able to conduct heat that Hotshot produces naturally. Hotshot's face is completely concealed by his headgear. A large orange visor goes across the area where his eyes would be to provide vision. Power(s): Heat manipulation. Hotshot is known to primary emit a field of heat around themselves which, at the most, is believe to extend an area of about five inches (12 centimeters) before dissipating. Hotshot uses this close-proximity "heat aura" by engaging in close hand to hand combat with their opponents. At this moment, the heat radiating from Hotshot incapacitates their foes by either direct contact or by gradual exposure to high temperature. Hotshot has also been observed to use what can only be described as a heat blast. It is theorized that Hotshot can concentrate high temperatures towards specific points of their body and release the stored energy into a focused beam. This beam was observed to have a maximum temperature of 1500 degrees Celsius (2732 degrees Fahrenheit). However it is observed that Hotshot takes a considerable amount of time to focus and release the energy needed for a beam. History: (Warning! This section has yet to be approved by moderators because of inconsistencies, unconfirmed details, eligible writing and/or etc. If you wish to help add to or improve this article, contact user Wheelerman23, the author of this page.) Richard Chang was born in St. Jude's Hospital in June 23, 1994. Richard was born to the couple Spencer and Martha Chang. Martha passed during childbirth because of complications. Spencer Chang was forced to raise his son alone, refusing to remarry for personal reasons. Richard grew up without incident after. He developed an affiliation for sports at an early age according to later interviews with his father. Later in life, Richard would receive full scholarship at the University of St. George for his notable American football skills. He enrolled for a Bachelor of Marine Sciences. He was notable in his batch for his athletic abilities, being voted the Most Valuable Player by his home team in 2011. He graduated with honors four years later. In March 2, 2014, Richard was involved in the Mayflower Mall incident where a group of armed, superpowered criminals seized the malls and the people inside as hostages. One of the assailants, known by his alias as "Monsoon", had placed a firearm to Richard's head and used Richard as a Human shield. However seconds into the encounter, Monsoon had began to move in an erratic manner. Closer observation of bystander image shot during the confrontation would suggest Monsoon had blisters forming on his skin. Richard tackled Monsoon back into the mall property after which a large explosion was observed. Authorities who rushed to the site of the incident found neither evidence of Monsoon or Richard remaining. Authorities claim that Richard was deceased however his father, Spencer Chang, is adamant that he is still alive. (The following information has been verified by multiple sources and has been approved by moderators.) The first confirmed known activity of Hotshot was during the a conflict between superhuman criminal Commodore and law enforcement. While Commodore was engaging several police officers, an unknown individual at the time lept towards the assailant and made contact by pressing their hand against the back of Commodore's head. Commodore was observed to be flail his arms wildly at yet unknown individual at the time. However after a few minutes of struggling, Commodore was seen stumbling to the ground completely exhausted with a large red mark on the back of his head. The individual explained that Commodore would be in need to immediate rehydration but is otherwise unscaved. The figure left the scene before he could be questioned by authorities. The individual that engaged Commodore was wearing the same yellow with black and orange trim that would become iconic of the superhero popularly named Hotshot. Hotshot is known to primarily engage superhuman criminals and only rarely non-superhuman threats. Attempts to question Hotshot has been met with silence. Current whereabouts of Hotshot is also unknown. Alliance: Hero. Hotshot works for a NGO foundation that provides heroes daily necessities, lodging and additional payment if they are under their employment. This organization, known as the Global Defense Initiative Foundation, operates discreetly and avoids the attention of the public. Hotshot, who is indeed Richard Chang, has been employed by the GDIF ever since his reported demise at the hands of Monsoon.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: At Kinko's straight flippin' copies Soft footfalls lead away from the door. Raker waited until he was sure the coast was clear before he slithered out of the room. He'd fixed it back to make it look as though no one had been inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, gaining him the attention of the janitor as he vacuumed. The two exchanged brief glances. "Hey what are you-," The man didn't finished his sentence before he cut himself off, his brows scrunching in confusion. The masked man walked right by him while he stood there, trying to remember what it was he was going to say. By the time the janitor recollected his thoughts, the Raker was long gone. As Mindraker approached his new destination, his cohort was already waiting for him. The plain, black plastic of his mask stared blankly at him from under the black hood. Mask was crouching down in the shadows of an alley, hidden among the trash bags and discarded furniture. Mindraker approached and gave him a silent nod, and the man stood to follow him. The two silently slunk through the dark, heading down an adjacent alley that lead into the better lit street. They stuck to the shadows, like two rats out of the sewer. Finally, they reached their destination. A...Kinko's? A strange front for villainy, that was for sure. The office store was closed by now, the doors firmly locked. But that didn't stop Black Mask from teleporting them inside. They stood outside the glass doors, then in a blink of an eye and a bust of black smoke, they were on the other side of the glass. Raker slipped the files out of his hoodie and went to start up a copy machine while Black Mask glanced around for security cameras and/or guards. The sound of several pages being copied and printed filled the shop as the two began to meander around, waiting for the machine to finish. Fresh ink and the smell of slightly mildewed carpet wafted through the air. Once Black Mask was certain that they were in the clear, he let his guard down to peruse the magazine rack that stood near the check out. He picked up one of the glossy gossip books and began to flip through the pages, offered only meager entertainment at best. $12.99? Who bought this shit?</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongBest 8 Motel Tea, fresh tea, brewed in a cheaply made and all too bland white plastic and glass little coffeepot. It was sort of a disappointment, but it was the best there was at the moment; wasn't as though he had a teapot and a stove, let alone fireplace and a steel kettle, but he did at least have boiling water and somewhere to drink it. It also helped that he had the tea itself, considering it was a luxury on a non-existent budget. In fact, all of his situation the lone man at the edge of the tiny bed was thankful for, even if it was ten years out of date and all off-white and equally garish honey oak furniture. Pouring a cup carefully now, the pair of hands then garnished it with the bag itself, setting it aside after to steep. This was the morning routine, the ritual, tea first before all other things, though the entire "morning" matter was debatable. Rather whatever time he awoke this story played out just as it did in the same room in the same manner. It did not deviate, it did not change. The time of day certainly did, but paying the few bills that existed required a flexible schedule. After all, being paid by relieving petty criminals of their cash? Not all too efficient work. Sure, it was theft all its own, but maybe they would reconsider their decisions, perhaps better than a prison sentence would have offered. Song did not really think too deep into the matter, instead only looking to the rising steam of the cup and where it sat upon the tabletop. Had his attention been allowed to drift, his mind to wander, he might not have noticed the face of the coffeepot itself being slightly off center. Still, not so much as shifting or interrupting his thought of no thought, a hand of his reached out to straighten little machine out; so subtle an adjustment that returned it to its rightful place. "There." He said, speaking to no one but himself, nodding in approval. It at last freed him to do as his work demanded of him, rather his moral compass. It was work itself, perhaps "good" work, perhaps not. What it was at this point was whatever it was, good and bad. However, there was no sense in staring down the steeping tea anymore now that he had resolved the issue and cleared his mind of its inner debates. In short order he dressed himself, having only devoted enough time to wash his face, give a brush of the teeth, and throw a jacket over the familiar white sweatshirt before he returned to the tea and sat down. Between drinking it, sitting there at the edge of the bed, he emptied his mind. No room for anger, above all other things. That was the difficult one, especially knowing that in short order he would be on and out into the night, with the sole purpose of finding something constructive to do with it. It was tempting to find other means to say the least, the few intrusive thoughts he had, but they were all impulsive to him; Song wasn't just a "boy" anymore who could live that life. At least now he truly understood better, at the very least more lucidly, given the tea had come to replace alcohol. But the last cup had always been the most difficult. Until he was out on the night, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him...</s>	<\|message\|>Vigilante Watch Agent 021, alias "Hotshot". Location: Centerville South Expressway Time: 19:22 Responding to disturbance by meta-Human identified as "Mindraker". --- "That's not Mindraker." Richard Chang said as he was placing his gloves over his hands. The van he was riding swerved to the left, forcing him to grab a metal rod welded to the roof of this van to keep his balance. "Any information you would like to share with us?" A voice came over the intercom. From a speaker set on the front wall of the van separating Chang and a field agent from the driver and a security personnel. "The man… or whatever that guy is… doesn't just climb the fence of a Naval base. He sneaks around it. He hitches on a ship and hides there until it docks at the base. Don't you find it suspicious that he was seen taking the front entrance?" Chang responded with another question. "Several witnesses have reported an individual of his likeness. Our remote observational drones have took images that confirm their visual reports." Chang sighed. He placed on his other glove before answering back. "We're talking about a guy who mind controls people. Who's to say we're not chasing some kind of mirage or something?" "In any which case your orders are to investigate the disruption and apprehend any individual operating that vehicle. Is that understood?" Chang's superior asked. He nodded his head and answered with a stiff "Yes sir". The last piece of equipment Chang had to place on was his headgear. He always hated wearing it. The feeling of being smother because of its tight design. He felt the smooth hydro-plastic polymer touch his lips, nose, ears and the rest of his exposed tissues. Even after god knows how many times he wore it, it still felt uncomfortable. The field agent in front of Chang held thermographic camera directed at him. "Field test Mr. Chang. Whenever you're ready." She said. The camera picked up the gradual change of temperature from Chang. He and the area around him spiked up in temperature. Not enough to cause any damage but it was clearly visible on the camera. The field agent held up her thumb and Chang reverted back to his normal body temperature. "Agent 021 is ready for service." She spoke. "Affirmative." The speaker system answered back. "Good hunting Hotshot." The van came to a halt by the side of the highway. Hotshot and the field agent unloaded device and placed it on the side of the road. "10 minutes till ETA." The security officer inside the van yelled. Hotshot nodded. He took a deep breathe in and waited for the car to get within sight. Nine minutes later, he saw the vehicle speeding towards their direction. Hotshot ordered his team to get ready. Hotshot was using the heat from his body to partially melt the asphalt on the road behind the spike strip. He hoped the flat tires would sink into the road. And then it came. The spike strip popped on mark. It extended just in time to catch the vehicle's front tires. Then it shredded the back. The front wheels sunk into the partially melted asphalt sending the vehicle into a somersault. The car crashed on its back. This was not part of Hotshot's plan. "Get paramedics on my location as soon as possible." Hotshot ordered through his mike embedded into his headgear. He then rushed towards the smoking wreck.</s>
<\|description\|>Adala Ann Posner Adala Posner Scorn (Image for the face paint that's all this is for) {"Insanity is just a synonym for imagination."} - Scorn --- --- The Basics Nicknames Ada- Simply a shorter version of her real name that came up during her grade school years and few use in the present time. Code Name Scorn Alliance Villain Age 29 Birthdate January 13, 1988 Gender Female Sexuality Bisexual Role Attacker \| Stealth --- --- (Image for her claws which are her weapons) {"I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it."} --- --- Digging Deep In-Depth Appearance Her skin is pale nearly white. She always has her skull face however, never going outside without painting it on so few know what lies under the skull. Her eyes are a haunting vibrant orange that seem to glow unnaturally. It doesn't matter if she has a t shirt or a sweat shirt the one thing she always has on is her skull hoodie. She primarily wears a t-shirt and shorts with simple shoes and long stockings. Not much changes between that and what she has in the field except for the added skull shoulder pads, the boots, gas mask, and skeleton gloves. Habits and Quirks * Her face has to always have the skull painted on. No exceptions. * Habit of talking to herself constantly, having full conversations with herself. * Loves pulling jokes on her unsuspecting comrades. * Always wearing the skeleton hoodie. * Moving her hands while expressing herself Likes * Weapons * Video Games * Hard rock or heavy metal * A good fight * Drawing Dislikes * Modern music * Silence * Authority * Spiders * Sitting still Fears * Entrapment, then being forgotten * Loosing everything she holds dear and slipping further into her own mind. Personality Adala has most of her marbles, emphasis on most. After her metal break down at age sixteen, all the pieces haven't quite gone back to the original places leaving her hyperactive and a mind that most would deem a mess and needs to see someone for help. It doesn't mean she can't focus on a task, just that she is prone to either improvise or go and do something else. At times this makes her speak to herself. On the plus side it keeps her mostly in a good mood, best not to piss her off because she holds a grudge like no other and can be patient for her revenge. She does suffer from PTSD after what her father did to her as well as what the rehabilitation center's torture methods. For the most part she keeps this secret to herself self medicating herself by taking what she needs when she can. This doesn't stop the nightmares and night terrors but helps her during the daylight hours. --- --- {"I'm not crazy! No wait... Maybe I am crazy... One second, I have to talk to myself about this."} --- --- Origins Background Adala was born into a broken family to put it mildly. She grew up neglected and rejected by her alcoholic father and abusive stepmother. She never got a chance to meet her real mother who up and abandoned her and her father after Adala's birth. Despite the negative home life though she managed to be a happy little girl thinking on the positive and being oblivious to the grim truth's that haunted her house life. To her if she felt the wraith of her parents it meant she must of done something wrong and deserved it, even if she could never figure out the reason they would be so mad at her. Her false reality came crumbling however shortly after her seventeenth birthday. Her father eventually did unspeakable things to her which shattered the facade she had lived with but from the pieces came a new being that she has since embraced as her true self. A disturbance call would have the police discover Adala outside a blazing home laughing and cackling away in pleasure at the sight. She would be charged with murder though eventually the charges would be dropped replaced with a plea of insanity and stacking evidence of her parents neglect and endangerment. She was sent to a rehabilitation center to try and help her with the damaged caused to her along with the addition of PTSD attacks that was observed after her arrest. This rehabilitation center would be where she would spend six years of her life in a new personal hell. The experiments done on her were new forms of augmentation that was kept well under wraps by those running the asylum. Any shred of humanity left her while trapped in that prison. She would have the last laugh. She escape one stormy night, using her new augmentations on her captors before disappearing into the darkness of the night. She didn't reappear until a year after her escape, running a small gang in Centerville. Place of Origin Austin, Texas Family Jonhathan Posner (Deceased): Her father a drunk who blamed Ada for her mother leaving and took out his frustrations on her while she was a young girl. To say Adala got the last laugh is an understatement. Ashley Wheatly (Deceased): The woman who Adala had to call her mother, or step mother. Ashley simply ignored Adala mostly, she wanted nothing with her except at times to use Adala as a punching bag or take her verbal frustrations out on. Adala eventually made her eat her words literally. Abilities Passive: Shadow-Stalk - Scorn stealths when moving in shadowed areas, she gains stronger stealth depending on the shadows extent and darkness. She gains additional movement speed as well, that gets stronger the more she is stealthed. Weapon: Claws - A short-range attack that replaces her quick-melee as well as regular attacks. Strikes quickly and deals decent DPS. She has no ranged option. Ability 1: Lunging Strike - Does a short lunge and deals damage at whatever enemy gets in the way. Only strikes one target. This move has higher range and critically strikes from stealth. If the attack lands on an enemy's back, the move can be used again after a brief moment. Ability 2: Disappear - Scorn will jump into the nearest patch of shadows and fully stealth for a small moment. If there is no shadow to jump to, she will jump backwards by default and stealth briefly. This move has no damage component. Ultimate: Nightmare - Scorn will plunge the area into darkness, granting her essentially full stealth within that area so long as she is there, she will still be seen if they are close enough to her. This move has no damage component, but will let her capitalize on her passive and lunge to the fullest potential. Do note once more, in this mode, all her Lunging Strikes will critically strike, and she will move incredibly fast with stealth. Weapons Claws augmented to her body, that she uses with her minor shadow abilities. Extra She has haemolacria, a rare condition where rather then crying tears, she cries blood. Experimentation can lead to... Some undesirable after effects (it will be mentioned in the first few posts I just want a little surprise). Theme Song</s> <\|message\|>Adala Ann Posner Scorn / female / 29 / Villain Location: On the move to 'Where the wind blows' Having defaced one billboard with little to no results, Scorn gave up on her little adventure and returned to her tunnels. By the time she returned to homebase, one of her lackeys were scrambling over to her showing her some strange broadcast that had popped up on one of the televisions that were scattered about. She had shoved him aside to see what the chatter was about. Most of it she didn't care about. The image of Hotshot irritated her just reminding her of failed heist. She was about to leave when the television had a series of numbers appear on the screen. Scorn got one of her lackeys to photograph the numbers with a pilfered old cellphone, good enough to record the series of numbers while she dug around for a stolen laptop. One of the tech freaks she kept would know something about decoding, or they would regret not knowing. Luckily enough one of them did seem to realize the type of decoding method that the numbers were using and found a means of decoding it online through a decoder. "Well boys looks like your leader has to go make one more visit for the night. Don't wait up and play nice," Scorn cackled merrily rushing out of her lair to find what exactly waited at the place 'Where the wind blows'.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongCenterville Electric Corporation Windfarm Answers may come from unexpected places and Song made no mistake in pursuing them where they came. The dorm room once belonged to a young girl, young at least in the sense she was straight from primary education and into college. Blonde, average in height and build, and pursuing a degree in science. What little more the man could gain was not worth recall, but Song took it as no mere coincidence that he had seen a woman by this very similar description not more than a day before. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps heavenly action, it all made no difference now. It constructed a narrative, one punctuated by the fact both women so described wore gloves, which the questioned party - a bit inebriated as he was - noted was really weird; like a weird quirk everyone eventually noticed. For Song this confirmed his suspicions that something was afoot, but he did not end there. No, he bid his company goodbye with a simple smile and his thanks; it would have been more difficult and strange had the man not been slightly off as he was. To the outsider to the campus, it was evidence he needed and the direction came from there. Now to discern the coded messages they had sent and what better way to do that than the media itself? They had time to digest the information, now just to access it. On a college campus? A computer wasn't far, though the morality of using it without their owner's due attention was very, very grey to put it kindly. Song cared not for that either, the stakes were building higher after all; several "heroes", some seemingly antiheroes or villains at worst, a string of metaphors and secret messages, some of which were nods to other things. Happenstance was eroding quickly and the man in scarf, hidden in plain sight here, noted the answer in short order. Tapping away slightly in his search, fingers deftly perusing the keyboard so as to not make any error in the process, the message was revealed. This created a number of problems, the most notable was that it was not too difficult to decipher and had seemingly multiple recipients intended, him apparently included. This was not just a meeting with the "me" mentioned and to assume otherwise would be folly. In fact, Song knew "me" to be "they". Pausing, coming to see his reflection in the dim screen of the room he so invited himself into, he deliberated with himself. Was this worth it? Was finding out more, edging closer towards the truth and what darker leanings it had, worthwhile at all? The broadcaster, rather broadcasters, made it clear it was calling out others who had better time, resources, knowledge to answer this. They unquestionably would be falling in on it in short order. But if it were a trap, seemingly aimed at them, would it be wise to let them go into it alone? Song could... well, he could right some of his wrongs. That was what he had been trying to do for a time, wasn't it? It was not that they needed him, or that he needed them, but it was the right thing to do, to lend his aid in the face of a trap. Should it not be a trap, what issue would that even be then? Sighing, closing his eyes, he set a hand upon the lid of the computer and closed it, having set it to sleep after clearing out his doings; the owner would be perhaps confused why things had so subtly changed, but none the wiser. Standing then, adjusting his clothes, he looked at himself once more in the confined room's mirror and its messy, disorganized life story strewn about. "We will go then, together." He commented, disappearing out the door and to his concealed cache not far away, left hidden high above in scaffolding among the tools of construction workers who had secured their equipment with locks and chain. Browsing through the bag not just for a change of clothes which he soon donned, but for a companion piece of equipment. A firearm was mostly for show, but on a windfarm and likely open terrain? He resigned himself that it might be the difference between him seeing another night or that of others. The choice however, was subtle and small, concealed among his dress, joined by a set of short and balanced blades for throwing and more sources of its ammunition. This all would suffice, Song would need it to. At that point, having shifted shapes again from nobody to his identity, he layered one last liberal use of his jacket over. The drive there wasn't long, the cab fare not expensive, and the walk into the night the worst of it; the going into the unknown. The gate leading in was the most obvious route, perhaps the most dangerous, but it was the first place to start, especially with a sign as forward and as obvious as the "Centerville Electric Corporation Windfarm", followed by a shack, an arm-gate, and a lone, sad little light.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: The Wind Farm Tags: Whoever else is there The tall grass swayed gently in the wind, softly illuminated by the not so far off city lights. The fields were dark, save for the eerie red lights that sat atop the turbines. Almost silently, they spun in the cold night breeze. Only a slight hum could be heard from most of them, all but one. A single turbine seemed to have something just a little bit off, as it clicked each time it turned. Under the dark shadow that this white giant cast stood two figures. They watched as their company arrived, waiting to be noticed. Or perhaps waiting to pounce. Not much time had passed before their little meet up was interrupted, however. The sound of blades chopping at the air approached. This wasn't a turbine, but a fan of a different sort. A helicopter. It was almost invisible in the night sky, black just like the tarry background behind it. Only the lights made it stand out, a spot light in particular. The light swooped over the grassy plain, clearly looking for something, or someone. The two villains were quickly unsettled by the sight of it. They ducked behind the mast of the turbine they stood under, semi-crouched in the tall grass.</s>	<\|message\|>Adala Ann Posner Scorn / female / 29 / Villain Location: Arriving at 'Where the wind blows' Borrowing one of her associates vehicles, Scorn had made her way to the coded meeting area from the television, at least what she presumed was the meeting area. She parked the vehicle a little out of site as a precaution and walked the rest of the way to the front of the fence where another vehicle was seemingly all ready parked."Guess I'm not the first to arrive," Scorn muttered to herself looking at the fence. She was about to make her way in when the sound of blades were heard. She disappeared into whatever shadows were available and waited to see where the helicopter was approaching from. If this was all a ruse I'm going to blow something up, Scorn thought to herself waiting for the helicopter to go away before continuing onward into the wind farm. Before hiding she had noticed some form of movement in the field though whether they were others who were brought in by the message or the messenger themselves she had no clue.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black In black, thunder sounded just before one came even louder. Lightning flashed until there was a singing female voice in the vicious wind. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me... The thunder came again as the voice continued with a British flag blowing in the wind. We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. This time, rain began to fall over a town which looked like a harbor. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me... The singing faded as thunder striked once more as a pirate flag was being carried by the wind. A male voice began to narrate. It was John Silver. Those were almost the first words she spoke to us. We remembered her name, her idea, and yet, we still could not forget that it was she who invented it. Cannon fire sounded as it dueled with another ship, causing explosions on the sea craft. The ship began to sink as its flag blew in the wind. The flag sank into the depths. That idea still could change the world. People have killed in the name of it...and died, defending it. A figure of a boy floated to the surface of the water until he laid on a piece of the ship, drifting to a shore nearby. We could never kiss it; could never touch it or hold it. Jamaican peasants ran to the water as they saw the figure drifting, being able to pull him ashore. It would not feel pain or show love. Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann run over to the group as they see the unconscious boy before them. "Get a doctor!", Norrington told his lieutenant, Theodore. But it was never the idea that we missed. A gold glimmer shined near them, but they didn't notice. It was her. A woman that made us remember. A woman, we pirates can never forget. The story title appears in the darkness of the screen.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Port Royal. The main British port on the island of Jamaica, it was an essential supply post for the British navy - and any other vessel in this area (excluding the Spanish of course). The governor, Weatherby Swann had overseen the British colony for near nine years. He had taken the position after his wife had died, giving himself and his young daughter Elizabeth, a chance at a new place - without all the memories. He had married a bit later in life and though he wasn't fairly old, he was older than most were with a nineteen year old daughter. A daughter who which was set to marry the Commodore Norrington - Governor Swann's chief military advisor and expert in these areas. The wedding itself was what put the port in a very festive mood. Elizabeth Swann was well liked by most of the inhabitants of the colony. She was sweet, kind, and beautiful. Her wedding to the Commodore was something that the entire colony was going to celebrate. Well - the entire colony with the exception of maybe Ms. Swann and a certain young blacksmith. Will Turner stood outside the governor's mansion, the box of the commissioned sword under his arm as he waited for the door to open. He - well, actually his "master" - had been tasked to make a sword for the wedding. It was actually a masterpiece of a sword and the drunken fool who was his master hadn't done a single thing. The door opened and the servant let him in. "I will inform the governor that you are here." The man said with polite coldness. "Wait here." Will nodded and stood there patiently as the man left. ~ ~ ~ The sun was still fairly low in the horizon as Abigail felt the waves lick at her bare feet. Digging her toes into the sand, she couldn't help a grin as she glanced toward her cousin. Having recently arrived from England for her summer holiday, Abigail was glad to be here. It felt like home almost. Though not for long. With her cousin marrying and then her own wedding probably planned in the upcoming year, this was truly the last either of the two would be able to do this. As it were, neither were really supposed to be here on the beach. But this was a more private area, where not that many people would even notice - presuming any noticed at all. "I've missed this," she said with a slight sigh as she closed her eyes, the sun warming her face. She wished she could stay like this forever. On the beach, the waves lapping over her feet, the sun shining down on her. But life wasn't always what one wanted. It was a hard lesson that she had just recently learned herself. Her eyes opened. "When do you have to get ready for the wedding?" She asked, not really wanting to leave but knowing they'd have to return.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Sir, you have a visitor", one of the male house servants spoke to the governor upstairs, who was checking his gray, curly wig. Hurrying downstairs, he could spot the young man already there, and he presumed that this young man had the sword that was to be expected at the Commodore's preposition. For him to be governor, it wasn't easy. Looking after his only daughter wasn't easy. Yes, his daughter. The beautiful Elizabeth Swann; expected to be married off to a wealthy young man to spread the family branch. However, finding the right spouse wasn't simple. In this town, wealthy and low-class don't mix. But, he expected her to find one soon enough. "Ah, Mister Turner! Right on time", governor Swann proclaimed as he approached the young man. --------------------- Elizabeth knew that she and her younger cousin couldn't resist the beach. For some time, she and Abigail have grown fond of the sea, and have always wondered what laid beyond it. If only their already-prepared life wasn't in the way of their imagination, they could find out for themselves and let the wind carry them. Though it wasn't quite right for a proper lady, Elizabeth agreed to walk with Abigail before the wedding, taking the time to embrace the experience as their one last adventure. She thought of Norrington to be a very noble man, bound to the law, and always trying his best to let the British empire flourish. Sure, Elizabeth found him handsome and smart, but in a way, she felt that she couldn't exactly choose what she wanted in life. She knew it was the same with Abigail, whom she always considered to be a dear sister to her, rather than a cousin. This wasn't to say that she disapproved her father's decision to marry her off to an attractive, high-ranking man. In fact, she considered it to be the only way for her family to continue the name. That, she will continue to represent, and not bring disgrace upon. Sticking a little close to the dryer part of the beach, Elizabeth watched Abigail, before looking back out at the horizon; the wind gently blowing her blonde hair. Hearing her cousin speak, she continued to look out in wonder. "I should be right now, but I can't. It's not right for this view to be ignored". She knew they weren't supposed to be here at this time, but she can't just ignore everything. She might as well take in much of the experience as she can.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will quickly moved away from the candlestick as the governor could be heard coming. He straightened, brushed his jacket down and waited. He gave a slight bow as the man walked in. There was power radiating from Governor Swann. Purpose. Despite the fact the man had been there when he had drifted on the shore, there really hadn't been a lot of connection between the two. Oh, he owed the governor thanks for arranging a place for him to stay before setting him up with an apprenticeship. For that he was grateful. But there was no relationship beyond that. The man had never been an integral part of his life. Despite the fact that Will and Elizabeth had been friends. "Governor," his tone was polite, his facial expression respectful. He offered up the case. "Just as you requested. My master sends his regards." Not really. The other man had been drunk that he wasn't really cohesive. But it was all part of the whole act. Nobody cared. Though anyone who really paid attention and came by the shop quickly realized that the older man was barely cognitive and active. It was really Will who did the work. But the charade continued. They'd ask Will for his "master" to make something, he'd tell them it will be done. He makes it and then lets them think what they will. It was far kinder than he should be but it was something he was used to do. It had started when he was a bit younger and he hadn't wanted to give away the secret. First off, it was a bit humiliating. Second, despite everything, the drunk man had taken him in and taught him. Though still, it was amazing he knew anything. "Created just like you requested. May I?" He asked taking the sword from the governor. "Perfect balance." He showed the craftsmanship off slightly. He was very proud of this piece. Probably one of the best he had done. He handed it back to the governor. "The Commodore will love it." ~ ~ ~ Abigail tilted her head slightly to hear her cousin. A smile grew on her lips at the reply. She didn't mind. In fact, she could probably stay here all day. The waves, the sand on her feet, the breeze, the smells, the sights - all of it was so much. She had missed this so bad. London was nothing like this. You had the rare smell of the ocean but most of the time you had other smells: fish, tar, people, smoke - there were so many other odors in the air that it destroyed the perfect smell of the sea. And then of course the riverbank had no sand. And even if there no people around, you dare not walk barefoot due to getting a splinter or hurting your foot on the wood. Not that she would go barefoot there. As it was, just going barefoot here would have caused her mother to have a fit. It was completely unladylike and improper. But she loved it. Couldn't resist it. And would dreadfully miss it. Turning she headed further up the beach to where Elizabeth was. It was amusing her cousin didn't go too close to the waters. If she knew she could get away with it, Abigail would wade even further out and let the waves crash against her. But it was difficult to do so with an overly bearing dress and others would then know what she had done. And that would take away any chance of her coming back here. Elizabeth knew but they both understood her father would not approve. Nor would Commodore Norrington. Pausing beside her cousin, Abigail looked up at the woman who she considered a sister, someone closer than anyone she ever had known. Even her 'friends' - if you wanted to use that term - back in London held no candle to the relationship she had with Elizabeth." "Lizabeth," She said, using her nickname for the other girl - the one she had called since first meeting her so long ago. "Are you nervous?" She looked over curious and a bit afraid of the answer. She had yet to tell her cousin that her family had already started looking to engage her and that this would be her last trip out here. She had meant to but things happened. And of course, the news that Elizabeth was getting married had carried over everything.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The governor sheathed the sword out of its holding as he listened to the young man, immediately marveling the craftsmanship on such a weapon. Throughout the entire meeting, he wasn't exactly interested on the blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill, but kept his regards on the master, being more overly impressed that the master would do such an amazing job in crafting it. "Impressive. Very impressive. I'm sure the Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly. ~ ~ ~ Though it wasn't exactly right, Elizabeth had sat right down on the spot she was standing at, right upon a giant rock, that would keep her dress from getting dirty and not letting her father get suspicious. She was wearing the dress that was meant for the wedding, and if she got it full of sand, someone at the ceremony would be more than likely to faint. It would be considered disgraceful and humiliating for the Swann family. For that, she kept an internal promise to not get it ruined. Her time of gazing at the horizon was interrupted, once again, but knowing that it was only her young cousin talking, Elizabeth didn't get upset. "A little", she admitted, almost too afraid of what he future would bring for the both of them. Their trips to the beach would end, and their visits with Will might cease than normal. Dissapointely, Elizabeth knew that the Commodore would disapprove of William being near his soon-to-be wife, but he had to give the young man some level of regard, since Norrington also played some part in Will's rescue. She remembered that day like it was yesterday - from finding him, to growing up together. To this day, she still considered him to be one of their closest friends. Sure, Abigail may not know Will that much, but if anything, Elizabeth would trust him to put Abigail in his hands. Now, it felt like those days would officially come to an end after all of the marriage. Life was just unfair, but they were ladies of privilege; everything was arranged, not by their own choices. After a time, and a sigh, Elizabeth stood up from the spot of where she sat, being very careful in maneuvering herself, in order to not ruin her dress. "We should go", she softly said to Abigail, being internally sad, at the fact that they were leaving their favorite spot in Port Royal.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The governor sheathed the sword out of its holding as he listened to the young man, immediately marveling the craftsmanship on such a weapon. Throughout the entire meeting, he wasn't exactly interested on the blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill, but kept his regards on the master, being more overly impressed that the master would do such an amazing job in crafting it. "Impressive. Very impressive. I'm sure the Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly. ~ ~ ~ Though it wasn't exactly right, Elizabeth had sat right down on the spot she was standing at, right upon a giant rock, that would keep her dress from getting dirty and not letting her father get suspicious. She was wearing the dress that was meant for the wedding, and if she got it full of sand, someone at the ceremony would be more than likely to faint. It would be considered disgraceful and humiliating for the Swann family. For that, she kept an internal promise to not get it ruined. Her time of gazing at the horizon was interrupted, once again, but knowing that it was only her young cousin talking, Elizabeth didn't get upset. "A little", she admitted, almost too afraid of what he future would bring for the both of them. Their trips to the beach would end, and their visits with Will might cease than normal. Dissapointely, Elizabeth knew that the Commodore would disapprove of William being near his soon-to-be wife, but he had to give the young man some level of regard, since Norrington also played some part in Will's rescue. She remembered that day like it was yesterday - from finding him, to growing up together. To this day, she still considered him to be one of their closest friends. Sure, Abigail may not know Will that much, but if anything, Elizabeth would trust him to put Abigail in his hands. Now, it felt like those days would officially come to an end after all of the marriage. Life was just unfair, but they were ladies of privilege; everything was arranged, not by their own choices. After a time, and a sigh, Elizabeth stood up from the spot of where she sat, being very careful in maneuvering herself, in order to not ruin her dress. "We should go", she softly said to Abigail, being internally sad, at the fact that they were leaving their favorite spot in Port Royal.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe There was a sense of pride, accomplishment that Will felt when the governor complimented the sword. Of course, he didn't show it. From the governor's point of view, it wasn't Will who had done it but his master. And that was fine. He kept the charade. "I will, Sir." He gave a slight bow. He lingered slightly hoping he might see Elizabeth but he doubted he'd see her. It was her wedding day and she probably had so much to do. Besides, it was probably for the best. She was getting married. It never really would have worked for him. He was a blacksmith and she the daughter of a governor. He was an orphan washed upon the beach, she was a princess, raised like royalty. "Congratulations on your daughter's wedding," he said not really feeling it but being polite. With another slight bow he left. Again, it was probably for the best. As much as he'd love to see Elizabeth, talk to her, he knew there was a level of propriety expected. She could never know he has feelings for her. That he cared for her. And now that she would marry, he had to ensure she'd never know. He left the governor's mansion and started the long walk back to the village below. ~ ~ ~ Abigail bit her lip. Her gaze turned seaward again. It was strange seeing her cousin, someone who always was a bit of a rock in her life, be nervous. But at the same time, it was probably expected. Every bride to be was nervous. She wasn't even betrothed to someone yet and already her nerves were on edge. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Gentle? Loving? Or would he be harsh? Stern? Would he be old and unattractive or young and gorgeously handsome? That was one thing Abigail knew Elizabeth had going for her. The Commodore was attractive. He was also a lot older than her but that wasn't uncommon. Though she knew her cousin's heart was really more set on someone else, though neither discussed it and the older girl would probably deny it if confronted. Still.... She sighed as Elizabeth stood and told her they should go. Going over she found her shoes though she didn't put them on yet. Her feet and ankles had sand on them and she would need to clean them off before putting her shoes on. The fact they were wet didn't help any. Not that she was complaining. In fact, she would do it again if she could. As they headed off the beach and up toward the house Abigail saw Will. A smile formed on her face, not so much for her but for Elizabeth. She personally didn't know Will too much. They interacted while she was in Port Royal but they didn't have the friendship he and Elizabeth had. She nudged her cousin and inclined her head. "Look who came to visit." Her eyes danced as she knew he was the someone her cousin liked.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Taking the case in hand, Weatherby Swann was just about to consider looking for his daughter, until she and his niece just happened to enter the family home...at the right time. He knew that Abigail and Elizabeth had a habit to sneak off, but when it comes to rather important occassion, he would want them to stay put, until everything was in order. But no...they would rather go out and pass the time. He would only have a heart attack if he saw a smudge or stain on his daughter's wedding dress. Thankfully, it would appear that she was being very careful this time. Highly unlike all of her other dresses... "Oh, would you girls just stay in one place? Here, in the mansion, please?", he asked them, almost exasperated and relieved at the same time. It was like he had an extra child, who would be too much for a single father. "Well, no other. You look absolutely stunning, Elizabeth", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up, and in her wedding dress. On the other hand, Elizabeth almost didn't hear her father, since she happened to look over at her childhood friend, who appeared to just be leaving. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while putting her shoes back on, almost clumsily, probably due to her excitement of seeing her dear friend.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail put a polite apologetic look on her face at her uncle's lecture. She was glad her skirt covered her ankles otherwise, the sight of her sandy feet and ankles would undoubtedly cause even more concern and possible lecturing. As it was, he seemed exasperated with them. Then he turned, getting a bit sidetracked and complimented Elizabeth on her dress. Abigail kept the smile from appearing on her face. Good. They weren't going to get into any more trouble or have a punishment. The fact Elizabeth was getting married today - something the dress obviously reminded the governor of - would probably wave any annoyance with their escapades. Keeping her shoes behind her back, she watched the slight exchange and then almost grinned again at Elizabeth's response - not to her father but to seeing Will. As well as her fumbled attempt to put on her shoes right there in his presence. Will, ever the gentleman, kept his gaze on Elizabeth's face, keenly aware that her father was right there as was her cousin. Having been notified of his station before, he kept his expression polite and gave a slight nod to both ladies. "Miss Swan. Miss Ashe." He had been like this for the past few months - longer in public - whenever he saw one or the other. His feelings for Elizabeth hidden from view as he tried to maintain the cultural requirements of their respected stations. The fact that she was also about to marry also tied into it. The days of calling her by her Christian name was gone. Abigail, the apex of grace and social mannerism, inclined her head politely back, addressing him just as formerly. "Mr. Turner." Though they had interacted a bit when she was younger (he and Elizabeth had hung out a lot whenever she came and visited - at least the earlier years), the two of them hadn't really grown close or anything. They had a mutual friend and did things together through her but at the same time, neither really interacted on their own. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Abigail highly doubted Will would have much to do with her. Not that he didn't like her. No, he was polite, friendly - or had been - and easy going. But there really wasn't much there. Not like what she and Elizabeth shared or what Elizabeth and Will shared. So it was no difficulty for her to fall into the polite social structure. Well that and the fact, she had been raised extensively in it all her life. London was a lot more sophisticated and had higher expectations than Port Royal. Still, she watched her cousin, hiding the slight amusement as the 'country' girl didn't seem to care for social structure OR her father being right there and engaged Will as if they were equals and good friends. Also ignoring the fact that both were now adults with that whole set of rigorous societal expectations.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", the blonde young woman asked him, until her father walked off to get the necessary money to pay for the sword. The governor's only daughter, Elizabeth Swann, had the physical appearance of a fine young woman; a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior. It only took them a few moments to look at each other in the face, before the governor cut back in, giving Will the payment. "Well, we don't want to be late now, do we?", he took the presentation case in hand, and gestured the girls to follow him out to the carriage that was waiting outside. "Come now, Elizabeth. Abigail", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Good day, Mister Turner", she softly said, sounding slightly disappointed to not talk to him a little longer, before following the elderly man out of the mansion. "Oh, Abigail. Do something about your hair, would you?", Weatherby asked the younger girl, as soon as he noticed her hair to be in such disarray, as they walked towards the carriage. ~ ~ ~ Both the harbor and the town were bustling with activity; markets selling and buying, and animals communicating with each other, either on the streets or their stables/pens. Leaning in the shade, against one of the barns sat a womanly figure, who appears to be wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western saloon girl; a lace-trimmed, ivory-colored tank-corset with an addition of tight, long-sleeves, and a matching short mini-skirt stopping at her upper thighs. Attached to her back-waist, was a matching ivory organza bustle pooling down to her feet, and revealing her front bare legs. She also appears to be wearing black, lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled dark brown hair was covered by a hood-like piece, that also seems to cover some places of her youthful face. However, despite the coverage of some parts of her face, she seems to be able to gaze out into the market with keen, blue eyes. Stepping out of the shadows, and revealing more color, the mystery woman strolled casually right past a fruit stand, and snuck an apple from the cart. However, this didn't go unnoticeable. "What-? Hold up there, you", the seller called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and turn back around to walk back towards him. "It's a shilling for one piece of me fruit", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the cart. Sighing before smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and placed them on the cart. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget this even happened?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her English-accented voice. The seller seems to consider this as he stepped away. "Welcome to Port Royal, miss", he welcomed her before moving off. She acknowledged the welcome with a nod and a cool smile, before moving past another cart, spotting a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pocketed it and moved on. Thank god, she told Mr. Silver to keep the ship in one of the hidden arches, a few yards away from the dock. 'Do not, under any circumstances, engage', she remembered telling him. With the vessel hidden between too rock formations, it would be increasingly difficult to spot, even to the eyes of the patrolling British. However, she knows that the ship can't stay camouflaged forever. Ninja</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "Just once more." Will's polite smile never faded as he looked back at Elizabeth. He knew his answer didn't please her. Nor had his more recently distancing of himself from her. She wanted to be friends and though he wouldn't mind spending time with her, propriety demanded something different. Not only looking at the cultural aspect of an unmarried man and woman but also the financial class difference, which would guarantee that he'd never be able to marry her even if she was interested. He stared at her for a moment before the governor's voice kicked in. Giving a nod back, he wished them a good day as well before leaving. Abigail made her way into the carriage, her hands moving up to her hair at her uncle's remark. It wasn't that bad, was it? She had done it first thing that morning but then again, that was before she went out onto the beach and enjoyed the wind her hair and face. Hanging back a moment, she quickly brushed the sand off her feet and ankles so she could put her shoes back on. Accepting help into the carriage she quickly fixed her hair best she could. The carriage ride down the little mountain wasn't that long. They passed the walking Mr. Turner as they wound their way further down. Abigail watched him for a brief moment before her eyes shifted over to her cousin. She knew there was something there, had been for some time, and was a bit more than even her cousin realized. However, she also knew that life rarely went that way. Raised in London society, the concept of love was a romantic aspect that was played with but no one ever took seriously. One did not marry for love - ever. Love might come after the fact but it was never the deciding factor in an arrangement. At least not in the upper classes. In a way, she figured Elizabeth knew this. She was marrying the Commodore. Though, how much was it she was following tradition and how much was it she didn't realize how much she loved Will? It was a bit amusing and sad almost to see something her own cousin didn't fully accept or notice herself. Abigail wondered if there was anyone she actually loved but was too blind to see it. Not that it mattered. The carriage arrived at its destination. The wedding was going to take place at the top of the fort battlements, looking out over the bay. A beautiful location.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ninja Meanwhile, at the harbor, the mystery woman made her way towards the dock, attempting to cooly pass two redcoats that were on sentry duty. Before she could saunter past them, they were immediately alert, running up to block her path. "This dock is off-limits to civilians", one of them told her. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know. If I happen to see one, I'll let you know", she kept it cool with a hint of innocence as she, once again, attempted to move around them, only to find herself blocked again. How was she going to do this? Now, she knew. "I heard there's an event going on up at the fort. Tell me, how can two upstanding gentlemen like yourselves, not merit an invitation?", she half-curiously asked them. "Miss, someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians", the other marine responded. "That's very true, but there's one thing that's nagging the back of my mind. A ship like that", she gestured to the Dauntless in the distance. "...does, unfortunately, make this one a bit downgraded, really", she commented while gesturing to the Interceptor, perched at the dock. "The Dauntless is the power in these waters. But there's no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed", one of them said to her as he talked about the ship. "I've heard of one, supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable. Ever heard of the Fancy", she gave a breathed out the name. Clearly, they were confused. Not ringing a bell. "A ship, captained by a man; so evil, that hell itself spat him back out", she told them with grim in her eyes. One of them scoffed. "No", he chuckled with amusement. "It's a real ship, you know. I've seen it", the other told him, only for his comrade to turn to him. "So you're telling me, that no ship that's captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out couldn't possibly be any other ship than the Fancy? Is that what you're saying?", he patronized him. None of them noticed the woman slipping past them unnoticed as they continued to argue. "No", he answered, shaking his head. "Like I said, there's no ship that can match the Intercept..", he trailed off when he noticed that she wasn't there. Looking around, they spotted her standing at the wheel of the Interceptor, casually examining the mechanism. "Hey! You!", she looked at them with exaggerated, innocent surprise. They hurried towards her and raised their muskets. "Get away from there! You don't have permission to be aboard!", they told her. "I'm sorry, it's just...it's such a pretty boat. I mean, ship", she innocently corrected. "What's your name?", one of them asked. "Smith", she responded casually, almost too casually. "What's your purpose in Port Royal? No lies", they demanded. "Okay, okay", she smoothly feigned defeat. "It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise, pilfer my weaselly black guts out", she answered with a bit of a ramble. "We said, no lies!", one of them told her. "Think she's telling the truth", the other said. "If she were telling the truth, she wouldn't have told us", the other argued. "Unless, you wouldn't believe the truth, even if I told it to you?", the mystery woman cut in as they seem to consider it. It wasn't exactly the truth... That was when they heard the sound of something hitting the water nearby, narrowly missing the jagged rocks, and causing them to turn their attention to the source. The brunette-haired woman and the sentries looked over the side of the ship and noticed a ripple. "Aren't you gonna go see what that was?", she asked them in curiosity. "I can't swim", he simply answered as his comrade shakes his head. Neither does he? So be it. Not surprised, the female gave a groan of frustration. "Prides of the King's Navy, you are. Do not lose these", she first scoffed before handing them her pistol, and her sword belt. Climbing onto the railing, she dove into the water, making her hooded headpiece come off.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her. Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad. Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else. The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help. Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again. She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed. Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Trying to register what fell in, the sentries looked at each other, before a gust of wind comes up, forcing them to hold their hats. Abigail's unmoving form hit the bottom of the shallow ocean, and the brunette-haired woman swam down to her as fast as she could, eventually wrapping an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress. As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, and the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slipped one her knives out from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs. Just by seeing the young girl cough up the water, the mystery woman now knew for a fact that the damn corsets made for the English women, were not suitable in a place like Port Royal. Many times, she had worn fancy corsets, but that didn't mean she would proudly wear one now, or ever, for that reason. The brunette tossed the torn corset aside. For some, she was one of a few on her ship that would even express any sympathy to colonists who were not buccaneers. She usually stole from the wealthy, but didn't really expect an opportunity in rescuing one from distress. More likely, a damsel. By the looks of this girl, she was rather young. So, why not? Impressed and dumbfounded, the sentries didn't speak for a moment. "Never would have thought of that", one of them admitted. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore. Impressed?", she rolled her eyes before looking back at the young girl laying before her. But before she thought of anything else, something gold, with a skull, was right before her, exposed. Taking a good look at the round medallion, a question rose out of her. "Where did you get that?", she softly demanded.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Fighting, Abigail tried to get back to the surface but the disorientation and her heavy skirts made it nigh impossible. As she clawed at the water, sinking deeper, she thought it strange that she would die by the one thing she loved the most. She started to see spots even as her lungs burned from needing air. Her hands fell limp, resistance slipping out of her even as the spots grew larger. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she felt something grabbing her arm but the thought barely registered before she blacked out. Her next conscious thought was coughing. Sitting upright, she coughed out the water she swallowed as she oriented herself. She was on a pier. Stripped down to her underdress with two soldiers standing above her and a woman leaning over her. Her eyes went to the cut corset beside them and the knife in the woman's hands. It didn't take a genius to realize that the woman had just saved her life. Before she could even express any gratitude, the question came at her. She frowned glancing down. Hanging there, catching the rays of the sun was the skull gold piece. Embarrassed and a bit worried, she stuffed it under her undershirt having not wanted others to know she wore it. Elizabeth knew - but then again, what did Elizabeth NOT know about her? Well, minus the marriage proposal. But no one else knew she carried a piece of pirate gold around her neck. She didn't know fully why she did but at the same time she didn't like to leave it around. Though, in London, she usually had to hide it if she went to a formal event. The intimacy of some of the dances would have someone spot the chain. But in most cases, she wore it. Hidden. Close to her heart. "It's nothing," she said quickly sitting up. She regretted her harsh outburst, especially as the woman just saved her life. "It's...not something I'd like to discuss," she said quietly. Then she turned her head to look at the woman before her. The woman was just as wet but it was the attire that surprised Abigail. It wasn't something that normal, everyday woman wear. But then again, she was in her underclothes here as well. Throwing her arms around the woman, she hugged her. "Thank you for saving me," she said pulling away, even as a commotion could be heard as those above were finally making their way to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...hugging her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice. The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was. Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend? Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, tyrannical. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. At least I don't have to say my real name, she thought before making her response. "Black. Vivienne Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage. The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her weapons. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin' about stealing a ship."</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked over as the guards and Elizabeth came running up. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of her cousin. Though it turned a bit embarrassed and sheepish as she was pulled to her feet. "I'm fine," she said. "I wasn't watching where I was standing." The coat was nice but she really wasn't cold. The water was warm and at the moment she still had adrenaline running through her veins. Despite the fact her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair plastered behind her. Her parents would have a conundrum if they saw her now. Her uncle made up for that. "I'm fine," she repeated a bit unsettled with all the concern and attention. As her rescuer introduced herself, Abigail turned and looked at her, the smile growing wide. The smile vanished at the accusation from the redcoats. Drawing herself up to all the authority she was accustomed to, she glared at them. "She saved my life." Her tone held rebuke at the insinuation that her rescuer would be anything but good. The woman saved her. Pulled her out of the water when she would have drowned. That alone had to indicate the woman had a virtuous heart. That she was good. Therefore, Abigail was appalled that anyone would even dare suggest the woman was capable of evil. There was undoubtedly a good explanation to the whole thing. Moving away from Elizabeth, her chin lifted, she stepped almost in front of Vivienne. Her chin lifted as she turned her attention toward the Commodore and her uncle. "She saved my life," she repeated again. "An individual risking their own for a complete stranger cannot be someone with ill intent." She looked at the redcoats, her tone, body language, and facial expression indicating her status as the daughter of a lord with all the authority within. "Return her things to her." She looked at Vivienne. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." There was not a hint of her annoyance with the soldiers on her face as she turned to look at her rescuer. "You saved my life. I am in your debt." She might have the bearing of someone in the court but her eyes gave away just how young she was. Not to mention the very fact she presumed Vivienne's innocence based on her actions showed a bit of a naivety on the girl's part. "I'm Abigail Ashe, daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy." She stepped aside slightly. "This is my uncle and my cousin - Governor Swann and Elizabeth. And her fiance, Commodore Norrington." With the pride of a hostess, she stepped aside so they could properly great each other, not fully understanding the slight distrust that the Commodore and her uncle showed. A hint of concern flickered on her face as she glanced at Elizabeth hoping her cousin would shed some light on the poor response they were showing.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Honestly, Vivienne wasn't sure on what to do in such a predicament: being surrounded by thousands of "red coats", plus their commander. Hearing the girl, now "Abigail", protest against the roguish woman's fate, the brunette couldn't help but feel slightly amused at the attempt. "Pleased to make your acquaintance", the brunette responded politely; although there was a slight mockery to it, she made it sound genuine, with that same smile from before. Commodore Norrington raised an eyebrow, and then smiled at Vivienne, really because of Abigail's introduction. He then bowed slightly and took her hand, as if to kiss it, in greeting, like a proper gentleman. However, that rising feeling of distrust got wrapped around his head, only making him pull her forward, and slide the shoulder-sleeve of her dress down. There it was, and that lingering suspicion rant true: Pirate tattoo. "Pirate", he declared, smirking as the brand became visible on her shoulder. Vivienne thought this situation would become bright, and that she would be able to slide away on good terms. However, that was before the reveal of her true status. She knew she was in trouble. Pirate. The word made her bite her bottom lip in defeat. "Guards, escort this woman to the jail. She'll hang in the morning", in response to the order, a few soldiers came forward and took Vivienne, by the upper arms, and guided her to the other side of the pier. The said-woman stayed quiet and listened. Listening, and scanned her surroundings; it was perfect.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "No!" Abigail quickly moved to follow them, trying to push herself between the guards and Vivienne. She ignored the protest the others made and lifted her chin. "She saved my life. Is this how we repay her?" She demanded using every ounce of authority her mother had drilled into her. The power of being the daughter of a lord. The ramifications that came with it. "We can't execute her. She could have escaped while the guards were distracted when I fell. But instead, she risked her life for mine. I won't allow it." Of course, her stubbornness was just waved aside. Her uncle, though seeming to like her, didn't really agree. "Move aside, Abigail." He ordered. "She's a criminal. She might have saved your life but it doesn't justify her actions." Abigail frowned, not understanding why the Commodore and her uncle seemed intent on punishing someone who rescued her. Her gaze glanced over at Vivienne. She didn't look like a pirate. Was there even such a thing as female pirates? It was doubtful. Seemed odd to her. Pirates were these old men with missing limbs or teeth. Foul and seeming the worst of society. Not a woman who, though dressed in a mannerism not really fitting everyday wear, risked jumping into the water to save her. "Abigail, if you won't move, I'll have the guards remove you. You don't understand. And frankly you are probably disillusioned at the moment. That was a long fall. We need to get you to a doctor to make sure you are alright." The governor waved a hand for a couple guards to move her out of the way.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the outside world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!? They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift and evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck. With a devious smile, the pirate looked at Norrington and everyone else before her and captive. "I must thank you for warming up to me, Commodore", she recalled in a respectful albeit taunting tone. However, there was no threat in her words. She didn't wish to harm the girl, but to just prove a point. Vivienne, however, did recall something interesting about Abigail: she cared about the pirate woman's fate. Interesting... She was sparing her from the hangman's noose, but, who wouldn't? Everyone against piracy. That's who. But this one? How interesting... "Commodore Norrington, now if you would, please? My effects?", the brunette called back in that same tone between taunting and respecting. She needed her things, and this girl was her ticket out of a tight spot. As they were starting to pass them her things, Vivienne, now holding the girl hostage, whispered to her, so she could only hear. "Your name's Abigail, isn't it?", she asked her in curiosity.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne listened to the young girl's response, and a look of sympathy appeared on her beautiful, coy-looking face. The pirate is more surprised at this girl's courage, and the last thing she wanted, was to make tensions go higher. So she was quite impressed with her wit. Speaking of this said-wit, Abigail willingly turned around to face the woman, and Vivienne allowed the girl to do so, but still kept the silver blade at her neck. "Once again, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Abigail", she lowly, and softly responded in confirmation. The pirate had to admit that she felt a slight bit of fondness for the girl before her, and she did feel a tad bit regretful to put her in such a position. But she was her ticket to get out of the hands of authority right now, so she kept up the act in this very dangerous game. Abigail was only at least five-foot five or so, and the task at hand wasn't hard. The pirate perked her eyes up in a challenging way with a coy smirk towards the English, before turning her attention back to the girl before her. "It's been a pleasure. A young woman, who has a whole life ahead of her, does not deserve such an early fate", she simply said, with that grin again. "I appreciate your concern, but I've come prepared", she added with a wink, before carefully turning her back around. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have some business to attend to!", the brunette announced as she walked backwards slowly, with Abigail still in her grip. Suddenly, she let her go, pushing her back to them, before grabbing a rope behind her that was tied to a tall gantry. Kicking a belaying pin nearby, and allowing a counterweight to fall, she was being lifted up to the top of the structure.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Facing her uncle and the others, Abigail kept her chin up. She could make out Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Her cousin looked extremely worried. It was touching a bit but honestly, she didn't feel like there was any danger. Feeling Vivienne slowly pull her along, moving backwards, she did her best not to trip as that would work against Vivienne. If she was trying to escape, that would have been ideal. A slight trip backward, use her weight to push back against the woman behind her. She might get nicked but all in all, she'd probably come out alright. But Abigail couldn't - wouldn't - do that. If the woman was captured again, she'd be hanged and that was something Abigail couldn't stomach. She had seen a few hangings in her time. The daughter of a lord and governor of a province, she had been required to go to a few public executions. Thankfully for her, most of her time was spent in London or here at Port Royal. The former - justice was carried out by others and thus she didn't have to go. The latter, she was spared due to the fact her uncle was a bit more tender toward her and Elizabeth and tried to shield them. Still, the few that she had seen had left her a bit sick. The snapping of the neck, or worse - the death from suffication, where the body twisted and turned trying to get air - even now the thought of it made her have to swallow. She would not let her rescuer get that fate. So when she was surprisingly pushed forward and released, Abigail quickly thought on her feet and took the off-balance push and letting it fall into a more clumsy fall that put her in the pash of the soldiers. It wasn't obvious as it happened quickly and no one but her and Vivienne had known how much force had been in that push. As she was grabbed and handed out of the way, Abigail felt her cousin's arms engulf her in a hug, even as she watched the woman flee.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Now will you shoot her?!", the governor demanded of the Commodore, and the order was made by the man himself, as the muskets began to blaze. "Open fire!" They were shooting at her now, and a shot grazed one of her bare legs, as she used her strength to jump from the tall structure, and on top of another. Wasting no time, Vivienne snapped the manacle chain over a line before her, and zip-lined herself down from the structure, eventually landing on her feet upon the ground of dirt, a few yards away from the dock, and running. Running as her organza bustle gently waved behind her in the wind, keeping herself low from the bullets of the muskets. A few women screamed in terror as a few of the men's shots ricocheted, and came perilously close to them as they whizzed by. Vivienne ran through the gunfire, sprinting across the bridge and passed the terrified ladies. Clearly, she had no idea where she was going. Vivienne may have been to many ports, but Port Royal wasn't one of them. Not to mention that the British now use it as a non-pirate port. For that, she had no direction on where she was going; only ending up at the port's market. Trying hard to steer clear, it was now becoming difficult on where to go. Coming out of her hiding spot behind the smithy's statue. So far, there was no where beyond the smithy for her to go; 'red coats' were everywhere, looking and searching. Slipping herself into the working smithy, Vivienne figured that there would be something in there that could get the stubborn manacles off of her. Not to mention that she had an injury to tend on her leg. Seeing the fire nearby, she placed her wrists inside the fire pit, so the blazing heat will allow her to break the iron. Wincing a bit in pain, she gave her wrists a mighty tug, until it snapped, making the chain break. With that out of the way, and placing her pistol nearby on the work bench, she ripped off a parchment of her dress to wrap it around the spot where one of the British soldiers grazed her. It was bleeding, and the bullet had to be removed, but with time being an ass, Vivienne couldn't. Not until proper treatment. For now, she just wrapped it around her right thigh.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail watched as the woman made her escape. It was amazing. Brilliant. Still, she bit her lip slightly as the muskets went off. Thankfully nothing hit the other woman. She didn't get to watch much more as Elizabeth pulled her away from it. "I'm fine." Her insistence was ignored, as had been her earlier pleas to let the woman go. That was one disadvantage for being young and female. Nobody seemed to take her seriously. After Elizabeth ensured she was fine, then her uncle, and finally the Commodore - Abigail found herself whisked off with a safe escort back to the governor's mansion. She glanced over at Elizabeth. "Sorry I fell off during the wedding. Had you said the vows yet?" She asked. She figured it probably wouldn't be good idea to bring up that they just let Vivienne go. Especially with her uncle across from her. Still, her mind was slightly distracted as she wondered if the woman made it. ~ ~ ~ He should have been back to the blacksmith shop by now. But honestly, Will hadn't been overly eager to head back. His master was probably drunk and the streets had been fairly deserted what with everyone up at the wedding. It gave him some time to think. Time, he probably shouldn't have used as it had just made the whole situation more depressing. The girl he loved was marrying another. It would have never worked but that didn't make the pain any easier. He felt like someone had punched him hard in the gut and then jabbed a knife or two into his heart before leaving him. And the solitary walk hadn't helped any. Entering the shop, he glanced over toward the corner. He made a disgusted noise in his throat and shook his head. Sure enough, his master had been drinking and was out drunk. "Right where I left you." He shook his head. He moved forward and then stopped. Looking down at a tool he frowned. "Not where I left you." He looked up. That's when he saw her. She was very attractive and in her current position, a bit immodest. But that quickly slipped his mind as he saw the shackles, the weapons and realized who she was. Lightning fast he drew a sword and held it out toward her. "You're the one everyone's talking about," he said. "The one that kidnapped the Governor's niece." He had picked up the news on his final leg back. He would have gone to check on if Elizabeth and her cousin was ok but he figured they were now. No doubt heavily guarded and his going over there would not be appreciated. Especially as he'd then have to explain why. But it worked out. Because right here was the woman who had threatened the life of Elizabeth's cousin. And that meant she brought grief and stress to Elizabeth. Something he would not tolerate.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Elizabeth could only feel glad that her young cousin was out of the hands of that pirate woman. As much as she and Abigail daydreamed about the whole pirate image, the elder now knew that neither of them could be fully prepared, if they were ever to get caught up, in a bad situation. Quite literally. Having to follow with Abigail back to the manor, she had to really go back and think about her cousin getting caught in such a bad spot. Not only that, but back to the vows that she had made. "We did", she simply responded, to hitch sounded like a mix of worry, and almost regret. Commodore Norrington was not the man she had wanted to marry, but another of whom she couldn't have. ———————————————— Tying the last knot with the loose parchment, Vivienne gave a few winces once the bandage was in place on the wound of her thigh. Damn those sentries and their guns. She thought to her inner self as the pain hit her, the randomized bullet rubbing against the flesh of her leg once she tightened it. The brunette tried her best to stand up, but it was proven difficult once again with her wound, making her lean against the workbench near the pit of fire. Taking a few breaths, she didn't hear the latch being fiddled with. From the outside! The brunette didn't move from her spot and she froze, once she heard what seemed to be one of Port Royal's blacksmiths. She didn't need to get herself caught by the public, but honestly, this new arrival sounded interesting, and a hint of curiosity hit her. Despite this curiosity, Vivienne kept herself in a collected fashion once again, as if she was expecting a visitor; the same way she expected one of her crewman to enter her quarters back on the ship. She didn't look at him, though, just kept her head down, while keeping herself leaning against the bench. The only thought she had was: Really? Really? But this thought was on a pause once she heard him take a few steps towards her. Smoothly, by sucking up the pain, Vivienne stepped away from her leaning position, and looked upon him with her youthful visage; her expression cold, but soft while examining him up and down with her blue eyes, only keening a little. She stalked a few steps towards him, even as he pointed a recently-sheathed sword in front of her. "You're an interesting specimen", the pirate observed, as her eyes scanned him a little more. "Yet almost familiar", she curiously asked him. Keening her blue eyes a little, she felt this action to be pathetic: challenging/threatening a pirate with said weapon. "You sure you want to cross blades with a pirate?", Vivienne half-teased with curiosity, before sheathing her own sword, allowing it to grind against the steel of his own to tease him a bit, while slowly putting herself into a defensive stand, her eyes boring into his own. "A woman?", she added. Kidnapped? It wasn't exactly as such. But rather an action performed to make an easy escape. "I think you mistaken me for someone else, love. I'm just passing through."</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne's eyes bored into his own, and gave a half-coy smile at his statements. She remained silent as he went on and on about facing a pirate. "You wouldn't hurt a lady; I can see it in those eyes. They tell a story", that was when she let her sword be swiped in his direction; starting high, then low. High, then low. Low to high. The patten went on: parries, dodges, blows, then repeat. In the beginning, the pirate advanced on the male with her strikes. But when she noticed him advancing in retaliation, Vivienne had to reconsider that he was, most definitely, not an amateur. Backing up, while dodging and parrying with his strikes, she made a hiss of pain with a grit of her teeth; the injury upon her high-leg flared. It was enough to make her lose her balance a little, until she knocked her lower back into the workbench next to her. Maybe if she played around with this man, Vivienne could easily decide whether or not he would potentially be trusting, and even worth sparing. So, with that, she waited for his next move. With the table behind her, it could get fun. Obviously in a spot that had no easy route, she decided to take a detour; as he strikes, practically aiming for a part of her body, the Vivienne slid down to the floor, forming a split with her legs, allowing herself to duck, while letting his sword hit the wood of the workbench. He was pushing it, she thought while letting herself roll away from him, and towards the huge forging mechanism nearby, which seemed to be holding all of the newly-forged weaponry upon its belt. Standing just a few feet away from him, Vivienne gazed at him. "I can see you know what you're doing. Fantastic footwork", she complimented him, before looking at him challengingly, mainly to intimidate him. "But once again, love: you are between me, and my way out", it was true, he was in the way. She keened her blue eyes, and put herself in a defensive stance, smirking mischievously. "Shall we dance?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will raised an eyebrow and parried another shot. "A lady? You're right, I wouldn't. But you and I both know you probably don't fall under that, now do you?" He met every strike she did. He realized she was probably baiting him - trying anyway. She wasn't succeeding but at the same time he did get the feeling she was testing him out. Striking out at her, he jammed the sword hard into the wood. He pulled but it was fairly stuck. He attempted to pull it out but only for a moment before seeing that she was going to leave. Quickly leaving it, he moved forward, yanked a weapon out of the massive forging platform, he quickly moved to block her. He held up the sword and pointed it at her. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he said refusing to let her go. "And honestly, you're not my dance partner type." He lunged at her intent to get her off balance. He didn't go too fast. That would be risky and have higher chance of making a mistake. Yet at the same time, he had caught her wince from earlier. He had seen how she slightly favored her one side. She was injured and undoubtedly in pain. The harder he pushed her, the better chance he can capture her alive. For despite everything, all he said, she was still a woman. And though he did plan to kill pirates one day, killing a woman - pirate or not - was not something he really had the stomach for. So instead he'd need to capture her. That in turn required skill, wit, and using her injury against her. All of which he was more than capable of doing. "I not only make swords," he told her as he continued to press, "but I practice five hours a day with them. That way, when I do meet a pirate I would be able to kill or capture him. Or in your case, her." He smiled.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Sparks flew as she hit high and low, while he strikes back in equal measure. All in all, it was the same pattern...although the pirate grabbed one of the small forged blades nearby. Vivienne threw it at him with force, but missing, with him being able to dodge the incoming projectile. "You made all these?", she curiously asked him, somewhat amazed, while keeping up with his strikes. Five hours a day?, the brunette thought, internally groaning. "You really need to find yourself a girl, love", she remarked with that grin again, playful. However, internally, Vivienne was slightly getting frustrated to not lay a mark upon him, but in admittance, his skill was cutting. Vivienne knew that the more she pushed it, the more she could get inside his head, and find out what makes him tick. That last comment she made probably went a little too far in the young man's boundary. The pirate almost got herself struck, once she dodged a rather powerful swing. Vivienne's blade unexpectedly locked with his own, surprisingly feeling his strength from the performed action. Her hand suddenly snatched itself onto the tied-collar of his shirt, to make her face closer to his own, while their blades were in an x-formation between them. "Or, maybe because you already found one, but can't woo her?", Vivienne was practically taunting him again, although it was meant to be a curious question. Who was the girl?</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe She was a bit desperate. Or so he figured as she tried to throw a few things at him to distract him. Will moved quickly and effectively, avoiding the knives thrown at him. Knives he had made. "Yes," he said as she threw out the question. He had spent years mastering the craft. Making each one better than before. The sword he completed for the Commodore was his crowning achievement to date. It was the apex of all the swords he had created, each one better than the last. That said, the other swords weren't bad and were well designed and balanced. The ones that were completely off or useless he had destroyed. There was no point keeping something that was worthless around. You really need to find yourself a girl, love. Little did the pirate woman know how much that stung. Striking hard, Will had to catch himself from letting his anger show. Thoughts of Elizabeth and how she'd never be his filled his mind. Fueling him. Pushing him. He stiffened slightly as she locked blades and grabbed his shirt. The taunt was too much. With increased vigor he pushed her hard, striking out, blocking every blow. Using a technique he learned, he managed to de-sword her. Of course, it didn't help she had a pistol. "That's cheating," he said lifting his head glaring at her, despite having a pistol pointed toward his head.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne knew he would be angry, so she let the question go, and let go of him, practically allowing herself to be pushed back by his strength. However, her injury didn't help, and the brunette stumbled a little, but she stubbornly ignored it, keeping herself composed once the male advanced upon her again, following her in this uneasy acquaintance of a game. Time and time again, the pirate was using her body language to taunt, or distract him: winks and smiles, toying with him in this scuffle of a dance. Her smile was still there as Vivienne advanced on him with swings of her sword, jumping away to dodge his strikes, and block them every time he came close. Swiping, the pirate tried to aim for any part of his body, but every time she made a strike, she grew annoyed by his uncanny skill, even after he managed to knock the sword out of her hand, causing her blade to hit the wall, piercing itself there. Vivienne's confident grin faltered, almost dumbstruck when he flashed the same expression back to her. Damn me and my arrogance She clearly underestimated this young man; he wasn't lying. Looking from her propelled sword, and back to him, the pirate needed to think outside the box. Before he could advance, she quickly threw loose dirt in his face, temporarily blinding him. If he had his vision back, there would be a gun cocked to his face. "Sometimes cheating helps when there are no rules", the brunette stated, until she heard banging coming from the front door. They found her! She needed to leave. Now! Getting up quickly with the pain of her wound still there, she kept the gun aimed at him. Noticing that he was blocking the path to the backdoor, the brunette was getting impatient. "Move away", she told him, almost desperate. Vivienne was putting her finger on the trigger, and she figured that she would just shoot the young man anyway. But like before, the brunette didn't seem to have it in her to kill an innocent person. It only reminded her of the girl she just spared. She hardened her gaze towards him, and flicked the switch. "This shot is not for you", she confessed to him. "You don't deserve it", she added with sympathy showing on her beautiful features. What she didn't notice was someone hitting the back of her head. She did feel herself getting a bit ditzy, before falling forward at the blacksmith's feet; the pistol falling out of her hand.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will blinked quickly, rubbing at his eyes to get the dirt clear. It was a dirty trick but one he should have expected from a pirate. Not that it mattered. The gun leveled at his head practically ended the duel. Which, though unfair and completely cheating, was something he would expect from someone without honor. His jaw clenched slightly as he stared at the woman waiting for her to fire. "No." If his refusal shortened the amount of time she could escape than it would be worth it. She'd get caught and justice would prevail. True, he'd be dead but did it matter? Elizabeth had married someone else. There was no one waiting for him. No one who would truly miss him. His master wouldn't. The town might miss a decent blacksmith but who cared about that? If his life brought the end of a pirate, bringing justice to Elizabeth and her cousin, then he would die willingly. And with dignity. He lifted his chin, straightening slightly as he waited for the gun to fire. Nothing. He was a bit surprised as the woman seemed to decide not to kill him. Was she crazy? She was about to be captured and she had sympathy for him. For him? That made no sense. Still, if she felt like that would change anything she was wrong. But before he could do anything, the glass bottle hit the pirate on the head and she crumbled just as the soldiers broke in. Will frowned staring down at her and then looking up. His master stood there with a broken rum bottle, a bit dazed, a bit happy with himself. Of course, the soldiers congratulated the man for his 'quick thinking' and capturing the criminal. Both of which disgusted Will. If it hadn't been for him the woman would have been long gone. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, his master would probably be dead or thrown out of the blacksmith shop for his terrible work. Will watched as they dragged the woman away. Then with a shake of his head he turned. Ignoring his master he pushed out the front door and away from the blacksmith shop, the soldiers, and in the opposite direction of the prison.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne was out cold; up to the point where she found herself waking up within one of the cells of Port Royal's brigs. She growled in frustration, even after finding that her effects were removed from her figure; searched her throughly it would seem, if she was ever gonna slip a tiny blade from her boot. Looking at the window that was above her, Vivienne slumped down upon the floor, leaning against the cell door, and registered that the young man she fought was uncanny, and the brunette did admit that he even had such skill to fend her off. Was he absolutely sure that he didn't have any familiarity with pirates? The brunette chuckled in amusement at the thought, eventually letting herself stare at the window before her. She just wished that one of these days, she would let herself go mad on such thoughts. The brunette didn't have much else to do, but she was leaning against the bars of her cell. Not that there was even much else; just a sitting place made of rock, and dirt covering the wooden floor. No doubt about the cell size. Not too big, not too small. It was probably large enough for a one-on-one fight, or perhaps hold a capacity of five, maybe six prisoners. For Vivienne, it was big enough, nonetheless; lying on her back, in the middle of the floor with her hair fanned out, and the light of the moon shining upon her youthful face. One of her legs crossing over the other.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black A few sighs of boredom, and somewhat tiredness, came from her as the brunette just stared at either the moonlight or the ceiling. However, her time of loneliness didn't last for long. With a small voice coming from the brig entrance, the pirate's attention was caught as she turned her head to the side, and frowning to see the girl she just held captive a few hours ago. "Have you come to say 'thanks' and 'goodbye'?", the pirate asked, almost amusingly, before sighing miserably yet amusingly, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to the ceiling. In all honesty, she did wonder what Abigail's intention was. Is she starstruck? Was she attracted to her?, it would be amusing if it was the last one.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail wasn't sure exactly what she'd find here. What Vivienne would say. She hadn't expected the prison to be this bad. She had never been down here before and even know was a bit afraid of getting caught. But that didn't stop her from remaining. At the woman's question, Abigail winced slightly. Another reminder that the person who saved her life would end up dead because of her. If she hadn't fallen in the woman probably wouldn't have been noticed by the Commodore and in turn wouldn't have had to run. Abigail wondered how she did manage to get captured. She had a head start and had seemed clever enough to get away. She also hadn't appeared worried when Abigail had given her a spot to hide too. Which meant, she had a plan. Or had. Somehow it backfired. Unless this was part of it. If it was, Abigail couldn't see how it was helpful. "I'm sorry you're hear." Her voice was quiet and she moved a lot closer to the bars so Vivienne could hear her without giving away her own presence to the guards. "I wish I could do something but my uncle won't stand to hear of it. He thinks you're a pirate. It doesn't matter if you saved my life." There was a bit of anger in her tone at the injustice of it all. It was unfair and injustice. Pirate or not, a life for a life. The woman had saved her life - the niece of the governor. That had to have counted for something - right? But no, when she had attempted to explain it, her uncle shut her down. Even Elizabeth - who had listened patiently - told her that there wasn't much that could be done. And that, yes - the woman had saved her - but undoubtedly for ill intent. She had used her as a hostage. And that move right there had made Elizabeth immediately dislike Vivienne. Abigail could tell, even though her cousin tried to hide it, that Elizabeth did not feel bad that Vivienne was going to hang. In a way, she was almost glad. She too seemed to overlook the fact that Abigail would have drowned. Something that the young girl could not forget. "Why did you save me?" She asked curiously. "You could have left me alone and never been accused of being a pirate. You would be free right now." The woman couldn't be a pirate. They were ruthless. Not kind. And definitely not one to risk their neck for another.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne overheard the girl as she revealed her inner thoughts and feelings on the scenario. She couldn't agree, although she took it a lot more calmly. "Can't expect more than that, love", the woman simply responded with a frown, before sitting up, and gazing at her from where she sat. "As much as you want to disagree, your uncle is not too far from that assumption", she clarified before revealing the pirate tattoo on her shoulder; the moonlight making it easier for Abigail to see. She also arched an eyebrow at the girl's question of why she would risk her life for her own. "Come now, Miss Abigail", she said, before a smile appeared on her beautiful features. "Just because I am a wanted-buccaneer, doesn't mean I don't have it in me to let someone die so young. A life is ahead of you. It would have been unfair if fate met you that early. Wouldn't you want to have an adventure before letting the light fade out?", she asked, more in casual curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned slightly. Her gaze went down to the mark on the woman's wrist. Wait, she was a pirate? That made no sense though. The woman wasn't like any pirate she had read or heard about. They were all men, evil, vile, and would have thought nothing twice about killing her or leaving her to die. Her questioning gaze looked up. Vivienne must have read her mind or was referring to her previous question because she came back about not letting someone as young as her die. Adventure? She was going to be married off and enter the stage where her main purpose was to bear an heir and support her husband. There was no major adventure in that. Still, she was glad to be alive. For despite what her family had planned for her, she still wouldn't want to miss out. There was undoubtedly some good ahead, right? She moved closer to the bars and sat. Absentmindedly she adjusted her dress covering her ankles. She had been lectured enough that it was almost ingrained. Though not fully. She shrugged. "I'm grateful, yes. I just don't know about the whole adventure aspect." She looked up. "My parents are arranging my marriage. I guess that is an adventure. Marrying a man I've never met." She smiled weakly. The smile quickly faded as guilt hit. Here she was talking about marriage and her future when the woman was going to be executed. She looked at the bars briefly before back to Vivienne. "I wish there was a way I could save you," she said grieved. "It's the least I can do." Ironically though, the very thought of stealing the keys and letting Vivienne out briefly crossed her mind. It wasn't something she ever did before. The most she did that was 'wrong' was sneak out, wade in the ocean - minor things. Nothing major. Breaking someone out of prison - now that was serious. No, there had to be another way. A way that was law-abiding yet still provided justice. Justice for saving her life. There was no justice in executing someone who had just saved another. "Maybe I can ask them to give you a lighter sentence?" She straightened up a bit, hopeful.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The pirate had her eyebrow raised, once she heard Abigail whisper to her about what seems to be her future. She kept eye contact with her, slightly frowning at what seems to be distress. Although Vivienne wasn't sure whether if the young lass was glad about it, or if she was pretending to be. It made the woman looked the girl over, before giving her a small smile. "Not probable, sweet-cheeks. And I get it: Privilege never stroke me fancy, either. You feel restricted; limited. If you ask me, those chains should come off, and they should give you freedom. Isn't that what you want? To be free?", she asked, again, in curiosity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Deep within the night, a dark ship loomed over the calm sea, like the spirit of death, as it glided ever so closely to Port Royale and its unsuspecting inhabitants. On another ship, that was hidden behind the two rocks, a few yards away from the dock, the lights upon it were doused to make it appear dark. An eyeglass unfolded, just in time to see this other ship drift in. The ship's quartermaster watched with a good eye as this other ship moved past them, towards the dock. Come on, Vivienne... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "INCOMING!" The brunette heard the yell outside of the brig, just until the thundering sound of a cannonball hit the room, blowing a giant hole in Vivienne's cell, and creating a disturbance on the stone walls. Vivienne made a yell of surprise as the dust brushed over her and her saloon-like dress; however, the noise of stone crashing down didn't go unnoticed outside of her cell: the debris of rock that the cannonball hit near the girl, propelled an explosion of its debris to go flying. With much effort, Vivienne managed to push herself up, and take notice of the girl on the other side of the bars, laying nearby; either unconscious or dead, the pirate wasn't sure. Just by looking at her, Vivienne's sympathy came back, showing pity...and a little confusion. She didn't tell her ship to fire, nor to advance in any way. Plus, the ship was concealed behind the rocks, so the current blast range way out of its depth. Was it another ship? Using all the strength she had to stand, Vivienne looked out of the hole to peek outside the prison, which was clearly not big enough for her to go through, though took notice upon a sight she didn't expect to see: The nightly view of the harbor...with a ship blowing projectiles upon the town.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked up. First off - sweet cheeks? The name seemed...strange. Very weird, making her feel a bit uncomfortable not really knowing if Vivienne was mocking her or not. What did that even mean? The daughter of an aristocrat, she didn't have a lot of knowledge of lay terms. And this one was one she had never heard before. She bit her lip at the question. "Freedom?" She shook her head, a slight scoffing sound escaping her lips. "One can't leave." She glanced up. "You have the family honor and name to support. Besides, it's not my call. My father decides my fate. It's the way of life - at least for someone of my status." She winced as that seemed to come off haughty though she hadn't meant it too. She quickly amended: "I mean, the daughter of a lord, the niece of a governor," she shook her head. "My fate was sealed the moment I was born a girl." She held up her arms, looking at her wrists. In her mind's eye she could see the chains Vivienne spoke of. "Would I like to be truly unrestrained?" She shrugged, letting her arms drop. "What does that even mean? What is true freedom?" She looked a bit lost, unsure. "If I'm not who I am, do what is expected of me, then what?" She rose. "Social requirements might not be ideal and the thought of marrying a stranger terrifies me, but....there is a reason we have rules and guidelines and societal norms. I can't function on my own. And the very idea of a woman attempting to do so is... unimaginable." She paused as she realized that the woman there before her probably had. Her brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer to the cell. "But...but you have. How?" There was a bit of curiosity mixed with a hint of desperation. "How did you do it without being ostracized?" She paled as if she realized she was speaking of things she probably shouldn't have - on her end. Things that she might have thought of but hadn't dared to voice. It was crazy and not her. "I'm...I'm sorry. No. I don't. I'm fine with who I am. I might not be happy but there are reasons why life goes the way it does." She turned and moved slightly away. "I'll...I'll try to do what I can to save you." Her moving away was what saved her life. The canon ball blasted into the cell causing damage. Because she had moved, Abigail was spared the worst of it though she was knocked out as a chunk of wood hit her alongside the head. Her body slumped to the ground.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The town was under chaos and destruction. Screams, explosions, pirates running amok, and...the blacksmith fighting back? "Say goodbye!", the pirate he was fighting said. Quickly, and out in great speed, a projecting cannonball snapped a chain to a sign, making it fall upon the offender, making him fall through a window. The invaders went as far as to make it all the way to the Governor's mansion, where Swann sat at his desk, anxiously worrying about his niece, and silently praying for his daughter to depart Port Royale safely. The fort was caught unaware, but they quickly fought back, as several soldiers poured onto the streets, and cannon-fire was returned at the ship, where the lieutenant walked alongside the men, giving them orders, along with courage to fight back. The prison was rather a strange place for a couple of pirates to wander into, but nonetheless, two of them did. They thought the prison to be the armory, but they instead found the place to be a brig. "'ey, Twig, look what we 'ave 'ere", one of them said, taking in the sight of the girl, who was slowly trying to regain consciousness. With not the best intent, they moved forward, and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to her feet. One of them saw the thin band around the girl's neck, before freezing it place, as the moonlight reflected on the rare pirate coin, dangling there. Vivienne was already feeling a bit overwhelmed at the noises of blasts coming from outside the fort. She did, however, regret that she told her crew to keep the ship hidden. They could really use the aid right now. But an counterattack upon the fort would be a waste of their artillery. She didn't need another lecture coming from Silver. Or better yet, she didn't need to be told on what not to do. From her cell, the woman had her attention on the two intruders, almost amused that they didn't seem to notice her yet. However, with them beginning to manhandle Abigail, it wasn't long until she got their attention. "Quite valuable, isn't it?", she spoke up, as she crossed over to the bars of her cell. "May I ask you to release the girl? Please?", she feigned politeness with that smirk of hers.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black At first, both of her captors ignored her; one of them letting go of her, and walking towards the prison cell. "Well, well, well", he mused, having to chuckle at the irony. "Look at what we have here. If it isn't Vivienne Black. Excuse me, Captain Vivienne Black", it was as if he was mocking, or being skeptical of her, finding her position in life to be rather pitiful; pathetic. If only he knew about the about of success the said-woman had achieved. "What's ye interest in the lass?", he, once again, mocked; the other pirate chuckling with him, though his grip on Abigail's arm did not loosen. Just as the girl was about to reach for the medallion, he tightened his grip, before stopping her with a backhand to her face, and yanking the chain off her neck. It dug into her skin slightly, before giving in, breaking. The other pirate, who approached the imprisoned woman, had his smile fade. "Want the gold piece for ye' self?" Vivienne's own smile faded, as soon as intruder did. Just a frown, once she noticed, and heard, the sound of a slap coming from behind him. Did the girl's new captor just hit her? The pirate lass' gaze only stared at the tall, masculine, and nearly beefy visitor before her; the bars of her cell separating herself and them, the faint smile making itself known again. "My interest?", the brunette asked him rhetorically. "That girl?", she gestured to the direction where Abigail was held. "The gold?", she narrowed her eyes at him. It was like a up-close encounter with this guy. She then suddenly snatched the front of his shirt, and pulled; so fast and strong, his face hit the steel bars between them. "Watch yourself. You tell Captain Low we'll see him soon", she warned him menacingly before finally letting her grip fall from his shirt. The pirate scowled and brushed himself off. "Yeah", he laughed, but there was also a slight hint of intimidation. Not for the crew, but for him personally. His Captain was one of the best around. But, that didn't mean, personally, he was free. A pirate made many stops, and if someone was out to get you, they could do it away from your crew. He brushed it aside, trying to convince himself that the woman was just in that state of madness, like any other captain, who would sail for too long. "You ain't goin' anywhere but the gallows", he replied, pretending to tip a hat. "Pleasant dreams. Give me regards to Davy Jones", he laughed and turned away. "We got ourselves quite a lady here. Should be interesting. You'll enjoy our Cap'n. He's always been wantin' a bit of sport", that wicked smirk was back, before they pulled Abigail towards the stairs, along with the gold coin. Vivienne narrowed her eyes once again, before that smile of hers made itself known. But once she made a final glance at Abigail, it made her lose the act of carelessness. Captain Ned Low now had the New World's most expensive of riches; not to mention a person of an even higher class upon his vessel. She needed to get to that coin before Low attempts to sell it for something twice as valuable. But first things first, she needed to find a way out of this bloody cell. It was going to be nearly dawn, and the longer she sat in there, Vivienne was up to the point of passing out in sleep upon the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The slap was hard and nothing held back. Cheek burning, Abigail blinked back tears. He slapped her. Without thought, without so much of a reply. Her confidence wavered a bit. Now, this was what a pirate was. Not the romanticized version she and Elizabeth had fantasized about. No, this was the dark, dangerous kind that she had been warned about. The type that had no issues hitting a woman, let alone hurting her. Her heart rate picked up slightly and Abigail felt fear. She had never felt the intensity before. But then again, she never had the need to. Even when she had almost died she hadn't felt this kind of fear. But then again, that had happened quickly. And there was something about the fear of drowning - which was intense - and the terror knowing that you were held by men who would do unspeakable things to you and then kill you. And if they didn't kill you, the horrors done might as well be death. Still, she did her best to at least look strong. Face slightly pale, her neck hurt where the necklace had been ripped off, she kept her posture. She didn't speak but she did her best to mentally put as much anger and fire into her eyes as possible. She would not show fear. Not give them the satisfaction that she was terrified. If she was going to be taken, she would do so with dignity and fire. Her chin lifted again, even as the stinging of her cheek was still evident. "My father will personally ensure your deaths," she said calmly, coldly. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant." Even as they half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, she did her best to remain confident. Despite every step they took was one closer to possible death. The likelihood of getting out of this was slim. Her gaze drifted over to Vivianne. She couldn't read the expression on the woman's face due to the distance and lighting. Interesting really. She still felt a bit sad for the woman. She was still a prisoner and to be executed. Despite, her own possible future, Abigail still wished she had been able to do something for Vivienne. Though, she couldn't now. And honestly, she really had more to worry about. But...it did help. Thinking of Vivienne saving her life just made her more determined to survive this.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The two pirates forcibly put Abigail into a rowboat, and began to row out towards the attacking pirate vessel, sitting out in the open. Explosions continued to sound all around them. And for one moment, a shell nearly hit them, as it screamed overhead. One of her captors kept a tight grip upon her arm the entire trip, while his other hand held the pirate coin, also gripped tightly. Amid the thunder of cannon fire that surrounded the Fancy, stood an imposing, silhouetted figure by the wheel, too far from where Abigail was firstly deployed, but watched the scene nonetheless. A nonchalant, emotionless stare was all he gave, as he just stood there with a sword at his waist. At the mention of his title, this figure strode in a cool-minded manner towards the stairs, his boots thumping against the wood. A cloud of cannon smoke obscured him for a moment, but as soon as he made it to the deck, his full presence became known: wearing the darkest of colors, but nothing imposing; just a simple dark t-shirt, a dark jacket, and a pair of dark pants, along with the heavy boots that left an echo in the wood at every step, his hair was short, medium-brown, wavy, and just above his shoulders, with a stubble that perfectly angled his lower jaw. The real element was his scarred, pale right-eye; he was possibly half-blind, with the other appearing perfectly in a normal blue, but he did give off a good penetrating stare with both on his person. He wasn't that tall, being at five-foot eight, nor too strong with an evident slim, athletic physique, which gave off that quality of being easily deceiving. That showed that he was a man you'd fear in a dark alley. The darkness and shadow surrounding the deck proved that right. The right hand resting upon the sword at his waist, armed with a pistol and a dagger, he was before his crew, standing only a few feet away from the newcomer. This was Captain Edward Low, the man behind this nightly massacre. "Cap'n. Look what we found. She also had this", the pirate finally released her...by pushing her forward, and making her land in a heap at the man's feet, shortly before handing over the coin to him. Low didn't speak a word, he just listened. Listening, and observing the situation; his unconcerned gaze never leaving, even as he was passed the trinket by one of his men. He still didn't speak, just fiddled with the object in his hand, his attention now resting on the girl, who just got deposed of at his feet. It was like he was in a moment of processing the information being passed down to him, while still fiddling with the metal, almost outlining its design. In just short notice, the captain finally stopped this action, now having his full attention on the girl, to the point of kneeling down to one knee, towering over her. "My apologies, miss", he finally said after a long while, sounding Irish by his accent. The tone wasn't exactly sympathetic, but rather shallow. Casual with monotone. "I confess, they lack manners. Especially with a damsel", it didn't sound deep, but in the normal range of lacking emotion.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The explosions rocked the town, even as Abigail found herself dragged to a rowboat. She glared at her captors as she did her best to retain her dignity and pride. In the boat she held her head high, keeping the fear of what was to come as well as the fear of getting killed in the raging fight, from her face. She was surprised that the fight was still going on. The pirates must have come fairly prepared though even with the surprise attack they had to be stupid. One didn't attack a British fort with just one ship. Especially one this. Even with the surprise attack, Port Royale was a pretty strong defensive place and as the garrison quickly responded, they would push the pirates out. Part of this was evident in the town. From where she could see, Abigail noted that the other rowboats were pulling away from the town even as British regulars came down from the garrison slowly regaining control. Shame it had taken them too long. If she survived this, she'd probably have to give them some points on how improving their response time. IF she survived. The thought brought a chill down her spine. Her best bet was to hope they would ransom her. She was a high valued target and that might convince them to try and ransom her back to her father. Of course, he, in turn, would undoubtedly pay but then hunt them down, wiping every last one of them out. Abigail was no fool. She loved her father and knew he loved her, but her love wasn't completely deaf to the knowledge that he was very strict and one didn't oppose him. She could get away with a few things because she was his only child. And despite being a girl - which usually was a paux for an only child - she knew she just had to smile at him, maybe bat her lashes a little and he'd usually give in. Not that she played that card well. It didn't always work - just once in a while. Being pulled onto the ship and then tossed at the feet of what was evident to be the captain, Abigail quickly pulled herself up to at least a seated position. Her chin lifted as she stared up coldly at the man. She couldn't hide her surprise at his politeness though it quickly became evident that there was really no emotion behind it. Which in turn made him far more dangerous in some regards. "I concur, their manners do need to be checked. But I can easily dismiss this," she paused and looked around her before looking back at the captain, "misunderstanding if you kindly provide me a rowboat back to town." She doubted it would work but if he was going to pretend to be honorable she was going to push him on it.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The crew chuckled at the girl's audacity. The captain was in control here. No doubt, he'd refuse her, using some political language or such to deny her request. The only response received from the man, being a silent nod to his quartermaster, Meeks, before turning around to walk into his cabin. Mister Meeks didn't say anything, and approached the girl. The face he made wasn't threatening, but rather pity. In other ways, he was impressed by her courage, and only a few have believed that Meeks was actually one of the more sympathetic on the crew. Unlike most, he was also one of the few recruits who felt that they were being driven by a madman. He's seen what the captain can do, and in truth, he may be a cowardly quartermaster, but he continued to follow him nonetheless. The last time someone tried to depose Captain Low, didn't end very well, and the last thing he wanted to do, was an attempt to cross him. Even though he had good judgement, he was reluctant to even use it, due to the fact that Ned had a few loyal men at his disposal. Gripping her upper arm, and gesturing her to stand, he non-forcibly led her towards the captain's cabin; the stares, and a few light chuckles from the fellow crew lingering behind them. Opening the door, the quarters of Low were decent; not as rich. But by the lack of maps and books, shows that this man is almost seemingly an amateur to this life, or had just recently stole the ship an amount of time before arriving in Port Royal. The captain himself was sitting in that wooden chair, a few feet from the door, in front of a decent-size desk that almost looked more like a wooden table...along with an all-too-familiar Commodore hat sitting on it, along with an all-too-familiar dress in one of the chairs. Ned just happened to notice the entrance of Mister Meeks and his prize; blue eyes neutrally watching her, his quartermaster sat the girl in a wooden chair, that was at a good distance across from Ned. "For a lovely lady, I'm impressed", his nonchalant Irish-English voice responded, having no emotion in it, as usual. "For you, to be found as treasure, you're the ticket for trade", he raised the hand that was sitting on the desk, and the golden medallion hung on the chain, showing it on display for Abigail.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ned Low didn't smile -- no, he rarely smiled; only making those crooked smirks upon distant, blank facial expressions. He almost seemed to be impaired in both his emotions and thoughts. 'Succinct' would be a better term to describe such behavior for such a maniacal captain like himself. In these waters, Captain Low was, quoted by both his own crew and other bucaneers, "savage and desperate", "peculiarly cruel", and "a man of amazing, grotesque brutality". These were true to the witnesses, and whether he cared or not, Edward didn't have qualms or morals; he was charismatically claimed to be "an honest man of great strength". The medallion he held by the black string, lightly swayed in the dim candlelight; the skull seemingly laughing in the center. "Your father is Lord Peter Ashe, governor of the Carolina colony", the captain stated in that apathetic voice of his, while both of his "eyes" remained on her. His voice wasn't deep, more like on the baritone scale; not too deep, not too high. "We know him. By 'we', I meant all", he added. "Every pirate who's sailed under a flag knows him", that one blue eye is looking at her now, his tone grim. "I will be sending a message to him; delivered by one of my men, with the following: 'You are a prisoner of the pirate Captain Ned Low. Your ransom, if he ever wishes to see you alive again, is £250,000 ($323,190). Whether or not he applies to these terms, a new contact will arrive in Charlestown harbor with you in my possession. If I sense a trap, or if the demands are unmet, I'll kill you, and throw your body into the bay'", and he said it all in those words. Ned watched her look at the medallion in his hand, evident by her constant, flicking glances. "I have no gift for politics; navigation is foreign to me", he shook his head lightly, the medallion still in his hand. This time, looking it over, before standing up from the wooden chair he sat in. "So, 'what am I good at?', you might ask", Ned would guess, before slowly striding to the girl's side, looking down at her, before bending over, so one of his hands laid on the desk, while the other on the head of the chair she sat in. "This is going to sound absurd but", he paused, his apathetic voice slightly softening, making the conversation be between the two of them. "I make the men feel better about themselves. You see, they can spot a lie when a captain is sickened by his own actions; they feel affected. With me, when they see me slaughter the crew of the Good Fortune, when they see me cut out a man's tongue for lying, when they see me burn a boy alive in front of his father's eyes, they know", it sounded a bit rushed, but it was clear. "They can see it in my eyes", emphasizing to the emotionless appendages. "There's no lie there. There's no secret remorse there. I simply don't have it in me", there was that grim undertone again. He then followed her gaze towards the two recent trinkets on the table. "Like them", he referred to the objects that formerly belonged to a certain someone. "A couple on a British vessel. Sweet thing; the woman, until her man decided to act first. She would have made me an excellent trophy, but then I learn she's married. I pay my respects; I gave her a favor: To join her man", his voice would send chills up someone's spine, until he pulled away from the girl. "At any rate, I hope that clarifies things, and that it illustrates why it is only fair for me to fully compensate with my men to not touch you, as we reach our destination", the captain stood back up to his full height, continuing to look at the trinket that's in his hand. He then nodded back to Mister Meeks, who reluctantly acknowledged him, by approaching Abigail, and taking her by the upper arm, leading her out of the cabin, and to the brig.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Before I answer that, answer this: Why so desperate to retrieve that girl?", she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Who is she to you?", it was a curious question, and all she needed was a reason. Plus, she needed to know. "What's your name?", she then asked, finding herself staring. After hearing the name, it slowly came to her, and somehow, she felt as if she had heard it from somewhere. The brunette found herself making a half-smirk. "Short for William, is it not?", she asked, becoming a little impressed. "A good, strong name for a young man", she nodded at the thought before making a frown. He will take that as a compliment, no doubt. But she will most definitely wonder on why he came so persistent on rescuing this damsel. However, upon hearing his offer, she continued to narrow, almost to see if he was being true to his word. "Well, Mister Turner, my name is Vivienne Black...and my mind's been made up. Just how do you plan on getting me out?", Vivienne then wondered if he had a plan, giving herself leverage on standing, though she made the same wince to the injury from yesterday. If she considered, this young man would be useful on the contrary, and he might even be worth sparing. "The task of rescuing Miss Abigail will not be easy, and therefore, if you ever wish to see her alive, you will listen to me at all times. In return, if this deal runs smoothly, you, and her, will walk away, safely. Do we have an accord?", the brunette reached out her hand through the bars, waiting patiently for him to seal it.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe There was a sense of pride, accomplishment that Will felt when the governor complimented the sword. Of course, he didn't show it. From the governor's point of view, it wasn't Will who had done it but his master. And that was fine. He kept the charade. "I will, Sir." He gave a slight bow. He lingered slightly hoping he might see Elizabeth but he doubted he'd see her. It was her wedding day and she probably had so much to do. Besides, it was probably for the best. She was getting married. It never really would have worked for him. He was a blacksmith and she the daughter of a governor. He was an orphan washed upon the beach, she was a princess, raised like royalty. "Congratulations on your daughter's wedding," he said not really feeling it but being polite. With another slight bow he left. Again, it was probably for the best. As much as he'd love to see Elizabeth, talk to her, he knew there was a level of propriety expected. She could never know he has feelings for her. That he cared for her. And now that she would marry, he had to ensure she'd never know. He left the governor's mansion and started the long walk back to the village below. ~ ~ ~ Abigail bit her lip. Her gaze turned seaward again. It was strange seeing her cousin, someone who always was a bit of a rock in her life, be nervous. But at the same time, it was probably expected. Every bride to be was nervous. She wasn't even betrothed to someone yet and already her nerves were on edge. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Gentle? Loving? Or would he be harsh? Stern? Would he be old and unattractive or young and gorgeously handsome? That was one thing Abigail knew Elizabeth had going for her. The Commodore was attractive. He was also a lot older than her but that wasn't uncommon. Though she knew her cousin's heart was really more set on someone else, though neither discussed it and the older girl would probably deny it if confronted. Still.... She sighed as Elizabeth stood and told her they should go. Going over she found her shoes though she didn't put them on yet. Her feet and ankles had sand on them and she would need to clean them off before putting her shoes on. The fact they were wet didn't help any. Not that she was complaining. In fact, she would do it again if she could. As they headed off the beach and up toward the house Abigail saw Will. A smile formed on her face, not so much for her but for Elizabeth. She personally didn't know Will too much. They interacted while she was in Port Royal but they didn't have the friendship he and Elizabeth had. She nudged her cousin and inclined her head. "Look who came to visit." Her eyes danced as she knew he was the someone her cousin liked.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Taking the case in hand, Weatherby Swann was just about to consider looking for his daughter, until she and his niece just happened to enter the family home...at the right time. He knew that Abigail and Elizabeth had a habit to sneak off, but when it comes to rather important occassion, he would want them to stay put, until everything was in order. But no...they would rather go out and pass the time. He would only have a heart attack if he saw a smudge or stain on his daughter's wedding dress. Thankfully, it would appear that she was being very careful this time. Highly unlike all of her other dresses... "Oh, would you girls just stay in one place? Here, in the mansion, please?", he asked them, almost exasperated and relieved at the same time. It was like he had an extra child, who would be too much for a single father. "Well, no other. You look absolutely stunning, Elizabeth", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up, and in her wedding dress. On the other hand, Elizabeth almost didn't hear her father, since she happened to look over at her childhood friend, who appeared to just be leaving. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while putting her shoes back on, almost clumsily, probably due to her excitement of seeing her dear friend.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail put a polite apologetic look on her face at her uncle's lecture. She was glad her skirt covered her ankles otherwise, the sight of her sandy feet and ankles would undoubtedly cause even more concern and possible lecturing. As it was, he seemed exasperated with them. Then he turned, getting a bit sidetracked and complimented Elizabeth on her dress. Abigail kept the smile from appearing on her face. Good. They weren't going to get into any more trouble or have a punishment. The fact Elizabeth was getting married today - something the dress obviously reminded the governor of - would probably wave any annoyance with their escapades. Keeping her shoes behind her back, she watched the slight exchange and then almost grinned again at Elizabeth's response - not to her father but to seeing Will. As well as her fumbled attempt to put on her shoes right there in his presence. Will, ever the gentleman, kept his gaze on Elizabeth's face, keenly aware that her father was right there as was her cousin. Having been notified of his station before, he kept his expression polite and gave a slight nod to both ladies. "Miss Swan. Miss Ashe." He had been like this for the past few months - longer in public - whenever he saw one or the other. His feelings for Elizabeth hidden from view as he tried to maintain the cultural requirements of their respected stations. The fact that she was also about to marry also tied into it. The days of calling her by her Christian name was gone. Abigail, the apex of grace and social mannerism, inclined her head politely back, addressing him just as formerly. "Mr. Turner." Though they had interacted a bit when she was younger (he and Elizabeth had hung out a lot whenever she came and visited - at least the earlier years), the two of them hadn't really grown close or anything. They had a mutual friend and did things together through her but at the same time, neither really interacted on their own. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Abigail highly doubted Will would have much to do with her. Not that he didn't like her. No, he was polite, friendly - or had been - and easy going. But there really wasn't much there. Not like what she and Elizabeth shared or what Elizabeth and Will shared. So it was no difficulty for her to fall into the polite social structure. Well that and the fact, she had been raised extensively in it all her life. London was a lot more sophisticated and had higher expectations than Port Royal. Still, she watched her cousin, hiding the slight amusement as the 'country' girl didn't seem to care for social structure OR her father being right there and engaged Will as if they were equals and good friends. Also ignoring the fact that both were now adults with that whole set of rigorous societal expectations.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", the blonde young woman asked him, until her father walked off to get the necessary money to pay for the sword. The governor's only daughter, Elizabeth Swann, had the physical appearance of a fine young woman; a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior. It only took them a few moments to look at each other in the face, before the governor cut back in, giving Will the payment. "Well, we don't want to be late now, do we?", he took the presentation case in hand, and gestured the girls to follow him out to the carriage that was waiting outside. "Come now, Elizabeth. Abigail", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Good day, Mister Turner", she softly said, sounding slightly disappointed to not talk to him a little longer, before following the elderly man out of the mansion. "Oh, Abigail. Do something about your hair, would you?", Weatherby asked the younger girl, as soon as he noticed her hair to be in such disarray, as they walked towards the carriage. ~ ~ ~ Both the harbor and the town were bustling with activity; markets selling and buying, and animals communicating with each other, either on the streets or their stables/pens. Leaning in the shade, against one of the barns sat a womanly figure, who appears to be wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western saloon girl; a lace-trimmed, ivory-colored tank-corset with an addition of tight, long-sleeves, and a matching short mini-skirt stopping at her upper thighs. Attached to her back-waist, was a matching ivory organza bustle pooling down to her feet, and revealing her front bare legs. She also appears to be wearing black, lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled dark brown hair was covered by a hood-like piece, that also seems to cover some places of her youthful face. However, despite the coverage of some parts of her face, she seems to be able to gaze out into the market with keen, blue eyes. Stepping out of the shadows, and revealing more color, the mystery woman strolled casually right past a fruit stand, and snuck an apple from the cart. However, this didn't go unnoticeable. "What-? Hold up there, you", the seller called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and turn back around to walk back towards him. "It's a shilling for one piece of me fruit", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the cart. Sighing before smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and placed them on the cart. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget this even happened?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her English-accented voice. The seller seems to consider this as he stepped away. "Welcome to Port Royal, miss", he welcomed her before moving off. She acknowledged the welcome with a nod and a cool smile, before moving past another cart, spotting a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pocketed it and moved on. Thank god, she told Mr. Silver to keep the ship in one of the hidden arches, a few yards away from the dock. 'Do not, under any circumstances, engage', she remembered telling him. With the vessel hidden between too rock formations, it would be increasingly difficult to spot, even to the eyes of the patrolling British. However, she knows that the ship can't stay camouflaged forever. Ninja</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "Just once more." Will's polite smile never faded as he looked back at Elizabeth. He knew his answer didn't please her. Nor had his more recently distancing of himself from her. She wanted to be friends and though he wouldn't mind spending time with her, propriety demanded something different. Not only looking at the cultural aspect of an unmarried man and woman but also the financial class difference, which would guarantee that he'd never be able to marry her even if she was interested. He stared at her for a moment before the governor's voice kicked in. Giving a nod back, he wished them a good day as well before leaving. Abigail made her way into the carriage, her hands moving up to her hair at her uncle's remark. It wasn't that bad, was it? She had done it first thing that morning but then again, that was before she went out onto the beach and enjoyed the wind her hair and face. Hanging back a moment, she quickly brushed the sand off her feet and ankles so she could put her shoes back on. Accepting help into the carriage she quickly fixed her hair best she could. The carriage ride down the little mountain wasn't that long. They passed the walking Mr. Turner as they wound their way further down. Abigail watched him for a brief moment before her eyes shifted over to her cousin. She knew there was something there, had been for some time, and was a bit more than even her cousin realized. However, she also knew that life rarely went that way. Raised in London society, the concept of love was a romantic aspect that was played with but no one ever took seriously. One did not marry for love - ever. Love might come after the fact but it was never the deciding factor in an arrangement. At least not in the upper classes. In a way, she figured Elizabeth knew this. She was marrying the Commodore. Though, how much was it she was following tradition and how much was it she didn't realize how much she loved Will? It was a bit amusing and sad almost to see something her own cousin didn't fully accept or notice herself. Abigail wondered if there was anyone she actually loved but was too blind to see it. Not that it mattered. The carriage arrived at its destination. The wedding was going to take place at the top of the fort battlements, looking out over the bay. A beautiful location.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her. Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad. Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else. The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help. Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again. She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed. Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Trying to register what fell in, the sentries looked at each other, before a gust of wind comes up, forcing them to hold their hats. Abigail's unmoving form hit the bottom of the shallow ocean, and the brunette-haired woman swam down to her as fast as she could, eventually wrapping an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress. As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, and the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slipped one her knives out from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs. Just by seeing the young girl cough up the water, the mystery woman now knew for a fact that the damn corsets made for the English women, were not suitable in a place like Port Royal. Many times, she had worn fancy corsets, but that didn't mean she would proudly wear one now, or ever, for that reason. The brunette tossed the torn corset aside. For some, she was one of a few on her ship that would even express any sympathy to colonists who were not buccaneers. She usually stole from the wealthy, but didn't really expect an opportunity in rescuing one from distress. More likely, a damsel. By the looks of this girl, she was rather young. So, why not? Impressed and dumbfounded, the sentries didn't speak for a moment. "Never would have thought of that", one of them admitted. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore. Impressed?", she rolled her eyes before looking back at the young girl laying before her. But before she thought of anything else, something gold, with a skull, was right before her, exposed. Taking a good look at the round medallion, a question rose out of her. "Where did you get that?", she softly demanded.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Fighting, Abigail tried to get back to the surface but the disorientation and her heavy skirts made it nigh impossible. As she clawed at the water, sinking deeper, she thought it strange that she would die by the one thing she loved the most. She started to see spots even as her lungs burned from needing air. Her hands fell limp, resistance slipping out of her even as the spots grew larger. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she felt something grabbing her arm but the thought barely registered before she blacked out. Her next conscious thought was coughing. Sitting upright, she coughed out the water she swallowed as she oriented herself. She was on a pier. Stripped down to her underdress with two soldiers standing above her and a woman leaning over her. Her eyes went to the cut corset beside them and the knife in the woman's hands. It didn't take a genius to realize that the woman had just saved her life. Before she could even express any gratitude, the question came at her. She frowned glancing down. Hanging there, catching the rays of the sun was the skull gold piece. Embarrassed and a bit worried, she stuffed it under her undershirt having not wanted others to know she wore it. Elizabeth knew - but then again, what did Elizabeth NOT know about her? Well, minus the marriage proposal. But no one else knew she carried a piece of pirate gold around her neck. She didn't know fully why she did but at the same time she didn't like to leave it around. Though, in London, she usually had to hide it if she went to a formal event. The intimacy of some of the dances would have someone spot the chain. But in most cases, she wore it. Hidden. Close to her heart. "It's nothing," she said quickly sitting up. She regretted her harsh outburst, especially as the woman just saved her life. "It's...not something I'd like to discuss," she said quietly. Then she turned her head to look at the woman before her. The woman was just as wet but it was the attire that surprised Abigail. It wasn't something that normal, everyday woman wear. But then again, she was in her underclothes here as well. Throwing her arms around the woman, she hugged her. "Thank you for saving me," she said pulling away, even as a commotion could be heard as those above were finally making their way to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...hugging her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice. The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was. Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend? Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, tyrannical. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. At least I don't have to say my real name, she thought before making her response. "Black. Vivienne Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage. The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her weapons. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin' about stealing a ship."</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked over as the guards and Elizabeth came running up. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of her cousin. Though it turned a bit embarrassed and sheepish as she was pulled to her feet. "I'm fine," she said. "I wasn't watching where I was standing." The coat was nice but she really wasn't cold. The water was warm and at the moment she still had adrenaline running through her veins. Despite the fact her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair plastered behind her. Her parents would have a conundrum if they saw her now. Her uncle made up for that. "I'm fine," she repeated a bit unsettled with all the concern and attention. As her rescuer introduced herself, Abigail turned and looked at her, the smile growing wide. The smile vanished at the accusation from the redcoats. Drawing herself up to all the authority she was accustomed to, she glared at them. "She saved my life." Her tone held rebuke at the insinuation that her rescuer would be anything but good. The woman saved her. Pulled her out of the water when she would have drowned. That alone had to indicate the woman had a virtuous heart. That she was good. Therefore, Abigail was appalled that anyone would even dare suggest the woman was capable of evil. There was undoubtedly a good explanation to the whole thing. Moving away from Elizabeth, her chin lifted, she stepped almost in front of Vivienne. Her chin lifted as she turned her attention toward the Commodore and her uncle. "She saved my life," she repeated again. "An individual risking their own for a complete stranger cannot be someone with ill intent." She looked at the redcoats, her tone, body language, and facial expression indicating her status as the daughter of a lord with all the authority within. "Return her things to her." She looked at Vivienne. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." There was not a hint of her annoyance with the soldiers on her face as she turned to look at her rescuer. "You saved my life. I am in your debt." She might have the bearing of someone in the court but her eyes gave away just how young she was. Not to mention the very fact she presumed Vivienne's innocence based on her actions showed a bit of a naivety on the girl's part. "I'm Abigail Ashe, daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy." She stepped aside slightly. "This is my uncle and my cousin - Governor Swann and Elizabeth. And her fiance, Commodore Norrington." With the pride of a hostess, she stepped aside so they could properly great each other, not fully understanding the slight distrust that the Commodore and her uncle showed. A hint of concern flickered on her face as she glanced at Elizabeth hoping her cousin would shed some light on the poor response they were showing.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "No!" Abigail quickly moved to follow them, trying to push herself between the guards and Vivienne. She ignored the protest the others made and lifted her chin. "She saved my life. Is this how we repay her?" She demanded using every ounce of authority her mother had drilled into her. The power of being the daughter of a lord. The ramifications that came with it. "We can't execute her. She could have escaped while the guards were distracted when I fell. But instead, she risked her life for mine. I won't allow it." Of course, her stubbornness was just waved aside. Her uncle, though seeming to like her, didn't really agree. "Move aside, Abigail." He ordered. "She's a criminal. She might have saved your life but it doesn't justify her actions." Abigail frowned, not understanding why the Commodore and her uncle seemed intent on punishing someone who rescued her. Her gaze glanced over at Vivienne. She didn't look like a pirate. Was there even such a thing as female pirates? It was doubtful. Seemed odd to her. Pirates were these old men with missing limbs or teeth. Foul and seeming the worst of society. Not a woman who, though dressed in a mannerism not really fitting everyday wear, risked jumping into the water to save her. "Abigail, if you won't move, I'll have the guards remove you. You don't understand. And frankly you are probably disillusioned at the moment. That was a long fall. We need to get you to a doctor to make sure you are alright." The governor waved a hand for a couple guards to move her out of the way.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the outside world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!? They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift and evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck. With a devious smile, the pirate looked at Norrington and everyone else before her and captive. "I must thank you for warming up to me, Commodore", she recalled in a respectful albeit taunting tone. However, there was no threat in her words. She didn't wish to harm the girl, but to just prove a point. Vivienne, however, did recall something interesting about Abigail: she cared about the pirate woman's fate. Interesting... She was sparing her from the hangman's noose, but, who wouldn't? Everyone against piracy. That's who. But this one? How interesting... "Commodore Norrington, now if you would, please? My effects?", the brunette called back in that same tone between taunting and respecting. She needed her things, and this girl was her ticket out of a tight spot. As they were starting to pass them her things, Vivienne, now holding the girl hostage, whispered to her, so she could only hear. "Your name's Abigail, isn't it?", she asked her in curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned not at all liking this. The heavy cuffs were placed on her rescuer, her own protests completely ignored. She turned once more to lecture her uncle and the Commodore before she found herself quickly pulled up against Vivienne, a knife placed against her neck. It was strange. One would think she should be terrified or even furious that the person she was trying to help would take her captive. But she felt neither. In fact, she was a bit impressed and almost glad that the woman had done this. Even if she was the one that was hostage. She had no fear that she would get killed or even hurt but she knew from the looks of the others, they didn't completely know that either. Which meant, she was foolish or that they just didn't understand. She didn't think it was the former. The woman risked her life to save hers. Why then would she attempt to hurt her? No. She might be foolish - and undoubtedly will get a lecture from her cousin, uncle, the Commodore and eventually down the line, her parents - but she was glad. Standing rigid, with the dignity of her class, she made no move, her breathing calm as the woman spoke. The woman was intelligent. She figured out how to make the best of a bad situation. A hostage - especially someone like her - would be key in helping her escape. Abigail was a bit proud of that. She accepted the things from the Commodore and turned slightly, the blade still at a dangerous level, as she put them back. "Yes it is." There was no fear in her tone or anger. So she was a pirate. It still seemed strange and Abigail wasn't sure she completely believed it. Whoever the woman was though, she was amazing. Skilled, intelligent, nice. Even pretty in her own way. And - she didn't seem to have the shackles of class holding her down. Abigail felt a bit envious. Her back to her friends, family, and 'rescuers', Abigail met the woman's gaze calmly. "Thank you for saving me," she said quietly. "I sincerely hope you escape. If you make it that far, there's a small cave on the north side of the island. The entrance is usually blocked by the tide but it's dry inside." She spoke quickly and very quietly as she placed the gun and sword into the woman's belt. Taking her time in order to get the words out. Finishing, she gave a slight nod before turning back around.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne listened to the young girl's response, and a look of sympathy appeared on her beautiful, coy-looking face. The pirate is more surprised at this girl's courage, and the last thing she wanted, was to make tensions go higher. So she was quite impressed with her wit. Speaking of this said-wit, Abigail willingly turned around to face the woman, and Vivienne allowed the girl to do so, but still kept the silver blade at her neck. "Once again, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Abigail", she lowly, and softly responded in confirmation. The pirate had to admit that she felt a slight bit of fondness for the girl before her, and she did feel a tad bit regretful to put her in such a position. But she was her ticket to get out of the hands of authority right now, so she kept up the act in this very dangerous game. Abigail was only at least five-foot five or so, and the task at hand wasn't hard. The pirate perked her eyes up in a challenging way with a coy smirk towards the English, before turning her attention back to the girl before her. "It's been a pleasure. A young woman, who has a whole life ahead of her, does not deserve such an early fate", she simply said, with that grin again. "I appreciate your concern, but I've come prepared", she added with a wink, before carefully turning her back around. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have some business to attend to!", the brunette announced as she walked backwards slowly, with Abigail still in her grip. Suddenly, she let her go, pushing her back to them, before grabbing a rope behind her that was tied to a tall gantry. Kicking a belaying pin nearby, and allowing a counterweight to fall, she was being lifted up to the top of the structure.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Facing her uncle and the others, Abigail kept her chin up. She could make out Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Her cousin looked extremely worried. It was touching a bit but honestly, she didn't feel like there was any danger. Feeling Vivienne slowly pull her along, moving backwards, she did her best not to trip as that would work against Vivienne. If she was trying to escape, that would have been ideal. A slight trip backward, use her weight to push back against the woman behind her. She might get nicked but all in all, she'd probably come out alright. But Abigail couldn't - wouldn't - do that. If the woman was captured again, she'd be hanged and that was something Abigail couldn't stomach. She had seen a few hangings in her time. The daughter of a lord and governor of a province, she had been required to go to a few public executions. Thankfully for her, most of her time was spent in London or here at Port Royal. The former - justice was carried out by others and thus she didn't have to go. The latter, she was spared due to the fact her uncle was a bit more tender toward her and Elizabeth and tried to shield them. Still, the few that she had seen had left her a bit sick. The snapping of the neck, or worse - the death from suffication, where the body twisted and turned trying to get air - even now the thought of it made her have to swallow. She would not let her rescuer get that fate. So when she was surprisingly pushed forward and released, Abigail quickly thought on her feet and took the off-balance push and letting it fall into a more clumsy fall that put her in the pash of the soldiers. It wasn't obvious as it happened quickly and no one but her and Vivienne had known how much force had been in that push. As she was grabbed and handed out of the way, Abigail felt her cousin's arms engulf her in a hug, even as she watched the woman flee.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Now will you shoot her?!", the governor demanded of the Commodore, and the order was made by the man himself, as the muskets began to blaze. "Open fire!" They were shooting at her now, and a shot grazed one of her bare legs, as she used her strength to jump from the tall structure, and on top of another. Wasting no time, Vivienne snapped the manacle chain over a line before her, and zip-lined herself down from the structure, eventually landing on her feet upon the ground of dirt, a few yards away from the dock, and running. Running as her organza bustle gently waved behind her in the wind, keeping herself low from the bullets of the muskets. A few women screamed in terror as a few of the men's shots ricocheted, and came perilously close to them as they whizzed by. Vivienne ran through the gunfire, sprinting across the bridge and passed the terrified ladies. Clearly, she had no idea where she was going. Vivienne may have been to many ports, but Port Royal wasn't one of them. Not to mention that the British now use it as a non-pirate port. For that, she had no direction on where she was going; only ending up at the port's market. Trying hard to steer clear, it was now becoming difficult on where to go. Coming out of her hiding spot behind the smithy's statue. So far, there was no where beyond the smithy for her to go; 'red coats' were everywhere, looking and searching. Slipping herself into the working smithy, Vivienne figured that there would be something in there that could get the stubborn manacles off of her. Not to mention that she had an injury to tend on her leg. Seeing the fire nearby, she placed her wrists inside the fire pit, so the blazing heat will allow her to break the iron. Wincing a bit in pain, she gave her wrists a mighty tug, until it snapped, making the chain break. With that out of the way, and placing her pistol nearby on the work bench, she ripped off a parchment of her dress to wrap it around the spot where one of the British soldiers grazed her. It was bleeding, and the bullet had to be removed, but with time being an ass, Vivienne couldn't. Not until proper treatment. For now, she just wrapped it around her right thigh.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail watched as the woman made her escape. It was amazing. Brilliant. Still, she bit her lip slightly as the muskets went off. Thankfully nothing hit the other woman. She didn't get to watch much more as Elizabeth pulled her away from it. "I'm fine." Her insistence was ignored, as had been her earlier pleas to let the woman go. That was one disadvantage for being young and female. Nobody seemed to take her seriously. After Elizabeth ensured she was fine, then her uncle, and finally the Commodore - Abigail found herself whisked off with a safe escort back to the governor's mansion. She glanced over at Elizabeth. "Sorry I fell off during the wedding. Had you said the vows yet?" She asked. She figured it probably wouldn't be good idea to bring up that they just let Vivienne go. Especially with her uncle across from her. Still, her mind was slightly distracted as she wondered if the woman made it. ~ ~ ~ He should have been back to the blacksmith shop by now. But honestly, Will hadn't been overly eager to head back. His master was probably drunk and the streets had been fairly deserted what with everyone up at the wedding. It gave him some time to think. Time, he probably shouldn't have used as it had just made the whole situation more depressing. The girl he loved was marrying another. It would have never worked but that didn't make the pain any easier. He felt like someone had punched him hard in the gut and then jabbed a knife or two into his heart before leaving him. And the solitary walk hadn't helped any. Entering the shop, he glanced over toward the corner. He made a disgusted noise in his throat and shook his head. Sure enough, his master had been drinking and was out drunk. "Right where I left you." He shook his head. He moved forward and then stopped. Looking down at a tool he frowned. "Not where I left you." He looked up. That's when he saw her. She was very attractive and in her current position, a bit immodest. But that quickly slipped his mind as he saw the shackles, the weapons and realized who she was. Lightning fast he drew a sword and held it out toward her. "You're the one everyone's talking about," he said. "The one that kidnapped the Governor's niece." He had picked up the news on his final leg back. He would have gone to check on if Elizabeth and her cousin was ok but he figured they were now. No doubt heavily guarded and his going over there would not be appreciated. Especially as he'd then have to explain why. But it worked out. Because right here was the woman who had threatened the life of Elizabeth's cousin. And that meant she brought grief and stress to Elizabeth. Something he would not tolerate.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will watched as the woman rose. There was just a slight hesitation, a shift from one leg to the other. She was slightly injured. Though seeing any woman injured wasn't something he usually was glad for, she was a criminal and that meant the guards had been able to graze her. Which in turn would make her capture all the more easy - or easier. "I've never met a pirate before," he said in response to her comment about familiarity. "So there really shouldn't be any familiarity." He moved slightly to the left, his gaze never leaving her. All those years of studying, all that practice - all of it coming down to his first fight with a real pirate. Woman or not. It was a bit odd but Will wasn't going to dwell on it too long. She was a pirate. She had the look. The manacles indicated she was the same person the guards were looking for and even now her own admission indicated as such. "I'm a firm believer that a woman should be defended but seeing how you accosted a young woman yourself and seem more than capable of handling yourself, I'll make an exception. You're a pirate and woman or not - you'll face justice for that." His blade hit hers, the sound of metal hitting metal filling the room. He pressed against her. She was skilled. Undoubtedly she had been in more than one fight and that was in her favor. However, she was also injured. That combined with his strength and his own training would give him the edge. "I should thank you," he hit her sword again. "I've been eager to take out pirates."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne's eyes bored into his own, and gave a half-coy smile at his statements. She remained silent as he went on and on about facing a pirate. "You wouldn't hurt a lady; I can see it in those eyes. They tell a story", that was when she let her sword be swiped in his direction; starting high, then low. High, then low. Low to high. The patten went on: parries, dodges, blows, then repeat. In the beginning, the pirate advanced on the male with her strikes. But when she noticed him advancing in retaliation, Vivienne had to reconsider that he was, most definitely, not an amateur. Backing up, while dodging and parrying with his strikes, she made a hiss of pain with a grit of her teeth; the injury upon her high-leg flared. It was enough to make her lose her balance a little, until she knocked her lower back into the workbench next to her. Maybe if she played around with this man, Vivienne could easily decide whether or not he would potentially be trusting, and even worth sparing. So, with that, she waited for his next move. With the table behind her, it could get fun. Obviously in a spot that had no easy route, she decided to take a detour; as he strikes, practically aiming for a part of her body, the Vivienne slid down to the floor, forming a split with her legs, allowing herself to duck, while letting his sword hit the wood of the workbench. He was pushing it, she thought while letting herself roll away from him, and towards the huge forging mechanism nearby, which seemed to be holding all of the newly-forged weaponry upon its belt. Standing just a few feet away from him, Vivienne gazed at him. "I can see you know what you're doing. Fantastic footwork", she complimented him, before looking at him challengingly, mainly to intimidate him. "But once again, love: you are between me, and my way out", it was true, he was in the way. She keened her blue eyes, and put herself in a defensive stance, smirking mischievously. "Shall we dance?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will raised an eyebrow and parried another shot. "A lady? You're right, I wouldn't. But you and I both know you probably don't fall under that, now do you?" He met every strike she did. He realized she was probably baiting him - trying anyway. She wasn't succeeding but at the same time he did get the feeling she was testing him out. Striking out at her, he jammed the sword hard into the wood. He pulled but it was fairly stuck. He attempted to pull it out but only for a moment before seeing that she was going to leave. Quickly leaving it, he moved forward, yanked a weapon out of the massive forging platform, he quickly moved to block her. He held up the sword and pointed it at her. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he said refusing to let her go. "And honestly, you're not my dance partner type." He lunged at her intent to get her off balance. He didn't go too fast. That would be risky and have higher chance of making a mistake. Yet at the same time, he had caught her wince from earlier. He had seen how she slightly favored her one side. She was injured and undoubtedly in pain. The harder he pushed her, the better chance he can capture her alive. For despite everything, all he said, she was still a woman. And though he did plan to kill pirates one day, killing a woman - pirate or not - was not something he really had the stomach for. So instead he'd need to capture her. That in turn required skill, wit, and using her injury against her. All of which he was more than capable of doing. "I not only make swords," he told her as he continued to press, "but I practice five hours a day with them. That way, when I do meet a pirate I would be able to kill or capture him. Or in your case, her." He smiled.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Sparks flew as she hit high and low, while he strikes back in equal measure. All in all, it was the same pattern...although the pirate grabbed one of the small forged blades nearby. Vivienne threw it at him with force, but missing, with him being able to dodge the incoming projectile. "You made all these?", she curiously asked him, somewhat amazed, while keeping up with his strikes. Five hours a day?, the brunette thought, internally groaning. "You really need to find yourself a girl, love", she remarked with that grin again, playful. However, internally, Vivienne was slightly getting frustrated to not lay a mark upon him, but in admittance, his skill was cutting. Vivienne knew that the more she pushed it, the more she could get inside his head, and find out what makes him tick. That last comment she made probably went a little too far in the young man's boundary. The pirate almost got herself struck, once she dodged a rather powerful swing. Vivienne's blade unexpectedly locked with his own, surprisingly feeling his strength from the performed action. Her hand suddenly snatched itself onto the tied-collar of his shirt, to make her face closer to his own, while their blades were in an x-formation between them. "Or, maybe because you already found one, but can't woo her?", Vivienne was practically taunting him again, although it was meant to be a curious question. Who was the girl?</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe She was a bit desperate. Or so he figured as she tried to throw a few things at him to distract him. Will moved quickly and effectively, avoiding the knives thrown at him. Knives he had made. "Yes," he said as she threw out the question. He had spent years mastering the craft. Making each one better than before. The sword he completed for the Commodore was his crowning achievement to date. It was the apex of all the swords he had created, each one better than the last. That said, the other swords weren't bad and were well designed and balanced. The ones that were completely off or useless he had destroyed. There was no point keeping something that was worthless around. You really need to find yourself a girl, love. Little did the pirate woman know how much that stung. Striking hard, Will had to catch himself from letting his anger show. Thoughts of Elizabeth and how she'd never be his filled his mind. Fueling him. Pushing him. He stiffened slightly as she locked blades and grabbed his shirt. The taunt was too much. With increased vigor he pushed her hard, striking out, blocking every blow. Using a technique he learned, he managed to de-sword her. Of course, it didn't help she had a pistol. "That's cheating," he said lifting his head glaring at her, despite having a pistol pointed toward his head.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne knew he would be angry, so she let the question go, and let go of him, practically allowing herself to be pushed back by his strength. However, her injury didn't help, and the brunette stumbled a little, but she stubbornly ignored it, keeping herself composed once the male advanced upon her again, following her in this uneasy acquaintance of a game. Time and time again, the pirate was using her body language to taunt, or distract him: winks and smiles, toying with him in this scuffle of a dance. Her smile was still there as Vivienne advanced on him with swings of her sword, jumping away to dodge his strikes, and block them every time he came close. Swiping, the pirate tried to aim for any part of his body, but every time she made a strike, she grew annoyed by his uncanny skill, even after he managed to knock the sword out of her hand, causing her blade to hit the wall, piercing itself there. Vivienne's confident grin faltered, almost dumbstruck when he flashed the same expression back to her. Damn me and my arrogance She clearly underestimated this young man; he wasn't lying. Looking from her propelled sword, and back to him, the pirate needed to think outside the box. Before he could advance, she quickly threw loose dirt in his face, temporarily blinding him. If he had his vision back, there would be a gun cocked to his face. "Sometimes cheating helps when there are no rules", the brunette stated, until she heard banging coming from the front door. They found her! She needed to leave. Now! Getting up quickly with the pain of her wound still there, she kept the gun aimed at him. Noticing that he was blocking the path to the backdoor, the brunette was getting impatient. "Move away", she told him, almost desperate. Vivienne was putting her finger on the trigger, and she figured that she would just shoot the young man anyway. But like before, the brunette didn't seem to have it in her to kill an innocent person. It only reminded her of the girl she just spared. She hardened her gaze towards him, and flicked the switch. "This shot is not for you", she confessed to him. "You don't deserve it", she added with sympathy showing on her beautiful features. What she didn't notice was someone hitting the back of her head. She did feel herself getting a bit ditzy, before falling forward at the blacksmith's feet; the pistol falling out of her hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will blinked quickly, rubbing at his eyes to get the dirt clear. It was a dirty trick but one he should have expected from a pirate. Not that it mattered. The gun leveled at his head practically ended the duel. Which, though unfair and completely cheating, was something he would expect from someone without honor. His jaw clenched slightly as he stared at the woman waiting for her to fire. "No." If his refusal shortened the amount of time she could escape than it would be worth it. She'd get caught and justice would prevail. True, he'd be dead but did it matter? Elizabeth had married someone else. There was no one waiting for him. No one who would truly miss him. His master wouldn't. The town might miss a decent blacksmith but who cared about that? If his life brought the end of a pirate, bringing justice to Elizabeth and her cousin, then he would die willingly. And with dignity. He lifted his chin, straightening slightly as he waited for the gun to fire. Nothing. He was a bit surprised as the woman seemed to decide not to kill him. Was she crazy? She was about to be captured and she had sympathy for him. For him? That made no sense. Still, if she felt like that would change anything she was wrong. But before he could do anything, the glass bottle hit the pirate on the head and she crumbled just as the soldiers broke in. Will frowned staring down at her and then looking up. His master stood there with a broken rum bottle, a bit dazed, a bit happy with himself. Of course, the soldiers congratulated the man for his 'quick thinking' and capturing the criminal. Both of which disgusted Will. If it hadn't been for him the woman would have been long gone. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, his master would probably be dead or thrown out of the blacksmith shop for his terrible work. Will watched as they dragged the woman away. Then with a shake of his head he turned. Ignoring his master he pushed out the front door and away from the blacksmith shop, the soldiers, and in the opposite direction of the prison.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail felt like she was smothered the remainder of the day. She was fine but her family didn't think so. Of course, the guilt of taking Elizabeth away from the Commodore was also there. This was Elizabeth's wedding day. She shouldn't have spent a portion of it freaking out for her younger cousin. But the older woman, kindly, had stayed with Abigail for a bit ensuring she was safe before very reluctantly leaving with the Commodore. Which was alright with Abigail. She loved her cousin and was grateful for the concern but she was fine. And it didn't help that the governor hovered slightly as well. No doubt he was already planning on telling her parents. Which begged the question - with Elizabeth married now, was she going to stay here in Port Royal or head back? Though Elizabeth probably would have no issues with her staying, the Commodore might not be overly pleased to have his honeymoon cut into by her. Her uncle might let her stay but with Elizabeth tied up it wouldn't be the same. He might just send her back. Especially with a near death experience. She was not going to like that. Her thoughts turned to the woman that had saved her. She had managed to hear from one of the servants that they had captured the pirate and locked her away. Abigail had winced at that. She had hoped the woman would have managed to escape. The Commodore was not going to show leniency, in fact, there was a rumor that the woman would be hung first light as an example of swift justice. Justice. Right. Where was the justice in executing someone who saved her life? For despite whatever markings the woman had or whatever crimes she may have committed, she had saved Abigail's life. And for that the young girl was indebted to her. Deciding she couldn't stay in her room without at least seeing the woman, Abigail snuck out her window, grateful that the governor never realized that the tree there was a great way to get up and down. OF course, he probably never figured them to sneak out as the dresses they usually wore would have made it impossible. And it probably was except Abigail was stubborn and she and Elizabeth had figured out how to do it. OF course, it helped not wearing the exuberant outfit. What she slipped into was modest - a servant's dress really. Without the full trappings. Sneaking into town was the easy part. The jail was a bit more difficult but the guard on duty was not really paying attention (something undoubtedly would get him in big trouble if/when the Commodore found out). Entering she made her way down into the cells. Her eyes had to get accustomed to the room. For despite it being night outside, there was a full moon and that had helped. Here, there wasn't as much. Spotting the pirate, Abigail hesitated suddenly questioning why she was here. What was she supposed to say? Guilt gnawed at her slightly as part of the reason the woman had even been captured was because she had stopped and saved Abigail. That was enough to give her the courage to move forward. Stepping into the light, she spoke softly - almost afraid the guards above would hear her. "Hello." She twisted her hands in front of her a bit nervous.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black A few sighs of boredom, and somewhat tiredness, came from her as the brunette just stared at either the moonlight or the ceiling. However, her time of loneliness didn't last for long. With a small voice coming from the brig entrance, the pirate's attention was caught as she turned her head to the side, and frowning to see the girl she just held captive a few hours ago. "Have you come to say 'thanks' and 'goodbye'?", the pirate asked, almost amusingly, before sighing miserably yet amusingly, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to the ceiling. In all honesty, she did wonder what Abigail's intention was. Is she starstruck? Was she attracted to her?, it would be amusing if it was the last one.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail wasn't sure exactly what she'd find here. What Vivienne would say. She hadn't expected the prison to be this bad. She had never been down here before and even know was a bit afraid of getting caught. But that didn't stop her from remaining. At the woman's question, Abigail winced slightly. Another reminder that the person who saved her life would end up dead because of her. If she hadn't fallen in the woman probably wouldn't have been noticed by the Commodore and in turn wouldn't have had to run. Abigail wondered how she did manage to get captured. She had a head start and had seemed clever enough to get away. She also hadn't appeared worried when Abigail had given her a spot to hide too. Which meant, she had a plan. Or had. Somehow it backfired. Unless this was part of it. If it was, Abigail couldn't see how it was helpful. "I'm sorry you're hear." Her voice was quiet and she moved a lot closer to the bars so Vivienne could hear her without giving away her own presence to the guards. "I wish I could do something but my uncle won't stand to hear of it. He thinks you're a pirate. It doesn't matter if you saved my life." There was a bit of anger in her tone at the injustice of it all. It was unfair and injustice. Pirate or not, a life for a life. The woman had saved her life - the niece of the governor. That had to have counted for something - right? But no, when she had attempted to explain it, her uncle shut her down. Even Elizabeth - who had listened patiently - told her that there wasn't much that could be done. And that, yes - the woman had saved her - but undoubtedly for ill intent. She had used her as a hostage. And that move right there had made Elizabeth immediately dislike Vivienne. Abigail could tell, even though her cousin tried to hide it, that Elizabeth did not feel bad that Vivienne was going to hang. In a way, she was almost glad. She too seemed to overlook the fact that Abigail would have drowned. Something that the young girl could not forget. "Why did you save me?" She asked curiously. "You could have left me alone and never been accused of being a pirate. You would be free right now." The woman couldn't be a pirate. They were ruthless. Not kind. And definitely not one to risk their neck for another.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne overheard the girl as she revealed her inner thoughts and feelings on the scenario. She couldn't agree, although she took it a lot more calmly. "Can't expect more than that, love", the woman simply responded with a frown, before sitting up, and gazing at her from where she sat. "As much as you want to disagree, your uncle is not too far from that assumption", she clarified before revealing the pirate tattoo on her shoulder; the moonlight making it easier for Abigail to see. She also arched an eyebrow at the girl's question of why she would risk her life for her own. "Come now, Miss Abigail", she said, before a smile appeared on her beautiful features. "Just because I am a wanted-buccaneer, doesn't mean I don't have it in me to let someone die so young. A life is ahead of you. It would have been unfair if fate met you that early. Wouldn't you want to have an adventure before letting the light fade out?", she asked, more in casual curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned slightly. Her gaze went down to the mark on the woman's wrist. Wait, she was a pirate? That made no sense though. The woman wasn't like any pirate she had read or heard about. They were all men, evil, vile, and would have thought nothing twice about killing her or leaving her to die. Her questioning gaze looked up. Vivienne must have read her mind or was referring to her previous question because she came back about not letting someone as young as her die. Adventure? She was going to be married off and enter the stage where her main purpose was to bear an heir and support her husband. There was no major adventure in that. Still, she was glad to be alive. For despite what her family had planned for her, she still wouldn't want to miss out. There was undoubtedly some good ahead, right? She moved closer to the bars and sat. Absentmindedly she adjusted her dress covering her ankles. She had been lectured enough that it was almost ingrained. Though not fully. She shrugged. "I'm grateful, yes. I just don't know about the whole adventure aspect." She looked up. "My parents are arranging my marriage. I guess that is an adventure. Marrying a man I've never met." She smiled weakly. The smile quickly faded as guilt hit. Here she was talking about marriage and her future when the woman was going to be executed. She looked at the bars briefly before back to Vivienne. "I wish there was a way I could save you," she said grieved. "It's the least I can do." Ironically though, the very thought of stealing the keys and letting Vivienne out briefly crossed her mind. It wasn't something she ever did before. The most she did that was 'wrong' was sneak out, wade in the ocean - minor things. Nothing major. Breaking someone out of prison - now that was serious. No, there had to be another way. A way that was law-abiding yet still provided justice. Justice for saving her life. There was no justice in executing someone who had just saved another. "Maybe I can ask them to give you a lighter sentence?" She straightened up a bit, hopeful.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The pirate had her eyebrow raised, once she heard Abigail whisper to her about what seems to be her future. She kept eye contact with her, slightly frowning at what seems to be distress. Although Vivienne wasn't sure whether if the young lass was glad about it, or if she was pretending to be. It made the woman looked the girl over, before giving her a small smile. "Not probable, sweet-cheeks. And I get it: Privilege never stroke me fancy, either. You feel restricted; limited. If you ask me, those chains should come off, and they should give you freedom. Isn't that what you want? To be free?", she asked, again, in curiosity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Deep within the night, a dark ship loomed over the calm sea, like the spirit of death, as it glided ever so closely to Port Royale and its unsuspecting inhabitants. On another ship, that was hidden behind the two rocks, a few yards away from the dock, the lights upon it were doused to make it appear dark. An eyeglass unfolded, just in time to see this other ship drift in. The ship's quartermaster watched with a good eye as this other ship moved past them, towards the dock. Come on, Vivienne... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "INCOMING!" The brunette heard the yell outside of the brig, just until the thundering sound of a cannonball hit the room, blowing a giant hole in Vivienne's cell, and creating a disturbance on the stone walls. Vivienne made a yell of surprise as the dust brushed over her and her saloon-like dress; however, the noise of stone crashing down didn't go unnoticed outside of her cell: the debris of rock that the cannonball hit near the girl, propelled an explosion of its debris to go flying. With much effort, Vivienne managed to push herself up, and take notice of the girl on the other side of the bars, laying nearby; either unconscious or dead, the pirate wasn't sure. Just by looking at her, Vivienne's sympathy came back, showing pity...and a little confusion. She didn't tell her ship to fire, nor to advance in any way. Plus, the ship was concealed behind the rocks, so the current blast range way out of its depth. Was it another ship? Using all the strength she had to stand, Vivienne looked out of the hole to peek outside the prison, which was clearly not big enough for her to go through, though took notice upon a sight she didn't expect to see: The nightly view of the harbor...with a ship blowing projectiles upon the town.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked up. First off - sweet cheeks? The name seemed...strange. Very weird, making her feel a bit uncomfortable not really knowing if Vivienne was mocking her or not. What did that even mean? The daughter of an aristocrat, she didn't have a lot of knowledge of lay terms. And this one was one she had never heard before. She bit her lip at the question. "Freedom?" She shook her head, a slight scoffing sound escaping her lips. "One can't leave." She glanced up. "You have the family honor and name to support. Besides, it's not my call. My father decides my fate. It's the way of life - at least for someone of my status." She winced as that seemed to come off haughty though she hadn't meant it too. She quickly amended: "I mean, the daughter of a lord, the niece of a governor," she shook her head. "My fate was sealed the moment I was born a girl." She held up her arms, looking at her wrists. In her mind's eye she could see the chains Vivienne spoke of. "Would I like to be truly unrestrained?" She shrugged, letting her arms drop. "What does that even mean? What is true freedom?" She looked a bit lost, unsure. "If I'm not who I am, do what is expected of me, then what?" She rose. "Social requirements might not be ideal and the thought of marrying a stranger terrifies me, but....there is a reason we have rules and guidelines and societal norms. I can't function on my own. And the very idea of a woman attempting to do so is... unimaginable." She paused as she realized that the woman there before her probably had. Her brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer to the cell. "But...but you have. How?" There was a bit of curiosity mixed with a hint of desperation. "How did you do it without being ostracized?" She paled as if she realized she was speaking of things she probably shouldn't have - on her end. Things that she might have thought of but hadn't dared to voice. It was crazy and not her. "I'm...I'm sorry. No. I don't. I'm fine with who I am. I might not be happy but there are reasons why life goes the way it does." She turned and moved slightly away. "I'll...I'll try to do what I can to save you." Her moving away was what saved her life. The canon ball blasted into the cell causing damage. Because she had moved, Abigail was spared the worst of it though she was knocked out as a chunk of wood hit her alongside the head. Her body slumped to the ground.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the tight grip on her shoulders, the roughness of the hands that caused her to wake up. Her mind a bit foggy, Abigail wondered what had happened. Trying to place where she was, what had gone on, and who was touching her. Her eyes snapped wide open as she realized she was being held by two male pirates. Both of which were a bit more into her than she was comfortable with. She didn't scream. Didn't even fight hard but drew herself up, drawing on years of ballroom experience, pulling her social status in. She was going to say something but Vivianne beat her to it. Her gaze turned to the woman in the cell. That was when she noticed the massive part missing. That must have been where the cannonball came through. So that was what knocked her out. She was lucky not to be dead. As was the female pirate imprisoned. If it had come in slightly over, they both would probably be dead. Abigail frowned as she listened to them talk. Her gaze dropped to the necklace and the pirate piece around her neck. It must have fallen out from under her shirt when she got thrown by the blast. She moved to tuck it back in, an automatic response really. She didn't like to show it to others. It was almost an...intimate piece of her. Her hand jerked to a stop as she realized she was still being held. Of course, her sharp movement brought the attention back to her. Seeing as it was too late to undo that and the focus was back on her, she lifted her chin. "I highly recommend you unhand me," she told them coldly. "Unless of course, you'd prefer to hang from the highest yard line. My uncle is the governor here, my cousin is married to the Commodore, and my own father is Lord Ashe, in charge of the 3rd fleet as well as governor of the Virginia colony. None of which would be particularly pleased that you are touching me and will haunt you down to the ends of the earth if you don't release me."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black At first, both of her captors ignored her; one of them letting go of her, and walking towards the prison cell. "Well, well, well", he mused, having to chuckle at the irony. "Look at what we have here. If it isn't Vivienne Black. Excuse me, Captain Vivienne Black", it was as if he was mocking, or being skeptical of her, finding her position in life to be rather pitiful; pathetic. If only he knew about the about of success the said-woman had achieved. "What's ye interest in the lass?", he, once again, mocked; the other pirate chuckling with him, though his grip on Abigail's arm did not loosen. Just as the girl was about to reach for the medallion, he tightened his grip, before stopping her with a backhand to her face, and yanking the chain off her neck. It dug into her skin slightly, before giving in, breaking. The other pirate, who approached the imprisoned woman, had his smile fade. "Want the gold piece for ye' self?" Vivienne's own smile faded, as soon as intruder did. Just a frown, once she noticed, and heard, the sound of a slap coming from behind him. Did the girl's new captor just hit her? The pirate lass' gaze only stared at the tall, masculine, and nearly beefy visitor before her; the bars of her cell separating herself and them, the faint smile making itself known again. "My interest?", the brunette asked him rhetorically. "That girl?", she gestured to the direction where Abigail was held. "The gold?", she narrowed her eyes at him. It was like a up-close encounter with this guy. She then suddenly snatched the front of his shirt, and pulled; so fast and strong, his face hit the steel bars between them. "Watch yourself. You tell Captain Low we'll see him soon", she warned him menacingly before finally letting her grip fall from his shirt. The pirate scowled and brushed himself off. "Yeah", he laughed, but there was also a slight hint of intimidation. Not for the crew, but for him personally. His Captain was one of the best around. But, that didn't mean, personally, he was free. A pirate made many stops, and if someone was out to get you, they could do it away from your crew. He brushed it aside, trying to convince himself that the woman was just in that state of madness, like any other captain, who would sail for too long. "You ain't goin' anywhere but the gallows", he replied, pretending to tip a hat. "Pleasant dreams. Give me regards to Davy Jones", he laughed and turned away. "We got ourselves quite a lady here. Should be interesting. You'll enjoy our Cap'n. He's always been wantin' a bit of sport", that wicked smirk was back, before they pulled Abigail towards the stairs, along with the gold coin. Vivienne narrowed her eyes once again, before that smile of hers made itself known. But once she made a final glance at Abigail, it made her lose the act of carelessness. Captain Ned Low now had the New World's most expensive of riches; not to mention a person of an even higher class upon his vessel. She needed to get to that coin before Low attempts to sell it for something twice as valuable. But first things first, she needed to find a way out of this bloody cell. It was going to be nearly dawn, and the longer she sat in there, Vivienne was up to the point of passing out in sleep upon the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The slap was hard and nothing held back. Cheek burning, Abigail blinked back tears. He slapped her. Without thought, without so much of a reply. Her confidence wavered a bit. Now, this was what a pirate was. Not the romanticized version she and Elizabeth had fantasized about. No, this was the dark, dangerous kind that she had been warned about. The type that had no issues hitting a woman, let alone hurting her. Her heart rate picked up slightly and Abigail felt fear. She had never felt the intensity before. But then again, she never had the need to. Even when she had almost died she hadn't felt this kind of fear. But then again, that had happened quickly. And there was something about the fear of drowning - which was intense - and the terror knowing that you were held by men who would do unspeakable things to you and then kill you. And if they didn't kill you, the horrors done might as well be death. Still, she did her best to at least look strong. Face slightly pale, her neck hurt where the necklace had been ripped off, she kept her posture. She didn't speak but she did her best to mentally put as much anger and fire into her eyes as possible. She would not show fear. Not give them the satisfaction that she was terrified. If she was going to be taken, she would do so with dignity and fire. Her chin lifted again, even as the stinging of her cheek was still evident. "My father will personally ensure your deaths," she said calmly, coldly. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant." Even as they half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, she did her best to remain confident. Despite every step they took was one closer to possible death. The likelihood of getting out of this was slim. Her gaze drifted over to Vivianne. She couldn't read the expression on the woman's face due to the distance and lighting. Interesting really. She still felt a bit sad for the woman. She was still a prisoner and to be executed. Despite, her own possible future, Abigail still wished she had been able to do something for Vivienne. Though, she couldn't now. And honestly, she really had more to worry about. But...it did help. Thinking of Vivienne saving her life just made her more determined to survive this.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The two pirates forcibly put Abigail into a rowboat, and began to row out towards the attacking pirate vessel, sitting out in the open. Explosions continued to sound all around them. And for one moment, a shell nearly hit them, as it screamed overhead. One of her captors kept a tight grip upon her arm the entire trip, while his other hand held the pirate coin, also gripped tightly. Amid the thunder of cannon fire that surrounded the Fancy, stood an imposing, silhouetted figure by the wheel, too far from where Abigail was firstly deployed, but watched the scene nonetheless. A nonchalant, emotionless stare was all he gave, as he just stood there with a sword at his waist. At the mention of his title, this figure strode in a cool-minded manner towards the stairs, his boots thumping against the wood. A cloud of cannon smoke obscured him for a moment, but as soon as he made it to the deck, his full presence became known: wearing the darkest of colors, but nothing imposing; just a simple dark t-shirt, a dark jacket, and a pair of dark pants, along with the heavy boots that left an echo in the wood at every step, his hair was short, medium-brown, wavy, and just above his shoulders, with a stubble that perfectly angled his lower jaw. The real element was his scarred, pale right-eye; he was possibly half-blind, with the other appearing perfectly in a normal blue, but he did give off a good penetrating stare with both on his person. He wasn't that tall, being at five-foot eight, nor too strong with an evident slim, athletic physique, which gave off that quality of being easily deceiving. That showed that he was a man you'd fear in a dark alley. The darkness and shadow surrounding the deck proved that right. The right hand resting upon the sword at his waist, armed with a pistol and a dagger, he was before his crew, standing only a few feet away from the newcomer. This was Captain Edward Low, the man behind this nightly massacre. "Cap'n. Look what we found. She also had this", the pirate finally released her...by pushing her forward, and making her land in a heap at the man's feet, shortly before handing over the coin to him. Low didn't speak a word, he just listened. Listening, and observing the situation; his unconcerned gaze never leaving, even as he was passed the trinket by one of his men. He still didn't speak, just fiddled with the object in his hand, his attention now resting on the girl, who just got deposed of at his feet. It was like he was in a moment of processing the information being passed down to him, while still fiddling with the metal, almost outlining its design. In just short notice, the captain finally stopped this action, now having his full attention on the girl, to the point of kneeling down to one knee, towering over her. "My apologies, miss", he finally said after a long while, sounding Irish by his accent. The tone wasn't exactly sympathetic, but rather shallow. Casual with monotone. "I confess, they lack manners. Especially with a damsel", it didn't sound deep, but in the normal range of lacking emotion.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The explosions rocked the town, even as Abigail found herself dragged to a rowboat. She glared at her captors as she did her best to retain her dignity and pride. In the boat she held her head high, keeping the fear of what was to come as well as the fear of getting killed in the raging fight, from her face. She was surprised that the fight was still going on. The pirates must have come fairly prepared though even with the surprise attack they had to be stupid. One didn't attack a British fort with just one ship. Especially one this. Even with the surprise attack, Port Royale was a pretty strong defensive place and as the garrison quickly responded, they would push the pirates out. Part of this was evident in the town. From where she could see, Abigail noted that the other rowboats were pulling away from the town even as British regulars came down from the garrison slowly regaining control. Shame it had taken them too long. If she survived this, she'd probably have to give them some points on how improving their response time. IF she survived. The thought brought a chill down her spine. Her best bet was to hope they would ransom her. She was a high valued target and that might convince them to try and ransom her back to her father. Of course, he, in turn, would undoubtedly pay but then hunt them down, wiping every last one of them out. Abigail was no fool. She loved her father and knew he loved her, but her love wasn't completely deaf to the knowledge that he was very strict and one didn't oppose him. She could get away with a few things because she was his only child. And despite being a girl - which usually was a paux for an only child - she knew she just had to smile at him, maybe bat her lashes a little and he'd usually give in. Not that she played that card well. It didn't always work - just once in a while. Being pulled onto the ship and then tossed at the feet of what was evident to be the captain, Abigail quickly pulled herself up to at least a seated position. Her chin lifted as she stared up coldly at the man. She couldn't hide her surprise at his politeness though it quickly became evident that there was really no emotion behind it. Which in turn made him far more dangerous in some regards. "I concur, their manners do need to be checked. But I can easily dismiss this," she paused and looked around her before looking back at the captain, "misunderstanding if you kindly provide me a rowboat back to town." She doubted it would work but if he was going to pretend to be honorable she was going to push him on it.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail honestly didn't anticipate the captain letting her go. She wasn't THAT naive. Still, it didn't hurt to toss it out there. She wasn't going to give him the opportunity to pretend to be a good person if he wasn't going to follow through with it. She met his eyes doing her best to appear brave half expecting him to say or do something, refusing her. But he didn't even reply, just gave a nod. She frowned a moment wondering if she had misjudged and he was actually going to let her go. That was when she saw the look on the quartermaster. Her heart sank a bit. She should have figured. She kept her chin up even as she was made to follow. She wasn't surprised when the captain finally did announce what he was going to do to her. She was worth a lot. Thankfully, that meant she wasn't going to be killed - or worse. Still, it meant she was stuck here until it happened. Her jaw tightened as she gave the captain a dark look but it was slightly distracted as she noticed what he was playing with. Her heart lurched into her throat and she did her best to hide the surprise and desire to snatch it from him. He couldn't know how much it was worth to her. It would be something else he'd use against her. She had to hide it. Especially as she doubted he'd just give it back. Turning her attention back to the captain, she raised an eyebrow. "It would behoove you to let me go now. Though my father would pay the ransom there is no doubt you'll regret taking me prisoner." She had to be careful what she said. She didn't want him to think her worthless. He'd probably just kill her for spite. But at the same time, he would regret it. Her father would not rest until the man was hung. "Though I understand that you might be too foolhardy to do so." It was amazing how brave she appeared. She was terrified. The fact her knees weren't knocking, her body wasn't trembling, and her voice wasn't betraying her was amazing. Years of hiding behind a mask at the society balls had helped her hide her emotions and feelings. She eyed the captain calmly. Her gaze shifted slightly away from him, past him to the table. Her brow furrowed slightly as she saw a couple things that... her face paled. How did...? She quickly tried to control her emotion but it was hard. What was the Commodore's hat and Elizabeth's dress doing here? It had to be coincidental. A copy. She forced her face to show no emotion even as her own mind was trying to understand what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ned Low didn't smile -- no, he rarely smiled; only making those crooked smirks upon distant, blank facial expressions. He almost seemed to be impaired in both his emotions and thoughts. 'Succinct' would be a better term to describe such behavior for such a maniacal captain like himself. In these waters, Captain Low was, quoted by both his own crew and other bucaneers, "savage and desperate", "peculiarly cruel", and "a man of amazing, grotesque brutality". These were true to the witnesses, and whether he cared or not, Edward didn't have qualms or morals; he was charismatically claimed to be "an honest man of great strength". The medallion he held by the black string, lightly swayed in the dim candlelight; the skull seemingly laughing in the center. "Your father is Lord Peter Ashe, governor of the Carolina colony", the captain stated in that apathetic voice of his, while both of his "eyes" remained on her. His voice wasn't deep, more like on the baritone scale; not too deep, not too high. "We know him. By 'we', I meant all", he added. "Every pirate who's sailed under a flag knows him", that one blue eye is looking at her now, his tone grim. "I will be sending a message to him; delivered by one of my men, with the following: 'You are a prisoner of the pirate Captain Ned Low. Your ransom, if he ever wishes to see you alive again, is £250,000 ($323,190). Whether or not he applies to these terms, a new contact will arrive in Charlestown harbor with you in my possession. If I sense a trap, or if the demands are unmet, I'll kill you, and throw your body into the bay'", and he said it all in those words. Ned watched her look at the medallion in his hand, evident by her constant, flicking glances. "I have no gift for politics; navigation is foreign to me", he shook his head lightly, the medallion still in his hand. This time, looking it over, before standing up from the wooden chair he sat in. "So, 'what am I good at?', you might ask", Ned would guess, before slowly striding to the girl's side, looking down at her, before bending over, so one of his hands laid on the desk, while the other on the head of the chair she sat in. "This is going to sound absurd but", he paused, his apathetic voice slightly softening, making the conversation be between the two of them. "I make the men feel better about themselves. You see, they can spot a lie when a captain is sickened by his own actions; they feel affected. With me, when they see me slaughter the crew of the Good Fortune, when they see me cut out a man's tongue for lying, when they see me burn a boy alive in front of his father's eyes, they know", it sounded a bit rushed, but it was clear. "They can see it in my eyes", emphasizing to the emotionless appendages. "There's no lie there. There's no secret remorse there. I simply don't have it in me", there was that grim undertone again. He then followed her gaze towards the two recent trinkets on the table. "Like them", he referred to the objects that formerly belonged to a certain someone. "A couple on a British vessel. Sweet thing; the woman, until her man decided to act first. She would have made me an excellent trophy, but then I learn she's married. I pay my respects; I gave her a favor: To join her man", his voice would send chills up someone's spine, until he pulled away from the girl. "At any rate, I hope that clarifies things, and that it illustrates why it is only fair for me to fully compensate with my men to not touch you, as we reach our destination", the captain stood back up to his full height, continuing to look at the trinket that's in his hand. He then nodded back to Mister Meeks, who reluctantly acknowledged him, by approaching Abigail, and taking her by the upper arm, leading her out of the cabin, and to the brig.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Before I answer that, answer this: Why so desperate to retrieve that girl?", she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Who is she to you?", it was a curious question, and all she needed was a reason. Plus, she needed to know. "What's your name?", she then asked, finding herself staring. After hearing the name, it slowly came to her, and somehow, she felt as if she had heard it from somewhere. The brunette found herself making a half-smirk. "Short for William, is it not?", she asked, becoming a little impressed. "A good, strong name for a young man", she nodded at the thought before making a frown. He will take that as a compliment, no doubt. But she will most definitely wonder on why he came so persistent on rescuing this damsel. However, upon hearing his offer, she continued to narrow, almost to see if he was being true to his word. "Well, Mister Turner, my name is Vivienne Black...and my mind's been made up. Just how do you plan on getting me out?", Vivienne then wondered if he had a plan, giving herself leverage on standing, though she made the same wince to the injury from yesterday. If she considered, this young man would be useful on the contrary, and he might even be worth sparing. "The task of rescuing Miss Abigail will not be easy, and therefore, if you ever wish to see her alive, you will listen to me at all times. In return, if this deal runs smoothly, you, and her, will walk away, safely. Do we have an accord?", the brunette reached out her hand through the bars, waiting patiently for him to seal it.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will paused at the question. It was a fair one. If she was going to help she needed to know some. Probably not everything. But at the same time, he wasn't going to completely spurn her. He did need her. "Will," he said in response to her question about his name. "And the girl is the cousin of someone I know." Someone he loved. Someone he would never be able to love again. He looked away a moment, gathering himself. "Let's just say, I don't think anyone should be held by pirates as a prisoner - especially as they might just use her. But at the same time, it's a bit personal because her safety would mean a lot to the person I know." He shrugged and turned his attention back to her. At the comment about his name, he didn't reply just gave a partial incline of his head. Part of him honestly didn't care what her name was but at the same time, that was a bit rude. So he pushed the thoughts aside. He did notice the slight wince as she rose. The injury still there. He listened as she made her demands. "Within reason, I will listen. But I want to be kept appraised. I don't like to be kept in the dark on something - especially as honestly I have no choice but to trust you but it doesn't mean I like that. If what you tell me to do makes sense or can be explained then I can work with you. But I can't make a promise to obey a hundred percent of what you command when neither of us know each that well and don't fully see eye to eye. If that's fine with you, than we do have an accord." He held out his hand for her to take it. He didn't take hers as he had ammended the deal and now wanted to see what she was going to say.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? 'Well.. She understands instruction.' Darsby grins to himself, knowing the value of someone who can understand commands far exceeds that of a needlessly rebellious free-thinker. His eyes, imbued with complex magics, steer from left to right for observation of a fading barrier. Blouth alpha's trap their prey in invisible cages few can detect. Luckily, escaping the barrier is always as easy as eliminating the nearest alpha. Darsby spins on his heel to turn into following Anora. He feels his sealed body quake in protest to the sudden movement, tremors surging upwards from either trembling knee. "Crap.." He mumbles to himself whilst taking a moment to deliberate over his present situation. Circumstance dictates healing is less essential than escape, using whatever magic stores remain to achieve this goal is paramount. Blouth aren't our pair's only worry; there will undoubtedly be influential earth-based organizations coming to investigate this magic-filled event. "Lestiess-Lestuary" Grey smoke permeates the air surrounding Darsby as ethereal words pass into conscious space near him via supernatural speech. His body merges with the smoke, splitting into several surging tendrils of cool mist. These flowing masses rend the air in passing through the window Anora shattered. Said grey mass reassembles itself into Darsby's familiar form once having emerged from the hospital. "We're taking one of these metal wagons. You're piloting." Darsby speaks quickly, weakly gesturing with his gun towards the nearest parking lot. He begins to hobble in that ordered direction, his bare feet softly pattering against pavement and grass.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. For a heart-wrenching moment, Darsby did not follow Anora. The inside of the hospital became a black hole lurking beyond the window in comparison to the sunlight blaring all around her. Sparks igniting over her tense fingers. She took a step toward the window, preparing to jump back inside to see what kept him, multiple grim causes for his delay running through her head in an instant. She shouted in surprise and stumbled away from the window when tendrils of misty gray smoke rushed through the broken glass. Her sparks turned into glowing masses encompassing her hands, licks of sparkling purple, gold, black curling up her outspread arms in anticipation. A solid figure quickly began to form out of the mist just beyond the spray of glass shards. Not knowing what to expect—the Blouth? An Alpha? Darsby?—the glow in both her powers and gaze intensified with the pounding of her heart. "Darsby!" she breathed through a heavy sigh of relief. Her powers extinguished and she hurried to his side. It took her a heartbeat to realize what he meant by 'metal wagons.' She blinked at him when it set in. "You want to steal a car?" She asked as he began hobbling away. She glanced back at the hospital as the first hint of police sirens whispered through the air as they raced to the aid of their comrades. Comrades who had quickly fallen. None of them had any idea what they were up against. None of them stood a chance. With herself no longer in immediate danger, her conscious finally got a word in: What about everyone else? "Darsby, wait!" She reached a hand out toward her backpack as she ran toward Darsby. In the blink of an eye, purple mist surrounded her pack and it shot into her open hand, Anora catching it by a strap. She quickly caught up to him before he reached the nearest parking lot. She reached out to his non-weapon wielding arm with her free hand. She expected him to evade her touch as he had before. To her surprise, her hand closed on his upper arm, her grip gentle, yet firm. She stepped around him to stand in front of him, hoping to make him face her. "I'm not going anywhere. We weren't the only people in there." Releasing him, she gestured to the hospital, unwavering determination in her gaze. "They have no clue what's in there, let alone how to stop them! We have to help. Or…" She paused, taking in his weak, tired form. He had definitely reached his limits. She took a deep breath. "Or tell me how to stop them, and I'll help." Though the idea of facing those things alone made fear churn in her stomach, she refused to let it sway her decision. Her powers may not have worked on Darsby, but they had worked on the Blouth, which was enough for her. There was no telling how many people were in the hospital, how many potential victims those monsters had at their disposal to eat or take as hosts, or whatever else they did.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Darsby had become distant the moment he'd stepped from the hospital. Goal-oriented drive enveloped his mind in swathes of deliberate planning he felt he'd likely need to make. Anora appeared kind and dependable to him so long as she wasn't given a scenario which contradicted good morals. This had its uses and downfalls in their present circumstance. From his perspective, she'd be invaluable upon finally leaving the hospital premises; contrasting this, she would become a hindrance should she see this predicament as her responsibility. An inexperienced native magic user against the possible beasts to be faced here would require excruciating guidance Darsby is far from presently being able to provide without extreme action. Then, he felt her hand. What she'd first perceive is cold, porcelain skin; its surface is smooth to the touch yet as unyielding as stone. Darsby would likely be a marvel if he weren't notably trembling, those labored lurches one might call a stride full of an exhausted malaise. Her grasp had pulled him from his deliberation to face the very thing he was deliberating over. She was more present in this event than he likely had been from the beginning. Her fresh, young eyes held many wonders he'd somehow misplaced some time ago. "You do your people an injustice." Darsby would firmly state, wrenching his hand from Anora's grasp with whatever physical strength he could muster. Despite all weakness, something about this man was undoubtedly resolute. One could think they'd be able to peel away every bit of his body before his mind and speech would give in to any demand but his own. "Do you honestly believe humanity has no defense for this?-" An unknown plagued Darsby's features, something Anora hadn't yet seen. Genuine distaste split the air between them, his features wrinkling into mildly angered disgust for the first time. His emotions had a disarming purity to them as if each separate feeling had been worn into place by vast breadths of time. "-The very forces prepared for these threats are about to make our lives a lot harder the second they arrive." He didn't appear to have any reason for lies here. In fact, one could say there were hints of unease over these spoken truths. Our once more callous hospital patient immediately continued his sickly limp to the nearest car after initially speaking. Upon reaching a black family van, and likely taking little heed to whatever retort Anora may have had, Darsby goes to work. He snaps several times, thin bands of electricity arcing from his finger to collide with the car. The van's two front doors open as if by some powerful magnetic force, it's engine roaring to life by a vigorous howl. Darsby then moves as if to step into the passenger seat, yet, he stops halfway there. Gently, one hand is placed on the hood of the car to support him as he half-turns towards Anora. "Look, it makes sense. You can help, so you want to. But, is it your job? Or are the people who do this for a living nothing more than an after-thought?-" Darsby's typically exhausted nature has once more overtaken him as he finishes turning towards his young companion to address her fully. "-Right now you have somewhere you need to go. I intend to get you there." Truthfully, Darsby was betting more than he'd be likely to share on those last words. He wasn't entirely sure she was his first lead, but she'd caused him a hell of a lot of inconveniences, and he'd be damned if she didn't owe him for that. Regardless as to all these events, the initial emergency personnel are closing fast. They'd likely be overwhelmed in less than a minute, police and other such institutions have been on their way for quite some time before Darsby and Anora's exit from the hospital. Escape from this parking lot itself was far less unlikely than one should count on. Leaving in a car, let alone on foot, was more of a fantasy by each passing second. You couldp ractically see flashing lights entering our respective parking lot already. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Yea... Yeah, we're on our way. Don't worry about clean-up. You know I don't mind paperwork." Thin, leathery fingers pull a cellular device from its familiar position near an enamored expression. Drake didn't mind his job; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Communicating with his superiors over small incidents like this were hardly ever a hassle. Yet, he had a bad feeling in his gut that the current case he's following is going to be anything but simple. After just now getting off the phone with local HQ he'd at least make a simple task of covering this blouth event. Red and blue lights screamed alongside their companion sirens up ahead, several law enforcement vehicles peeling through a four-way intersection on their way to what's being presently reported as a terrorist shooting. Drake's leather-coated foot presses ever-harder into the gas of his jet-black vehicle, it's sport engine booming into the ambiance of this small city. He and his partner were close behind the cops on this. "I've finished the shroud. Don't expect anything else out of me today." Rippling muscles throb in contrast to powerful effeminate features next to drake in the passenger seat of his Camaro. His dominant wizard partner had spoken, her callous voice caked in its constantly conceited overtones. "I would never." Drake responds after passing her a sidelong glance. 'She'd be beautiful if she didn't think the world was beneath her' He thinks to himself after shortly resuming his focus on the road ahead. He never minded small events like this, they were easy to cover-up with memory-magic and minor conflict. Regrettably, the one these two are genuinely tracking is anything but a small-time target.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby had retreated into his bodily shell as unwitnessed energy. His powers sought refuge to amass another bought of feigned weakness. Being stuck at a level only just above that of humanities best physical specimens is likened to being deeply poisoned into a near-comatose state for him. Spending moon after moon in this vehicle had taxed Darsby into treating his body and mind as if they had both been depleted, his tendency towards dramatics only working to further these unhealthy habits. Recent events had dealt at least some form of a successful blow into changing him back into his usual self. He'd been through much before transcending to his current status; he'd do well to remember said days. "They've really done a number on you... Or, perhaps, you did a number on yourself?" A gentle voice radiates throughout Darsby's submerged consciousness. Strands of magic connect him to a distant space where his familiar dwells, busy at work. "Have I always been so difficult?" Bubbles float from Darsby's ethereal lips in this space of tangible thought, each one slowly disintegrating, allowing words to echo into the open void. "Certainly. I often find myself looking after you." Our earlier voice responded in kind; it's soft syllables brush gently against Darsby's mind. "...Will you be checking on me here as well?" He says after a long silence. "Yes, in two days. I'll bring snacks, your favorite." The voice states in motherly tones. Darsby sighs at such a kind offer, seeing it as perhaps a pinch overbearing. Then, with the accuracy of an atomic clock, the time limit to Darsby's rest is reached. Silently, our troubled traveler opens his luminous eyes. His mortal shell takes several seconds to account for all of its separate parts as dust is witnessed to dance gently in the waning sun of a dying day just above his revitalized features. He takes a few moments just to lay there, returning his mind to places it's long left in the archaic sands of time — days of walking beneath purple sky's, hours of drills and meals with long perished companions. His present body may not require food or air, even so, these thoughts brought a faint grin and distant hunger to his typically soured psyche. Darsby eventually sits up over the edge of his mattress in one smooth motion, lithe legs spilling over lumpy bedding. He examines his surroundings with what most humans would perceive as extremely heightened perception. He can hear it, the sound of wood and wind a floor above and beneath him. He can smell them, the grass and trees surrounding Grandpa Jacks Estate. Even without eyes, the world would be full of plain detail for a fair amount of surrounding meters. Long years spent honing abilities to perceive greater constructs than Earth have paid their dues in some small way here. Darsby blinks at the nearby outfit put together by Anora two minutes into re-aligning himself. This country's plethora of simple raiments have always been uncomfortable. Too many separate articles to arrive at one outfit, it all seemed unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, he knows it may be needed to appear somewhat normal looking when peering into his plans for the immediate future. Also, he realizes he should be kicking himself to accept the hospitality of the simple people populating this world. Once getting dressed he places his revolver into the left side jean pocket, its leather-bound handle protruding enough to be observed. Further minutes passed. Darsby eventually found his way on to the roof. He'd had trouble understanding the window presented to him; he couldn't accurately read the alien language on some small piece of paper that was left for him. After several grunts and a nearly shattered glass pane, he'd found himself on the roof whilst whispering apologies to Anora's relatives. His pronounced posture carries him in long steps towards the chimney Anora is propped against. He'd look vastly different than he had at the hospital. His shoulders are squared, his balance is steady, his hips facing directly towards whatever it is he finds himself focusing on. Darsby could be more easily related to a marine in dress uniform than the shambling figure that had been nearly dismembered by a passing car earlier today. His skin may still be of a porcelain tone, yet something about it appeared more vibrant and full of entirely necessary moisture. The only thing immediately off about him would be his shirt; it is much too large for him. Baggy jeans and worn boots can near-always attribute to someone's upstanding, working character. Regrettably, a shirt of this size typically can't. What stands before Anora now looks like a middle-schooler wearing his large fathers flannel, entirely intent on remaining proud of himself despite its untucked edges reaching very close to the knees. Darsby didn't appear to understand how he presently looked, resigning himself to gingerly approach the chimney Anora was inhabiting. Something of mild, childish anxiety had overcome those exasperated features and broad chest. He moved in a near stumbling motion to rest against the bricks himself, as if feeling he may not have permission to do this. Darsby was tired, as always, yet this exhaustion was evidently of an emotional sort. His body had renewed itself; somehow, his mind had barely followed. "Are you... Okay?" Darsby didn't look to understand how to ask this question entirely, yet, he did, nonetheless. His words weren't full of the warmth most people expect from their fellow man, though, it may be surprising he decided to show any concern in the first place. ------ (Pursuer update in next post, had a huge migraine.)</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora startled at every small sound that floated to her, and her attention snapped to every wave of the leaves or grass as a gentle wind blew through it. Anxiety made her muscles tense and put her senses on high alert, expecting to see some horrific creature or flashing blue and red lights emerge from the road. Not exactly conducive to sorting out thoughts, but she did her best. Though she knew she should keep her attention on her surroundings, she pulled her sketching materials from her backpack. Drawing was one of the few things that could always calm her nerves and settle a racing mind. Which was exactly what she needed. She flipped to the first blank page, the page she had torn the corner from. Taking a deep breath, she removed a pencil from its case. She closed her eyes for just a moment, trying to focus on her desired scene. She put pencil to paper and began. Though she often glanced up from her work, soon, a rough sketch of the scene from that morning's lucid dream took on monochromatic form. Massive pillars surrounded by bones, grinning skulls peaking out in places. A giant's hand, fingers curled, readying to grasp the terrain around it, a few bones soaring through the air from its sudden emergence. The faint outlines of mouths covering the hand's skin, blood dripping from their parted lips. She had begun to add solid details to the hand when a rattling noise made her jump and nearly tumble over the rooftop. She dropped her book and pencil as she hurried into a half-crouch, careful to not lose her footing. The book, laying open to her most recent artwork, slid down the slant of the roof before catching on a warped shingle. The pencil rolled further, stopping where one of the flat portions met the roof's slope. Black-speckled-purple teased her hands. Its golden sparks buzzd in preparation to go on the offensive as it sounded like someone was trying to break one of the windows. With the windows themselves mostly blocked by the roofing plateaus above them, she did her best to guess which one. Deciding on the one she had come through, she focused on it. She heard the window slide violently open. She held her breath, waiting. Her electrified mist increased, swirling around her hands and spiraling over her arms. Darsby's hushed voice reached her from the window she had chosen. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as his head poked into view. Relief because it was Darsby, not a headhunter, and that, contrary to what his body had indicated, he was very much alive. Her magic dissipated and her muscles relaxed as she returned to her place against the chimney, her backpack leaning against the side next to her. She looked from him to her sketchbook, but then had to do a double take. He stepped easily over the rooftop, his form much stronger than she had yet to see it. The sunlight shone through part of his short hair, igniting its pink strands. If she had not known better, she would have said the man walking toward her was an entirely different person. A smile quirked at her lips at the almost comical looseness of the plaid shirt. She cocked her head, her brows furrowing as his stride turned almost uncertain when he neared. Realizing what caused the change, she hesitated. Part of her didn't like the idea of him being so near her without knowing if she should be worried about him killing her or not. But something about him seemed… different, and not just because of his recovered body and hand-me-down clothes. She couldn't see the Darsby from the hospital deigning to sit next to her on the rooftop. She took a breath and scooted over to share the chimney's space. She reached for her sketchbook as he sat, its corner just barely in her reach. She leaned back against the chimney as Darsby spoke. She snorted a laugh at his question, unfazed by his tone. "Seriously?" She rested her book on her knees and raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm peachy, thanks," she answered, her voice thick with the sarcastic lie. "Nothing like being left with a corpse, news that something wants your head, and no explanation. Always a highlight of the day." She sighed, looking him over. "But I should be asking you that. Looking alive suits you better than looking dead." She couldn't help glancing to the gun shoved in the pocket near her. Reminding herself it wasn't loaded, she looked instead to her newest drawing without really seeing it, keeping a peripheral watch on him. She let the tingle of her powers race just out of physical existence, ready to be called upon should he decide to turn on her. She absently used her thumb to smudge the shadowing where the graphite wrist met bone gravel. "If you're well enough, does our deal still stand? I swear," she looked to him and jabbed a finger toward his chest, "if you count that as one of the questions, I'll push you off the roof." The attempted menacing look she gave him only accentuated the emptiness of the threat.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Darsby, now unclouded by deadly fatigue, gives new life to emotions he earlier expressed via physicality and tone. His previous habits of tiredness and exasperation appear to be rooted at least partially aside from his bodily state. He had the air of an intellectual on the verge of discovering some foreboding, all-encompassing truth. To speak and interact with this being was to talk with someone who lacked humor due to his mind being somewhere far removed from present circumstance. "You're unlike most humans. I'd suspect you to be in relative distress after dealing with today's happenings. It's strange you find it good." Her sarcasm had flown in the exact opposite direction of Darsby whilst he shrugged apathetically, caring not for whatever undertones Anora may be trying to establish. The remainder of her words passed over him as fluid across a stone, doing little to move or mold him in their short-lived disparity. Darsby gazed into the afternoon sky through jaded slits of radiant pinkish dye. Bags the size of suitcases could have hooked into the underside of either eye and they'd be wholly at home. His back hunched forward so both arms could rest atop denim-coated kneecaps. Gentle wafts of air play cheerfully with his hair in contradiction to an overly saturated figure of grim sanctity. You'd suspect him to be the detective of an H.P. Lovecraft story, facing his final demise with solemn repose. Once Anora finished speaking and pointing, Darsby would turn his head toward her. His eyes again bled emotion and spirit in profound yet somehow subtle ways as they did before he collapsed by the road two hours earlier. A mother having a regrettable, but, necessary conversation with her dearly loved child. Someone driving by the body of an animal laying dead on the side of the road, feeling regret over its untimely demise. All of this shifting suddenly towards the feeling of watching a grown cat shelter it's infant from the rain in a dark corner of urban jungles. Steep roads where a parent drives safely to avoid swerving out of control with their family asleep in the car on a long journey home. These would all wrap themselves into one dense emotional amalgam that slips as wind through the heart. However brief it was, it still got the entirety of its point across in some cold, distant manner. "Our deal stands. You deserve two answers still. Ask away whenever you want." He'd state simply, his expression unchanged as those words end his glancing in her direction. Darsby now stares back out into the endless horizon before him, something alien yet human collide together in the visual of him sitting there. He is motionless, more so than most any person could truthfully accomplish. He is also full of some longing natural to most any deep-thinking individual, that face searching the earth galloping before it as if some faintly world-revealing poetry were being actively written beneath it. His concern and hostility are far from Anora if they even debatably live at all inside that callously softened aesthetic. His revolver looks more as a piece to some nonchalant artistic statement than it does anything to be used for violence. In truth, darsby danced mentally between old memories and the task at hand. He'd need to carefully sort his immediate goals before taking any action involving Anora. He'd also need to crawl from whatever dark place he'd been falling into over the course of this past month as a human. Being away from his home and duties had done much more than expected to sabotage the outlook he'd usually hold in all matters at hand.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby offered no reply to Anora's initial verbalities describing how she'd had explaining to do and the importance of honesty in his promised responses. These things mattered little to him, his mind still making unwitnessed attempts to dive back into the variables of mortal life. He'd had more than a few years since the last moment where death was an available circumstance, something most humans feel in at least some slight way every day. "Well-..." Darsby began, his body reacting before his mind to offer an answer. He'd stopped at that first word for what would likely feel like ages, his figure giving into motionless existence for many measurable moments before continuing. Cold rooms slurped their jumbled importance into his train of thought. One message received from his close mentor, the fight to gain a task from the hands of other competitors. His desire to run from his home, to run as far as he could readily go. The notion of using an offered duty to utilize his fears and revitalized mourning as vehicles to undertake callings of discovery. Sitting before councils and briefs and further councils inside frigid stone chambers. The truth of him still being emotionally weak despite his hidden strength causes his body to visibly shiver before he begins speaking again to escape the honest valleys his mind may start to wander otherwise. "..- I elected to undertake an emissary task. My superiors wish to find and communicate with an entity known as Pan, of Olympus, having detected a vestige of his magic as presently active. After scouring this world, I'd discovered an ancient contract this creature made. You are the only living human where that contract can be found, deeply ingrained in your blood. I plan on using you to assist me in finding this contracts creator; it should still be attached to him in some small way. I'd understand if you refuse, though, I didn't travel all this way to hear a 'no' to any of the questions I retain." Darsby spoke in a clear, level tone. He relinquished the simpler side of an explanation to Anora without further hesitation. He didn't pause for breath. He spoke with callous speech and unflinching emotion. His ending statement sounded no different than anything else he's ever said thus far. This man is used to dealing in blatant facts and not much else. After perhaps two or three seconds of pause, Darsby relinquishes a sigh and reaches to scratch the back of his neck. This action would look to be sudden despite its slowness due to his recent states of motionlessness. "Y-you're necessary. I'll need to show you the ropes.. b-but you could act as more than a compass if you sso desired." An odd thing happened to Darsby's voice. Something of emotion had infected it whilst it appealed to Anora in suddenly sheepish undertones. He slurred his words in the jumble of ill-portrayed sensations which came across as a likely insensitive ordeal. His hand grasped the back of his head purely in an attempt to hide his eyes for a few brief seconds. Perhaps he didn't wish for his soul to be peered into as typically seems to occur when locking eyes. ----------------------------------------------------- Cold air licked the edges of our dapper gentlemen's cigarette. His dry lips touched the filter of another cancer stick made heavy by the worries of a stressed employee. He took in several long drags before pulling the rod away between thin, leathery fingers. "No, John. I already spoke to Hernandez, and he told me to call you....-" The man wrestled verbally with yet another superior on the phone. Paperwork and hoops are typical obstacles to jump through with any government agency. "- No, you won't be a scapegoat for anything.... Yes, I'll be the active hand with three steps of permission. She won't be making any brash actions.... No, I haven't heard anything from them, this all seems to be some free-hand stuff..... I know it's gotta be an off-worlder, my gut says the same thing... But-... No, I did-... Ok, ok I get it. Thanks, John. I'll call you back after contact." One pale, work-hardened thumb taps an android phone screen to end it's present phone call. With a sigh of relief, the man drinks in another musty grey cloud. "Finally! Let's go!" Thick, curling lips toss speech as slabs of granite against their nearby peer. The one to whom these feminine lips belonged had spent more than two-long hours awaiting her partner to obtain necessary permissions over the case of a potential off-worlder in their local vicinity being accompanied by a female, native magic-user. Thunk! The glove box in the old car they both presently resided inside of jostled loudly, our huntress opened it feverishly to find a freshly transported case file within. Bare bones paperwork and a few blank lines requiring signatures cold found between manilla walls. Our gentlemen went to work quietly labeling its contents, patiently ignoring his partner. "Are we lea-!?" The woman is cut short by a sharp, pointing gesture made on the tip of a smoldering cigarette towards her. "I'm in charge, active hand permissions here. Only after three steps can you intervene, or else. You know the deal." He spoke by patient, unwavering callousness. She sits back, holding the ferocity of one-hundred lions in aggressive heat at bay lest her partner be rent into literal pieces. "...Fine." She'd finally say, looking forward through a polished windshield. She would give him time to address their present circumstance. If anything, she respected him as capable among humans upon witnessing him in combat for many moons straight. At least they had the case. She'd fought hard for this one, something about that second smell was familiar... A familiarity she somehow detested on a deep level. Our gentlemen gently tapped the steering with his wrist after several minutes of filling in the dotted line. Their 1969 mustang transport roared magically to life, beginning to drive itself hands-free towards the new location impatiently given just before all permissions to continue were given — some farmhouse owned by a local family. There was an internal debate soon to be resolved as to whether or not they'd take the faster route there. It was looking as if impatience would get the better of them, a simple teleportation incantation being its result.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora held her breath when Darsby began speaking. Her heart pounded in anticipation in the suspenseful silence that followed. Though he did not meet her gaze, she kept hers on him. For a moment, as one second spanned into another, she feared he wouldn't answer. That he had changed his mind. Then, with a shiver despite the summer's warmth, he dissolved those fears by answering. Her eyes narrowed at the prospect of Darsby working for someone, but that thought was pushed to the side. "Olympus?" she repeated, but Darsby continued despite her shocked interruption. By the time another pause fell, Anora's brain was still stuck on Olympus, trying to figure out if that was a code name, or if he meant Zeus' Olympus, let alone even beginning to wrap around the rest. She inhaled at his last sentence, about not traveling just to hear 'no.' It sounded vaguely like a threat to her ears, though his tone gave nothing of his intent away. She glanced from him, trying to make her mind stop spinning, his answers only spawning more questions. She groaned inwardly before his voice again regained her attention. She blinked in surprise at his new tone, at the sudden switch from cold and uncaring to saturated with inexplicable emotions. She stared at him in the silence that followed his words, but still, he refused to meet her eyes, even hiding them from her. But his final offer made her heart flutter. She exhaled heavily, glad, nonetheless, for the moment to try untangling her thoughts. He was willing to 'show her the ropes' so she could be more than his guide. Which meant it was unlikely she would end up in a ditch in the side of the road with one of his bullets in her head if he decided she was no longer useful to him. No one put effort into something they planned on discarding. But then, if he was working for someone, who were they, and what did they want with this Pan guy? And how the freak did she even have a 'contract' with the guy when she had never even met him? It was nigh impossible to narrow down her questions to just the one that remained. "Limiting me to two questions is borderline barbaric!" she grumbled irritably. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers smudged with graphite. A gentle breeze blew about the rooftop, bringing with it the sweet scent of trees and earth. She stared ahead of her at the expanse of roof spanning in front of her, her gaze at where the rooftop dropped away. She took a deep breath, hating having to think so hard on what to ask. She had many questions, and a choice. It took great restraint to keep from immediately agreeing; if it meant learning more about her magic, about others' magic, she was in. But a small, dusty voice at the back of her skull reminded her she needed to think first, act later. At least just this once. At last, she took a breath and looked back to Darsby. "What would I have to do? To find this Pan and be 'more than just your compass,'" she elaborated, hoping he wouldn't count the double information request as two separate questions.</s>	<\|message\|>??? While Anora grappled with Darsby's words, and immediately upon her looking away from him, he'd have lowered his arm back to its previous position upon denim-coated knee. He now resumed facing the Earth in its entirety from that ramshackle rooftop, less afraid of its shadows than he was of his own. That personal darkness crawled as a now living prison to insights awaiting rediscovery. An ancient sensation was brewing within him, something youthful and simplistic. 'Innocence' had been one of the first words to come to mind, but it didn't belong to Anora by its origin, so from where had it come? Something colorful, perhaps even childlike had brewed it's unwholesome brew within him. Though, he somehow thought that he was wrong in aiming to be afraid or disgusted. These conflicts spawned further cascades of troubled self-reflection. Had Anora looked back into Darsby's eyes before he began responding she'd, for a moment, be tossed back into that drowning current of emotions which consumes the soul on it's most profound levels. Images and sensations poured as plentiful, raging rivers of violent waters over her innermost facet. A parent, lovingly gazing at their child among others before picking them up at daycare, finding themselves suddenly troubled that this infantile human may take after one or more of their parents worse habits. A child staring into a marble, genuinely captivated by its spherical shape and inner-artwork, not letting a single detail escape his sharp young eyes. Someone not above the age of eight, innocent in their desire to leap into the smallest pond reflecting warm rays of morning sunlight before them. An old man troubled to discover he's lived his entire life without being so young as he could have been in spirit all along. A niece sick with the flu, vomiting into a bucket near you whilst you gently rub their shuddering back. Darsby's eyes become a spiritual and near-physical location where all of these things are made simultaneously true yet not at the same time. It's as if the human mind were grappling with some form of communication ardent in it's comparison to typical speech. In his contemplation, Darsby had noted, but overlooked, the double-wide question presented. Anora is young; her heated heart must be troubled at the moment; despite her earlier words. He could smell it in her sweat, he could hear it in her heartbeat, he could taste it in the breeze surrounding them. She was stressed, and he kicked himself mentally for not noticing all the way up until this moment. 'How tired have I actually gotten..?' He questioned internally. "I'm..-" He started, his mouth wrestling with itself to not immediately apologize as it had somehow intended to do. He quickly regained composure, though his words were still mildly painted in sprays of apologetic verbality and anxiously hurried speech. "-Well, you'd be-" Darsby paused again, his hands wrapping around the back of his head lacing fingers into wild tufts of hair to wrestle these sentiments from existence with no victory in sight. "-You would occasionally have to undergo a mapping spell that relies on small sums of blood to point us in their direction. Aside from that, I'll take some time to talk to you about that energy you so freely toss about. You're a bit off in how you're using it." It wouldn't, by tone, sound as if the mapping spell was what he felt apologetic or anxious about. Perhaps his outward conflict is outside of Anora herself. Darsby sighed, without breath or air, into space before him. The engines fueling his lungs lay their calculated uses aside to express a troubled heart. Those hands remained, gently holding an organic head whilst it's inner-workings fold harshly upon one another. ---------------------- Half a mile away from Anora and Darsby an old car warped its polished exterior into existence. This teleportation was soundless and unnoticeable, shiny outer surfaces having been delicately hidden beneath a tree. "Remember, don't set one foot outside this car without 'all three steps'." Hoarse, masculine vocals split the air between two stressed employees. "I wouldn't dare." Came the overly-accentuated feminine response, sass, and disrespect blatantly clear by all accounts. The man sighed as he stepped from an ebony vehicle, his body fading from sight under the guise of an invisibility spell. He knew better than to give into that vile woman's banter.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? What happened next would have happened fast, extremely fast. There's a realm which dwells outside of humanities visual capacities. This is the realm where the next four seconds transpire. Darsby, still entirely unarmed by his standards, was caught off guard by the feminine huntress closing in on our farmhouse. He couldn't have heard, seen, or smelled this woman underneath the veil of her magic. Crash! Through the window came an invisible mass. Reacting on instinct, Darsby turns left to face whatever hidden foe may have reared its fangs here. Bang!Bang!-Crash! Two rounds exit a worn revolver's chamber just before Darsby is thrown into the wall at his left with such force that he nearly breaks through it entirely. With a faint shimmer, our new opponent is revealed, one of her hands has wholly passed through the center of Darsby's chest. Rippling muscles cascade down the exterior of heavily tanned arms sprouting from a grey tank-top. Loose fitting cargo shorts rest just above sandals — crimson hair jutts in many directions atop veined features contorted by beauty and habitual rage. Fierce orange eyes glow near Darsby's chest as she withdraws her arm from the gaping hole she's created to quickly strike both of his shoulders with a blur of punches. Crack!-popop! Bones snap under the weight of her near-invisible strikes. The man and his grey suit stand just as this woman finishes her assault, her right arm drenched in chunks of bone and strips of flesh. "Ahllasta! I told you to stay in the car!" He barks, though somehow still sounding unenthused by present circumstance. "He's a Baron." She'd quietly say in a mist of rage while staring down at the sputtering form of her victim. Darsby is again rendered as a mass of broken form. He's crumpled into the ground and left to sputter in effort to speak, both arms limp at his sides after having slid to the Earth below. Bang! With one movement, so fast it escaped sight, the grey man had drawn a pistol and fired a round into Darsby's twitching head. With that, Anora's companion went silent. "Then he's stuck in bureaucracy until his body's fixed. I'm making the call." He then pulls a cell-phone to his ear, sighing while stepping from the room to mumble silently at some unnamed superior. The Huntress is all that's left in the room. Her lips are curled int a snear as she stares down upon what looks to be a corpse. She's openly furious, having been robbed of the ability to speak her mind to the figure at her feet.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora shouted and spun in surprise when the window at the end of the hall practically exploded, shards of glass trailing behind the invisible force that smashed it. She stumbled back as that something rushed past her and slammed into Darsby. She tumbled to the floor just inside the living room. Whether she suddenly began to move in slow motion or everyone else was darting about at supernatural speed, Anora couldn't say. But before she had hit the floor, before even the clatter of the scattered shards of glass could finish raining down, a gunshot rang out. Or perhaps multiple. She would never be sure. She could only stare, horror-struck, at the blurred attack taking place before her. The sickening crack of breaking bones fought to be heard over the echo of gunfire still ringing through the farmhouse. Heart hammering in her throat and eyes wide, her gaze settled on Darsby's now sputtering, bloody form. "No!" she breathed, scrambling to her knees. Her powers sparkled to life in the air in front of her, reacting to her terror and panic rather than conscious orders. Before her powers could so much as solidify into something helpful, another gunshot rang out. She had not even realized the man in gray had stood, let alone drawn a gun. The bang of the gun momentarily deafened her. But she didn't care. All her focus was on the target of the bullet. Just like that. He was dead… again. In only a matter of seconds. Her hands fell limp to her sides. Her powers sputtered out. Dead and broken. Anora swallowed, hard. The sound of the man's voice reached her through the ringing in her ears. She shook herself from her stupor in time to catch only the last sentence. She glanced to him as he left the room, neither of the murderous monsters paying her any mind. With fear-shortened breaths, her gaze flicked between where the man had walked off to, to Darsby, to the woman. Crimson dripped from the woman's fingers, splattering the floor in blood. The same crimson soaked Darsby's shirt and streaked his face. She was beginning to loath that color. Her hands clenched into fists. She let her fear fuel her anger. Anger at the intrusion when she was so close to getting answers, to learning more about a side of the world most humans never saw. Hatred at what they had done to Darsby. At herself for being capable of doing nothing to stop it. She could be afraid later. Right now, she needed to act. She glared up at the woman, her eyes glowing as mist cascaded from her hands. Indignant rage twisted Anora's face as she slowly stood, trying to mask the trembling of her legs and pounding of her heart. The mist quickly created a pool at her feet, golden lightning and specks of black flowing through its vivid violet. She needed a distraction. Something to keep them preoccupied long enough for her to get Darsby to the van out front and escape. She knew it was risky, knew she could be overdoing it or even fail and end up just like Darsby—only without the regeneration part—but there was no way she was going to let that stop her. Darsby had tried to protect her, watched out for her upstairs. Now it was her turn to return the favor. I've got this. "I don't know who you crackpots think you are," she growled, proud and shocked she managed to keep a tremor from her voice. She took a cautious step closer to Darsby and his attacker, her puddle of magic following her, "but you've overstayed your welcome." In the span of a thought, her mist rose into three swirling masses. They molded and solidified into the form of hellhounds about waist high to the intruder. Ebony and gold flashed over their matted fur and through their translucent purple bodies. Each one bore its fangs, their growls coming out in a crepitating hiss through their gnarled snouts. Their pupilless eyes glowed a swirling black and gold. Though she had no clue whether or not the woman could see her powers, or was as blind to it as everyone else she knew, all that mattered was that she kept them solid enough to do damage and keep the duo busy. All the better if the murderers couldn't see them. As soon as they fully formed, the monstrous dogs readied to leapt at the woman, snarling and snapping their jagged fangs.</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby feels his spirit slip from space and time alongside the sound of gently running rapids. He was here only moments ago during his bodies previous recuperation. Ebony and ivory collide as shadows strike surrounding lights with force against his unsubstantial form. Thoughts and relevant information struggle to formulate inside this flowing dimension just beyond the haze of our supposedly solid reality. Conflict over what it is that has just occurred fights for supremacy of importance. Darsby wrestles to regain proper sentience after having been forcefully tossed into this other realm while Anora resolves to stand for whatever semblance of life she may yet hold. -------------------------------------------------------------- This huntress tenses further, proving that this action isn't impossible despite her visibly flexed muscles. Ahllasta had taken notice of Anora and kept her reaction at bay. The creature before her had been subdued entirely without a struggle despite her previous wishes. She knew this man; she had a score with him. Ahllasta had wished to perch herself atop Darsby's body, waiting for him to recover so she may derive the satisfaction of genuinely striking him down. The man in grey, Vince, had taken said luxury away. She cared for little else than prey and grudges; in our present scenario, he had stolen both. Slowly, Ahllasta turns towards Anora. Though she reeks of aggression and ill-kept notions of hate, she didn't appear to be directing any of it towards our young human. "Girl, you know this man?" Her words slip with the anger of a military instructor struggling to keep their louder vocalities at bay. Ahllasta's posture would then change upon Anora mustering the strength to fabricate veritable hell-hounds. This alien huntress has one small but thick brown horn protruding its sharp surface from the center of her forehead, glittering by the faint specks of blood that splattered over its surface from the previous attack. Just below said feature dwells a newly revived outward mode of emotion. All at once this woman shifts from predator to aggressive negotiator. Her arms casually lace themselves beneath her breasts, her hips sway slightly to the left, her feet turn somewhat outwards. All that still held on to vicious dismay were her eyes, those heinous, beating eyes. "He needs you for something, doesn't he? What if I said I'd help you get him out of here?" Her lips curled once more to release those leering words. She spoke like a beast turning to address some lesser animal impassionately. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Darsby begins to recollect his fragmented self from within the spatial void he now occupies. The outside world comes to him in muffled waves of prismatic light and slurred sounds. Cognition begins to spin it's whirring gears again as method transcend logic, feelings collide to transcend expression, and finally, words arrive to make sense of the pieces at play. "I'm... I've been put here?" He musters to say to himself, still many moments from making sense of current circumstance. He attempts to align an out-of-order sequence of memories. Gunfire, cars, smoke, a girl, conversation, a residence. He feels he's getting close, but this likely won't produce any externally visible results in an amount of time that Anora should reasonably bargain for.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora's hounds hesitated when the woman—the monster, alien, demon, whatever she was—did not immediately try to defend or attack. Anora had had no idea what to expect from the… thing, but talking had not been among her considered possibilities. She squared her jaw at the woman's question about Darsby's need for her. "No," she lied, a tinge of her surprise at chatting instead of fighting marring the harshness in her tone. "I was just convenient." Her hounds pawed at the ground with Anora's uncertainty at the situation. She snorted at Ahllasta's hypothetical question of helping to get Darsby out of there. She glanced to Darsby's bloodied, lifeless form. A chunk of plaster fell from the dent the woman had put in the wall from slamming him into it. "I'd call you a liar," she spat. The hounds snapped their teeth in unison at her last word. She dared a glance to where the first intruder had gone. He could be calling for backup, or cleanup. Or worse, depending on what 'the Call' was. She didn't have time for this. She could feel the draw on her energy from keeping the hounds solid, but she didn't dare let them fade. Not yet. But if there was even a slight chance of making escaping alive easier, she had to take it. "Why would you help me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She suppressed a shudder as she met Ahllasta's gaze. She didn't trust those eyes.</s>	<\|message\|>??? A leathery tongue struts slowly over the lower, then the upper lip of Ahllasta's vicious mouth. Sharp canines are seen for a brief moment behind meaty lips. Feral eyes pace Anora's figure for roughly five seconds straight before speech again enters this encounter. Her vascular arms split from one another to place hands on burly hips. "All I'll say is, I'd like to defeat Darsby. Before I could witness anything other than this reproachful form-" Ahllasta kicks at Darsby's limp leg, a light crack being heard from beneath his flesh as she does so. "-my partner shot him down. I'll help you, so long as you don't get in the way when I see fit to make good on my grudge." Each sentence passes quickly into the growls and sneers that follow her words. She sounds like an animal accustomed to speech only enough for it to look relatively natural, words being a tool she only employs when needed. She speaks just silently enough for her partner not to hear of any bargaining happening in the living room. The grey-suited man can be heard from the living room. Sighs, "yes, I know" and "I get it, but this is big, I'm sure" can be heard on several occasions past the thin living room walls. One finger is lightly tapping against Ahllasta's hip to express urgency over time. The rest of her is motionless aside from animalistic facial features, making that one fidgeting appendage stand out. --------------------------------------------------------- Darsby swims in a sea of dislocated words. He's taken to sorting out the sentences he's spoken to others after deciding he is physically somewhere entirely foreign. Words collide to form coherent statements about him; statements align to express when everything was said. Perhaps by understanding his own need to say what he said he can understand what pushed him into this state. Perhaps he'd be better off sticking to what he's most recently witnessed, either way, it's better to start somewhere specific than nowhere in particular. At least, he hopes he's taking a correct course of action.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta shifts posture again, one hand falling to its respective side. This free hand poises itself as if it were ready to chop and jab at the drop of a hat. Her carnivorous eyes dance for less than three seconds this time around, dashing from the hallway and then back to Anora after deciding their time is better spent in a damaged living room. She's thinking, turning some despicable thought on its other side via firey metaphorical utensils. "How about this?-" Ahllasta, being more a woman of action than debate and bargaining, had made up her mind to follow a new, unspoken course of action. She lived from the hip and enacts all her decisions to reflect said truth. A small shimmering thread, only visible by its super-thin reflective surface, is withdrawn from Ahlassta's pocket. One small metallic sphere is held, dangling at the end of said string. Ahllasta twirls the sphere in circles until suddenly it glows a bright red alongside emitting a low hum. She eventually tosses the sphere through a nearby wall into the hallway where her partner is, a light Crack and spray of dust being the only indication that it's moved through two layers of plaster. Crash! Through the earlier mentioned plaster comes Ahllasta's alleged partner via a faint twitch of her wrist, dazed and completely wrapped in that thin threading. "Wha-?" He'd sputter amidst clouds of dust before a simple flick to his temple sends a sharp Crack! through the room, disabling the poor man as he slumps into being entirely supported by a faint twinkling twine. Not even a second later he is dropped, still bound, to the floor below. In Ahllasta's hand is a pair of jingling keys. "My rides faster." She'd say whilst mischief paints her features in prideful swathes. She lets go of the yarn in her hand and gently kicks at Darsby's shattered leg in such a way that he's pulled across the floor towards Ahllasta, underneath Anora's hellhound. Another seemingly gentle kick and Darsby is likely tossed over Ahllasta's shoulder should there be no interference. Throughout this entire affair which transpired as if it were some pre-ordained course of perfected action occurring in no more than seven seconds flat, Ahllasta never broke eye-contact with Anora. "You're coming with, dear." She'd casually remark with a sneer before turning towards the way out, intending to walk to the black 1974 Mustang she'd arrived in. A cell-phone, somewhere on the floor in the hallway continues to emit faint sounds. "Hello...? Vince...? Respond now, or I'll assume the worst," would come a stern voice. ---------------------------------------------------------- "So, I'm on Earth?" Darsby would mutter to himself inside a swirling vortex of jumbled conversations. His mind is still far from present circumstance.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora tensed, holding her breath as she waited for Ahllasta's answer. Though the woman didn't take long, it was long enough to make Anora shift her weight uneasily and her hound to let out a low, impatient growl. Anora raised her chin slightly when the woman spoke, expecting a counter proposal, but this time, Ahllasta didn't bother further speaking. Instead, the woman reached into one of the pockets in her cargo pants. Anora's hound growled warningly, its body hunching, ready to attack. Golden electricity swirled more frequently within its translucent form. The mist from one of the hounds she had released gathered in front of her feet, ready to spring up into a shield as a second defense. But the precautions proved unnecessary. Her gaze darted between the beastly woman's and the sphere she had pulled from her pocket. The thread it dangled from hardly looked like it should be capable of holding the object up as Ahllasta began to spin it. Anora suppressed a shudder as she noticed the woman's gaze did not once flick from her. "What—?" she began, but didn't get to finish her question. She gasped and stepped back when Ahllasta tossed the spinning sphere through the wall. Before Anora could reform her question or her hound react to her thoughts and emotions, the small puff of plaster dust the top-like item left became a storm with a loud, cracking thud. Anora stumbled back, blinking quickly to keep the dust from her eyes. Her hound let out a shocked, angered yelp, its form wavering for a fraction of a second. Before the dust had time to think about settling, she heard the man's surprised voice, his clouded form suspended not far from her. With little more than a flick of her wrist, Ahllasta had the man down for the count. Anora blinked down at the unconscious form of the man bound by the impossible thread. "That's one way to keep him busy," she muttered. Her face contorted as she tried not to sneeze. Her attention quickly snapped back to Ahllasta, for a moment wondering if the statement meant she was going to loan them her car. But her heart sank as the woman slid Darsby to her, Anora's magic swelling around him too late to stop her, and shouldered him. She intended on going with them. "What?" She gawked after the woman, horrified, Ahllasta's gaze still unnervingly on her. Her hound mimicked the question with a growling snap of its jaws. Anora's eyes narrowed at the order as the woman turned and headed to the front door. Her hands clenched at her sides. Ahllasta and Darsby had one thing in common, it seemed: they both expected her follow orders unquestioningly. Like a lost pup with no mind of its own. But at least Darsby had answered her questions. What's with these people? she thought, scowling. She hurried after the woman as Ahllasta made it to the front porch. Anora sent her hound ahead of her, the rest of her mist dissipating. The hound slipped out the door just behind Ahllasta. On quick, silent feet, it jumped the railing of the porch, turned mid-air, and slid to a stop just below the steps to block the woman's path. It bore its fangs at her, daring her to try to pass it. "I'm coming," Anora growled, stepping outside onto the porch, "but like heck I'm letting you come with. You're the reason we're in this mess!" More mist swirled over her now open and ready hands, tendrils wrapping up her forearms. The power usage nagged at her. She wasn't accustomed to using her powers as much as she had in a single day. It pulled at her energy as if she was in the middle of a workout rather than summoning magic, reminding her she needed to be careful. She still needed to save enough strength to drive Darsby and herself out of there. The adrenaline pumping through her and the energy bars in her pack would help, but neither would get her very far. That much she knew from experience. Doing her best to not give away how using her powers affected her, she took a cautious step to the side to flank Ahllasta and put a bit of extra distance between them. "I doubt we have time to argue," she began, her words coming out in a nervous rush, "so put Darsby down and the two of us will be on our way." Her hound growled in agreement, the crackling sound low and feral.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Click-... A small box-like structure is flipped open, one ball-joint allows it to split in half to expand its rectangular shape. Pale fingers hold said shape to a cold face creased by concerned features. One word shimmers atop our devices outline, "Earth." "Yeah?" A gentle voice grates through damaged vocal cords. "This is senior agent Hernandez of the CMA. Your number is in our records regarding-" A brass-tax, effeminate voice warbles through an alien translator into the ear of the one who holds our communications box. "Ahllasta?" He'd say, sighing all the while. Several fingers begin to pace his temples anxiously. "-Y-yeah..." Hernandez would say, having been thrown off by an interruption. "-You see, she's been displaying a consistent lack of respect for authority. You're listed as her Papers shuffle... uhm, retainer?" "Yes, yes. I'm-... on my way." Soft-spoken sorrow paints an anguished demeanor in shades of brief hesitance. "W-well you don't need to come here. I'm citing embassador's rights to expedite her removal from our Earth-Space jurisdiction! Under regulatory-" Hernandez is cut off once more just as her voice climbs into throngs of judicial anger. "Senior agent Hernandez. You can't claim ambassador privileges as a tertiary power. You 'can' claim assistance from a transfer retainer. Don't worry; we aren't all like her." Our man's bristly words float with a light-hearted authority. "Look here! I'm the supervisor to your 'Councils' little transfer program, what I say-!" Click! Hernandez is cut short by a closing of the communications box. The box is eventually stored inside a pseudo-hoodies front pocket. One spidery hand withdraws a small notebook from the same pocket. Once-opened, the first page of this pamphlet displays only a giant question mark. "Outer-lands, Earth." Hoarse words bounce against crumpled pages. Once the words mentioned above are spoken the notebook begins to alight with various throngs of written information for several pages to come. Several moments are spent flipping through salvaged history and statistics pertaining to the local political climate. For several minutes this continues until that communications box is pulled back into open space. Click! "EFC" With that spoken command the cube vibrates and rings, sending some strange signal into deep space. "This is the EFC. Central line." Metallic chords ring against an ivory ear. "C-K-SB. Requesting full ambassador and temporary governance rights for an outer world, Earth. Secondary requests: same surrounding sol rights, a class five regulator, and, uhm...-" The man stops for a moment to rub at tightening neck-muscles with his free hand. "- Actually, make that three class six regulators, and an all-silent transport. Sage S-backing." Roughly twenty seconds are spent in silence after this request; anxious fingers continue to rub against a tense nape. "All permissions granted. Transport and supplies to arrive at your present locale." Automated syllables persevere until finally ending with a Click!. The communications box shuts again. Our man looks out across his surrounding landscape. A greenish sunset collides with a crimson sky in the distance. He sighs at the burden of monitoring an impulsive huntress such as Ahllasta. Regardless, what truly troubles this wizard residing countless light-years from Earth isn't a ferocious woman, it's what was referred to as a 'Standing Ambassador's Contract' for Earth. This contract spoke of an ancient myth even this man had heard of on his far-removed homeworld — the tale of Pahn. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ahllasta finds herself to be suddenly plagued by an inexplicable feeling of dread. Her gut is better than she'd bargain for it to be. "You're right, we don't have time to argue!" Her voice shoots through grating teeth, each canine sounding more like a tumbling boulder than anything a human can audibly produce. With these words, her body begins to radiate an overwhelming presence. Thoughts and ideas pour from her feral figure like an ocean being spilled out of a cup. Gnashing teeth, searing steam, roaring bonfires in the distance, dark shadows looming in every direction; all of these things cascade into Anora's psyche without resistance as Ahllasta begins to look even more intimidating as if she'd somehow gained twelve feet in size. Though she hasn't actually increased in height, it wouldn't stop Anora from possibly perceiving her feet to be big enough to squish her completely. "Want to bet your exhausted magic supply on a fight with me?!" Ahllasta would say, her words followed by deep and thunderous vibratto. You'd sooner call her words thunder than thinking them to be anything like speech. Each syllable spills like a landslide into the open air. Perhaps she's bluffing about knowing Anora's current state, either way, it'd be hard to make a bet against that body which now literally permeates a predators presence. The aforementioned ambiguous force would be just weak enough as to not totally overwhelm Anora nor cause her to lose consciousness. -------------------------------------------------------- Sweltering heat spills as a searing mist into Darsby's conscious space. Somehow, Ahllasta's unregulated presence is affecting him inside his invisible realm. This sensation begins to reawaken memories both old and recent in his mind. He can hear a woman shouting something about revenge while his chest slowly starts to burn. His mind begins to home into its present circumstance at a higher pace than before.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta withdrew her presence immediately after Anora backed down. She may be hostile and filled with an endless rage, yet it doesn't seem to mean she's not in control of it all. She continued forward towards her vehicle, Adjusting Darsby atop her shoulder as his congealed blood seeps down her back and chest. Ahllasta stopped as Anora spoke, straightening up as her features warp into a shape which seems entirely unexpected to those who've known her for the slightest of moments. She smiled a broad humorous smile. Laughter eventually followed her grin as if all of this were some great tide of joy to gather up into a boisterous wave before inevitably fading. Her guffaw was as the tumbling of great machinery striking against shattered pavement. "You're quite the woman!-" Ahllasta would muster to say whilst tossing Darsby's body into the back seat. "-To speak so easily to me after all of that.-" Ahllasta moves to the front seat to take her place and rev the car to life. She'd wait for Anora to enter wherever she pleases before speaking again. "-You hardly know the way of things, I don't hold it against you. That body is hardly one one-hundredth of Darsby's actually strength. I need him to be at his peak to derive satisfaction." The inside of the car is as black as it's polished exterior. Worn leather and luxury pace the walls and seats of this transports cabin, a small pallet of various unmarked buttons rest in the center console between sports vehicle seating. Ahllasta presses a button near the front as she spins the car's wheels into an aggressive howl against the dirt beneath them. The vehicle, along with everyone in it, becomes mildly translucent as our Mustang charges violently forward. Trees and fences and tall grass pass through the car as if it were a specter. The only thing holding steady seems to be the earth below as bumps and divets rock the cabin violently. Eventually, we find ourselves on a highway, heading in no particular direction but indeed leaving the state. "Ohio, Exit 95" licks the edge of Ahllasta's vision as the car solidifies. She rolls down her window, letting wind throw her hair about. She closes her eyes, piloting the car easily without sight. Her other senses are more than enough for this. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Darsby now understands that whatever happened to toss him into this state was recent and shockingly violent. What's holding him is whether or not he was alone... If he was, then staying here to contact his superiors for permission to obtain a stronger body would be the best course of action. He can't help but observe a name he once said since arriving at Earth, the first human name he's taken time to speak. "Anora." Was he with her? Perhaps, the strange crackling thing he'd briefly sensed while in this state had told him that she can use magic. If she can, then she likely isn't human or from Earth. The question as to how he would have only known of her recently is the kicker. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ring-ring-ring! Click!... Our distant character receives another call as the portal to his destination begins tearing into existence before him. "Yea?" He'd casually begin. "One of mine is already on Earth. He's following up on a 'Pahn' lead." A familiar voice travels with profound vibratto from our small speaker. "How does that involve me?" A response is given after several moments wait. "Well, with your permissions, you'll need to be ready as an initial means of contact if Pahn's discovered while you're there." The voice is asserting yet faintly gentle in its speech. "Yeah, I understand. I'll hang around if I end up meeting your guy. I just need a name." After an initial sigh, he came around to continuing the conversation. "Darsby. His assignment is unique and confidential. I know I shouldn't have to worry about you, but, be gentle with him." The voice took on a parental tone for a moment. "I understand." Click! With that, a tear in space had finished forming nearby, a gateway leading to sunlight and roads embellished by grass and populated with speeding cars. After several moments of collecting the circular devices at the gates foot, he'd step through.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora nearly bumped into Ahllasta when the beastly woman stopped. She looked up from the ground for the first time during their walk, for a moment fearing speaking had been a worse idea than trying to attack. She blinked, surprised, and took a step away from the woman as Ahllasta instead broke into a short, grinding bout of laughter. Another thing Ahllasta and Darsby seemed to have in common, if for different reasons: both were borderline insane. The blood soaking into the woman's shirt only enhanced the crazed effect. More like desperate, she thought bitterly, swallowing and looking back to the ground. Her heart sunk. The woman hadn't taken the bait. Her attention returned to Ahllasta as she walked around a car, making Anora notice it for the first time. Her brows rose as she took in the sight of the two-door Mustang. Definitely nicer than that mini-van. From the opposite side of the car, she watched through the window as Ahllasta shoved Darsby into the backseat like little more than luggage. She cringed in empathy. Lifeless or not, it couldn't be good to be treated roughly in his current state. Once Darsby's attacker had settled inside, she reached for the door handle with a shaking hand. The thought of a road trip sitting scarcely a foot from Ahllasta made her stomach churn. But even if she thought she could get away, she wouldn't leave Darsby behind. She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding and opened the door. Dwelling in a tense silence, she shrugged from her backpack then ducked inside the car. Her gaze lingered on the buttons on the center console. Just don't push the red one, she thought. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but smirk as she dropped her backpack on the floor then reached for her seat belt. It was a small and uncertain expression, but there nonetheless. Looks like the aliens won after all. Rest in peace, Agent J. Ahllasta's voice drew Anora's glance. She tried with minimal success to keep both her fear and enmity from showing. Wouldn't want to disappoint you with less, would we? she grumbled silently. Her mouth pulled down in a frown, but she kept her comments to herself. Door still open, she paused in buckling to glance back to Darsby. She bit her bottom lip uncertainly. "Should we… stop his bleeding?" she asked quietly, her voice cautious as she closed the door. She kept Ahllasta in her peripheral view, watching for even the slightest sign of aggression. Anora's attention snapped forward with a gasp when Ahllasta started the car and the wheels drifted for a moment. Her eyes widened when they turned translucent, but she didn't have time to think on that little detail; Ahllasta headed straight for the trees lining the road. In the short instant it took for them to go from the road to the trees, barreling toward the trunks, she shouted, the sound echoing in her ears, and threw her hands in front of her in an X. A barrier sprung instantly to life as she turned her head and scrunched her eyes, bracing for impact. An impact that never came. Wondering if her heart was going to make it through the next few minutes or give up on life entirely, she tentatively opened one eye. She gasped, as a tree passed straight between her and Ahllasta. She flinched as another went through her and her barrier. She swallowed and let her barrier dissolve. As the realization she wasn't going to be tied up in the middle of a car-and-tree bowtie, she melted back into the passenger seat. She cast Ahllasta a discrete glare for her lack of warning. To avoid the eerie sight of trees and other obstacles floating through their ghostly forms, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frayed nerves. When her heart at last slowed by a couple beats, she dared to open her eyes again. She breathed a sigh of relief; they had reached an expanse of barren farmland, the road a winding ribbon ahead of them. Though not smooth-going for the car, it was at least less bumpy than back between the trees. She ran a hand through her hair. Her stomach grumbled softly, making her frown at it and scold herself for having only a single can of soup. She sighed. There wasn't much she could do about it now. Anora adjusted her backpack, debating on pulling out one of the energy bars inside. She felt tired, a bit on the exhausted end, but there was no way she would let herself rest now. With the road drawing closer at an alarming speed, she tried to not focus on the surrounding land. She glanced back at Darsby's broken form again, worry in her eyes. Before, he had had some aid from the hospital. This time, he had no such luck. This time. She wondered what it must be like to come back to life just to die again. Brutally, no less. Did he feel pain like everyone else? She had seen him struggle, but had he actually felt the hurt? Was he in pain now, wherever he was, or was he resting in blissful obliviousness? She forced her gaze away from him with a shudder. She needed to think of something else. As they reached the highway, her mind wandered to the farm and the minivan. So much for returning the van to its owners… and then there was going to be explaining the damage to the house. Sorry, Grandpa Jack, she thought with a sheepish, apologetic look out the window. Her list of 'Illegal/Damaged Things to Deal with Later' was growing at an alarming rate. With a heavy, shaky sigh, she looked to Ahllasta when the woman opened the window, her own hair billowing about her face. Then she did a double take. Though they had solidified, the woman was driving with her eyes closed. Anora inhaled through her teeth and reached toward the wheel. With a glance out the windshield, she paused, hand hovering between them. They were staying perfectly between the lines. Breath held, she glanced between Ahllasta and the road. Swallowing, she slowly returned her hand to her side of the car. She barely managed to resist the urge to shout at the woman to keep her eyes on the road. "S-so," she began, in part to break the thick silence, but mostly hoping conversation would make the woman open her eyes again. Without potentially angering her. "Are you some sort of Winchester-style bounty hunters or something?" She spoke just loud enough to be heard over the whooshing whump of the wind in the car.</s>	<\|message\|>??? "Anora....Anora...Anora!" Darsby would come upon his visual memories and the secrets they held seemingly all at once. He was shocked to find that he'd likely left the poor girl alone with a violent huntress for quite some time now. He sailed back towards the goal of reforming his body; a new one would have to wait. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmph!" Would be Ahllasta's first response, a pretentious sort of huff. She apparently felt she was far above whatever it is that Anora had just compared her to. "I hunt celestial beasts. These 'Winchesters' you speak of are far below me. They struggle merely to fend off creatures which hardly threaten just one world. I have reigned in beasts that have devoured stars.-" Her chest puffed with this statement, her eyes flaring open to display how much pride she felt in her work. "-You could say I have myself quite hidden, much like that carcass in the back seat." Ahllasta would continue to inflate her ego via grins and contemplative sneers for several moments to come. Whilst this was occurring, something else would take place around Darsby's body. His contorted limbs and broken shell would simmer for a brief moment. After the faint broiling, things would happen rather quickly. Darsby would spring to life, twirling about in the back seat like a gymnast/contortionist who's practiced their routine in purely enclosed places. The result of his quick movements would be him bracing himself against Ahllasta's seat, a revolver's barrel pressed against its luxurious materials. Somehow, Ahllasta had already pulled out that thin thread she'd used before and laced it around Darsby behind her, it's small surface visibly compressing against his skin. "How many more of those instant renewals do you have left Darsby? My skin can take more than a few of your bullets." Ahllasta would chuckle whilst continuing to drive the car with her one free hand. Just after Ahllasta had spoken, a cellular ringing would fill the cabin of the car. This ringing would be coming from Anora's left pocket. Somehow, a phone had found its way into her jeans without anyone present noticing. Even Darsby and Ahllasta turned towards Anora, their sharp gazes waiting for her to answer the call. Should Anora answer it, a somewhat relaxed frequent smoker would be the image this mans understanding voice would lend. "Hey, how's your day?" Would be his unconcerned words, likely unawares of the events presently at play. Ahllasta's skin shifted into that of a lighter shade as the voice spoke. She may have heard him and may also be displaying signs of fear for the first time yet. Darsby doesn't pay the voice mind, but he certainly would be intrigued by the black flip phone now in Anora's possession. The caller I.D. would say "Dan."</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? "Anora....Anora...Anora!" Darsby would come upon his visual memories and the secrets they held seemingly all at once. He was shocked to find that he'd likely left the poor girl alone with a violent huntress for quite some time now. He sailed back towards the goal of reforming his body; a new one would have to wait. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmph!" Would be Ahllasta's first response, a pretentious sort of huff. She apparently felt she was far above whatever it is that Anora had just compared her to. "I hunt celestial beasts. These 'Winchesters' you speak of are far below me. They struggle merely to fend off creatures which hardly threaten just one world. I have reigned in beasts that have devoured stars.-" Her chest puffed with this statement, her eyes flaring open to display how much pride she felt in her work. "-You could say I have myself quite hidden, much like that carcass in the back seat." Ahllasta would continue to inflate her ego via grins and contemplative sneers for several moments to come. Whilst this was occurring, something else would take place around Darsby's body. His contorted limbs and broken shell would simmer for a brief moment. After the faint broiling, things would happen rather quickly. Darsby would spring to life, twirling about in the back seat like a gymnast/contortionist who's practiced their routine in purely enclosed places. The result of his quick movements would be him bracing himself against Ahllasta's seat, a revolver's barrel pressed against its luxurious materials. Somehow, Ahllasta had already pulled out that thin thread she'd used before and laced it around Darsby behind her, it's small surface visibly compressing against his skin. "How many more of those instant renewals do you have left Darsby? My skin can take more than a few of your bullets." Ahllasta would chuckle whilst continuing to drive the car with her one free hand. Just after Ahllasta had spoken, a cellular ringing would fill the cabin of the car. This ringing would be coming from Anora's left pocket. Somehow, a phone had found its way into her jeans without anyone present noticing. Even Darsby and Ahllasta turned towards Anora, their sharp gazes waiting for her to answer the call. Should Anora answer it, a somewhat relaxed frequent smoker would be the image this mans understanding voice would lend. "Hey, how's your day?" Would be his unconcerned words, likely unawares of the events presently at play. Ahllasta's skin shifted into that of a lighter shade as the voice spoke. She may have heard him and may also be displaying signs of fear for the first time yet. Darsby doesn't pay the voice mind, but he certainly would be intrigued by the black flip phone now in Anora's possession. The caller I.D. would say "Dan."</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Surprise flashed over Anora's face when Ahllasta caught her reference—that, or there really were people like the Winchester brothers out there. Which wouldn't have surprised her. Ahllasta's pride shone through unnervingly in both voice and expression. A shudder ran down Anora's spine. After the woman's earlier show of power, she could believe it. But at least Ahllasta's eyes were open. She cringed and glanced to the backseat when Ahllasta referred to Darsby. "Great," she breathed beneath the woman's egotistical grin. "Noted." Maybe that's what that was. Some release of a true form? She shifted uncomfortably, part of her not wanting to look away from Ahllasta and the other begging her to. An unusual shift in light caught Anora's attention, making her decision for her. Before she could focus and figure out what had caused the shift, Darsby sprung to life. She shouted and turned toward the driver's seat as well as the confined car let her. "Don't!" Whether the statement was intended more for Darsby or Ahllasta, she wasn't sure. She glanced to the steering wheel as the two readied to dispose of each other. Thankfully, Ahllasta managed to keep the car steady. She couldn't decide which she feared more: for Darsby's life—especially if his Get Out of Death Free card had a limit to it—or of winding up in a ditch wheels-up. She nearly jumped high enough to hit her head on the car's ceiling when an unfamiliar ringtone burst from her pocket. She had shoved her smartphone into her backpack while on the roof of the farmhouse, its charge depleted. She glanced toward the mysterious bulge now in her pocket. She looked quickly back to the fighting duo, planning on solving the mystery of the phone later. But both Darsby and Ahllasta's attention had turned fully to her, their fight put on hold. Waiting for her to answer. Okay, she drew out the mental word. At least she wouldn't have to witness Darsby getting slaughtered again… yet, anyway. As much as she trusted Darsby, her money was on Ahllasta in a fight between them. She pulled the phone from her pocket. She took barely a moment to examine the flip phone, not wanting to risk it going to voicemail. She couldn't remember the last time she had used a flip phone. She opened it and placed it to her ear. "Uh… yeah?" she answered uncertainly. She looked between Darsby and Ahllasta, expecting them to go at it again any moment. Anora blinked and her brows rose when the raspy voice on the other end replied with a simple, normal question. She almost broke out in a fit of hysterical laughter. For a second, she wondered if she had picked up a cellphone from the minivan and just not realized it. But she noticed Ahllasta had paled. Actually paled. No, this was no ordinary call. But at least Darsby showed no sign she should be cautious. 'An enemy of my enemy' and all that. "You really don't want me to answer that," she replied to the man collar ID called Dan. Her voice came out strained and tense. She kept a careful eye on Ahllasta in case the woman tried grabbing the phone from her. "Who is this? How'd you—?" She stopped herself from asking the reflexive, 'How'd you get this number.' "Just… how?" she settled for instead.</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta and Darsby had both stopped as they'd sensed an event so minor it would have easily gone over Anora's untrained head. At that moment, something put itself in play to plant a phone in Anora's pocket. Ahllasta wanted nothing to do with the person on the other end of the line. Our previously viral huntress withdrew her thread and placed both hands tentatively in front of her. Darsby was now in a place for questions. While a warrior faces front, tightly clenching the steering wheel, an again-revived stranger looks as though he'd sooner reach for the phone and take it from Anora before going back at it with the driver. Somehow, Darsby knows the situation is diffused. "Well, uh, that's a good question.-" The voice casually perks up, as if a point it hadn't thought of was brought to the table. "I, ah... I needed to get a hold of someone in the car. Those two are a little... uhm... eccentric, y'know?" You could picture this stranger to be lounging about at a barbecue, speaking to a favorable acquaintance. Darsby lurches forward, placing his revolver in a blood-caked pocket whilst adjusting his seating. He's now sitting up straight, leaning in close to Anora. He looks starved for answers. Ahllasta on the other end is likened to a cornered animal that's halfway given up on its current means for life. "So like, maybe-... Actually, give me a second.-" Faint muffling comes through the phone as if it'd been placed in a pocket, the crumpling of paper can be heard before another barrage of mic-against-fabric echoes clumsily across the line. "-Yeah, so, I have a question. Uhm, could I drop in on your group, there? It might get a little crowded so I just wanted to ask. I mean, it's rude to just 'show up', right?" Like any-old-someone clumsily requesting a carpool, the unseen man finished speaking. His lack of severe emotion and relative display of manners are jarring against the backdrop of a blood-soaked interior occupying two ferocious wizards.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora glanced to Darsby as the two released each other of their weapons. Her brows furrowed when she noticed Darsby looked like the more likely of the two to go after the phone. Her gaze alternated between Darsby and Ahllasta as 'Dan' replied. His informal speech was a bit off-putting after spending most of the day around authority figures. She blinked and her expression hardened; he knew they were in a car. And either he was one good guesser, or even knew how many people were in it. "'Eccentric's' an understatement," she muttered. She leaned away slightly when Darsby moved closer. She kicked her backpack to the corner of the floor beneath the dash, trying to give herself a bit more room. As shuffling came from the phone with 'Dan's' pause, she looked to Darsby, her own gaze questing. But he looked like he had as many questions as she did. The rustle of a phone being brought back to an ear burst through the speaker. She tilted the flip phone a bit from her to let Darsby hear better. "Wait… what?" she asked when 'Dan' fell silent. "You're joking, right?" Anora swore the universe was bored and had decided to see how much weird she could handle in one day. She was pretty sure it was close to finding out. Though she trusted her senses, that everything happening was really happening, it was all just so strange. So off-the-wall, certifiably crazy, a part of her felt like the entire day couldn't possibly be happening. More accurately, it feared she had gone completely nuts. The day was an unusual flavor of ice cream topped with a magically-appearing talking black cherry that threatened to make the satisfying icy tower collapse. No matter how much she welcomed the break from the mundane world. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It took more effort than she would have liked to admit to keep herself even remotely composed. She looked again between Darsby and Ahllasta, then let their reactions decide her response. "Know what? Sure," she said exasperatedly. She sunk back into the seat with a gentle flop, her free hand gesticulating into the air with her answer. "Why not. As long as you don't plan on killing or maiming anyone, what's one more passenger on the Homicidal Crazy Train? Got a teleporter, Scotty, or do we have to pick you up somewhere between Gotham City and Mordor?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? "I didn't quite, uhm, catch that last part...? Either way, here I-" Halfway through his last remark, Dan would appear in the backseat behind Anora and next to Darsby. "-have my own means of moving from here to there." Dan had appeared inside their vehicle with no more than a slight gust of wind to accompany him. He sat in contrast to those around him with an air one might expect when having already heard his casual tone. He looked, by most accounts, rather average. Our newest passenger exuded no unique presence, no sinister glow, no flashy exposition. If he hadn't popped soundlessly into view, you'd likely have thought him to have always been quietly occupying his leathery seat. Big rectangular spectacles sit atop an angular nose. Thin features and large ears embellish openly ragged eyes. Suitcases lie beneath either half-shut gateway to an overly exhausted soul. Bedraggled locks of knotted hair shoot in ramshackle arches of confused direction. By all accounts, Dan, a vapid soul, held no particular traits aside from two unusual sights. His hair was of a pure-white with greyish streaks finding means to surface amidst many split-ends, and his eyes would either be mildly off-putting or eerily comforting. An inconspicuous grey fills either iris as they sit sharply upon whatever may lay before them; should it be a person, they'd narrow like a suspicious father who's first concern is whether or not a babysitter can honestly keep track of his child. On the other hand, you could say the gaze was that of a teacher accurately analyzing his younger student to determine how harsh or how gentle he should be with his next words and actions. Either way, he exuded no immediate magical presence, unless you count looking vaguely responsible as being magical when paired with our driver and wizard passenger. Ahllasta defies her muscular physique and previously displayed confidence to pull her shoulders inward as if to brace for some harsh impact upon Dan's arrival. Her eyes squint, and her teeth grind whilst awaiting the worst. Darsby looks to be relatively speechless, his mouth agape for several moments before slowly closing. He isn't afraid; he'd be sooner observed as surprised. He sits back in his seat as if waiting in patient awe for Dan to make some action or command. Dan shows no signs of understanding what the other two mentioned here feel aside from the brief glares of tired dismay he bounces against them. After a short pause he leans forward in slight as if to speak generally to Anora in open view should she turn back to see him in his brown Vans, grey joggers, and loose black sweater. What a normal man he is in contrast to our magical ebon four-door rocketing down the freeway with two superhuman individuals. "Hey, so, uh, did you like, get pulled into a really weird day with this guy or the chick who's driving?" He gestures loosely to them both, though he doesn't seem to speak in a way that demands an immediate answer. He looks to be perhaps the easiest one to merely talk to or initially ignore should something more pressing need to be said or presented.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Dan nodded inconsistently with Anora for most of her statements with a twinge of guilt overcoming his exhaustedly anxious composure. His lower lip obtains a few reddish marks after some intensive nibbling whilst his hands knot themselves atop thin knees. His head tilts downwards with a sigh as if he were bowing to an apology. Our "monster's" head moves back into what he displays as 'awkward eye-contact' range shortly after the young woman finishes speaking. "Monster Mash?" Dan would squeak, sounding more as a mouse than a man whilst Anora listed many references which only pushed him further into confusion. He took several seconds to blink in blank disparity before visibly shaking the confusion from himself with a few squints and bodily tremors. "I-I-I, I think I misspoke.. Your aggressive mindset is sort of, at least, like, a bit my own fault here. I used the word, uhm, conquer? It's more like an 'indoctrination'..-" His open palms gesture with honesty and gentle dismay whilst he speaks. An inept description of things is left to this small, confused, individual as opposed to the other strange and distant creatures riding in our reinforced car down the open freeway. "We, uhm, I mean, The Council, takes in planets full of sentient life with the capacity to produce what we call 'regal wizards', who are, like, really rare from this worlds standpoint... Roughly, I think, one for every billion people? You aren't one! I mean, not at present... Well, anyways, uh...-" Dan gets lost in thought, tapping his chin with a pause in open-handed gestures before sparking to life with further elaboration. "-uh... Right! So with these, uhm, these worlds, we perform free trade of resources and information, but, your issue is, uhm, we end up giving things up equally to everyone. Most of the, uh, the-uh.. like, political groups? Yeah, political groups on your planet don't like the idea of someone much bigger looking over them. Or that bigger person being their main source of information which is as available to them as it is to their enemy... if that makes sense? I've noticed that humans don't become friends overnight unless the one feeding them turns out to be their mutual enemy... Which we aren't worried about! Because, like, there aren't that many of you? But, even so, we don't like, want anyone to die for dopey reasons." Dan takes a moment to rub his temples, eyes closed, mumbling something like a list. He seems to be making sure he's not forgetting anything major. "Oh! Pahn! Right, so we don't know that much about Pahn. They seem to be one person, but, we aren't sure? All we know is that they're capable enough to vaporize this world if something doesn't go their way. Wich is an issue, when we, like, don't want anyone dying because of us? So we're trying to find him before we throw wide-range magics on this planet that are standard for every world under our jurisdiction. We don't know if he'll react in a bad way, which could, y'know, like, kill off everyone you know?" Dan kind of shrugs and makes a weird squeaking sound as his shoulders slide quickly upward to perform the overt gesture of, 'who knows?'. Dan slides back into his seat a bit before hunching over, using one finger to pick at the other one's nail. The man sits like this for a few seconds before looking up again. "Oh yeah! Darsby was supposed to handle things quietly, but, uh, we got some new information that kind of demanded someone, uhm, someone like me?" One hand loosely pulls at his collar as if he were in danger of sweating when speaking of himself or Darsby in any context. If the subject matter of their conversation were different, you'd easily take him for some neurotic passerby living a simple life of many anxieties and a general lack-of-sleep. Darsby appeared relatively unaffected until the end where he bowed a bit as if out of embarrassment towards Anora. His eyes gazed at her with level emotions of serious disposition as he typically seemed to do. Those eyes glimmer with the faint essence of some otherworldly thought, yet, before it could pull her in, Darsby would look away. Ahllasta, in contrast, seemed to shift from afraid and distressed to deeply annoyed. Any talk of politics or equality seemed to claw at her patience immensely. Someone as ferocious as she could be expected to care very little for general bureaucracy. Yet, perhaps, she was pestered for other reasons?</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora couldn't hide a smirk at Dan's reaction to her nickname for him. Something about none of them understanding her references was somehow both irritating and satisfying: with all the confusion they'd caused her, the least she could do was return it, even if in a way that didn't much matter. She almost snorted when Dan tried to amend his choice of wording. Because that'd go over so much better. Fully facing front again, she slowly broke off a piece of the open energy bar. She listened to him carefully. Her head turned slightly toward him to interrupt him with a quick, surprised, "'At present?'" She shook her head, refocusing on Dan's explanations. She popped the bit of almond-dotted, chocolate-laced granola into her mouth. She hardly tasted it as she chewed. Dan's words did nothing to help his cause of convincing Anora their intentions were solely good. She'd seen one too many movies where people sugar-coated their missions, and knew all to well from experience that words often prove sweeter than practice. As her dad always said, 'If your gut says there's something off, listen to it. It's probably right.' And hers was telling her just that. It all sounded too… cultish. Too vague, with too many ways their true intentions could be interpreted. Too close to sounding more like they wanted to use the planet to kidnap these 'regal wizards' for their own personal use. She prickled at his statement about their numbers vs. Earth's in the event of an uprising. So Pahn, it seemed, was really the only thing standing in their way, the only thing whoever Dan, Darsby, and Ahllasta worked for feared. She inhaled slowly, struggling to maintain an outward calm. She glanced back at Dan when he switched to mumbling to himself, his words too low for her to make out. Dan, it seemed, was observant, but not explicitly familiar with how humanity worked. Whether he picked up on her thoughts because of mind reading, some sort of empathic ability, or good ol' intuition, she couldn't say. Regardless of the how, he was quicker at it than Darsby. And the high possibility of the former two was unnerving. An incredulous look crossed her face at how nonchalantly the man mentioned the potential outcome of Pahn killing off everyone she knew. Her grip on the energy bar tightened slightly. For someone who claimed he and his organization didn't want to see anyone hurt, he didn't exactly show any emotion over the prospect of lost lives. So, basically, they could die either at the hands of Pahn, or in the ensuing mass chaos of beings from outer space popping up around the world and trying to force their ways on everyone. Not to mention the world having whatever these 'wide-range magics' were put over it. Whatever he meant, she didn't like the sound of it. And it wouldn't be just her loved ones who suffered. That Pahn hadn't already vaporized the planet was a good sign, though. At least enough to possibly mean he—they—whichever didn't necessarily want Earth destroyed. Just that the power was there. When Dan stopped speaking, her gaze stayed on the energy bar. She spared Darsby's actions scarcely half a glance in acknowledgement. Yet, Ahllasta's reactions beside her caught her attention. Rather, the exact topics that warranted them. If Anora didn't know any better, she'd say Ahllasta didn't much care for the way Dan and his superiors did things. Curiosity about what, exactly, Ahllasta had done to warrant being sent to Earth as a punishment itched on her tongue. "What 'new information' came up to get you involved, then?" She picked off another piece of the energy bar. "And how is it I have a 'contract' with Pahn, anyway? I've never even met him... er, them." She mushed the bit of granola into a roundish shape. "And you didn't actually answer my other questions," she added irately. "Who is it, exactly, you're working for," she looked up through the windshield at the street rushing by, "and where are we going?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan shirked away as he consistently did with Anora's abrasive state, he didn't appear to entirely understand or appreciate her current mindset as something he could grow accustomed to. He sputtered into speaking with anxiety against the waves of ever-angered questions. "Th-th-they, uhm, well, like, the people I do jobs for, they said that Pahn was creating some sort of super-weapon here. They needed to send someone who could, y'know, like, actually neutralize it if he turns out to be hostile...-" He scratches at the back of his head before jamming his thumbs inside white-knuckled palms that pace with force against his thighs. "-I mean, the people who asked me to come here, not, like, my bosses necessarily, but, uhm, the ones who thought I could benefit from a trip here, they, uh, they call themselves 'The Council'. They're a sort of, uh, a network of wizards set up to guarantee all forms of non-hostile trade in the universe at large... W-we also, like-! Y'know, we come together if there's some sort of big threat, or whatever..." Dan shivers visibly due to whatever combination of exhaustion and stress may be coiling its vicious body around his maladjusted mind. Cough-cough, Whe-heeze! Dan coughs and wheezes for a few short moments, his shoulders rattling like the legs of a chair getting ready to give under too much weight. Quickly, he finished coughing and came back to slouching as he tends to with both hands either anxiously pacing his thighs or gesticulating gently towards Anora. "W-well Darsby, here, he will be helping with direction. I mean, you didn't exactly, interact with Pahn, but, uhm, we believe a distant ancestor of yours was one of his creations, err, associates?" Dan scratches at his head with the ending of that last statement/question. During the aforementioned fit of coughing, Darsby performed a fast and nearly undetectable action. The man leaned towards Anora at incredibly fast speeds, and, without permission, tapped his finger against the small wound on her arm. There was a miniscule drop of blood atop Darsby's finger as he leaned back into his seat, having finished that entire movement in under a second. Somehow, her arm wouldn't hurt any more than it already had, and no bandage or scab had been opened. Darsby breaths a small cloud of greyish smoke into his lap, this cloud evaporates once it had reached about the size of a small jewelry box. What is left in its wake is a small black cube. Darsby touches the blood against its top surface, the box then morphs and shifts its shape into that of a sphere with very small, rough looking details tapering its surface. Eventually, blues and greens and greys fill this orb with creamy hues. After about three or four seconds, it was clear that this globe was turning into a small replica of Earth with Darsby keeping his finger locked against its upper side. He eventually retracted his finger from the top, the strange object shrinking all at once with a thin silver chord attached to it to form what looks to be a necklace. "Wear this please." Darsby would say to Anora without flinching as if everything that had just happened was what everyone should have expected. His consistently deadpan features would do nothing to alight our young woman of what it is that had just specifically occurred. "Yes, uhm, this Quenz-Box should, uh, it should let you know, sort of, empathically, which way we need to be going." Dan blushes at Darsby while he gestures towards the small necklace with Earth as it's jewel. The clouds and oceans appeared to be moving in real-time atop its faintly reflective surface. Ahllasta continued to display annoyance at the puttering descriptions of Dan. Perhaps it was just this man that rubbed her raw; perhaps it was the subject matter. Regardless, her lower lip wasn't likely to survive the gnawing of those ferociously sharp canines. Should Anora touch the necklace, she'd hear a strange breeze. Winds and cawing birds would fill her ears, drops of water gently touching upon leaves and the scent of grass accompanied by thoughts of fruit would fill her mind. These thoughts and images wouldn't occupy her entire mind; it's as if her consciousness were a house and someone had flipped on the TV in a room near the one she was occupying. This TV would display distant images of what looked to be some rainforest with vast plains and tall mountains. Strangely, these images blurrily collided with the thoughts of some Chinese or perhaps Japanese city, in all of its concrete wonder shooting as towers into the sky. She would feel some compulsion to continue down this road they were driving on with an eventual inkling to turn right at some point.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? "W-well, all we have are fragments..-" Dan scratched at the back of his head, squinting his eyes before releasing a sigh to indicate his joy at Anora not focusing solely on him anymore. "-We b-believe that Pahn bound the original elements of this planet to separate, human forms some-... uh, l-like six or seven billion of your, uh, 'years' ago? That would be your ancestor." Dan pointed this way and that to indicate time and figures, his eyes wandering as easily as his mind all the while. "Anyways!-" Dan continued as if his first point was hardly anything to think about once spoken. "That quenz-er-necklace, uhm, I mean, pendant? Yeah, yeah that. That should feed you some sensory information for your mind to translate. I guess, 'Ahshia' it is?" Dan clearly didn't understand the word 'Asia,' nor did he know how to speak it. Regrettably, it was the only word he had yet spoken with confidence. He gestured towards his two companions and then to Anora with bright eyes saying things like, 'yes, onward friends!' in quiet bodily directives. By this time, it may be possible that Anora would find the protein bar she'd left on her lap to be gone. Should she look for it, she may eventually find that someone who wasn't previously eating next to her now has herself quite the aggressive snack. Ahllasta had grabbed the food as if it were second nature to her with such slight that only Darsby had noticed the action, and, thought it better to say nothing of it. Ahllasta was upset and mumbling between bites. Shortly after Dan had clumsily said the word 'Ahshia,' Ahllasta would only grow more annoyed. She seemed to hate something about this man; perhaps it was the organization he worked for, perhaps it was all his own doing. Regardless, she'd vent her frustration into the buttons of the center console with food-stained fingers, mashing this and denting that while muttering something about her being the only actual wizard here. Eventually, the car sputtered and shifted its shape whilst Anora clearly said "Ahshia, I'll take you to bloody ahshia. All you clueless, inbred, good-for-nothing-" And her voice would again trail off into quiet curses whilst both hands turned white-knuckled atop the steering wheel. The black car they'd first found themselves in had begun to shift and mold along it's exterior into something of a flighty creature. The inner cabin retained it's shape and feeling whilst two, massive wings of the feathery sort sprouted their long figures from either side of the car. Two flaps later and they were sailing above the freeway, another two and they were in the clouds. Their velocity was supernatural; what else is to be expected of current affairs. No momentum or g-force could be felt within, only the faint whistling of the wind. Darsby had calmed himself quite a bit since being in the presence of Dan. He was now gazing longingly into the outer world, clouds and long hilly landscapes birthed some sense of romantic poetry into his face and shoulders. He looked like he was either getting ready to burst into song or settle back into his seat with some profound statement about the size of everything. Dan, feeling the rather 'cool' sort after pushing Ahllasta into her raging action to transform their transport, settled back into his seat. He eventually made a not so profound observation about the size of everything. "I guess we're the big four, knocking on Pahn's door, eh?" Dan gently slapped the seat near Darsby instead of hitting the man's shoulder, deciding that entering someone else's personal space was still only too much for him in his moment of sudden confidence. He let out a few strangled sounds from the abyss of his semi-smiling open mouth before looking frantically for affirmation, tightly crossing his arms, and looking out the window in a way meant to mirror Darsby's eccentric habit of gazing upon creation. Ahllasta and Darsby gave the man no more room than he asked for, attending to their own emotions as previously prescribed. Dan seemed to be the only one jittery and anxious enough to respond to anything Anora might say. He must not be the sort who has many friends.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora's mouth dropped open at being a descendant of someone with an element bound to them. Unlike Dan who switched topics as if he had just told her that her great-great-grandfather was an ice cream man, she only half heard his next words, consumed with the first thought. "Asia," she corrected him absently. She held a hand in front of her, summoning a couple minuscule clouds of her mist around her fingers. The glittering substance swirled with an almost eager playfulness, ever ready to do her bidding. Her brows furrowed as she tried to think of what element could possibly look like her powers. As far as she could tell, it wasn't exactly an element, per say, she controlled, but some sort of energy. But then, that's exactly what some elements were, wasn't it? Energy? Her eyes widened and she inhaled as a thought struck her. There were more than your four classic base elements, after all. Especially depending on what culture you asked. She quickly turned back in her seat, heart beating quicker with the anticipation of at long last knowing what, exactly, she could do. The typical gentle glow of her eyes faded as she released her powers and opened her mouth to confirm her suspicion. But Ahllasta reaching to press the buttons on the center console gave her pause and made her heart jump for an entirely different reason. Worry at what Ahllasta had done pushed her excitement aside. Noticing the woman had taken her energy bar, Anora glanced quickly between the wrapped food and where she had sat it. She frowned and opened her mouth to give an annoyed, yet surprised "Hey!" but the woman's irate mutterings made her shut her mouth. The last thing she needed was to further irritate Ahllasta. Her eyes narrowed, wondering what, exactly, made Ahllasta hate Dan—or his organization—and Darsby so ardently. And not for the first time. But she didn't have time to dwell on that, or the minor theft. Anora gasped and turned fully forward when the car began to sputter and change, its exterior stretching in a way no normal, human-made car could stretch. Her breath caught in her throat. She tightly gripped the edge of her seat near her legs as the car began to rise into the air with a couple downward strokes from the feathered—feathered!—wings that had sprouted from the car. "Holy Valkeries!" Anora breathed Once the initial shock wore off, she quickly pulled part of the seatbelt over her head for more maneuverability and practically pressed her nose against the window. She had her hand on the crank for the window, but thought better of opening it; what of the world she could still make out below blew by with impossible speed. And she rather liked her head and hands where they were. She exhaled heavily as a grin spread over her face. They were flying. In a car. With wings. "This thing would make the Weasley's jealous!" She ran her fingers through her bangs. The desire to lean out the window and touch the inky feathers made her fingers itch. "This is amazing! What'd you do, turn a Pegasus into a car, or vice versa?" Dan's voice reminded her of his presence. "Huh?" she turned again to look at the back seat. Her gaze paused on Darsby, the easier of the two within her sight. He looked the most comfortable with the situation than he had since she met him. This… is normal to them, she reminded herself. Flying cars, spidery monsters, magic—all of it was just another day for them. On the other hand, adrenaline and the thrill of adventure and meeting the bizarre buzzed through her, only adding more emotions to her already over-clogged brain. Her stomach did a few excited flips. The whole situation was crazy—completely insane—but she couldn't help but enjoy it. Some of it, at least. She eyed Dan worriedly at the noises he made. Her brows furrowed as she tried to figure out if he was trying to laugh, clear his throat, or if was about to burst into flames or something else to add to her ever-growing List of Weird. "Okay," she breathed as he mimicked Darsby and looked out his window. She turned fully to get as good a look at him as she could. "Backing up, here. My powers. They're… am I controlling aether? Or is there another element I'm missing?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan perked up, his dim features being set alight at Anora offering him time to ask a question. He was skittish, small, noted as a monster, yet he looked honestly overjoyed when another person noticed him enough to ask anything. He contained his excitement like any school child might: clenched hands, a gingerly chewed lower lip, and upwardly shrugging shoulders to surround ember eyes. Those eyes, inhumanely grey yet entirely rife with some profound joy at the aspect of socialization. That aspect, at least that, was vibrantly human about our alien man, Dan. "Ah! Y-yes! You-you have quite the power to you!-" He watched the static in her hand with quizzical fascination, marveling at whatever traits he'd observed there. "-W-well, you s-see, by our records, at the start of The Olympus-s Era, there were about six individuals made b-by Pan. Th-they procreat-ted to make a sort of, s-sort of blend of elements in their many ch-children." Dan nodded with an anxious shake or two. Whatever lay outside the window was nothing like the talk he was having with Anora here, the knowledge and speech are flagrantly stimulating to him. He didn't seem to favor Anora in any light most grown men would, with distance and hesitant measurement. Dan jumped at the opportunity to speak like a tired child alone in the corner of a kindergarten classroom, too scared to talk first but undoubtedly happy to learn and teach as any young human would be. Do all 'monsters' not have any friends to talk to? What kind of Embassy Rep is this? Darsby continued to look out the window, his traveled eyes absorbing more than most humans do in a lifetime. Whatever it was he looked at had drawn him into some distant land of thought. He was a man in another world by the remote air to him. Ahllasta continued to grumble and munch vigorously at the food between her fingers. Heated air rasps from her lungs in small spurts of protest. She appears to be relaxing into the seat, both shoulders sitting square on the leather above a faintly slouching waist. Her complaints only continued as Dan carried on in his usual way, his presence and manner keeping her aggravated. She didn't look unused to this state of pestered being. ------------------------------------------------ Far, far away in a damaged farmstead there lay an incapacitated agent and a continuously ringing phone. On the other ened waits a directore of sorts who'll likely only spend another ring or two of his time before finding solutions to problems far bigger than his widest estimations.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora watched Dan with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She couldn't tell if he was just etremely eager to answer and possibly get her fully on his side, or had had too few people to talk to in his lifetime. Or perhaps both, with how he spoke. She inhaled, her expressive features shifting slightly with each bit of information Dan gave. At least he seemed a tad bit less skittish now Darsby had contented himself with the outside and Ahllasta was too busy in her world-hating corner of self-pity. "I'm going to take that as yes, I control aether," she interrupted, unsure if his 'Yes' was in answer to that question, or something else with how easily he said it. She listened to the rest of his response with a look of awed disbelief. "So, I'm not completely human, then?" she asked, her voice giddy. "But… then why am I the only one in my family who can control aether? Shouldn't my siblings or parents have the same abilities? And Darsby mentioned Olympus before," she continued on, eager for the answers he seemed willing to give. But she gave Dan scarcely enough time to breathe between questions, let alone respond. "We talking Zeus' and Hades' Olympus here, or in some sort of code? And is their 'era' something like a dynasty, then? Like, a period of rule? Or popularity?" She reached to fidget with the Earth pendant. A bubble of panic worked into her chest when she realizing she had dropped it on the floor when the car took flight. She quickly adjusted to search for it. She found it beside her backpack. With a relieved sigh, she grabbed it and straightened. Sitting awkwardly in her seat, she draped its cord around her neck. The small Earth thumped lightly against her chest. On the bright side, she hadn't noticed any catastrophic earthquakes when she dropped it. "And… I won't crush anyone in Australia by handling this thing, will I?" she asked with a slight, concerned smile. She carefully indicated the pendant, holding it from her by the cord. She didn't think Darsby would give her something she could cause mass destruction with. Not without a warning, anyway. But it was better safe than sorry.</s> <\|message\|>??? Words flowed like water into an already occupied mouth, gagging Dan with strange sputtering sounds as Anora bombarded him with question after question. The neurotic soul was overjoyed to witness an actual display of interest developing. His limbs wrenched forward with his palms upward in a show of openness to whatever it is Anora may be questioning. Just before Dan could begin speaking, Ahllasta made some obscure quip about machinery and Anora being confused about what's going on. "No, uhm n-no, you're actually more human than m-m-most humans. The original humans were, in fact, those elementals I spoke of..-" Dan scratched the back of his head before setting his innocent gaze upon Anora. There wasn't any struggle aside from that of the self here. His anxiety and joy looked appallingly human, yet, something about Dan was still alien. He was like a kindly classmate you meet at university who must've come from an entirely different walk of life, his smaller mannerisms denoting something of a different upbringing. "You should b-be fine with the pendant, I mean, I-I didn't make it, so there really wasn't a whole lot of p-power invested in i-t-t-" HACK!-HACK!-COUGH! Dan broke out into another fit of openly painful coughing. His shoulders heaved, and body trembled at the receding of his episode. Oddly, no one in the car gave that physical distress any mind. You could say they might have even ignored Dan's moment out of reverence or respect for something. By the time he was done, he had looked back up towards Anora and continued responding after a little adjusting of his glasses. His cheeks were red, eyes gilded by moisture, perhaps the first sign of common weakness displayed from any of our three wizards. "S-so you're a sign to Pahn being active again, with your p-powers awakening and all. His m-mind and body are tied deeply to your Earth-th and it's populace, likely from some old contract-ish magics used to m-mold them, you being here in your above average form shows Pahn being in n-need of something, likely subconsciously. I m-mean that whole pantheon of people you call gods, Z-Zeus and Hades are all part of, uhm... Y-y-you said dynasty? Uhm, things didn't exactly go like how they do with most humans. I m-mean, l-like, it's not like a bunch of people flocked together to survive and called it 'history'. I mean, th-there's no need for a code or rank of popularity when the ruling being here could end all of what you c-call, uhm, like, life on Earth? Yeah, that. When he could end all of that with a proverbial snap-" Dan snapped his fingers to that last word as if he were putting on some fascinating lecture. "-of the fingers." Dan was bright and spoke quickly of these subjects. He was not surprised to say that gods existed or that some even higher power ruled them. Dan became more and more comfortable as they spoke, enjoying the act of conversating with someone, anyone. His legs had folded into his seat by this point, that smallish figure fitting comfortably into a hunched posture of gesticulating amidst further relaxed expressions. Our group's vehicle was well over the ocean by this point, faint scents and smells growing stronger in Anoras mind the more they traveled. Blue fields of aetherial mist spread out beneath them while clouds slid over an invisible table. They were high in the sky, very high; one could say they may even be reaching some atmospheric limit. The heavens hadn't quite grown dark or shown signs of being exited, yet, they must be close with how distant the Earth has become.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora shot Ahllasta a glare at the woman's comment. She bit back a retort; further aggravating the driver—especially while in a car flying over the ocean—was never a good idea. 'More human than most humans,' Anora repeated mentally, returning Dan's stare as she waited for him to catch up with her questions. "So… humans without powers have more non-human blood in them?" Her brows rose. She made a light, chuckling snort, still fidgeting carefully with the mini-Earth's cord. The implication that, once, humans were magic beings themselves was a mind-blowing thought. She stared at Dan for a short moment when he answered regarding the pendant. Either he was the most chill type of arrogant, or he really did have powers beyond what his appearance let on. Dan's second coughing fit interrupted her thoughts. "Are you okay?" she asked slowly when the violent cough subsided. That couldn't be normal. Yet, a quick glance at the others in the car showed their lack of reaction. Whether because of some unknown respectful custom or it being a normal occurrence, she couldn't say. She cringed inwardly in sympathy when Dan looked back to her. For a self-stated monster, his lack of monster-like characteristic was shocking. Anora chewed the inside of her cheek as Dan continued. She listened, gaze never straying from him as she tried to follow the rest of the man's explanations. Something about him made her think of her old high school history teacher. Only if he was an inexperienced substitute with stage fright and a stutter. She sighed, and reminded herself to use different terms. Terms possibly more common so Dan wouldn't have to guess so much about what she'd meant. Maybe that would help him make more sense to her. Or maybe not. She glanced down when Dan finished speaking, letting his words sink in. Her fidgeting with the pendant increased. "So… whatever it is Pahn needs, some type of magic somewhere thinks I'm the one who can solve whatever problem he has?" She shook her head. "What happened to him, anyway? Why'd he vanish—go dormant—whatever, in the first place? And wouldn't it be smarter to activate that contract in more people if someone that powerful needs help? I mean, I've had my powers for years now. But Mad—" she caught herself before she said her siblings' names. She didn't want to risk getting them involved. "But like I said," she corrected herself, "I'm the only one in my family who has them, and Darsby said I'm the only living human with that contract. Is that something that should run in families? A bloodline type deal? Or is it all determined by chance?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan chuckles at Anora's questions, the innocent laugh of someone excited to shed truth on subject those nearby may be unclear on. He was joyful to spread knowledge, or perhaps he was simply in the mirth of being close to someone curious about anything at all. Dan wiped his somewhat runny nose while his cheeks cleared of their rosy complexion. Grey eyes bounced before focusing in on Anora in a way most humans don't, clean of any dirtied thoughts or wishes. "I could be wrong, b-but, uhm, I'm being misunderstood. We aren't speaking about a human, or a-anyone who lives and dies or thinks l-like you do. Pahn is s-someone who's passing thoughts bring things into existence here. P-perhaps he anticipated d-danger of some kind, like in p-passing, and your particular existence r-resonated just right with uhm, w-with his possible suggestions of a future solution. L-like, if you g-got old and decided to take a year or two off j-just to recover your, uhm, y-your thoughts, or perhaps-s uhm, like, work on a project in secret, that wouldn't b-be unheard of-f. Pahn is suggested to b-be billions of your Earth-years in age. Maybe he took a c-couple hundred m-million years off or to do, uhm, to do something in s-secret?" Dan shrugged, taking a shaky breath through a hoarse throat before continuing. His lips pursed as if he had been holding something back. He was excited to tell all but limited by the avenue of words and habits. "That would line up with The Seers Guild's divination of a great danger here. Your celestial reverence, respectfully, may ask about something?" Darsby chimed in, having turned from his view of the outside with a slow and sanguine air. Those dark eyes loomed with faint connotations of fearful respect over Dan. "Y-yes, sure! Go right ahead!" Dan squeaked back, not having expected Darsby to interrupt. "Your celestial reverence, I have wanted to ask this since meeting you, does the situation truly demand a presence like yours? Has The Council's formal analysis of the 'Comet Omen' in this sector revealed greater peril than I can handle?" Darsby was focused intently on the smallish man beside him, the suitcases underneath his eyes still keeping him from looking entirely awake. "W-well, uhm...-" Dan leaned forward an arm running slowly over the back of his neck while the other rests in his lap. Ahllasta had white-knuckled the steering wheel again with audible groans of leather after Darsby had called Dan 'your celestial reverence'. Strangely, she quickly calmed herself and grew tense with a faint air of survival-driven fear when the question of dangers magnitude came to the table. "-...I-I mean you're all in my charge s-so, anyways, this has to do with another d-development. I p-plead that you do not worry about it." Dan acted like he spoke of some solemn affair, Darsby mirroring the emotion as he turned to look out the window again. This time, Darsby was in thought over something different, something more immediate, his tightened jawline showed it. Ahllasta invoked a similar change in herself, her eyes looking far away for the first time since she'd met Anora. Dan had withdrawn himself inward for several moments before looking back up at Anora via youthful exuberance. He was ready to continue with her questions; these talks of danger doing nothing to dim his spirits in the moment.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora sighed and frowned when Dan began his newest round of answers again with 'being misunderstood.' Not my fault you're more confusing than one of Maddy's boy rants, she thought, still fidgeting with the Earth pendant. She concentrated on the rest of his answer, doing her best to put it all together. Her brows rose as he shone more light on Pahn's strength. "So, from the sound of it, he's some god-level being who vanished to either possibly make a weapon of mass destruction, or sip martinis on a remote beach in Japan?" She smirked at the thought of some mighty being sunbathing on a beach. Hey. Everyone needs a vacation now and again. She had scarcely finished her question when Darsby spoke up. Anora blinked at him. She had momentarily forgotten the pink-haired man was still there. "Seers Guild?" she muttered to herself. She cast Dan a sideways glance at how Darsby addressed him. Not knowing who Dan was, what he could do or had done to be addressed as 'celestial reverence,' threatened to drive her nuts. Her eyes narrowed as she listened to their exchange, most of it going over her head. But from what little she could tell between the men's exchange and Ahllasta's reactions, there was something she was missing. Something big. She tried to stifle a humorless laugh at Dan's plea to 'not worry about it,' but failed, the sound escaping in a snorted rush through her nose. She glanced between Ahllasta and Darsby at Dan's pause, wondering if either of them would bother to question his painfully vague reply. But neither of them did. Silence fell for a moment before she realized Dan was looking expectantly back at her. "That's it?" she asked, taking charge where the other two in the car wouldn't. "Just, 'I'm your babysitter, so I'll deal with it?' C'mon." She glanced between the other two. "I didn't understand half of that, but it can't seriously pacify you." She sighed heavily. These two seemed like blind followers, happy to accept any orders given them. Well, perhaps not happy in Ahllasta's case, but she still followed them. And she didn't like the sudden tension that radiated from them. She turned her attention back to Dan. "I don't know how you guys work, but if I'm going to be apart of this team here, Monster Mash, I want to know what I'm facing. We've already got a guy who sounds like he could turn me to dust like that," she snapped her fingers. Though she said it with a fair lightness, the weight of the concept hung heavily on her even once the words faded from the air. If things went wrong, there was the good chance she'd never get to see home again. "But apparently," she continued, doing her best to shove the thought aside for now, "that wasn't what made you come here to help. So what's the deal? Did Hades decide to release the Titans again and send them our way, or what?" She shuddered. Though simply another movie reference, the thought drew that morning's dream back to her mind. She glanced toward her backpack with her sketchbook and the sketch of the screaming hand bursting through the ground. She shook her head slightly and refocused on Dan.</s> <\|message\|>??? Anora's words "-I didn't understand half of that, but it can't seriously pacify you." caused a reaction of some kind. Ahllasta flexes against the steering wheel, it's circular shape contorting alongside the vapid grunts of actively warping metal. Her shoulders swell with circulation as her features go red. Her body quivers inside its fleshy suit of bulging veins. For a moment, one could say she appeared to be rather upset. "If you need to vent your frustrations...-?" Dahn focused on our driver. His words were kindly as they typically found themselves to be, yet, they carried a new burden here. Was it a threat? His body didn't look ready for combat, aside from the fact that for the first time since sitting down he'd stopped fidgeting entirely. "BLEAGH!!" Ahllasta would spit a guttural sound from her throat just before smashing the center console with her fist right over a button labeled 'Auto-pilot' that now looked more like 'A--Upu-z' when read through it's shattered body. "I need some air!!" She'd howl violently before opening a window which relinquishes a surprisingly calm breeze upon our current crew's cabin. Ahllasta would then climb out of the window and on to the roof. Violent winds slam against her clothing but pass across her overtly rigid form as if it were no more than severe sunlight before she slips from view via several odd slithering motions. Dan and Darsby didn't pay said tantrum any more than a sigh each. Earth's populated horizon could be seen approaching below. They were still many countless miles from the surface, but, with this vehicles speed, there's no way of telling how quickly those miles might be distanced. Ahllasta has made herself at home atop the car, out of sight and earshot of their conversations. "Our Celestial Reverence is a highly distinguished combat specialist. He-" Darsby was interrupted mid-explanation to Anora by Dan himself. "D-D-Darsby! J-just call me Dan, for the remainder of the mission." "That's hardly your full nam-" "P-please!" "Understood...-" Darsby eventually gives in. His propensity for following core-rules and formalities appears to run deep. "Yes! Why am I here?-" Dan would ask, attempting to focus back in on Anora in his typically fidgety way. "-W-well, it's simple. The worst possible scenario is a sizable p-possibility. So, I'm here." Dan shrugs as if this reply should completely answer any questions to be had here. "I-I mean it would st-stink if half the galaxy got vaporized or something." He'd then chuckle aloud, and adjust his glassed.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. The protesting screech of the steering wheel drew Anora's attention back to Ahllasta. Anora inhaled at the sight of the woman. Apparently, she'd hit one heck of a nerve. Oh, crap! Violate eyes wide, she held her breath and pressed herself as close to the passenger door as she could. Misty particles fizzled into existence around her, in part from a conscious desire for a ready defense, and in part of their own accord. She glanced worriedly out the windshield. If Ahllasta went off the deep end this far up… Dan's voice interrupted her worrying. She glanced to him incredulously She'd felt only a shadow of Ahllasta's power. Watched her ruthlessly kill Darsby in the blink of an eye. Seen her turn brutally on her earlier companion on a whim. Yet Dan, who looked like even Anora had a chance at beating him in a weight-lifting contest, was more than enough to keep the beastly female in check, even now. And his countenance had shifted, as if the prospect of a fight was more in his comfort zone than making conversation. It made for an unnerving reminder that she knew practically nothing about who she traveled with. What kind of strength they each held. To top it off, she still wasn't sure if she should actually call them the good guys or not. 'You… wait!" Panic settled in her when Ahllasta reached for the window. She wasn't an expert, but she knew what happened if you opened a door in plane. She cringed, expecting the worst when the window rolled down. But instead of a devastating catastrophe, only a fresh, salty breeze filled the car. She gawked at Ahllasta as she crawled out the window easier than Anora would have thought possible. "Well… That just happened." She glanced up at the ceiling as the sounds of Ahllasta's movements settled. Who needs physics when you're in a flying car? She looked to Darsby, eager hope lighting her eyes as it seemed she was finally going to get some sort of full answer about Dan. When the other man interrupted, it took most of her willpower to not yell at him in frustration. She faced forward as the two spoke in the backseat. She glanced at the broken auto pilot button. Neither of the men seemed to be worried about it, but then, she had the feeling they could be on fire while bombs went off around them and still just shrug it off. She blinked and turned her head when Dan answered her last question. If you could even call it answering. She groaned and ran a hand down her face. His vague, roundabout responses threatened to give her a headache. Getting information from him was worse than asking her siblings how school went. If she was going to get any straight-forward answers, she had the feeling Ahllasta was her best bet. She seemed more… rebellious than the men. Which could prove useful. If she could manage to get the woman alone to talk to her without getting herself twisted into a pretzel in the process. She turned again in her seat to meet Dan's gaze. "I'm getting tired of you beating around the bush with all your half answers," she snapped, gesturing about in emphasis as she spoke. "If you're doing that because I'm new here, I'm not some terrified child who needs things sugar-coated. So out with it!" She slapped her hand down on the side of the driver's seat, using it to help turn her better to eye Dan. "What am I—what are we," she corrected, her voice and gaze firm, "going up against? Besides some god-like… whatever."</s>	<\|message\|>??? An odd reaction occurs when the formula of Dan and Anora combines with noise and frustration; Dan calms down. The man's lips relax, his shoulders square and place their weight against the leather behind him, his eyes level against Anora's with an innocent peace typically found only in the ignorant. "Hmmm.-" He'd mutter, his lips pursing for a moment whilst his fingers cease to twiddle, curl, and writhe. "-Sure." "There's a force in the universe most closely related to what your people call 'magic'. Humanity has recently been adopting this energy on a larger scale despite general skepticism. This is mostly due to some of our reality's larger-scale threats manifesting here on Earth, resulting in a greater need for general policing and protection. I can smell one such threat on you, they're called 'bluth' I believe?" Dan relaxes further, grey eyes glazing over whilst his voice deepens in the confidence of fluid-speech. Somehow, being yelled-at or presented with hostility has a placation effect on his anxiety. Should Anora be observant, she'd notice her hand slamming on the console caused his eyes to briefly widen, then shortly after, narrow and relax along with the rest of his body. "I belong to a union of intergalactic guilds balanced by several government bodies. I'm contracted as a 'safety inspector' of sorts. I was told to investigate the appearance of what is predicted to be the emergence of a 'singularity-level' wizard: A single sentient entity with an affinity to wield magic on a scale of manipulating several solar systems simultaneously.-" Dan continues to speak in a rhythmic and semi-passionate fashion, the way a strange celebrity may speak on TV when tired and reciting a rehearsed monologue to advertise their latest film. "My second job is to make sure no less than thirty percent of all sentient life remains alive by the end of 'emergence'. I personally prefer most all of life remains the same for those involved, but, if I determine my strength to be inadequate, my methods won't matter since someone stronger will have to be called in. Who we're looking for is someone by the name of 'Pahn'. They've apparently been trapped on Earth for quite some time and have spent the past two billion years forging some kind of 'instrument'. The details after this get hazy as the specifics of events and their motives arent the specialty of our Seer's Guild and their predictions. Though, when it comes to an event actually occurring, their accuracy is infallible. Besides, you were pretty key in the predictions. Your face and name came up quite a bit, especially in the war." Dan would then release a deep sigh and lean further back against his seat to stare out the window. For the entirety of that monologue he may have been looking 'towards' Anora, but, you could hardly say he was looking 'at' her. Some part of him had closed off and become oddly mechanical, despite the presence of emotion. He was made cold in his ease of communication, sparing an equal amount of semi-passioned talk about colors and magic as he would about life and it's required 'percentage' of survival. His anxious self was confusing and harmless, his calmer side looked nearly-empty in its readiness to do anything necessary. The Earth below was now a bit closer. A skyline of man-made towers could be seen growing along a curvacious coast. Darsby continued to observe Anora and Dan as they spoke, he looked to be consumed by some rather severe thoughts throughout their talking. Thankfully, he had also thought to be quiet while others were talking.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. The protesting screech of the steering wheel drew Anora's attention back to Ahllasta. Anora inhaled at the sight of the woman. Apparently, she'd hit one heck of a nerve. Oh, crap! Violate eyes wide, she held her breath and pressed herself as close to the passenger door as she could. Misty particles fizzled into existence around her, in part from a conscious desire for a ready defense, and in part of their own accord. She glanced worriedly out the windshield. If Ahllasta went off the deep end this far up… Dan's voice interrupted her worrying. She glanced to him incredulously She'd felt only a shadow of Ahllasta's power. Watched her ruthlessly kill Darsby in the blink of an eye. Seen her turn brutally on her earlier companion on a whim. Yet Dan, who looked like even Anora had a chance at beating him in a weight-lifting contest, was more than enough to keep the beastly female in check, even now. And his countenance had shifted, as if the prospect of a fight was more in his comfort zone than making conversation. It made for an unnerving reminder that she knew practically nothing about who she traveled with. What kind of strength they each held. To top it off, she still wasn't sure if she should actually call them the good guys or not. 'You… wait!" Panic settled in her when Ahllasta reached for the window. She wasn't an expert, but she knew what happened if you opened a door in plane. She cringed, expecting the worst when the window rolled down. But instead of a devastating catastrophe, only a fresh, salty breeze filled the car. She gawked at Ahllasta as she crawled out the window easier than Anora would have thought possible. "Well… That just happened." She glanced up at the ceiling as the sounds of Ahllasta's movements settled. Who needs physics when you're in a flying car? She looked to Darsby, eager hope lighting her eyes as it seemed she was finally going to get some sort of full answer about Dan. When the other man interrupted, it took most of her willpower to not yell at him in frustration. She faced forward as the two spoke in the backseat. She glanced at the broken auto pilot button. Neither of the men seemed to be worried about it, but then, she had the feeling they could be on fire while bombs went off around them and still just shrug it off. She blinked and turned her head when Dan answered her last question. If you could even call it answering. She groaned and ran a hand down her face. His vague, roundabout responses threatened to give her a headache. Getting information from him was worse than asking her siblings how school went. If she was going to get any straight-forward answers, she had the feeling Ahllasta was her best bet. She seemed more… rebellious than the men. Which could prove useful. If she could manage to get the woman alone to talk to her without getting herself twisted into a pretzel in the process. She turned again in her seat to meet Dan's gaze. "I'm getting tired of you beating around the bush with all your half answers," she snapped, gesturing about in emphasis as she spoke. "If you're doing that because I'm new here, I'm not some terrified child who needs things sugar-coated. So out with it!" She slapped her hand down on the side of the driver's seat, using it to help turn her better to eye Dan. "What am I—what are we," she corrected, her voice and gaze firm, "going up against? Besides some god-like… whatever."</s> <\|message\|>??? An odd reaction occurs when the formula of Dan and Anora combines with noise and frustration; Dan calms down. The man's lips relax, his shoulders square and place their weight against the leather behind him, his eyes level against Anora's with an innocent peace typically found only in the ignorant. "Hmmm.-" He'd mutter, his lips pursing for a moment whilst his fingers cease to twiddle, curl, and writhe. "-Sure." "There's a force in the universe most closely related to what your people call 'magic'. Humanity has recently been adopting this energy on a larger scale despite general skepticism. This is mostly due to some of our reality's larger-scale threats manifesting here on Earth, resulting in a greater need for general policing and protection. I can smell one such threat on you, they're called 'bluth' I believe?" Dan relaxes further, grey eyes glazing over whilst his voice deepens in the confidence of fluid-speech. Somehow, being yelled-at or presented with hostility has a placation effect on his anxiety. Should Anora be observant, she'd notice her hand slamming on the console caused his eyes to briefly widen, then shortly after, narrow and relax along with the rest of his body. "I belong to a union of intergalactic guilds balanced by several government bodies. I'm contracted as a 'safety inspector' of sorts. I was told to investigate the appearance of what is predicted to be the emergence of a 'singularity-level' wizard: A single sentient entity with an affinity to wield magic on a scale of manipulating several solar systems simultaneously.-" Dan continues to speak in a rhythmic and semi-passionate fashion, the way a strange celebrity may speak on TV when tired and reciting a rehearsed monologue to advertise their latest film. "My second job is to make sure no less than thirty percent of all sentient life remains alive by the end of 'emergence'. I personally prefer most all of life remains the same for those involved, but, if I determine my strength to be inadequate, my methods won't matter since someone stronger will have to be called in. Who we're looking for is someone by the name of 'Pahn'. They've apparently been trapped on Earth for quite some time and have spent the past two billion years forging some kind of 'instrument'. The details after this get hazy as the specifics of events and their motives arent the specialty of our Seer's Guild and their predictions. Though, when it comes to an event actually occurring, their accuracy is infallible. Besides, you were pretty key in the predictions. Your face and name came up quite a bit, especially in the war." Dan would then release a deep sigh and lean further back against his seat to stare out the window. For the entirety of that monologue he may have been looking 'towards' Anora, but, you could hardly say he was looking 'at' her. Some part of him had closed off and become oddly mechanical, despite the presence of emotion. He was made cold in his ease of communication, sparing an equal amount of semi-passioned talk about colors and magic as he would about life and it's required 'percentage' of survival. His anxious self was confusing and harmless, his calmer side looked nearly-empty in its readiness to do anything necessary. The Earth below was now a bit closer. A skyline of man-made towers could be seen growing along a curvacious coast. Darsby continued to observe Anora and Dan as they spoke, he looked to be consumed by some rather severe thoughts throughout their talking. Thankfully, he had also thought to be quiet while others were talking.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Catching Dan's eyes widen at the show of her frustrations, Anora groaned inwardly. If he'd been nervous before, she feared her outburst would only make it worse. Her head had already begun to throb, deciding full-heartedly that now was a great time for a headache. Her stomach gnawed at her, demanding she feed it. She was in no mood to keep dealing with Dan's near indecipherable answers. She blinked, surprised, when the man instead relaxed, sinking back into his seat. Even his ever-wringing hands fell still. She eyed him, trying to figure him out. Did he actually prefer hostility? As if her action had been just the right prompt, for the first time, Dan responded in a way she understood without having to sift through his verbal fillers. For a moment, Anora could only stare, shocked at the drastic change in his tone and speech patterns. She grimaced at the reminder of the spidery blouth from the hospital. And, like Darsby, Dan apparently had a heightened sense of smell. She hadn't even touched the things, and he could smell them on her. Curious, she pulled the collar of her shirt up, making the chains clipped to the side jingle lightly, and sniffed at it. The only scent she picked up on was the faint hint of laundry detergent that had somehow survived this crazed day. Her attention snapped back to Dan as he continued. Her eyes narrowed at his practiced, mechanical tone. She met his gaze, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was almost like he'd been programmed, reverting to his default state with the right trigger. Before she could think much deeper on it, his words called for her full attention. Her violet eyes widened at the apparent strength of the being they were up against. "Several solar systems?" she hissed, but the gentle rush of the briny wind through Ahllasta's open window and Dan continuing drowned out her voice. She let out a quick, disbelieving breath at his 'second job.' Despite his words, there was a sickening brusqueness to it, like someone stating they'd prefer to have the whole cake, but would happily settle for just a slice. Only it was people he was talking about. Billions of them. But to him, it sounded like it was nothing but business. Her hand fisted against the seat. Sparks of purple and gold puffed to involuntary life around her fingers for a second as angry heat rose to her cheeks at Dan's relative indifference. It took her a moment to force herself to refocus on the man's words. "I what now?" Incredulous surprise pushed her anger aside for a moment. "In a [i]war?[i]" She huffed out a breath, turned around, and leaned heavily back into her seat. She looked down, gaze and jaw tense. "A war you expect to kill billions of people!" There was no way she would let that happen. Somehow, there had to be a way to avoid losing over half the people of the world. To avoid a war between an intergalactic invasion party and overpowered god-level wizard. A war she apparently had enough of a part in to get the attention of a bunch of psychics. Prophets. Whatever his blasted 'Seers Guild' was. She let out a dark, hysterical chortle at the thought as she reached for her open backpack at her feet. This whole thing had thrown 'insane' out the window long ago. She didn't think there even was an English adjective strong enough that would work for the situation. She pulled out another of dwindling supply of granola bars and started to open it. She glanced out the windshield just long enough to realize they were already approaching a coastline. She paused, staring out at the approaching civilization, the wrapper of her snack partially torn. Until now, she hadn't even noticed the shift in lighting, the subtle—and not so subtle—indications of entering a completely different time zone. The now morning sun glittered off of windows in the distance, turning the city into a spectral to behold. She shook her head lightly and ripped the granola bar open. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised they had made a fifteen-hour flight in a matter of maybe half an hour, give or take. "So what is it you plan on doing about Pahn, Monster Mash?" she snapped, returning to the issue at hand. She tossed the wrapper into her bag. "Figure out where he is, then call in an armada? Confront him yourself?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan sighs, his eyes turning away from Anora to gaze out the window. He'd take a brief moment with himself despite others being around, allowing all questions to linger for a moment before snapping at them. He is relaxed, relaxed in the same way a bear may be as it lingers over a fish-populated river. "I'll observe and draw conclusions after I've put my eye on them. We're both trying to answer the same questions. I know that Earth is small compared to space, but, so is The Council. We get scared out there in the dark too..." Dan offers a sidelong glance before some unspoken thought trips him up and he begins to tense. His fingers pace slowly into themselves, gradually lacing into one another. His knees shrivel inwards. He spirals into anxiety as he did on arrival. Darsby, who'd been slowly relaxing more as the conversation carried on, began to inspect the tears in his baggy clothing. The tips of his fingers would glow a faint pink as he traces them over various scars and wounds, healing them instantly upon first touch. Something about Dan had frightened him, he'd worked past this after observing the man for some time. "My apologies for earlier.-" Darsby would suddenly say aloud whilst attentively working on his deformities. "-You never know what you're getting with these 'Celestial Wizards', the power and age make a dangerous combination at times. It's better to be polite." His last sentence would be said towards Anora as he finishes his work and slumps back into his seat. "You did good calming him down like that." Darsby looks towards Dan, who'd only half-heard the things spoken about him. The jittery man would nod and chuckle a bit before looking back out the window whilst gnawing at his nails. Darsby, the alien she'd arrived here with, looked markedly overwhelmed. He'd smile at Anora in a way that said they were both somehow on the same boat at this point. The horizon grew closer, Beijing's skyline quickly closing in. They were just about at whatever destination they'd been attempting to get to.</s>
<\|description\|>The German Squad Hans Bauer - Sergeant Hans Bauer is the 35 year old sergeant of the German squad. He is of average size, with short black hair and blue eyes. He is a strong-willed soldier and a proud supporter of the Third Reich. His leadership and camaraderie makes him the ideal commander for this operation. Hans carries an MP40 sub-machine gun and a Luger pistol. Franz Ziegler - Private (Machine Gunner) 38 year old Franz is a stout men with an even temper - a 'gentle giant'. He is tall and imposing, yet calm and passive. He values his friends, and would do anything to protect them. Franz carries an MG32 machine gun and a Luger pistol. Gerhard Brant - Private (Machine Gunner) Gerhard is the most hot-tempered of the group. Tall, strong, and mean - this bull-of-a-man represents the extremes of bravery and courage. Or perhaps it is arrogance and anger - after all, Brandt served in the Great War and harbors a particular grudge against the Allies. Gerhard carries an MG32 machine gun and a Luger pistol. Claus Jager - Private (Assistant Gunner) A young man, from the same village as Otto Kraus. Claus was born and raised on a farm, and like his father he is loyal to the Fatherland. He is an assistant for the squad's machine gunners. Claus carries a Luger pistol and spare ammo. Otto Kraus - Private (Assistant Gunner) Otto was born and raised in the same village as Claus, and the two grew up as friends. Like Jager, he is an assistant for the machine gunners. He carries a Luger pistol and spare ammo. Karl Moltke - Private (Grenadier/Rifleman) Karl is a personal friend of the sergant, Hans Bauer, and also acts as his second-in-command. Karl displays excellent leadership skills as well. He is a strong and stout ally, and acts as the squad's primary grenadier. He carries a Karabiner 98k, a Luger pistol, and 3 grenades. Helmut Seidel - Private (Grenadier/Rifleman) Helmut is a humble man who has quick adapted to the shock of warfare. Helmut can maintain his composure in the face of enemy fire, and never backs down from a fight. As a former meat cutter and cook, he is also the squad's primary cooker. He carries a Karabiner 98k, a Luger pistol, a frag grenade, and 2 smoke grenades. Wessel Winter - Private (Rifleman) The oldest member of the group, and a veteran of the Great War. Wessel fights for Germany with a determined heart. He carries a Karabiner 98k and a Luger pistol. Franz Schmidt - Private (Rifleman) The second-to-youngest member of the group and one of the freshest recruits. Franz attended a university before the outbreak of the Second World War. He is an educated young man, willing to prove himself in the service of his country. He carries a Karabiner 98k and Luger pistol. Kristoph Kramer - Private (Rifleman) The youngest and freshest recruit of the squad. Kristoph's father served in the Great War, and like him he wants to prove himself. He is loyal to the Third Reich, and often argues with Franz on various subjects. He carries a Karabiner 98k and a Luger pistol.</s> <\|message\|>The German Squad May 11th, 1940. The German invasion of Belgium was in full swing. The German airborne forces were tasked with taking Fort Eben-Emael, which was integral to the success of the army. A series of battles were being fought along the border, usually aimed to secure important bridges and crossings. German Panzer divisions were ready to move into central Belgium and bring the invasion to a swift end. First, however, Belgian garrisons protecting the bridges and crossings needed to be eliminated. And this was a task that fell to Hans Bauer. Surveying the field ahead, Hans deduced that the coast was clear and signaled for the rest of his squad to approach. They had advanced this far under the cover of a forest. Across the ways was a dirt road which ran north, passing by Hagen's Farm and crossing over a river. The bridge which crossed over that river was a vital crossing that the German Panzer Divisions sought to utilize. But thus far the Belgian garrisons threatened this move. By the time the squad had assembled on the edge of the wood, Hans began to relay orders. "Ziegler, Brant," he referred to the two Machine Gunners, "cover our advance. Moltke, Kramer, you're with me. Winter, you take Seidel and Schmidt. We'll split up and advance on the road in two teams. Schnell!" The disciplined soldiers exited the forest and proceeded towards the road in two teams; Hans had tasked Winter with leading the second team because he was the oldest and most experienced, having served in the Great War. Meanwhile, Ziegler and Brant, with the help of Claus and Otto - the two machine gun assistants - covered the advance. Once they made it to the road and found no resistance, Hans signaled for the MG teams to regroup. Now it was only a matter of advancing north, along the road, towards Hagen's Farm, where the Belgians were expected to be. The darkness would cover their approach, and they remained on the eastern side of the road so they could cover themselves in the ditch.</s> <\|message\|>The Belgians Worthy children of Low Countries Whom a fine passion has aroused, To your patriotic fervour Great successes lie in store. Remain under arms, so that naught shall change! Let us keep to the same will, And we shall see Orange bloom anew Upon the tree of Liberty. -The original Brabanconne Marching bands, girls waving handkerchiefs and blowing kisses, all of this accompanied the squad of Sergeant van der Koopften. But unlike most of his men he knew better than to smile and be glad of what he was about to see. He was marching off to what had a reasonable chance of being his last day alive. As he saw in the distance the farmstead with the bridge he'd be defending he grunted; the scale was quite different in real life than upon the map. The damned krauts had already ruined the livelihood of this innocent worker, not particularly caring for the ambitions of the Germans. The bastards didn't want to fight war honestly and attack France through it's proper borders so they invaded Belgium to get around the French defences. Well, if a scrap was what the nazis wanted then they'd get one. They'd see what the sons of Flanders and Wallonia could bring forth, and they'd taste cold steel on their filthy lips. As they got closer, Leopold started to bark orders. "Nicolet, Albrecht you old bastard, get over to the far side of the road right before the bridge, go in the ditch and cover yourselves with mud. I know, I know, your beautiful uniforms will get dirty but I don't care. You'll use the ditches as cover as you lie down. You won't show your faces until the enemy is right and close where you can throw your grenades and get off some fast shots, you hear me?" As the grumbled confirmations came the Sergeant said "Good, on to the next order of business. Private Janssen, you'll go to the barn, stand at the door and look through the lines of the forest, you'll be one of our little reserves. Heavy gunner team, you'll set up at the right window of the farmhouse. Robert, Heinrich, you two will be at the window and doorways of the farmhouse... now!" At last, the Sergeant inhaled, and massaged his eyebrows as only two remained without orders. Corporal Voors and Private Jacobs, you'll come with me to the windmill, we're the aegis, you hear? The others will be relying on us for support. Enemies our comrades don't see, we take them down. If all else fails, we are here. Understood? Good. Let's go, I think I hear the Germans in the distance." With that, they were deployed. Some men smoke, whilst the gunnery team quietly played a game of cards to settle their nerves before the invader arrived....</s>	<\|message\|>The German Squad Despite the blanket of darkness which covered the land, the German squad could make out Hagen's Farm in the distance. Their commander, Hans, held up one hand to order the party to halt and they all knelt on their knees. "It's up ahead, we'll be there shortly. Expect hostiles. Stay on the right side of the road; we'll use the ditch as cover on our approach." Hans intended goal was to hug the right side of the road heading north, that way the Belgians - who he expected to be on the left side - would not their approach. Little did he know that Nicolet and Albrecht were hiding in the mud. And so when the Germans approached, the entire 10 man squad came to a rest just within range of the two mud-covered Belgians. They had checked their weapons and ammunition while also peeking over the ditch to see the composition of the battlefield.</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Journey "Good." The Emperor stated to Kean, "I have faith in your words my man." He then paused to look at the cat, "An odd choice, but I think it will suit you." The Emperor looked about as his assembled adventurers began to pick his heirlooms. He felt loss for a moment, but it quickly faded away. What good were heirlooms if they weren't used in time of crisis. He was sure Dramoria would agree. His eyes finally landed on Sue, who had just broken a vase or container of some sort. The one which housed her weapon, an odd thing really. But her words made him respond. "Susan, there is no need to buy things. I have everything and more that you will require in the North courtyard. The horses are prepared, and items in bags. Food and water are also included. I know that your journey before the arriving in enemy territory, will take you through a couple of settlements, where you can also buy anything needed." He said. The Emperor then clapped his hands together, quieting the room. "I'm afraid there will be no celebratory feast here this night, no ceremonies for you all. No matter how much I would have liked to give one, there is little time. Your journey must begin at once, before we are overrun." The Emperor paused once more and looked at them, "I thank you all on behalf of the Empire. I wish you the best of luck, and upon your return we shall throw a feast to revival Dramoria's coronation. Goodbye, and may we see one another again." The Emperor then looked at Val, nodded and began to walk away. He was tired, but there was work still to do, planning for the defense of an Empire was no easy task. ----- So caught up in the beauty of Sanctity, Val paid no attention to Kean or his remarks. Slowly he lowered the blade and watched others pick and choose their weapons and boons. An attendant came and took his own sword, allowing Val to place sanctity in a sheath around his waist. The soothing warmth of the blade vanished from, and he shivered slightly before pressing himself to attention when the beggar man walked towards the Emperor. Then the man knelt and Val relaxed. Kean's thanks was needed, he had been given a great gift. One seldom such as he would ever have even dreamed of seeing the throne room, yet here he was. Soon his thoughts drifted to other things and he saw watched the others for any shifty moves but like before, he found nothing. Then the Emperor addressed them all, his farewell was a somber tone. When bowed slightly as the Emperor began to walk away, his shoulders heavy and his movement slow. Val swore he would do his Emperor right, he would see this through. Not for himself, but for the Empire itself. He prayed to Solus to watch over the Emperor and his family, then he straightened himself out. He surveyed the group, then in a commanding tone he stated, "No time to waste, follow me. We need to be in the town of Havel by tomorrow night." Val then began to walk in the opposite direction of the Emperor, towards a door that would take them to the North Courtyard. Where his destiny awaited. @Zetsuko@Sola@Sofaking Fancy@Rithy@Leotamer@AdvancedJ3lly@Ghost Shadow@Burger@jdh97@DinoNuts</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- The Emperor's acknowledgement reminded her of the loss she knew. He'd apparently sent for Gathran for obvious reasons. While he seemed content to have someone there, she knew that she was not the one he expected. Adra had never been a part of the orc's legend. All the stories that floated about had to do with him and him alone. She was a side note. Not that she hated that, but it was hard to explain to people her involvement with the warrior. It also hurt. She pulled herself from her bow and looked around. While she'd felt extremely humbled and incapable, those around her were varied in appearance and background. She was the only orc. Honestly, she expected that. Her kind wasn't so quick to throw themselves in front of the humans. Adra knew she needed to honor the summons. So, here she was. Her eyes danced across each of the members. Humans, there were a few but they were varied. There was the fully armored man that watched silently over them. There was the thief. There were a couple of noble looking fellows. Also, an entirely covered person that hid their background. An older woman stomped in and flashed about her importance. Adra looked on. There was an elvkiin, or so she assumed. And then there were two fae. One was massive with green skin and over-interest in everything happening around her. The other stood silently and powerfully. It was then that emperor announced that they take their artifact from the display. She approached. There were numerous ones missing, and yet her eyes landed on a gauntlet. She picked it up. Immediately, she felt a power run through her veins, unlike anything she'd felt before. An inhale escaped her lips before she pulled away from the table. She knew this artifact almost immediately. Strength. She would possess it. The emperor excused them in a solemn way. She was used to such biddings. The orcs weren't a kind for unnecessary fanfare. They knew when missions were hopeless and when they were not. She nodded at his words. She watched him leave and then turned to their new leader. She bristled at the fact that she was probably taking orders from a plain human. Weak. Soft. They were not born from knowledge and iron. She tilted her head upwards and watched the man. The man belted out an order and began walking. "I do enjoy reacting to orders given by a stranger. Especially a human clad entirely in armor. So afraid to show his face. Yes, please, tell me more about what I should do. I enjoy being led around by a faceless puppet of the emperor."</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>Brennen, Pyromancer of the Swamp Present-Day Reflections Brennen waited but a moment longer to ensure Kean sprang into action. The younger man looked as tired by the road as any of them had, but his quickness on the uptake impressed Brennen. The horses were disciplined, dauntless, but the Scorned seemed to wield a power more terrible than fang or poison: fear. Terror strong enough to send some men quivering to their knees. Perhaps it was the utter unholiness of their appearance; their untamed, feral savageness as the Blight, its vines, tore at them. As the attack began, almost immediately, the tall Fae and pallid boy-priest performed some sort-of dark spell or ritual. Shadows gathered about the priest, dispersing like forks to seize the other adventurers. Brennen cursed under his breath, stepping away as if to avoid the tendrils of darkness seeping towards him. This darkness, this 'magic' as it were; no good words were spoken of it in the Bog, though its practice remained infamous. Divination by fire was common among the tribes' wise-men-and-women, reading flame to discern divine messages, predict the future. But even amongst them, superstitious fanatics began associating pyromancy with the shadows their fires cast on the ground, and pursued darker arts; communing with spirits, summoning shadows, manipulating another's Inner Flame to return them from death. Those pagans' reign of terror was short-lived, snuffed out quickly by the other tribesmen, but their ill-fame-and-fortune left a black stain on the tribes' history, like a weeping wound refusing to heal. Suddenly, the light surrounding them vanished entirely, centered around a tiny bead that was floating in the tall Fae's palm. Brennen's earlier cautiousness became anger as a wave of cold washed over him. But before he could try and rebuke the currently-hovering Fae, the bead in her hand turned to a ray that disintegrated the Scorned monstrosity, along with a substantial part of the treeline. As if pleased with the result, the Fae asserted her proclamation as 'Greatest Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove', yet fell to the ground with a 'thud' before her sentence could be finished. As light returned, Brennen quickly resumed corralling the other horses with the ones he and Kean had already gathered, but not before saying to the Fae, with accusatory venom, "That is no sorcery." His voice did not raise, or possess any immediately notable anger, but it nevertheless seemed to speak volumes of his own displeasure, the suspicion surrounding the kind-of magic displayed before him. The break in battle was short-lived, wrought with fear, as five more wolves burst through the dark woods, three of them now driven hairless by the plague that contorted their bodies and decayed their minds. The Templar found himself waylaid by one of the wolves, while one of the hairless mongrels licked at non-existent lips dripping froth and venomous drool, sizing the Pyromancer up-and-down. Saying nothing, Brennen's mouth twisted to a scowl of rage, a low growl from deep in his throat seeming to answer the wolf in kind. Flexing his fingers in anticipation, a ball of fire materialized in his left hand, glowing and crackling brightly as it fed on his anger as he faced the monstrosity. With a sudden snarl, the wolf lunged at Brennen in a single bound, who in turn hurled the ball of fire from his hand, letting it collide mid-air with the wolf; who's guttural screech devolved into yelps and whimpers of pain as the flames gorged themselves on flesh and vegetation, leaving the beast to keep screaming that horrifyingly human-like scream. Brennen drew the hand-axe at his side with his right hand and, without a moment's hesitation, swung the blade down on the Scorned's skull with a sickening 'crunch', and the screaming stopped. In a moment of defiance, of challenge, maybe, Brennen used his foot to kick the still-burning corpse on its back; the shadows of night blending with the sickly-black smoke, obscuring most of his hooded face from view. Yet his reply burned in the firelight.</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Keenan didn't even flinch as the wolf was obliterated in front of him. He kept facing the woods until the rest of the corrupt pack showed itself and charged the party. rather than remain braced, however, Keenan charged for the silver wolf as it came towards him. As he charged he subtly tapped into the magic the Fae left behind in the wake of her spell, no one would be the wiser but as the two were about to meet the wolf's front legs were suddenly snared. The wolf was stopped for the split second needed for Keenan to drive his knee into the underside of it's jack, and with a wet crack the wolf's jaw was broken. The stunned beast was then subjected to a flurry from the Twin Fang's blades, ending it's miserable life. Standing over it's body Keenan roared a challenge at the other brown wolf and it came barreling into him in answer. He took the charge and the two entering a fierce grapple. --- As soon as the first wolf was gone Lothian aimed for the treeline and began shooting with his crossbow a moment before the wolves had come charging out of the woods. He continued aiming as he had before, taking every available shot to either weaken, maim, or kill. He slowly stepped backward to put himself behind the others as he did to avoid the melee so he could keep firing but he drew his shortsword in case it found him anyway.</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun Icy fingers traced along his spine, bringing a violent shudder. Magic. Odd magic, not exactly malign, but… dark? A dagger was in Kean's hand now, gripped tight with new resolve. No sooner had he turned from the horses when everything black, save for the dim light hovering in the air. Reflexively, a hand went to his face in panic, but nothing obscured his vision. Then, the world exploded back into light, accompanied but a purple front of destructive energy; it reaved the life from everything that crossed its path, tearing the ground asunder with frightening ease. Kean stood, stunned. He was at once inspired and demoralised by the display. The Fae fell to the ground, and Kean relaxed, the beast slain. More than slain, obliterated. With the last of the horses corralled, he offered a shaky hand to the Fae, assuming it over. He was going to make a snide comment about how the beast was lucky that he didn't get to deal with, but then the low-burning anger in Brennen's words surprised Kean into silence. Not that he had time to muse over it, as five more perverted wolves tore towards them, as the Templar warned. The night was filled with twisted-human screams. It was a sound that squirmed into your skull. Kean wanted to claw it out. Man and beast fell upon each other, blood spraying. The burning one was worst. Kean was glad it's skull was cleaved quickly, a mercy for them both. His face scrunched up at the smell. You would not imagine forgetting how frightening the Scorned were. You'd reckon one could steel their mind. Not Kean. The only thing keeping his frayed nerves together, cauterising the newfound dread, was that black candle burning in the back of his mind, that off-magic. Kean had fallen tighter behind the wall that was Adra now. Lacking the proficiency to attack with the same reckless abandon as Keenan, or the awesome magic that exalted Brennen and the Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove, he had to hope simple teamwork would suffice. His shifted uneasily. "I've got your back," He said firmly, trying to hide how he felt. A hairless horror bounded towards them. He could run. He should run. Turf was torn up in its wake. Focus. A deep breath in, then out. Calm. Kean launched his dagger at the monstrosity, his magic propelling the blade at speeds approaching that of a crossbow bolt. From the folds of his clothing a larger blade floated into his grasp, ready to support Adra when the melee broke out.</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil lowered his shield, and as he did, the shadows snaked back to him and merged with his own shadow. He placed the gentle shield on his back careful, and began to walk forward. He did not even look at the pyromancer, but it was clear that was who he was addressing, his words clearly his own as his manner of speaking changed to be less formal than when he quoted holy verses, and it was much more barbed, "Then that is own foolishness. The glory of Luna is plainly visible, through the night sky, and through her priests. As I said, if you look for her, you will find her caring embrace. It is sad to see someone whose heart has been hardened by serving such a fickle master. There is a lot of power in fire, but that power is just as likely to consume your enemies as it to consume you. Be warned, if you burn up : You will burn alone."</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Lothian had been crossbow ready and sword out, ready to support any of his companions that needed it while taking potshots when he could. But it seemed few would need it against this foe, one by one the wolves fell to the party. Keenan, Brennen, Adra and Kean, and the Templar, until finally the only remaining wolf-monster was the one Keenan was currently grappling. Keenan lost his swords not long after the two met, and soon the melee devolved into something of a fist-on-claw fight. Keenan was growling and snarling in almost a similar fashion to the wolf and throwing hard punches when he could or grab the wolf to keep it from rending him with his claws or catching him with his fangs. The fight really was going nowhere slowly, with neither able to land a solid, debilitating hit simply due to their proximity. At least until Keenan made the mistake of headbutting the creature, his hands were on it's throat holding it's jaws away and arms blocking it's claws so he deciding to use the one unoccupied body part in reach: His head, though as his head was unarmored at the time the blow really did more to him than the wolf and in the moment he was stunned he was knocked to the ground, the wolf ready for a killing blow. Seeing the scene Lothian starting rushing over, taking his shortsword in a reverse grip and throwing his full weight into a stab. He caught the wolf as it was poised over Keenan, driving the blade into it's skull and using his momentum to carry it away unloading his crossbow into it's right eye at point-blank range as he did. In the short distance of perhaps one-to-two feet he fell on top of the monster's corpse. Panting as he rose back up, pulling his blade out as he did so, he turned to where Keenan was still on the ground. Keenan was not sitting up and seemed like he was trying to come down now that the last threat was dealt with, he was still breathing heavy in a way that could be described as angry. The elf held out his hand to help him up "are you alright friend?" which Keenan accepted after a sigh to steady his breathing "yes, thank you for that" He gave a short nod to Lothian before looking around for where his swords ended up. Meanwhile, Lothian started heading back towards the group "I think that is the last of them for now, we might want to move on quickly if we can"</s> <\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" "I think that is the last of them for now, we might want to move on quickly if we can" "SPIKE GRASS!" No sooner had Lothian said those words than Zana's spell had finally finished; the Fae focused on her spell-casting calling out the name of the spell. Within the blink of an eye; the party would find a veritable forests of thorny, rotted spikes shooting up from the very ground at their feet to surround them in a veritable forest of spikes rising as high as 10ft into the air! The violent growths would narrowly miss the group, skewering some of the remains of the wolves with enough force to lift a horse into the air! Rising from her crouched position, the Fae would look around; the violet hue retreating from her verdant skin and green eyes. "Oh... were they dead already?" She asked, tilting her head; looking at the rest of the party through the thicket of spiked roots that had the density of a tightly backed bamboo forest; causing the Fae to have to bob and weave her head slightly in order to be able to even see the other party members.</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Illuminations II As Val breathed ragged, he noticed Brennen walk over to him. The Pyromancer then beckoned to Val to get to his feet, his hand waiting. Val gladly took it, but it pained him. He held on to Brennen for a moment and said, "Ribs... broken. Have to keep going. Away from forest. Need to res-" But before he could finish Zana shouted out a spell, and all around them a thicket of spiked vegetation shot up, obscuring his view from other party members. Val looked at Brennen, "Horses. Then her and I will have a chat." Val then painfully lifted up Sanctity, and began to cut the thicket, lighting it up so they could get out. Val was dismayed and satisfied with how members of the party had preformed. Most, he hoped, had escaped serious injury other then himself. No one had died either, so that was a plus. But he could not ignore the Fae's antics in the battle. With little warning for what her spells would be doing, she had almost gotten Val killed and then recklessly firing her spells after the battle had one, left a sour taste in his mouth. For now, Val focused on getting to the horses, so they could escape to safer passages. @Zetsuko@Leotamer@Ghost Shadow</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun A handful of moments slipped by before the tension spilled from Kean's body, his arms falling dead-straight at his sides. One blade dropped from his hands, but then seemed to catch itself mid-freefall, whilst the other drew itself from the lupine corpse, dripping red as it floated back towards him. Both entered the folds of Kean's clothing to find their hidden scabbards. "Is everyone-" Was as much as Kean managed before vegetation exploded around them. Ill pillars dotted with sickle blades shot up. Kean felt one cruel edge graze his back. Yet, he didn't move. Eventually, he let out a breath. The Fae seemed to be the cause. He was beginning to wonder if having such power was really a boon when it was wielded by someone of such immature disposition and questionable sanity. "They're dead alright, but we're not, and I'd like to keep it that way," He said, as he worked free from the maze. He snagged on a few spikes but was able to get out with only a few minor grazes. He brushed himself off and began making his way towards the horses. "Is everyone alright?" He managed to finish this time, looking around. The Templar seemed the most injured, and whilst Kean didn't over help, he bit his tongue to hold back any snide remarks. Recent events had afforded perhaps an iota of respect.</s>
<\|description\|>Neil Aurum Neil is a small, wiry man dressed in simple black robes. His hair is bleach white, and he keeps his hair short and neat. His eyes are light grey and often dart about. He is mostly devoid of scars or piercings, except for a gash wound on his stomach. He wears black gloves he seldom removes, and wears a round light blue pendent with a silver emblem of an owl. Age- 21 Gender- Male Race- Human Personality- Behind a reserved and quite demeanor, he is cunning and intelligent. He speaks little, but not out of fear or awkwardness, but because he says only what is needed, and nothing more. He is quite distant from his surroundings, he can watch a man a die and appear unaffected, not because he doesn't care about human life but because he knows that neither sorrow or anger will do anything in the moment, grieving can wait till a funeral, when there is work to be done, he lets nothing hinder him. Backstory- Physically weak, but strong of spirit, Neil was forged by adversity. Born of a noble house that has long been waning in power, he was born sickly. The noble house of Aurum valued strength, and instead he was intelligent. The house of Aurum valued honor, and instead he was cunning. The house of Aurum valued bravery, and Neil is fearless. In his early years, he hide away from the rest of the world as if his mere birth was a black stain on his family's honor. That was until he manifested his magic, it was unrefined at first but powerful. Suddenly, he was paraded around noble parties and other pointless activities despite his objections. One night, when he was fifteen, bandits broke into his estate. Everyone in the house was asleep except him, as he was in the library reading. The bandits sweep across the house, killing and looting as they went. Alarmed by the screams, he rushed out of the library and into the courtyard where he saw the bandits covered in the blood of his family and his servants loaded their ill-gotten gains on to a wagon. He called forth his magical energy, raw arcane energy, crackling and blue, and unleashed it yet it was not strong enough. He keep summoning bolts of arcane lightning against the attackers and yet he was not strong enough. They rushed towards him, blades in hand. The leader lunged forward and stabbed, causing him to fall down on his back. The robbers mocked him as he was on the ground, bleeding out. He tried to get up, but every time he did, someone kick him back down. They could of killed him, but instead choose to toy with him. That was a very bad decision. He stared up at the moon, and perhaps by divine providence or perhaps a delusion caused by blood loss, he heard a women's voice whisper into his ear. He could not understand the words themselves, but the meaning was clear. He reached out towards the moon, his hand sparking with arcane lightning and as his did, the lightning turned black and dissolved into shadow. The bandits tried to take their blades and finish the boy, and yet it was to late. Shadow poured out in an aura around him, and consumed the thieves who dared commit a crime while the eye of Luna watched them. His immediate family dead, and stories of his magical prowess spreading, distant family tried desperately to take them into their house for their own gain. Instead, he joined the church and became a priest of Luna, the one entity that had shown him kindness. Magical abilities- Shadow Magic, Illusion Magic, Divination Combat abilities- Resistance to poisons, diseases, and illusions Artifact of Dramoria- The Moon Shield, Serenity, is a round buckler shield, the rim, handle, and back-plating are made of silver. Embedded in the shield itself is a sapphire mirror. The full extant of its powers are unknown, but legend says that its reflection reveals deception and that it grows more powerful under the light of the moon. Motive- The corruption of the mountain threatens the balance, and Luna now calls him to her service. And as Luna had saved his life and gave him family in the church, he will gladly die in her service.</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Hate One of the more intricate processes of shaping a Templar, is the mental aspect of training. They are broken down and built up to be obedient, loyal, and unwavering in the face of danger. They have to be able to reign in their emotions, if they aren't swept away by the vigorous training they undergo. Valson was taught this, all of the Templar's were taught this but it was never greatly enforced. Some of the older instructors even said to use emotions in response to physical combat, and mental stimulus. Anger was a powerful tool in the face of adversity, but one had to balance that with the proper training and levelheadedness. Val stopped in his tracks at the voice of the Orc, swiftly followed by the man who had addressed the Emperor just a short time ago. So quick to voice concerns, so quick to make idiotic remarks. It was enough to make him angry. Of course, he hadn't expected much from the orcish woman, they tended to be hotheaded even more so then males. Val turned slowly to look at the both of them. He began to talk, his tone full of sarcastic venom, "Puppet you say? I'm sorry orc, I didn't realize that my status of being a faceless puppet would already be causing problems." He paused with a chuckle, "How about you save your sentiment for someone who actually gives a shit? If you couldn't tell, we're at war and we have much bigger problems to deal with then some orc with an ego. But by all means, if you wish to lead us go ahead," Val then gestured towards the door, "Surely you would be better suited at it over I. I'm sure you know exactly the path we must take to avoid the Scorned and the bulk of their forces. And not to mention the road to the mountain itself. Or would your leadership get us killed? We wouldn't want to end up like poor Garthan after all." Templar's are versed in an assortment of tactics to get inside an enemies head. They play dirty, any information that could weaken an opponents resolve, or push them over the edge, is welcome. It can go both ways however, the opponent might be so angry they make mistakes, or their rage sends them into a frenzy. Val was hoping for the latter, it was always more exciting to fight with the odds against you. Next Val removed his helmet, showing the full extent of his face. His grey eyes were sharp, and his hair was well kept. The most notable feature was the many faded scars that ran amok throughout his face. The largest of which, were three slashes on his right cheek that ran through his beard. The scorned were merciless opponents, he had learned that the hard way. "Satisfied?" He asked Kean before placing the helmet back on. Val then started walking towards the door once more. @Sofaking Fancy</s> <\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Zina had quietly walked up behind Adra and Kean as the two were talking to Val, the taller Fae watching the conversation between the three from above Adra and Kean's heads, until the Templar eventually removed his helmet for show. It struck the Fae that she had never actually thought of what the templars would look like under those helmets. Would it be a fair and beautiful angelic face resembling the mythical and beautiful creatures that were referred to as angels? Would it be a dead face, the mask worn by a corpse risen to fight? Or would it just be an empty void? In the end, it turned out to be none of that, yet Zina was quick to comment nonetheless! "Hey, your head actually looks pretty nice! No need to be so shy and hide it under that metal helmet all the time." Zina exclaimed with a cheerful as Val turned and walked away. Pausing, Zina turned her face as she fixed Adra with her poison green eyes and a smile; her long, emerald green ponytail swishing behind her head as she turned to look at the Orc. "I think he secretly likes you! He's just too shy to admit it..." She said to Adri with a coy smile in a hushed whisper!</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- Adra smiled when the roguish human announced that she had far larger testicles than most. It wasn't a compliment, but it was not an insult either. She was a blunt creature, and as much she favored truth over a sugaring of words. Still, she stood by her sentiment. The human, clad in armor, jerked around ready to fight her in verbal combat. Adra stood in silence, not stunned or angry, as he spoke his truth. Then he dragged her husband's name through his words without a thought. She wanted to balk, but she stilled her tongue. "My only concern was knowing who we would die by. I like being led by someone whose face I would know well upon the last gurgles of life." She paused. "I am not interested in leading a human group towards a human goal. I have no ego regarding such. You seem most prepared for that. My concern is knowing who I would be looking at when I died. A brave man shows his face and cowardly one leaves you to die without something familiar and warm." She shrugged. "So, lead. I just wanted to know the person I was dying under." He raised his helmet and gave a glimmer of his face. "That is fine," she said. "You're an instrument of the emperor but considering it—we all are. Sad finger puppets flitting about in a stupid human game. Though I would ask that one not drag Gathran's name about so idly. Just. Please." Adra drew her lips into a tight scowl, which made her tusks more obvious. The large, green, fae leaned down to her and whispered her thoughts. Adra snorted. "If he was interested in me, he'd stop trying to throw me atop every social pyre that existed." She smiled. "But thank you for such hope. I do enjoy it." Zee@Rithy@jdh97</s>	<\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil had heard tales of the shield Serenity before, however it was much more beautiful than he imaged. Its reflections had an ethereal quality to it. He could feel its power merely by wielding it. The only time he ever felt closer to his god was when she came down and blessed him, anointing him as one of her own. He was pulled out of his daydreaming when he saw the orc and Templar arguing. It was an ill-fortune, as a team that fights itself always loses. He thought that perhaps the argument could be resolved on the road, if not he would need to intervene or else their petty squabbling could kill not only the squad, but doom all of the known world.</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Elodia, Warden of the West Marches Elodia had never imagined she would step foot in the capital city of the Empire. She had heard of Dramon before in passing, from the occasional traveler or merchant, but never had been able to picture it in her mind. Cities were little more than a distant concept to her, a place strange people claim to be going to or coming from, and little else. Whatever she had thought it might be like was nothing like the reality. It was all so overwhelming, the labyrinth of stone buildings, paved roads, narrow alleys, colorful markets, endless crowds surging through it all. It was so different from the village she had been raised in or the silent, peaceful forests that she now called her home. Her escorts kept her from being swept away in the crowds or becoming lost. The had nearly turned her away at first, until she handed them the letter. That had changed their attitudes almost as quickly as it had the street vendor she had asked for directions an hour earlier. Her eyes wandered as they walked, taking in the new sights, the people. There were so many, more than she had ever seen in one place before, perhaps more than she had ever seen in any place at all. Many of them were refugees, like herself, shuffling about with somber, defeated expressions. She felt a pang of sadness at that realization and looked away, focusing on the path ahead. The trip through the city did little to prepare her for the palace itself. It reminded her of the old stone temple she had visited once as a child with her mother, though only in the most rudimentary way. While that small church had been constructed of rough grey bricks and dark stained glass, this place was crafted of perfectly smooth marble and brilliant colors, with enough space that it might have been built for giants to roam its halls. She smiled at the fantasy for a moment, picturing how someone the height of two men might be around the next corner or through the next massive doorway, going about his normal business. What might a giant's normal business be, running an Empire? Then she passed through another portal and found herself in a chamber greater than the others. A handful of others stood around her now, people like herself that didn't belong, standing before a man that Elodia assumed was the Emperor or someone of equal importance, based on his throne and attire. He was speaking, but her attention was immediately drawn elsewhere. Her eyes settled on the green-skinned woman that stood a full two heads above all else in attendance and she froze in surprise for a moment. Maybe giants ruling this place wasn't such a ridiculous idea... "Coin will also be provided for you and a horse each. Now are there any questions?" The man said, pulling her out of her imagination again. She looked over all of the others, lingering on the tall woman for a moment longer than the rest, and waited for someone to speak up.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil stepped forward once the emperor was finished with his speech, and while he stood in front of him, he did not stand directly in front of him. The more observant persons would see that he positioned himself so his shadow was cast away from the ruler. He once again bowed, and offered the prayer, "May the tower's shadow be lifted from your house." Shadows are very prominent in the lore of the moon, and hold many different meanings depending on array of different factors which most people outside of the Lunan church would be clueless of, however most people would recognize the tower's shadow from old wives tales or ghost stories as an ill-omen, though most would belief it to either be metaphorical or superstitious. He stood before the king, and paused carefully picking out the words he wished to use, however it is was likely the king already knew what he was going to say. The Church of Luna made it no secret that they believed the moon shield Serenity was by all rights the property of the church, and that it was a most sacred relic. "I have no need for wealth for this task. The signs have shown me I am unlikely to survive this ordeal, and even if I did, I have given up the gold of the nobility and it is not something I miss. I ask that when my task is complete, the holy relic Serenity will be returned to the Church of the Moon."</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" As the Emperor spoke, Zina found her gaze trailing off to the various sights and scenery all around them; the Fae still struggling to take in all the details of the great hall and lavish decorations of the imperial palace, as her head was in constant movement and causing the long, green leaf ponytail behind her head to swish back and forth. Yet the fellow adventurers in the hall gained no small amount of curiosity from the tall Fae as well, as Zina's green eyes scanned over them; taking in every detail! First there were those who had already been present in the room when Zina had entered. One was a scruffy looking human who looked like he had been dragged out from under a bridge somewhere and not slept straight for half a year. He struck Zina as a rather shy individual. Maybe he was just embarrassed of his appearance! The other person, Brennan, looked little better than Kean; with singed clothes and robes that made it look like he had barely escaped a house fire earlier that day. This puzzled Zina. There was a big contrast between the two humans in their rags and the ornamental flamboyance and opulence of the rest of the people in the imperial keep. Was this how dress-code worked for humans? The third person to grab Zina's attention was a very Fae looking human,- no wait, it actually was a Fae! Zina had to correct herself as she watched Mynx. This Fae looked remarkably human-like in both attire and appearance, making Zina assume she came from some of the groves that lived deeper in the Empire lands. That said, Mynx was for all Zina could tell just as aloof and distant looking as some of the elders from her own grove, so there was that in common! Yet more were to arrive after Zina however. First there was an Elvkiin, Lothian. Compared to her knowledge of Elvkiin, Zina's knowledge of humans was immense. And that was saying a lot given how little she knew about the latter! As far as she had been able to figure, Elvkiin were like humans, except smaller and prettier. Zina briefly entertained the prospect of reaching forward to try to try to pat Lothian's hair as he was giving his introduction, but her attention would soon be taken by a rather flamboyantly dressed figure that entered the hall. Despite its odd behavior, Zina found her attention more taken to Pale's outrageous outfit; the bright red shirt and blue cloak, all crowned by a giant hat many times wider than Pale herself! This immediately spawned a million questions in Zina's mind, most of which revolved around how she could acquire a hat like that as well! It kept Zina distracted for long enough that she barely even noticed the lingering look of a small human, Elodia. Upon finally noticing, Zina immediately did not hesitate to make eye contact and smile as she waved at the smaller being! This did not last long however, when suddenly Neil stepped forward, and Zina suddenly realized she had not even noticed the small wiry figure; assuming him to have been part of the background dressing until the moment he had stepped forward to speak to the Emperor to reject the promise of coin. "He's rejecting free coin? Obviously he has never seen some of the menu prices in some of the Inns along the way to this place!" Zina thought. It was probably a long way to their destination, so she figured having a few coins could come in handy along the way! Finally, Zina's attention was drawn from the details of the room and the people to focus on the events that were actually going on. Westgate had fallen, and they were apparently to destroy the corruption in the Ebony Mountains. She didn't know much about Westgate, she had never been there, but given how seriously everyone seemed to be talking about it Zina assumed it was important somehow and went with it. Of another question was the corruption... "What does the source of this corruption look like?" Zina went on to ask, turning a curious face directly towards the Emperor. "Do we have to destroy the entire mountain?"</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- The Emperor's acknowledgement reminded her of the loss she knew. He'd apparently sent for Gathran for obvious reasons. While he seemed content to have someone there, she knew that she was not the one he expected. Adra had never been a part of the orc's legend. All the stories that floated about had to do with him and him alone. She was a side note. Not that she hated that, but it was hard to explain to people her involvement with the warrior. It also hurt. She pulled herself from her bow and looked around. While she'd felt extremely humbled and incapable, those around her were varied in appearance and background. She was the only orc. Honestly, she expected that. Her kind wasn't so quick to throw themselves in front of the humans. Adra knew she needed to honor the summons. So, here she was. Her eyes danced across each of the members. Humans, there were a few but they were varied. There was the fully armored man that watched silently over them. There was the thief. There were a couple of noble looking fellows. Also, an entirely covered person that hid their background. An older woman stomped in and flashed about her importance. Adra looked on. There was an elvkiin, or so she assumed. And then there were two fae. One was massive with green skin and over-interest in everything happening around her. The other stood silently and powerfully. It was then that emperor announced that they take their artifact from the display. She approached. There were numerous ones missing, and yet her eyes landed on a gauntlet. She picked it up. Immediately, she felt a power run through her veins, unlike anything she'd felt before. An inhale escaped her lips before she pulled away from the table. She knew this artifact almost immediately. Strength. She would possess it. The emperor excused them in a solemn way. She was used to such biddings. The orcs weren't a kind for unnecessary fanfare. They knew when missions were hopeless and when they were not. She nodded at his words. She watched him leave and then turned to their new leader. She bristled at the fact that she was probably taking orders from a plain human. Weak. Soft. They were not born from knowledge and iron. She tilted her head upwards and watched the man. The man belted out an order and began walking. "I do enjoy reacting to orders given by a stranger. Especially a human clad entirely in armor. So afraid to show his face. Yes, please, tell me more about what I should do. I enjoy being led around by a faceless puppet of the emperor."</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Hate One of the more intricate processes of shaping a Templar, is the mental aspect of training. They are broken down and built up to be obedient, loyal, and unwavering in the face of danger. They have to be able to reign in their emotions, if they aren't swept away by the vigorous training they undergo. Valson was taught this, all of the Templar's were taught this but it was never greatly enforced. Some of the older instructors even said to use emotions in response to physical combat, and mental stimulus. Anger was a powerful tool in the face of adversity, but one had to balance that with the proper training and levelheadedness. Val stopped in his tracks at the voice of the Orc, swiftly followed by the man who had addressed the Emperor just a short time ago. So quick to voice concerns, so quick to make idiotic remarks. It was enough to make him angry. Of course, he hadn't expected much from the orcish woman, they tended to be hotheaded even more so then males. Val turned slowly to look at the both of them. He began to talk, his tone full of sarcastic venom, "Puppet you say? I'm sorry orc, I didn't realize that my status of being a faceless puppet would already be causing problems." He paused with a chuckle, "How about you save your sentiment for someone who actually gives a shit? If you couldn't tell, we're at war and we have much bigger problems to deal with then some orc with an ego. But by all means, if you wish to lead us go ahead," Val then gestured towards the door, "Surely you would be better suited at it over I. I'm sure you know exactly the path we must take to avoid the Scorned and the bulk of their forces. And not to mention the road to the mountain itself. Or would your leadership get us killed? We wouldn't want to end up like poor Garthan after all." Templar's are versed in an assortment of tactics to get inside an enemies head. They play dirty, any information that could weaken an opponents resolve, or push them over the edge, is welcome. It can go both ways however, the opponent might be so angry they make mistakes, or their rage sends them into a frenzy. Val was hoping for the latter, it was always more exciting to fight with the odds against you. Next Val removed his helmet, showing the full extent of his face. His grey eyes were sharp, and his hair was well kept. The most notable feature was the many faded scars that ran amok throughout his face. The largest of which, were three slashes on his right cheek that ran through his beard. The scorned were merciless opponents, he had learned that the hard way. "Satisfied?" He asked Kean before placing the helmet back on. Val then started walking towards the door once more. @Sofaking Fancy</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Zina had quietly walked up behind Adra and Kean as the two were talking to Val, the taller Fae watching the conversation between the three from above Adra and Kean's heads, until the Templar eventually removed his helmet for show. It struck the Fae that she had never actually thought of what the templars would look like under those helmets. Would it be a fair and beautiful angelic face resembling the mythical and beautiful creatures that were referred to as angels? Would it be a dead face, the mask worn by a corpse risen to fight? Or would it just be an empty void? In the end, it turned out to be none of that, yet Zina was quick to comment nonetheless! "Hey, your head actually looks pretty nice! No need to be so shy and hide it under that metal helmet all the time." Zina exclaimed with a cheerful as Val turned and walked away. Pausing, Zina turned her face as she fixed Adra with her poison green eyes and a smile; her long, emerald green ponytail swishing behind her head as she turned to look at the Orc. "I think he secretly likes you! He's just too shy to admit it..." She said to Adri with a coy smile in a hushed whisper!</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Keenan didn't even flinch as the wolf was obliterated in front of him. He kept facing the woods until the rest of the corrupt pack showed itself and charged the party. rather than remain braced, however, Keenan charged for the silver wolf as it came towards him. As he charged he subtly tapped into the magic the Fae left behind in the wake of her spell, no one would be the wiser but as the two were about to meet the wolf's front legs were suddenly snared. The wolf was stopped for the split second needed for Keenan to drive his knee into the underside of it's jack, and with a wet crack the wolf's jaw was broken. The stunned beast was then subjected to a flurry from the Twin Fang's blades, ending it's miserable life. Standing over it's body Keenan roared a challenge at the other brown wolf and it came barreling into him in answer. He took the charge and the two entering a fierce grapple. --- As soon as the first wolf was gone Lothian aimed for the treeline and began shooting with his crossbow a moment before the wolves had come charging out of the woods. He continued aiming as he had before, taking every available shot to either weaken, maim, or kill. He slowly stepped backward to put himself behind the others as he did to avoid the melee so he could keep firing but he drew his shortsword in case it found him anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Icy fingers traced along his spine, bringing a violent shudder. Magic. Odd magic, not exactly malign, but… dark? A dagger was in Kean's hand now, gripped tight with new resolve. No sooner had he turned from the horses when everything black, save for the dim light hovering in the air. Reflexively, a hand went to his face in panic, but nothing obscured his vision. Then, the world exploded back into light, accompanied but a purple front of destructive energy; it reaved the life from everything that crossed its path, tearing the ground asunder with frightening ease. Kean stood, stunned. He was at once inspired and demoralised by the display. The Fae fell to the ground, and Kean relaxed, the beast slain. More than slain, obliterated. With the last of the horses corralled, he offered a shaky hand to the Fae, assuming it over. He was going to make a snide comment about how the beast was lucky that he didn't get to deal with, but then the low-burning anger in Brennen's words surprised Kean into silence. Not that he had time to muse over it, as five more perverted wolves tore towards them, as the Templar warned. The night was filled with twisted-human screams. It was a sound that squirmed into your skull. Kean wanted to claw it out. Man and beast fell upon each other, blood spraying. The burning one was worst. Kean was glad it's skull was cleaved quickly, a mercy for them both. His face scrunched up at the smell. You would not imagine forgetting how frightening the Scorned were. You'd reckon one could steel their mind. Not Kean. The only thing keeping his frayed nerves together, cauterising the newfound dread, was that black candle burning in the back of his mind, that off-magic. Kean had fallen tighter behind the wall that was Adra now. Lacking the proficiency to attack with the same reckless abandon as Keenan, or the awesome magic that exalted Brennen and the Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove, he had to hope simple teamwork would suffice. His shifted uneasily. "I've got your back," He said firmly, trying to hide how he felt. A hairless horror bounded towards them. He could run. He should run. Turf was torn up in its wake. Focus. A deep breath in, then out. Calm. Kean launched his dagger at the monstrosity, his magic propelling the blade at speeds approaching that of a crossbow bolt. From the folds of his clothing a larger blade floated into his grasp, ready to support Adra when the melee broke out.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil held his position, shield still angled towards the sky. He need to maintain focus to keep his protection spell in effect. He noticed how the pyromancer had rejected the protection of the night. He guessed it was only fitting that one who held the fire so closely would fear the dark. He looked over to the pyromancer, and recited a text from one of the many holy-books he had read, "While some may find themselves lost in darkness, those who cling to closely to the light will find themselves blind. The moon gives gentle guidance to any who are willing to look."</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- Adra had never been fond of magic, and she became less so when a beam of power barely lanced over her head and towards the wolf being before her. She watched as the creature turned into nothing. There was a thud as the fae fell behind her. Adra moved towards her, making sure that the woman was fine. She slid her hand across the other's face and waited until the other seemed conscious. "Good job," Adra said with a smile. "I'll cover you while you recover." One of the humans tended to the fae's health, and so the orc didn't think it was necessary to stay with her. Standing, she faced the five wolves that poured from the forest. Adra pulled her shield closely into her form, staring at them as they clustered around. Their existence varied from something plausible in nature and something totally unnatural. The rogue tended to the fae and relied on her. And as such Adra stood at full guard. A hairless wolf ran towards them. Adra was the wall between the creature and their prey. She thrust her shield towards the beast. It bounced off of it, and she stood over it, pulling her warhammer into focus. Yet, a dagger peppered its skin. The creature pulled back. It was angry, and yet it tried to attack again. Pushed from her own drive and the drive of the gauntlets, Adra moved forwards. She dropped her shield and grabbed her warhammer with both hands and slung down on the beast's skull. It fell before her, easily. That being said, she tried to grab at her shield to try protect the fae and the other that tried to save her. Why had she dropped it so easily? @jdh97@Lord Zee</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" "I'm alright; I'm alright!" Zana called out to the Orc as the Fae scrambled to get out of the dirt and to rise back to her full height, before pausing for a moment to look up at Adra. " ... and thanks!" She would have said more to the Orc, but as the situation was at the moment; it wasn't exactly an ideal moment for chit-chat! Turning to look out across the battlefield, she saw a few things. Some good, some bad. On the bright side, there wasn't much left of her first target; which had been wholly disintegrated from this very plane. On the down side, there were now a lot more targets scampering and running all around them! "We are a bit too clustered for a Death Sphere or Holocaust spell, I need something with a bit more finesse!" Zana privately thought to herself, her mind racing through half a dozen different spells; most of which would be useless right now unless she wanted to destroy the party alongside the Scorned! But then; trudging through her memory; she found it, and she crouched down behind Adra! "Keep them off my butt! I got a solution!" Zana said to the Orc warrioress, before she pulled the sleeve off her right hand and reached down towards the grass at her feet. The tips of the Fae's fingers would twist and turn for a moment; before transforming into piercing roots that shot down into the ground! Zana closed her eyes and began to recite the names of the other party members to the best of her ability, or at least those she didn't want to possibly end up killing with the spell! Beneath her, the ground began to move and churn, before the disturbance began to move out to either side of her; snaking across the battleground as it sought out targets, moving between rocks and the feet of the combatants!</s>
<\|description\|>Ava Marie Gennings (Main Characters Posted Below) Age: 17½ Appearance: Of Irish heritage, it shows in her red hair, greenish-gray eyes, and fair skin. Though difficult to see, she does have a few light freckles on her cheeks, though she usually keeps them covered with makeup. She is also prone to using rather bright, unusual shades of lipstick. She stands at about 5'2" and is rather petite. Inspired by Lydia's single white stripe, she decided to pick a small bit of her hair in roughly the same place, bleached it, and keeps it dyed turquoise. Looking at her, you would never guess that she comes from a long line of hunters. While she does have a few scars from growing up being trained as a hunter, she usually covers them up with either makeup or clothes. She also always has an abundance of temporary tattoos on her, which she has a shocking stockpile of in a drawer at home. She also often wears extremely colorful clothes that are loosely comfortable, and has a thing for flipflops. Personality: Again, you would never guess she was a hunter. She is rather bubbly, and extremely energetic. Like Lydia, once she is old enough to legally make her own decisions, she plans on leaving hunting behind her, maybe become a makeup and costuming specalist. Or, at least, skip out on the fieldwork, and be more of a researcher. Maybe delve into and hunt down historical artifacts. She has not quite decided which yet, if not both, though she has gotten a good start in learning about each field, just in case. She is eccentric, and speaks her thoughts without thinking them through first. Really, she sees no point in putting on a filter. If someone can't handle the truth, then that's their fault. She is also a terrible liar on those rare occasions when she has to lie, but she usually avoids lying anyway. Again, what's the point? Hunter Society Connections: Ava comes from a fairly long line of Lion's Ridge members. Between that and her parents' high standing in the Society, they have had a home in Lion's Ridge Community for the past few generations. They have two houses on the board, one for Ava and her parents, and the other belonging to her grandmother. That Ava doesn't have the desire to continue that legacy—instead wanting to play one of the more supportive roles—has gotten her plenty of crap from other Society hunters, kids and adults alike. Especially when they make the connection between her surname and a few other historical reds. Mother: Brown/gold Father: Dark blue Grandfather (deceased): Red Grandmother (retired): Purple A couple of shady people who meet in the park. They conspire to do away with one "Hunter of Twilight," and referenced someone called "The Sovereign." One wore a gray duster coat. The other showed a power over shadows. Other than that, nothing else is currently known about them.</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Out of all the houses in Lion's Ridge, Ava's was one of the only two easily distinguishable from the rest. All thanks to Ava. Located in one of many roundabouts, her house stood out beside its plain. earth-toned neighbors. Flags hung from either side of the porch, one of the Irish flag and the other of a rainbow peace symbol. Various chimes hung on hooks from the porch's awning, each jingling with their own tunes in the light summer breeze. Colorful metal wind spinners stuck out from the lawn and lined the sidewalk, swirling lazily. Ava sat on a porch swing. Celtic knotwork she had painted decorated the wooden swing, forming various types of wildlife. It creaked as it swung, Ava keeping it moving with her bare feet. She hummed softly to herself, finishing up a level of Candy Crush on her phone as she waited for Lydia to arrive. She glanced up from her game, checking to see if her best friend was anywhere nearby. A couple houses from hers, Mr. Higgens—a balding man in his late sixties—irritably pulled up weeds from a garden filled with herbs Ava could scarcely begin to pronounce. Her gaze lingered on him for only a moment before her greenish gray eyes settled on movement further down the street. Even from the distance, she recognized Lydia making her way toward the house. A smile spread over her orange-painted lips. She offered a vigorous wave, then shoved her phone in a pocket of her tattered-looking jean shorts. Quickly slipping on a pair of flipflops near the swing, she hurried to the sidewalk. The mid-morning sun set her fiery hair ablaze as she strolled toward Lydia. Her flipflops clopped unhurriedly against the pavement, closing the distance between her and Lydia. "Lidy!" she called as she neared, ready to greet her friend with her customary 'hello hug.'</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott Encouraged by the weather and promise of seeing her best friend, Lydia quickened her pace into a brisk walk. She didn't have anything planned for the day, but plans weren't necessary with Ava. They always found something do to, even if their options were somewhat limited in the confinements of Lion's Ridge. Exactly ten minutes after she sent the text, Lydia arrived at Ava's spectacle of a house. She took a moment to admire the current setup. With a collection of lawn ornaments and decorations, the home was certainly unique, but a good kind of unique. Kind of like Ava. "Hey, Ava!" Lydia approached her friend, amused by how differently they dressed. With her hoodie and jeans, she was better suited for autumn, whereas Ava was fully embracing the heat of summer with her attire. "Okay, okay, lets get this over with," Lydia joked, spreading her arms to hug the redhead. She wasn't usually one for hugs, but she learned to make an exception for her best friend. After a quick embrace, Lydia stepped back. Fixing the bill of her baseball cap, she blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. She made a mental note to trim her bangs again. "So, what's on the agenda today?" Lydia would have been fine with hanging out at the house, but she had a feeling staying indoors wasn't an option. Not with Ava. "Want to head to the park or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava scrunched her nose playfully at Lidia's joke. "Oh, get over yourself, stuffy-pants." She pulled Lydia into a quick, friendly hug. As soon as she released her friend, Ava started moseying down the sidewalk. She glanced to Lidia, making sure the other girl followed. It was far too nice a day to stay indoors. The sun warmed Ava's arms, their fair skin left bare by her tie-dye tang top. A temporary tattoo wrapped her right forearm, creating the illusion of a shimmery tribal-patterned snake coiling down it. Its head rested on the back of her hand. A series of flowers rained down from her opposite shoulder, some more faded than others and in various stages of peeling off. She paused at Lydia's question. Placing a hand to her chin, she tapped her lips in mock contemplation. "Hmm. That's always an option." A sly grin pulled at her vibrant lips from behind her finger. She moved her hands and placed her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts. "Especially since it'll take us past Jason's house." She drew out the last two words, her shoulders bobbing theatrically with the tease.</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott Lydia's eyes narrowed. She knew that sky, mischievous grin of Ava's. "What are you up to?" At the mention of passing by Jason's house, her cheeks reddened. Ava was the only one who figured out her secret crush, and therefore the only one who got to tease her about it. "So?" Stooping, she pretended to inspect the lace of her boot and proceeded to retie it. "That doesn't mean he's there," she insisted, tying off the knot with more force than necessary. "He's probably out on that stupid motorcycle of his!" As if to answer the statement, the rev of an engine could be heard half a block away. Lydia's heart rate didn't return to normal until the sound grew steadily distant, indicating the rider was going in another direction. After a pause in which Lydia tried to decide if she was disappointed or relieved, she ran ahead a few paces and fell into step alongside her friend. "Just for the record? I'm one-hundred percent over him," she waved her hand across to emphasize the point. "I couldn't care less if his house is on the way or not. He's never home!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava went ahead a couple steps before realizing Lydia had stopped. She put her fingers fully into her shallow pockets and turned back to her friend. Her grin only widened at Lydia's response. She watched the girl tie her shoe as if the distraction could hide her from the topic. Ava glanced down the street as the choking rev of a motorcycle answered the girl's statement. "And Grams says I'm supposed to be psychic!" Ava chortled at the timing of the sound during Lydia's short pause. She eagerly started back down the sidewalk when the other girl stood, apparently satisfied with the tightness of her shoelace. Ava glanced over as Lydia fell into step beside her and tacked on her statement "for the record." "Denial," Ava said through a feigned coughing sneeze. She sniffled and wiped at her nose to enhance the effect. Grinning, she shrugged lightly. "You're too good for him, anyway. Now c'mon, Hoodie Queen." Ava removed her fingers from her pockets, turned, and started jogging backwards. "I'll race you to Jason's block!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ava Marie Gennings (Main Characters Posted Below) Age: 17½ Appearance: Of Irish heritage, it shows in her red hair, greenish-gray eyes, and fair skin. Though difficult to see, she does have a few light freckles on her cheeks, though she usually keeps them covered with makeup. She is also prone to using rather bright, unusual shades of lipstick. She stands at about 5'2" and is rather petite. Inspired by Lydia's single white stripe, she decided to pick a small bit of her hair in roughly the same place, bleached it, and keeps it dyed turquoise. Looking at her, you would never guess that she comes from a long line of hunters. While she does have a few scars from growing up being trained as a hunter, she usually covers them up with either makeup or clothes. She also always has an abundance of temporary tattoos on her, which she has a shocking stockpile of in a drawer at home. She also often wears extremely colorful clothes that are loosely comfortable, and has a thing for flipflops. Personality: Again, you would never guess she was a hunter. She is rather bubbly, and extremely energetic. Like Lydia, once she is old enough to legally make her own decisions, she plans on leaving hunting behind her, maybe become a makeup and costuming specalist. Or, at least, skip out on the fieldwork, and be more of a researcher. Maybe delve into and hunt down historical artifacts. She has not quite decided which yet, if not both, though she has gotten a good start in learning about each field, just in case. She is eccentric, and speaks her thoughts without thinking them through first. Really, she sees no point in putting on a filter. If someone can't handle the truth, then that's their fault. She is also a terrible liar on those rare occasions when she has to lie, but she usually avoids lying anyway. Again, what's the point? Hunter Society Connections: Ava comes from a fairly long line of Lion's Ridge members. Between that and her parents' high standing in the Society, they have had a home in Lion's Ridge Community for the past few generations. They have two houses on the board, one for Ava and her parents, and the other belonging to her grandmother. That Ava doesn't have the desire to continue that legacy—instead wanting to play one of the more supportive roles—has gotten her plenty of crap from other Society hunters, kids and adults alike. Especially when they make the connection between her surname and a few other historical reds. Mother: Brown/gold Father: Dark blue Grandfather (deceased): Red Grandmother (retired): Purple A couple of shady people who meet in the park. They conspire to do away with one "Hunter of Twilight," and referenced someone called "The Sovereign." One wore a gray duster coat. The other showed a power over shadows. Other than that, nothing else is currently known about them.</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings "Excuses!" Ava called through a laugh. She looked over her shoulder, checking Lydia's distance from her. She slowed slightly, giving the other girl time to gain some speed and close a bit of distance. She turned down the streets, her legs working from a lifetime of memory. She spared the mailboxes quick glances, predicting the names and lion-head crests on each one before she passed. The crest of the hunter's Society, most of them blazed brown outlined in gold with a few greens, grays, and the rare purple spattered about. When they turned on Jason's street, orange crests became dominant among the smaller houses, some crests split into two different colors, often between orange and white. Some of the residents liked calling the block the Orange District, the couple handfuls of lesser-ranking colors in Lion's Ridge gathering around the smaller houses. Ava spared a small terrier a quick glance as the dog started barking at her with the bravado only a small dog could muster. "Hi Ponchy! Bye Ponchy!" she called as she ran past, making the dog bark more frantically as it struggled against the leash keeping it inside the yard. Ava slowed her pace slightly as she neared the end of Jason's house. She glanced behind her. Noticing Lydia had stopped, the colorful girl slid to a halt. One of her flipflops nearly flew off and the other's strap dug irritatingly between her toes. Ava turned around and crossed her arms, grinning. "Of course you do. Such perfect timing, dontchya think?" She trod back toward Lydia, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her brow and breaths heavier than normal. She slipped her thumbs back into the pockets of her jean shorts as she stepped in front of Lydia. She opened her mouth to say something, but the ungodly cry of unoiled machinery cut her off. She looked to the Bennett's garage as its whining plea for mercy stopped. Her light expression turned into a scowl as her gaze fell to a boy around their age standing inside the garage. His body and a bulging bag of garbage partially obscured a motorcycle parked carefully beside a convertible with its top down. Ava sighed quietly, then gave a light, one-shouldered shrug in a silent, 'Oh well.' Her face returned to a more casual expression as Jason Bennett addressed Lydia. Taller than the girls, he finished his duty and strode toward them with the leisurely stride of an overconfident moron. His worn leather jacket hugged him just right, showing off the muscles of a teen boy who had hit the gym too often. The look Lydia shot her only made the red-head's grin return. "How sweet of you to notice me, Bennett!" she answered him with an exaggerated, mocking excitement. Ava's brows rose when Jason leaned against the mailbox, making her wonder if he was the cause of its crookedness in the first place. "Sorry. Not a fan," she answered the boy, no hint of apology in her voice. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward. "But I bet Lidy would love to see it!" She cast Lydia a knowing smirk, a taunt in her voice that only a true friend could successfully pull off. "Wouldn't you?" She blinked up at her friend with the innocence of the guilty.</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott "Your loss, Gennings," Jason scoffed, irritated by her refusal. His gaze flicked to Lydia when Ava mentioned her being interested. He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Lydia's face underneath her baseball cap, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Is that so?" Lydia's jaw went slack at Ava's betrayal, although she was quick to collect herself. "Er. Yes. I'd love to see it," she answered, stiffening when Jason went out of his way to make eye contact. She felt certain her face was on fire. Jason straightened, a glint of amusement in his steely blue eyes. "Follow me," he invited, pushing off of the mailbox. It stood more crooked than before. As the boy lead the way, Lydia shot Ava a wide-eyed, half crazed look. 'I'm going to kill you,' she mouthed. She turned her head before her friend could respond, her heart giving a panicked flip when Jason started talking. He never looked back at the girls, he was too busy going on about how expensive the motorcycle was and how fast it could go. "Wow," Lydia mumbled. She made the comment not about the machinery, but the state of the garage. A pile of large cardboard boxes nestled in the corner almost touched the ceiling, and there was a cluttered worktable with a blue tarp tossed over it. A dartboard hung on the wall with a few knives embedded into it. Most were dead center. Jason paved the way for them, pushing a box of tools over with his combat boot. Lydia was glad she wasn't the only one who wore boots in the summer. She kept her arms pressed against her sides so she wouldn't accidentally bump into anything. The door to the house had a calendar on the back of it, with a picture of a majestic looking panther. Lydia stared at it, jumping when it seemed to meow. Above them, a large Siamese cat glowered from the rafters. Lydia recognized the cat from Jason's profile picture. "Don't mind Hannah," Jason blew some of his dark hair out of his face. "The neighbor's stupid dog chased her earlier." "Ponchy?" Lydia guessed, pitying the cat. It mewed pathetically. "Yeah, that's the one." Jason moved around so he was on one side of the motorcycle, and the girls were on the other. "Hate that dog. He's always getting lose and sniffing around here." Lydia glanced to Ava. She wished the girl would say something, but she figured Ava was too busy taking in the sight of the garage. "Well? What do you think?" Jason gestured to the motorcycle with a wide wave of his hand. "Awesome, right?" Lydia didn't know how to respond. There was nothing special about it; it looked like every other motorcycle. She pretended to look it over, nodding to feign interest. "It's…" Lydia took a breath. "It's awesome," she finally agreed, using his word to describe the thing. She did her best to sound enthusiastic, but instead she sounded pained. She hated lying. "You bet it is." Jason didn't seem to notice her tone. He looked to Ava, waiting for her reaction. "C'mon, Gennings. Even you can't deny this is a sick ride."</s>	<\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava watched, amusement plastered on her face, as Jason and Lydia interacted. Though she could not see her friend's face, she could practically feel the embarrassed heat radiating from the other girl. That, or she was being cooked alive in her hoodie. One of the two. Ava's money was on the first. She only just managed to stifle a laugh when Jason pushed from the mailbox, leaving it a tad more bent than before. Her tongue rolled around in her mouth, forming an unspoken, I knew it! Ava would have gladly doubled-down on her bet with the murderous look Lydia cast her. Her lips pulled tight in an attempt at suppressing her grin. She shrugged lightly at Lydia's silent threat. Her expression unwavering, she returned her thumbs to her pockets and followed behind her friend into Jason's horrendously cluttered garage. The familiar smell of oil, gas, and metal hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of stale beer. While the calendar drew Lydia's attention, Ava paused to look at the abused dartboard. "Nice shot," she commented. She looked over her shoulder at Jason with a smirk. "Who'd you have over?" Before Jason could respond to her quip, a gentle meow sounded above them. Excitement about there being a cat nearby settling in her, she looked frantically for the source of the sound. Her gaze found it at about the same time as Lydia. "Well, hello there!" she greeted, Jason momentarily forgotten. The cat's tail swished irately behind it, dangling down from the opposite side of the rafter. Ava's head cocked toward Jason when he spoke. "Aww, poor thing." Hoping to coax the cat down from hiding, she reached fully into one of her front pockets. She pulled out a few of the cat treats she often kept with her. She held them up toward Hanna, hoping the smell would entice her down. "C'mon, pretty kitty!" she called in a soothing tone, Lydia's glance going unnoticed. "There's no mean ol' dog here." To Ava's delight, the cat slunk elegantly across the rafter and used a stack of boxes to return to the ground. The cat sauntered over to her with another meow and rubbed against her legs, looking up at her expectantly. Ava crouched down, careful of the worktable she was nearly crammed against. She placed the treats on the concrete floor, and Hanna chowed down happily. She ran a hand over the animal's soft fur as it ate. She looked up when Jason spoke from the opposite side of the motorcycle. She looked to the bike as if noticing it for the first time. Her brows rose, glad Lydia was the one in the spotlight for the question at the moment. The cat finished the treats and pawed at Ava for more. Instead, Ava took the now purring cat in her arms and stood. Hanna meowed in protest. "Even you can't deny this is a sick ride." "Why? Does it have a cold?" Her eyes widened and her voice sounded so sincerely concerned it could have fooled a human lie detector. At last, she fully took in the plain-looking bike. She shrugged, the cat squirming in her arms. "Bikes aren't really my area of expertise. It's a cruiser, right?" She let the cat jump free from her. Hanna glared at her, her tail swishing indignantly, before she rushed off to find a new hiding place.</s>
<\|description\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' AGE 25 (He randomly picked the number, not really sure how old he is himself) GENDER Male SPECIES Super Mutant HOMETOWN Jamortown, formerly Camden Arkansas. FACTION Current: N/A Formerly: Jamor's Warband- A Super Mutant group hellbent on eradicating all inferior races and conquering the southern half of Arkansas. Eradicated by the BoS years ago. --- Standing at a hulking 10ft 8in (3.25m) tall (straight backed), with muscles that would put the most dedicated of body builders to shame, and a face that scares small children, Frankie looks terrifying to all but the more seasoned adventurers and soldiers. It isn't until someone gets closer that they see how hunched over he keeps himself(bringing his height down to around seven feet), as if ashamed of himself, how his hands are constantly fiddling with something, and how he can't quite bring himself to meet your eyes (his own pale white ones darting away), as if he's afraid of what he might see in them. As if he needed more help being off-putting, he can often be found muttering to himself or into his personal recorder, talking about notes and theories. He puts effort into making himself look as non-threatening and quiet as possible, with his back hunched and shoulders slumped. His eyes are almost constantly darting around, studying one thing and the other. They light up like beacons when something interesting or exciting catches his attention. He moves with great care and gentleness, even when excitedly hurrying towards something, careful not to accidentally break or hurt something. His dark green skin usually has peach colored paint on it, carefully applied to cover as much of the characteristic green as possible, giving him an odd and distinctive appearance. On the rare occasion he is without his armor, he wears a kilt made from leather and nothing else. It is simply for everyone else's decency and propriety, and has little to no protection value. --- TYPE INTJ-A (Architect) SPECTATOR'S REACTION If he wasn't a super mutant, Frankie would be a perfect researcher. He certainly demonstrates all the traits of a stereotypical absentminded scientist or doctor. He gets lost in his thoughts, he seems completely oblivious of all social cues and norms, and will singlemindedly pursue his goals to an almost obsessive degree. Due to his condition, however, interesting quirks have appeared. In spite of, or perhaps because of, what he is Frankie genuinely seeks to make connections with everyone he meets. He seems to crave even the most basic of politeness, even from people who make it clear they'd rather kill him than understand him. On the subject of mental illness, the mere idea terrifies him. He's desperate to prevent himself from losing his mind like so many other super mutants, to a degree that he hinders himself excessively, restraining his natural urges and power. --- 8 4 10 1 9 3 5 --- --- --- TRAIT Wild Swampland You've somehow managed to summon the weird around you. Things will get odd quicker than they get normal. SKILLS Active Skill(s) First Aid General healing skill. Used to heal small cuts, abrasions and other minor ills. Can't handle surgery, bone fixing, or paralysis/coma. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I'm SPECIAL: Sacrifice a point or more of INTELLIGENCE for an equivalent boost of STRENGTH. This is permanent until the next day when it resets. STRENGTHS * Strong Like Bull: Due to his Super Mutant biology, Frankie is immensely strong, capable of feats of strength far beyond natural human capabilities. * Tough as Steel: Once again due to his biology, Frankie is ridiculously tough to take down. He's immune to the effects of radiation and diseases, his skin and bones can take an immense amount of punishment, and he possesses an enhanced regenerative factor that allows him to heal from wounds faster than normal. * Obsessive Learner: Frankie is obsessed with knowledge. He believes that learning and complex problems keep his mind sharp, keeping him from descending into the frothing madness his brothers live in. He regularly explores or breaks into libraries and read all of the information he can find, particularly on anatomy and the healing arts. He has become an excellent doctor and medic, provided you trust and allow him to work on you. Frankie has always possessed a talent for retaining and understanding information, and almost never has trouble remembering what he has learned. As such he's got a huge amount of information stored away, sorted and organized neatly in his mind. WEAKNESSES * Almost Pacifist: Frankie doesn't like to fight and kill. Mostly because it gets his blood up, and encourages him to act like his brothers. He's spent a long enough time on the Wasteland, however, to know that it is inevitable. If he absolutely must fight (when refusing to fight will result in either his death or the death of someone else), Frankie attempts to use his great strength and resilience to neutralize whatever is attacking, non-lethally if he can. He's also constantly holding himself back, keeping his urges and power in check. This results in him seemingly being weaker than he should be, and seems like he's unused to a fight the vast majority of the time. Should he ever be pushed to the (very far) point to give into his urges, Frankie is more than capable of demonstrating why his species is feared across the wastes. * Oblivious: Frankie isn't really the most aware person, of himself or his surroundings. Being a Super Mutant, he has never really needed to be concerned with or aware of dangers. He regularly just wanders into incredibly dangerous areas without a care in the world, and seems to be completely ignorant of the fact that his stature, appearance, and manner of speaking all make it all but impossible for him to convince anybody to do anything. * Nimble as A Falling Brick: Frankie isn't agile or nimble. If he dodges something its because he had way to much time too, or pure luck. --- WEAPONS None ARMOR Frankie's custom Armor: A conglomeration of thick pieces of metal, rubber tires, and bits and pieces of junk Frankie has attached to himself in a typical Super Mutant fashion. Metal beat into, surprisingly careful, shape covers his torso, arms, and legs. The shoulders are large pieces of tire, likely stripped from an old tractor or semi-truck. Chains serve to keep the armor on his body, and for a helmet Frankie has a piece of steel shaped like a welding mask without the glass. The helmet has a yellow smiley faced painted over it, and his armor has peach colored paint slathered all over it. CHEMICALS 3 Stimpaks (Not for himself) MISCELLANEOUS Frankie's Bag: A large travel bag that Frankie uses to store his various boxes and knickknacks. Frankie's Box of Mind Challengers: Frankie has a large box that is filled with puzzles and books of logic or math problems. The puzzles are typically small things that can be easily held in the hands, designed to distract and challenge the mind. Frankie's Recorder: A recorder that plays and copies onto holodisks, Frankie uses it for taking notes when studying something. First aid box: A box filled with medicine, poultices, bandages, alcohol, and other general first aid supplies. Mysterious Vial: A vial of grey liquid, carefully wrapped and hidden in Frankie's bag. He is extremely protective of it. --- "Excuse me, but I have heard that the Governor is looking for adventurers for a mission. Can you point me in the right direction to him?" Frankie spoke softly, or as softly as his massive frame and rough voice could, his hands held in the air. He had taken to doing that while approaching unknown humans, as it at the very least confused them long enough for him to explain himself so they didn't shoot him on sight. The man looked up at the rough voice and jumped back from the wall he had been leaning against with a shout of alarm, hand reaching for his pistol. Frankie took a step back, hands lifted higher. "I mean you no harm. My name is Frankie. I am looking to be in the Governor's employ." He hoped that what was coming across was soothing, rather than menacing. He had trouble sending across the proper messages at times. The man paused, looking over Frankie's peach colored armor and skin, squinting. "Are you that 'Friendly Super Mutant' wandering around trying to help people?" Frankie nodded eagerly, stopping himself from smiling. That scared people. "That's me. Could you please point me in the direction of the Governor? I'd like to offer my services to him." The man paused, clearly thinking over the wisdom of leading a super mutant to the Governor of the Northern Province, Friendly or no. Frankie didn't blame him. He wouldn't have trusted himself in the man's shoes either. "I suppose the Governor could use someone like yourself on his special job. Wait here. I'll bring the Governor's men. Frankie nodded, saying his thanks, and settled down to wait as the man walked off. He hoped that a posse wasn't being rounded up to kill him again. It would be bothersome to run away and walk back in later, and he might miss his chance to explore the rest of the state in relative safety. The man came back with a dozen of the Governor's men, all armed and wary. Frankie didn't blame them. A super mutant was dangerous, especially if it wanted to meet the Governor. What happened next was a tense interrogation. Well, tense on the part of the Governor's men. Frankie himself was rather relaxed, sure he could escape these men if they tried to kill him. It was all the usual questions. No, he wasn't interested in hurting the governor. Yes, he really was just interested in helping. Yes, he really did detest violence. Yes, he could actually help. No, he didn't have any super mutant friends waiting outside of the city. Yes, he would obey all commands. No, he didn't have any weapons. Finally, satisfied that Frankie at least didn't plan to murder them immediately, the leader waved a hand."At the very least you would be a good distraction in the event of an attack. Lets go, we'll see if the Governor even wants to see you." Frankie nodded eagerly again, passing his last cap to the man who had helped him "Thank you, friend. May the rest of your days be blessed." The man watched as the towering Super Mutant walked away, shaking his head in wonder and pocketing the cap. A strange incident. One that he hoped he never repeated.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Even in the dim moonlit clearing, Felix's eyes identified the sudden and swift movement of the mutated mongrel of a dog to be a wild dash to the group, surely an attempt by its radiation addled brain to gain a meal. As adrenaline pumped into his system, time seemed to slow down. A second felt like three. Synapses fired as muscle memory and mental processing was kicked into high gear. 'Distance. 5 meters.' Felix, in one fluid motion, draws his trusty laser rifle slung on his shoulder and takes a firm hold on the familiar rifle. 'Hungry. Desperate.' He rests the stock onto his shoulder as he levels the rifle and positions his finger beside the trigger guard, taking aim at the center of mass. 'Distance. 4.5 meters.' Felix squeezes the trigger and the rifle lets loose a magnetically focused beam of high intensity light at the mongrel's body.</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s>	<\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s>
<\|description\|>Sully AGE 30 GENDER Male SPECIES Human HOMETOWN Dump Town - A small settlement located in a former rubbish dump. The mountains of waste provide solid protection to the inhabitants with a large metal gate used as an entrace on one side. Located several miles from Shreve's Port in The Northern Province. FACTION The Hunters - A group of mercernaries who, as the name suggests, excel at hunting. Whether it is finding an individual or a creature in the post apocalyptic world, The Hunters are capable enough to hunt what they are paid to. --- While Sully wears a gas mask out in the wilds, when in a settlement he removes it. His resting face is aggressive and stern, accentuated by his sharp facial features. A long nose and pointed chin, coupled with a furrowed brow can make people around him nervous, often to his detriment. His hair is thick and black, often standing up due to the gas mask pushing it upward. His right eye is a deep blue and has an intensity amplified by his face. He has a scar running from his forehead down over his left eye, resting just above the corner of his mouth. The wound that resulted in the scar damaged his eye and it now has a pale, milky colouration to it. It is totally useless. He stands at 6'1" and walks with purpose and confidence, his back straight and shoulders wide. Beneath his clothing lies a scarred body, close encounters with humans and muntants alike leaving their mark. He has no shame in his scars and instead uses each as a reminder that any moment could be his last. His voice is gruff, as if waking up after a heavy night of alcohol and smoking. This combined with his appearance makes it difficult to get close to anyone who isn't a bandit or lowlife. As such Sully does play into the character that people assume him to be. For those who get close enough they can see that he truly is a good person at heart, but his profession often makes him do things that put him at the other end of the scale. --- TYPE ISTJ SPECTATOR'S REACTION Sully is a planner and uses whatever information he has available, avoiding making assumptions. When people assume they often make mistakes and that is why he makes sure he has all the facts that he can before going into a situation. He is someone who has no issue taking the lead if required and tries to give clear, concise instructions. Once decisions have been made he has a preference to get right into the action rather than continually debating a topic. His thought process tends to focus heavily on logic with very little room for fantastical ideas or dreams. --- 5 9 4 2 7 8 5 --- --- TRAIT Trigger Discipline: You're a sharpshooter of sorts. You know your way around a gun and you know how to make the shot count. That being said, you're slower to shoot than your friends, and you usually lean towards rifles. SKILLS Combat Skill Small Guns: The use, care and general knowledge of small firearms. Pistols, SMGs and rifles. Active Skill(s) Sneak: Quiet movement, and the ability to remain unnoticed. If successful, you will be much harder to locate. You cannot run and sneak at the same time. PERK Master Hunter: You have advantage against inhuman creatures. STRENGTHS * Pin Point Accurate: After years of practise, Sully could shoot the nose off a molerat at full speed. He actually did it. * Human Shadow: As a hunter of humans and all things scary, Sully excels in the art of sneaking and hiding. Why is there a tree in the middle of the road? * Blur: Sully is able to move quickly and has quick reflexes, making him rather difficult to hit. WEAKNESSES * Mr Angry: Sully's demeanour makes it almost impossible for him to charm the normal and functioning members of society. He never gets a discount. * God Damn Molerats!: Some people hate logical things, Sully hates molerats. He will actively try and kill any molerat on sight. He once killed a childs pet molerat and then returned two weeks later to kill the replacement. * One Good Eye: Sully's close call with a Yao Guai left him with a permanent scar over his left eye and the eye itself is now useless. The deep blue colouring of the eye has long since faded to leave a milky white, leaving him without vision out of his left eye. Good job he shoots using his right. --- WEAPONS Widowmaker: A custom built sniper rifle that fires a .50 calibre round. It features an extended magazine, bipod, long range scope and a silencer. The gun itself is wrapped in various coloured strips of cloth to help camouflage. Head Splitter: Another custom built weapon, Head Splitter is a revolver that fires .44 calibre rounds. It features glowing ironsights and a forward facing, curved blade that comes out of the grip. ARMOR Crafted Leather Armour: Leather armour crafted from the carcass of a Yao Guai Sully killed. It was fashioned into a coat and features a fur coating around the collar. In addition he has a gas mask that provides minor protection again toxic fumes. CHEMICALS * 2 Stimpaks * 3 Water * 2 Radaway MISCELLANEOUS Pre War Dollar Coin: A silver coin dating back to before the bombs fell. It is in pristine condition and was given to him by his father. Flint Striker: Nothing quite like a campfire under a starfilled sky. --- "I'll take a beer." The barman stared worringly at Sully, his eyes converying a strong sense of fear. In his experience bar staff of the wasteland tended to be hardy folk, but this yokel was basically pissing in his boots. Sully glared back at the barman with a look of total dissatisfaction, he liked his barstaff hardy and ready for trouble. "I'm not here to take your money. I just want a damn beer." The barman stumbled backwards towards the counter behind him, reaching under it with his long and gangly arms. He re-emerged with a brown bottle, the label long since faded leaving a stone white square. "See that wasn't so hard. Thanks alot." Sully did his best to smile as the barman handed him the bottle but it did nothing other than petrify him further. Turning away Sully rolled his eyes and made for a table in the corner of the room. A well used candle that had dripped wax all over the table top was the only source of lighting. Sully couldn't work out whether it was a mood thing or just a lack of electricity, either way it was relaxing and he needed to unwind. He had just finished a two week long hunt that had driven him to the edge of insanity. Who wouldn't go insane having to find a stolen albino brahmin. A farmer outside Shreve's Port claimed a gang of bandits had stolen it and were trying to sell it off. Unfortunately for Sully after tracking down the bandits and doing away with them, he returned to the farmer to find the albino brahmin back in the field. Suffice to say the farmer wouldn't be breathing through his nose for a while. It didn't matter though, Sully helped himself to the caps promised and that was when he headed for Shreve's Port. As Sully drank his beer he overhead a conversation on a table nearby. Two young men spoke about a job directly from the Governor of The Northern Province himself. That in itself didn't matter, it was when one of the men said the amount he was willing to pay...over 1000 caps. Sully gulped the rest of his beer and made for the door, pushing chairs and people alike aside. Outside his mind began kicking into overdrive, I can't miss out on that sort of money...where is the Governers residence? --- House of the Rising Sun ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Even in the dim moonlit clearing, Felix's eyes identified the sudden and swift movement of the mutated mongrel of a dog to be a wild dash to the group, surely an attempt by its radiation addled brain to gain a meal. As adrenaline pumped into his system, time seemed to slow down. A second felt like three. Synapses fired as muscle memory and mental processing was kicked into high gear. 'Distance. 5 meters.' Felix, in one fluid motion, draws his trusty laser rifle slung on his shoulder and takes a firm hold on the familiar rifle. 'Hungry. Desperate.' He rests the stock onto his shoulder as he levels the rifle and positions his finger beside the trigger guard, taking aim at the center of mass. 'Distance. 4.5 meters.' Felix squeezes the trigger and the rifle lets loose a magnetically focused beam of high intensity light at the mongrel's body.</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s> <\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer Joe watched on as Frankie and Shepherd began to dig the grave, minding their surroundings and keeping an eye out for danger. After a while, there was the clunk of metal upon metal, and Joe craned his head towards the sound to see Shepherd examining a chest. He approached the grave, eyeing the chest and the label on it. "Vault 76 Trinkets. Hrm." The old man, Franz, was very enthusiastic about opening it, and as was the supermutant Frankie. "Fellas, I ain't keen on dyin'. I may look like I'm dumb as a box of rocks but I know about Vault 76 and I know that it's no damn good. Whatever's in that chest, we should keep it locked up tight. And as for a gravemarker, I can fashion up a cross from some branches. That chest don't need to be opened." The mountain of a man was very adamant about keeping that damn thing shut, and why shouldn't he be? With his luck it was a bomb that'd go off as soon as the chest opened. They shouldn't risk it.</s> <\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" T's HUD picks up the dogs as soon as they come into view, outlining them in a bright green. 3 Dogs, one charging, one staying, one looking behind, all an obstacle between the group and Ms Cassom. That one in the back could be problematic if he lost interest and broke off. It was exposing an opening by looking away, and T decided to take it. T drew his pistol and fired at the unobservant wolf, as he slowly moved away from the group, in the direction of the hammer.</s>	<\|message\|>Sully With the dogs emerging from the darkness Sully let out a groan. He wasn't the sort to be concerned by a feral mutt or three, having dealt with much more serious threats. However, they were now in his and the groups way, blocking them from reaching the screams of the person they needed to save. The front dog made a straight run towards the group, its bare teeth exposed to the air by years of mutations. Sully flicked his rifle from his shoulder straight into his hands and took aim down the scope with his good eye. The fast approaching hound was in sight and closing fast. Sully took a knee to allow those behind him to take aim, he didn't want to find himself with a bullet in his back. He squeezed the trigger firmly, the muted and silenced sound of gunfire flittering throughout the nearby area. He then squeezed the trigger once more...it was always worth making sure.</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer The chat around the campfire was pleasant, and Joe found himself sleeping not long after it finished up. However, he was jolted out of his slumber when he heard the blood-curdling scream of their young charge. He looked around, noticing the head of a kid flying out of the trees and landing in the dirt. He rushed forward, noticing Shepherd had beaten him to the head and only then noticing it was Isaac's. The bulky man let out a depressed sigh, "... Poor kid." He watched as some of his comrades formulated a plan, Sully and Sylvia already planning on heading into the woods to find the creature who did it and rescue Soldier and Rocket, who were both missing. They were planning on dragging Felix, Vix, and T (who Joe had mentally dubbed the 'robot with the damn fine coat'). He watched as Frankie said that he was planning on staying with the wagon to help bury Isaac. "I'll stay with Shepherd and the super mutant," Joe began, "I should be able to keep watch and protect anybody from any bandits that come by. The rest of you, good luck with finding Rocket, Soldier, and that damn monster." As he spoke, he had slid on his knuckle dusters, throwing a punch or two to get back into the groove of things before scanning the darkness for any threats.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon The campfire sharing was one of the most fun and interesting experiences Felix had experienced in a while, even if he did slightly embarrass himself and there were some rough patches during some of the introductions. But like all things, it must come to an end and admittedly, Felix felt disappointed when the campfire thing had to. He was to suggest that he be part of the watch guarding the wagons and the others but the Soldier fellow had beat him to the punch. So instead, he left the others to their own devices and opted to go sit beside a stump he had found among the dead trees a couple meters away from where the majority of the group were positioned. Once he had sat down near the stump, he looks deep into the sky at nothing in particular and lets out a tired sigh before looking down at the ground. 'Good a place as any to spend the night I suppose...' He thought as he got comfortable on his seat and did his damnedest to relax himself by placing his laser rifle on the stump and begin taking care and maintaining his loyal weapon. Though he kept his .45 pistol close to at hand if anything were to occur. With only the moon providing any significant light, it should have been a near impossible task for normal folk. Felix wasn't like normal folk. He had expertly handled the weapon countless times over and even in harsher environments. The low light would not hinder him in this task but even then, his sharp-eyes could see the weapons and parts in dim of moonlight with little problem. The ear-piercing scream easily roused him from his activity and caused him to draw his .45 pistol in a fraction of a second before leaving the stump and sprinting back to the caravan proper at breakneck speeds. The second wagon was in disarray and near it was the decapitated body of Isaac. Felix hears someone let out a broken scream and looks over to the source. He could feel his heart wrench at the scene as he saw Shepherd fall to his knees before his son and lament over his death. Some of his companions were beginning to formulate a plan of action on locating who was responsible for Isaac's death as well as locating both Rocket and her bodyguard while the others decided to stay and help bury the body or deciding whether or not to join. Felix had placed his free hand on his chest and offered the dead Isaac a silent prayer before he heard his name called by Sylvia and Sully asking if he was ready to go. He looks to the two and responds, "Yeah...just let me get my rifle and prepare it." Felix holsters his .45 pistol and goes back to the stump and begin reassembling his rifle. He reattaches the battery receiver back to the main capacitor "In darkness...I will be the light." Then the power cords to their proper sockets "In uncertainty...I will have have clarity." Felix opens the receiver and feeds the rifle a fresh micro-fusion cell "In struggle...I will gain victory." Finally, he closes the receiver and flips a switch that causes the rifle to come to life with a short high pitched electronic whine. "In evil...I will punish without pity." He slings the rifle over his shoulder and dons his hood before speaking the last verse to his credo, "In your name..." He grasps the crimson face mask around his neck and pulls it up to cover his face. "let none survive." Felix then heads back to the caravan proper to group up with the two leading the search party.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" Upon noticing the error message, T hit his right temple with his right palm several times, until it disappeared. Damned mission parameter programming... Need to calibrate again, T thought to himself. After the lovely campfire introductions/Data gathering session, T retreated to a private nook and took the opportunity to do some delicate maintenance to his synth body. T was in the middle of checking his power core, like a surgeon doing heart surgery on himself, when he heard Rocket's scream. Upon arriving to the scene, shotgun and pistol in tow, T witnessed the devastation. He switched his HUD on and inspected the area before joining the others. "I will accompany the search party. Finding Miss Cassom is priority. Finding the bodyguard, sadly, is less so. They can't have gone far."</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s> <\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer Joe watched on as Frankie and Shepherd began to dig the grave, minding their surroundings and keeping an eye out for danger. After a while, there was the clunk of metal upon metal, and Joe craned his head towards the sound to see Shepherd examining a chest. He approached the grave, eyeing the chest and the label on it. "Vault 76 Trinkets. Hrm." The old man, Franz, was very enthusiastic about opening it, and as was the supermutant Frankie. "Fellas, I ain't keen on dyin'. I may look like I'm dumb as a box of rocks but I know about Vault 76 and I know that it's no damn good. Whatever's in that chest, we should keep it locked up tight. And as for a gravemarker, I can fashion up a cross from some branches. That chest don't need to be opened." The mountain of a man was very adamant about keeping that damn thing shut, and why shouldn't he be? With his luck it was a bomb that'd go off as soon as the chest opened. They shouldn't risk it.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" T's HUD picks up the dogs as soon as they come into view, outlining them in a bright green. 3 Dogs, one charging, one staying, one looking behind, all an obstacle between the group and Ms Cassom. That one in the back could be problematic if he lost interest and broke off. It was exposing an opening by looking away, and T decided to take it. T drew his pistol and fired at the unobservant wolf, as he slowly moved away from the group, in the direction of the hammer.</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia slid out the magazine of her pistol and looked at the friendly little cylinders inside- about 5 left. Should be enough in case any more dogs show up. She smiled and looked around at the group. "Hey, we did it! That wasn't so bad." Sylvia said optimistically, inserting the magazine back into 10mm with a satisfying click. She casually turned toward the sound of Rockette's voice and shined the light onto their hanging VIP and laughed. "Hang in there!" She said, chuckling. Her chuckle stopped when she made eye contact with a giant fucking bear. 'Oh, shit' she mouthed to herself, and with a quick and often practiced movement, reached into her pouch, pulled out a unit of jet and put it up to her lips, sucking in a lungful of Jet. Blinking from the sudden boost, her pupils dilated, her breathing quickened and she shuddered, tossing the canister aside. It fell to the ground, landing almost weightlessly on a bed of dried of leaves. A beetle scurried away from the disturbance. Time was not literally slowed down, of course, but that is close to what it feels like to inhale Jet. Sylvia could notice things quicker, easier. With this in mind, navigating became much easier as high roots and stumps became childs play to avoid. What was she supposed to do in these situations? Climb up a tree, play dead, make yourself big...why not just waste the fuckin' thing? Rockette should be safe, but she could use a handy distraction. And what better distractin then a shot to the fucking head? Sylvia did a gallop backwards, raising her pistol and fired off her five rounds. One, two, three, four, five, easy. One after the other, equally spaced in their pattern, but quick and hopefully accurate. The mercenary's plan was to keep something between herself and the bear at all times. Tree's were sturdy and plentiful, the bear would have to go around or knock it down. Other mercenaries would also be a suitable object to place between herself and the bear. Trees first, of course, but things happen. After all, she didn't need to outrun the bear, she needed to outrun her 'friends'. If the monster was killed, great; If not, eehhh, Sully could get eaten and she would run away. These were the thoughts that ran through her poisoned mind as her gun violently exploded forth white hot lead at the Yao Guai. "Waste it!"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Felix simply gazed upon the lifeless bodies of the dogs, their life blood oozing out from the wounds. After a second or two spent starring at the bodies, he looks away with disinterest and instead looks to his laser rifle. He had memorized how many shots the laser rifle could do on the normal power output setting before draining the microfusion cell, something he had learned quickly when he had begun using it, but sometimes it is better to be sure. At a push of a button small crimson number appeared on the small screen located at the back of the capacitor, just above the stock. '11 shots remaining...' He thought to himself before switching off the screen and looks to the location where Sylvia had shone her light. There hung Ms. Cassom. There was no time to celebrate as a massive figure appeared. The mutated black bear had not noticed Ms. Cassom, and Felix had no intention to place an innocent life in danger. He began thinking of ways to dispose of the bear. The most prominent of ideas were to set his lasgun to high and send a beam of light through it's skull even before it charges at us. His hand had already moved to the knob on the rifle that managed the power output of the rifle and set it to maximum power output, before Sylvia had decided to open fire at the Yao Guai. Screaming one single directive. "Waste It!" He had no qualms about killing the bear, but now that the bear had been agitated, it would make shooting it's head rather difficult and was not keen on wasting the 6 high powered shots he had trying a to get a head shot. Felix opted to scrap the idea of shooting the thing in the head and settled for one of it's limbs. He raises his laser rifle, takes aim at one of the Yao Guai's leg joints and fires a high powered beam of focused green light at it. Felix hopes the shot would be strong enough to cripple the limb in one shot.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" As the life seeped from the wolves, T's HUD slowly fades the green border from their outline. Threat eliminated. He notices Rocket dangling from the tree, and the hud flashes amber over her figure, outlining her in the same color. A subtext labels her as "MISSION OBJECTIVE (VITAL)". Then the Yao Guai appeared. It was big, viscious, and looking about half as cuddly as a Super Mutant in a mascot costume. The HUD outlined it in red. The subtext labels it as "POSSIBLE OBJECTIVE (SECONDARY), DANGEROUS". Seeing as Miss Cassom was in no position to defend herself from a charging, mutated bear, T repeated his tactic with the wolf. He flipped his shotgun into hand and fired at the bear, more trying to draw attention than to hit a vital area.</s>
<\|description\|>Nanashi Kanzen Age: 17 Year: 2nd Year Appearance: Personality: Excitable, Childish, and Thoughtful. Background: Ever since seeing the Star Build Strike Gundam in the 7th World Tournament, Nanashi has become obsessed with Gunpla. Although he loves battling, he loves building much more. Having built replications of custom Gunplas like Maohs X Gundam and Ricardo's Wing Gundam Fenice. Battling/Building Ability: Although Nanashi's battling ability is average, he makes up for it with his Gunplas superb making. His Gunplas performance and Nanashi's Gunpla knowledge keeps him from losing to other extremely talented battlers. Mobile Suits: -Name: Origin Strike Gundam -Description: A pure white enhanced Strike Gundam with black features and an opening in the back of the neck that creates a plavsky particle scarf. The suit gains color depending on what Striker Pack is Equip. The Origin is also equipped with 4 circle shaped funnels that can create a particle shield and shoot independently. The Scarf can move around also like a pair of sub arms, being able to wrap around opponents to restrict them or to help repair broken off limbs. -Name: Origin Zaku Warrior -Description: An enhanced Zaku Warrior that's just painted white instead of green. -Name: Origin Zaku Phantom -Description:The Origin Zaku Phantom is the upgraded version of the Zaku Warrior, using parts from a Zaku Phantom kit. It has the two shoulder shiels as well as a thired one on its back. All shields hold a beam tomahawk and multiple missile pods, all able to fire homingh missiles. Lastly, the rifle is replaced with a beam sniper from a GM sniper unit. Mobile Armors/Support Fighters: -Name: Skyscraper -Description: A support flier that equips and delivers Striker packs to the Origin Strike Gundam mid battle. It can utilize the effects of whatever pack is equipped. It's been modified to be remotely controlled by the Origin Strike Gundam.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "That would be great!" said Shouji said with a big smile. Then he glanced over at the now-snoring Sousuke, "Just, um... don't tell Sousuke. He's always had trouble accepting things from others... maybe it's a pride thing, I'm not sure." that was when Shouji decided to take a break from working on the Joker. Instead he pulled out an entirely different carrying case from under the hospital bed. This wasn't portable, and opened up to reveal an incomplete Gunpla and its remaining parts. Nanashi would recognize it as the SD Master Gundam that Sousuke had tried to build before. But even in its incomplete form, this Gunpla completely trounced its earlier incarnation. Not only design, but in that Shouji was actually adding customizations to it. He had even repainted the parts. No longer were they black like the standard Master Gundam, but were a bright crimson as if invoking the spirit of the Red Comet himself. "Er, don't tell Sousuke about this Gunpla either." asked Shouji with a polite bow, "I'm trying to surprise him, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to keep this thing hidden in here." then he laughed a bit, "It's nowhere near finished yet, but I have a good feeling about it. I think it might even surpass the Joker."</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei --- * * * April 28th * * * Natsu felt an odd sensation the next day as he laid on his poorly-made bed. It was deeper, darker. A vortex of emotion that threatened to swallow him hold ... and yet, it was near impossible, no matter how much he wanted to, to ask for help. He trudged onto the edge of his full-size bed, his jogging pants a mess of wrinkles, his hair a old blue feather duster. He sighed and with that felt an ever-so-light release of that miasma in his heart. I don't wanna go to school today ... After washing up and putting on his uniform he opened his door, only to see Yuma sleeping across the narrow hallway. He was wrapped tightly in his white linen, his eyes staring intently at Natsu. They demanded that he stand still. "Natsu you're depressed, bro. Over something completely understandable but you can't avoid me because of it." Natsu tightened his jaw. "You don't think I know that?" "Most people do, doesn't stop them from running away from it." Natsu was at a lost for words. So he remained quiet. "If you need to talk come to me, Natsu. I'm not only your brother, or your Gunpla builder, less not forget I'm also your best friend." Yuma shrugged off his covers and stood up, revealing how bonny he had become. Natsu turned his eyes to the floor. "I met a kid 'round my age yesterday in the hospital. I think his illness was terminal." "...Oh. That's why you wrecked your room last night?" he accused. "So what man, you'll be okay. I got this from smoking and I'm sure that kid got his from somewhere too, you don't get sick like this out of the blue. So don't worry." Yuma reached out to clasped his shoulder but Natsu sidestepped it in a fit and started the down the stairs. "Natsu?" He hurriedly grabbed his backpack, slid on his shoes, and slammed the door behind him. "Natsu!" Though he was out door, he imagine his brother ruffling his black hair in frustration. "Shit!" * * * * * The moment he got near school, he felt the grey overcome him and jumble everything together. His eyes glazed over with a sense of boredom. Knew he wouldn't get it. He ruins everything by jumping recklessly ahead ... I was happy it wasn't me. That it was him on the chopping block instead. The school day was host to a new endless tone, even as he was called on, he let auto-pilot handle his life. At least he would until a bit of color emerged during Gunpla Club.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen The week rolls by in the blink of an eye with a repetition of practice fights after practice fights against the CPU of the Battle Simulator until finally, Sunday. The day of the Practice tournament between Ichikawa, Hokuten, Nobuya and Karasato. The four (Mika following to watch) had to ride and switch trains twice before reaching Nobuya Private High School, where the tournament would take place. The Ichikawa group all stood outside of the large school, the premise easily dwarfing Ichikawa High. Nanashi shivered a bit at the sight, "Man, I'm just getting shivers about this y'know." He said to the others "Well, I'll be relying on the both of you alot for today, so lets do our best and hopefully improve." He said with a fist pump. Just as he finished, a van with the symbol of Karasato Academy (@Dezuel) stopped behind the group. "Oh? Seems like some of our competition arrived."</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke probably seemed the least nervous of the three. To be fair, he essentially had more tournament experience than either Nanashi or Natsu. Didn't stop the feeling of staring up at what would become a battleground, especially if it were one's first visit to said location. Sousuke breathed deep, then quickly adjusted his hat, "These are real battles, 2nd Year, that means I'll be billing you for the rounds we compete in." he said, adding a sly smile that made it impossible to tell if he was just joking or being completely serious. Almost immediately a van pulled up bearing the symbol of Karasato Academy. Another school that Sousuke had never been to nor interacted with, so both of these teams would be entirely new encounters for him. But sometimes, it was devil you knew that could be more intimidating than a perfect stranger. Speaking of which, another van came rolling to a stop. This one bore the all-too familiar symbol of Hokuten Academy. At this Sousuke tipped his hat downward a bit, "And here we go..." he muttered. Two Days Earlier "All right, Team Chaser! That should do for our regimen today!" said Keiichiro, almost shouting. He took command rather easily, and the fact that he had a voice that seemed perfectly suited for barking orders made it even easier for him to assume the role of Captain. The team had been training with their usual regimen that day. Simulations depicting reenactments of famous of battles during the One Year War. Sometimes Chaser would be on the Zeon side fighting the White Base, other times they would be on the Federation side fighting against various mobile suits flown by Char himself. It made for great discipline building and tactical training, giving the team an almost professional aura. "We'll be using tomorrow to rest and mentally prepare ourselves, so use your time wisely so we can-" "Um, Sempai?" asked Sakuya, who was rereading the invitation letter, "Seems there was a last minute change to the turnout." "Don't interrupt me when I'm giving a speech Sakuya!" Keiichiro barked dismissively. "It's just that, this new school... Ichikawa. Isn't that where Sousuke-san transferred to?" That got Keiichiro to stop dead in his tracks, "Huh?" he said, almost comically loud before snatching the paper, "Let me see this! Ichikawa Batlte Club... no name... members... Kanzen, Nanashi... Saisei, Natsu... AAHHHHHH!!!" he suddenly yelled with an almost comical fire in his eyes, "Kikkawa SOUSUKE!!!" "Ahem." Tsukasa coughed quietly, "I thought you were past that now?" she asked coldly. "What? Of course I am! Keiichiro Asaka doesn't hold grudges. Do I look I'm holding a grudge?" he asked, making a pitiful attempt at hiding his feelings, "New plan Team Chaser, we're having an emergency practice tomorrow!" and then Keeichiro stormed off. The very next day, Keiichiro put Team Chaser through different training simulations. This time they were all against the Crossbone Vanguard. Clearly he wanted them to be prepared to counter anything Sousuke throw at them.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei --- * * * April 28th * * * Natsu stood between Nanashi-san and Sousuke-san, staring up at the grand institution known as Nobuya Academy. There was a notable irritation in his dead blue eyes. Even as he stood dumbfounded by the gray color of the extravagant school--which was a mildly-futuristic outlook of his own--he felt that prod of familiarity again. The question. Have I been here before? arose three times. Natsu Saisei watched Sousuke tip his hat down with a foxish flare. The blue-themed boy stepped to mimic his position and firmly grabbed his own neck. A tightened push on one side created a crackle of noise. With a sigh he said, "I'm ready to pummel'em all. Also, Nanashi-san, on the way here I was thinking of a few names for our group ..." He paused, slightly abashed. "The Definities. I thought hard about it and we're near nothing alike but we all have our definitions of Gunpla. It brought us together and I think it makes us who we are. So ... why not?"</s> <\|message\|>Kayl Lanzer They had finally arrived to the Nobuya high school grounds where the practice tournament would take place. Kayl had kept reading through a magazine throughout most of the drive to the place, with every now and then the occasional comment regarding the subjects Syo were discussing with the driver of the van. Kayl was dressed in his school uniform with a broché attached to his chest, marking him as the leader of the Karasato gunpla club. The symbol itself seems to very much resemble the icon for ZAFT. He had stored his gunpla safely away in a shoulder bag, a bag which most would consider to be a tad too feminine for a guy. It didn't seem to bother him the slightest though. It was the perfect way to carry both boxes containing his gunpla, books and other important things. Behind him in the van sat Ternal, wearing a vest and longsleeved white shirt. He had remained silent during most of the ride, listening to music and getting into the spirit of fighting. His gunpla were carried in a more regal manner, in the form of a black suitcase which also contained spare parts, building tools and some other things which were connected to what they were going to do. In the front seat, next to the driver of the van sat Syo. Who looked out of place from the other two students, he looked very much like a delinquent. His school uniform jacket was opened and his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, he carried his own gunpla in a black backpack with a skull on it. The first one to exit the van was Syo, his shoes hit the ground and he let out a loud whistle as he looked over the school building, his backpack swung casually over his shoulder. "Sheesh. These guys are trying to act big. Time to put them into their place." He tilted his head to left and right, before setting his eyes on the students from Ichikawa. He allowed an amused smirk to form on his lips as he approached, Kayl and Ternal taking abit longer to get out of the van. "Yo! So you are the sad lot we are going to wipe the floor with today? Good grief. I thought we would actually get some challenge. Not some kids with defective gunpla." Syo put his left hand at his waist and stood tall and with his chest puffed out, obviously trying to taunt his opposition. A mocking grin on his lips. If he could trigger some reaction out of them he might be able to disqualify them if they went physical. It was all too easy. A couple of moments passed before Kayl and Ternal caught up to him. "Syo, stop that crap right now. I don't want you to badmouth our sparring partners." Kayl walked up and past Syo, giving the latter a look which would tell anyone present that he did not approve of it the slightest. "Sorry about that. I'm Kayl Lanzer of the Karasato gunpla club. Pleased to meet you." He reached out his hand towards the Ichikawa school members. "Let's have some fine fights allright?" Syo on the other hand gave the Ichikawa students a glare each with obvious dislike, not interested at all in shaking anyones hand. "Tch.." The third member of the group, Ternal had approached aswell and had set his gaze on Lisa. "My my, I did not expect the opposition to have such a beauty amongst them. If you fight as good as you look, then we are in for a treat indeed. I'm Ternal, Ternal Dawning." Ternal did a courteus bowing motion to Lisa, and gave her a wink which could very well be considered seductive, complete with a soft smile.</s>	<\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Nanashi chuckled as he walked up in between their two groups, smiling at all three of the Karasato high schoolers. "Hello, nice to meet you all. The names Nanashi Kanzen, president of the Ichikawa Gunpla Battle Club." Mika sweatdrops at Ternals comments towards her (I'm assuming). "The names Mika Ryuga, team manager." She said with a small bow.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Well, seeing as classes are over..." Kikkawa muttered to himself, as he reached down for his belt. He grabbed the stylish trilby hat clipped to his belt, even flipping it into his hand before gently placing it on his head. He rubbed his finger across the brim to ensure that the hat was straightened properly, "...much better." the school didn't really like him wearing his hat during class, but classes were over for the day so as far as Sousuke Kikkawa was concerned, that meant he no longer had to adhere to the dress code. "Oh, right... guess I should put the finishing touches on that, shouldn't I?" he reached down again, this time for the portable Gunpla case carrier on the opposite side of his belt. He opened the leather flap and pulled a Gunpla model from the case. He then grabbed the portable polishing kit from his book bag and went to work, right there at his desk. Classes were over so surely no one would mind. After a few brush strokes, Sousuke put the kit down and then admired his work a bit, "...hmph, there, now no one can say I can't build a Gunpla." in his hands was... a completely and utterly standard SD Master Gundam model. It had no distinctive qualities to it whatsoever. The quality of the build was completely, utterly, average... at best. In fact Sousuke literally just followed the instructions and nothing more. "Pfft, like extra polish and coats of paint are really gonna change how it battles..." Sousuke was a practical thinker. In his mind it was purely the parts and weapons that determined the battling capability of the Gunpla. Flashy paint jobs, extra polish, that was all flash and no substance. That was how the actual Mobile Suits worked too, right? Sousuke hadn't ever actually sat down and watched through any of the anime. Box art descriptions told him all he needed to know. Besides, there was just too damn many series and nobody ever seemed to be able to give a straight answer on what was important and what was skippable. And Sousuke sure as hell wasn't going to sit through absolutely all the Gundam anime, he had way more important things to do with his free time. Like earning his next payout for example. Speaking of which, Sousuke's thoughts were interrupted when some loud guy burst through the door and shouted something about Sousuke's whereabouts. Sousuke just cocked an eyebrow, "Um... I'm Sousuke Kikkawa?" he said, probably against his better judgement. The guy looked and was acting pretty odd, and how could Sousuke possibly keep up his coolness by associating with a weirdo for too long?</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Um... I'm Sousuke Kikkawa?" A voice said and Nanashi immediately looked at its source. Blonde hair? Check. Gunpla on belt? Check. 3rd year? Unless this is the wrong class then check. Nanashi pushed past the others and approached the sitting 3rd year. "whistle cool hat man, you look like a gangsta." He said with a chuckle. "Well anyways, I want to ask you something." He said clearing his throat. "Sousuke Kikkawa, Please join the .. the um .. er … I-I'm sorry but, is your Gunpla damaged?" He said looking at the SD Master Gundam on Sousuke's desk. "I mean, you must have got hit in the joints or something while piloting because it looks like it can fall apart any second now." He said rubbing his cheeks. The joints weren't tight enough, the Gunplas hands weren't clipped correctly and it looked like the frame hadn't even been glued yet, but it seemed to have already been cleaned!! "Y'know, if you want I can help you with that."</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "D-Damage?" Sousuke snatched the Master Gundam off the desk and hurriedly, "W-Where? I just finished it, how's it damaged?" it hadn't actually occurred to Sousuke that his build just plain sucked. But wait, why was this 2nd Year guy so interested in his Master Gundam? Sousuke's shoulders slumped with the realization. He was about to be invited into yet another Club was he? There really was no point, since he could have to move again and thus leave the club behind. Still, he needed a payout of some kind, so maybe... "Gunpla Club, right?" he asked, then quickly slid the Master Gundam back into the carry case, "Show me your Club, I wanna see it for myself." if the 2nd Year was serious, he'd have no problem giving Sousuke the quick tour. But Sousuke wasn't about to make any commitments before even seeing the club first. That would just be foolish. He picked his book bag up off the floor at his feet and slung it over his shoulder, "We're going, right? Well, lead the way."</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Nanashi chuckled a bit at Sousukes panic over his Gunpla. It's always good to care about your Gunplas condition. "Err, well we don't exactly have a 'club' per say, well yet anyways." Nanashi said rubbing his head as he lead the way out of the room. "We only have 2 people and need 3 to become a club." He explained as they walked. "Oh! But how bout me and Mika show you what we got at the arcade! I'm meeting up with her in 30 minutes so we can practice." He said with a thumbs up.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke stopped dead in his tracks, "Wait..." he turned a sharp gaze onto the 2nd Year, "...your Club's not even official?" then he... laughed? Well, he laughed a little bit, but then he let out an exasperated sigh, "I can't get anything out of an unofficial club..." he muttered under his breath, while rubbing his temples. After a moment he looked back at the 2nd Year student, "Sorry. Not interested." he said suddenly. Strange that someone would appear to show interest only to withdraw it a moment later. But that was what happened, and then Sousuke took off on his own. With no other plans for the day, the only thing he could think of to do was kill some time at the arcade, so that was where he headed.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Begin Plavsky Particle dispersal." the computerized voice of the Gunpla Battle terminal suddenly spoke up. The Yankee boy was startled by this, and he and his gang all spun around to see a new face about to launch his Gunpla. "Okay, Master Gundam, let's see how handle in-" "Hey! Hey! HEY!" the Yankee boy shouted, grabbing Sousuke by the collar, "Who do you think you are, using my terminal without permission?" "Your terminal? I don't see your name on it anywhere. Now get out of my face, your breath stinks." said Sousuke, forcibly shoving the Yankee boy away from him and turning back toward the terminal. "What's this? A tough guy? Or maybe you just don't know how things work around here?" the Yankee boy demanded, "You wanna use the terminal? Fine, but it'll be in a fight against me!" That got Sousuke's attention. His ears seemed to perk up at the challenge, "Battle? Well, I was meaning to see how it performed in combat. Whatever, do what you want." Sousuke honestly had no idea who the Tiger Gang was. He hadn't lived in the area long enough to ever hear about them or see them for himself. Not that it would have deterred him in the slightest. Sousuke stepped up to the Terminal and inserted his Gunpla base. This registered him as a Pilot currently using the terminal. Then he placed the SD Master Gundam on the launching pad, "Okay, Master Gundam, let's see those specs of yours in action. Launch!" The Gunpla shakily launched out into the simulated field, which happened to be an Open Field type. So no real cover or any terrain to take advantage of. But it wasn't long before the little SD Gunpla found itself standing in a massive shadow. Towering over it was a Mobile Armor, a Big Zam to be exact. "What the hell?" Sousuke exclaimed, "That thing's huge!" unfortunately, this was the first time Sousuke had ever seen a Mobile Armor. He still didn't let that deter him, and the Master Gundam flew forward and put all its strength into a punch, "The bigger they are..." Sousuke started, but stopped when the Master Gundam's fist broke on the armor of the Big Zam. Then the Zam struck back, kicking Master Gundam square in the torso and sending the poor little Gunpla flying right out of the play area and smashing into a wall, where the model shattered into its individual parts. "Battle: Over." the computer's voice announced and the simulation ended. Sousuke tipped his hat in disappointment as he knelt to gather the broken pieces of his Master Gundam. The gang were all in stitches at this scene, "Ha! That had to be some kind of record, Boss! You smashed that piece of junk in just one hit!"</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Mika stood in the arcade on her phone, checking her emails until all of a sudden she saw the tiger gang messing around. "Ugh, these guys." She said before seeing Nanashi enter the arcade. "Yo senpai!" "Yello!" Nanashi said with a pep. "Hey Senpai, those tiger guys are back. I think today we should finally teach them a lesson shouldn't we?" She said with a smirk. Nanashi shrugged "I don't know I think tha-" he started but paused. "Hey that's him!" He said pointing at Sousuke, holding the SD Master Gundam in hand. Mika looked and sighed. "He's gonna have to fight those guys." She said "He's going to lose." Nanashi declared. Turning around and heading to the shopping part of the Arcade. "Yo boss, I need a gunpla set stat!" He said to the clerk. "Which one kid?" He asked showing the selection they had this week. An Exia Gundam. A Victory Gundam. And a Zaku. "Give me the Zaku and Victory!" He said grabbing the two boxes. "Ehh senpai why are you building new Gunpla right now?" Miku asked. "Because the strike isn't ready for battle right now and we gotta help him before he gets destroyed!" "But there battle starts in like, 5 minutes." Nanashi chuckled, "I can build it in 4, 2 and a half for each." Then in the blink of an eye began already finishing the clipping of the parts. Nanashi expertly connected and paired all the parts without missing a beat and finished the two Gunpla. "There, take this!" He said placing it in her hand. They both entered the room just in time to see the SD get destroyed by the the Zam. Nanashi stepped up, putting down his terminal and Mika doing the same. "Origin Zaku Warrior!!! Execute!!!" "Victory Angel Gundam! Fly!!!" Mika said</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "So it lost, huh?" Sousuke muttered under his breath, "Guess I'm not cut out for this after all. I'm sorry..." he shouldered his bag and turned for the door. Right about this time, the 2nd Year from earlier rushed onto the scene, followed closely by a girl Sousuke hadn't seen before. It looked like they were going to battle that big plastic monstrosity. Fine, maybe they stood a better chance. As for Sousuke, he found himself no longer in the mood to battle. And so he began to leave. On his way, though, he overheard some voices. "Aw, even the older guy lost! Those Tigers really are unbeatable..." "We'll never get to play at this rate!" This made Sousuke pause, but he just stood there, still undecided. Then he recalled a memory. It was some years ago, and he was reading a manga with someone else. The manga was about a hard-boiled detective who braved the dark streets to help his clients. And Sousuke remembered something else from the manga, a speech the main protagonist often made: "A man who can't help others is either incompetent or needs help himself. But a man who won't help others... is the worst kind of scum." Sousuke tightened his grip on the strap of his book bag. Was he unable to help... or just unwilling?</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Mika! Flank!" Nanashi yells as his Origin Zaku Warrior hovers left and shooting covering fire. "On it!" She yelled from the Victory Angel as it moved right, also shooting. The two kept firing but couldn't do any damage at the time. "Crap! Mika we need to get close range if we wanna pierce that armor." Nanashi yelled. The Zam beginning to spin while shooting the beam, separating the two. "But neither of us can get close enough!" She responded as the two of the kept dodging the attacks.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Gunpla: Set." The computer announced a new player in the arena. Well, not actually a new player, but rather the return of a previous player. Sousuke returned to his position in the battle arena and replaced his terminal back in the slot, "You broke my Gunpla. It's only fair I return the favor." then he reached into his book bag. This time he did not retrieve the Master Gundam, it was broken to pieces anyway. No, this time he grabbed a second Gunpla carrier, one that looked a bit more worn than the one Sousuke's belt. From the case, Sousuke revealed a black Crossbone Gundam, or at least a heavily modified one. The difference between it and the SD Master Gundam was like night and day. Unlike the Master Gundam, this Crossbone model was extremely well built. Given a bit more time and tweaking, it could even reach World Level ability. "Your luck's run out. In the end, I hold the trump card that will snatch victory from the jaws of despair." Sousuke spoke with an almost intentionally dramatic tone, almost like he was trying to be theatrical, "Crossbone Joker..." he said the name of the Gunpla, not in Japanese but English, "...steal the win!" The Gunpla launched and found itself approaching the fight. That Mobile Armor was big, but those arms looked pretty thin compared to the rest of its body. Sousuke knew what he had to do. A blade extended from the Joker's right arm, then detached and formed a GN Sword nicknamed the Joker Blade, "Let's make this showy, Joker!" the Gunpla picked up speed as it went for the slash against one of the Zam's arms, then did so against it's other arm as well as one of the legs.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Gunpla: Set." The computer announced a new player in the arena. Well, not actually a new player, but rather the return of a previous player. Sousuke returned to his position in the battle arena and replaced his terminal back in the slot, "You broke my Gunpla. It's only fair I return the favor." then he reached into his book bag. This time he did not retrieve the Master Gundam, it was broken to pieces anyway. No, this time he grabbed a second Gunpla carrier, one that looked a bit more worn than the one Sousuke's belt. From the case, Sousuke revealed a black Crossbone Gundam, or at least a heavily modified one. The difference between it and the SD Master Gundam was like night and day. Unlike the Master Gundam, this Crossbone model was extremely well built. Given a bit more time and tweaking, it could even reach World Level ability. "Your luck's run out. In the end, I hold the trump card that will snatch victory from the jaws of despair." Sousuke spoke with an almost intentionally dramatic tone, almost like he was trying to be theatrical, "Crossbone Joker..." he said the name of the Gunpla, not in Japanese but English, "...steal the win!" The Gunpla launched and found itself approaching the fight. That Mobile Armor was big, but those arms looked pretty thin compared to the rest of its body. Sousuke knew what he had to do. A blade extended from the Joker's right arm, then detached and formed a GN Sword nicknamed the Joker Blade, "Let's make this showy, Joker!" the Gunpla picked up speed as it went for the slash against one of the Zam's arms, then did so against it's other arm as well as one of the legs.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "What the?! What the heck is that?!" Mika asked as she saw the Gunpla cut off a third appendage. Nanashi smirked. "An opening!!!" He said as the Origin Zaku Warrior threw away its machine gun and unsheathed its heat axe. Mika copied with her own beam sabers. The both striked the remaining leg together, cutting it off completely. Nanashi then grabbed the mobile armor from underneath. "Oi Sousuke, end him!" He yelled as the Zaku held the MA in place.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke didn't answer back. He was too focused on fighting. The Crossbone Joker deployed a second weapon, a high powered beam rifle that looked like it was taken from the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. Sousuke called it the Joker Magnum. The Gunpla boosted foward, flying toward the Zam while firing off a short series of beams from the rifle. These beams alone wouldn't destroy the body, but they would put a crack in the shell that could be targeted for a finishing blow. With only just enough time to do so, Sousuke discarded the rifle and thrust the Joker Blade forward in time for it to crash into the cracked spot on the Zam's armor. It went through... completely through. The Crossbone Joker may as well have drilled all the way through the Big Zam's body and out the other side. This was the clincher, and the remains of the Big Zam exploded. "Battle: Ended."</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Alright!" Nanashi cheered as the field started to disintegrate leaving only the plastic models in the center, the Victory and Zaku mostly unharmed and the Crossbone Joker with not even a spec of dust. "N-no way, the Tiger Zam got destroyed." The yankee said in anger. "Dammit you cheated I demand a rematch!!!" Before anyone could argue however, the door to the battle area bursts open revealing the clerk that sold them the Victory and Zaku Warrior. A big man a head taller than all in the room."Oi Tora!!" "Its Tiger!!" The Yankee yelled "Don't care, you guys made a deal, they won. So get the FUCK. OUT." He said just loud enough so everyone can hear, everyone feeling a bit of fear from his voice. The three hooligans all shivered before quickly running out of the shop. Nanashi smirked. "Thanks Boss!" He said in a sing song voice. 'Whatever.' The clerk said before heading back to the front. The room, now empty of everyone except the high schoolers, quiet. Nanashi, still smirking from their win over the hooligans, turns to Sousuke. "So? Whatcha think of the club?" He asked.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Don't misunderstand me." said Sousuke, retrieving his Crossbone Joker from the field and carefully sliding it back into the carrying case. He was notably more careful with handling the Joker than he ever was with the SD Master Gundam. Clearly it was a treasure for him, "I was just avenging my Master Gundam. That is all." with that he shouldered his book bag and started walking away again. His hand reached for the handle of the door but stopped. Admittedly, what he had said was a lie. It wasn't about avenging his Gunpla. He just remembered a lesson that someone important to him to lived by, and he wanted to emulate that person in his own way. Still, his shoulders slumped as he made a decision that in any other situation would go against his every instinct, "Fine, I'll join your club..." he said without turning around. But before the 2nd Year could get too excited, Sousuke suddenly spun around and added, "...but not for free. I'll be charging you based on how much we battle. That match just now was your first and only freebie." he said nothing more and walked out the door. It would have been polite to stay and get to know his new clubmates, but Sousuke had somewhere he needed to be.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Sousuke left just in time to hear Nanashi's cry of joy. "Yes!! We finally got a full team!!" He cheered before looking over at Mika, who was frowning rather than cheering. "Er, Mika? What's up?" Mika picked up the Victory Angel gundam with a sigh. "Honestly, I just don't know if Gunpla is right for me." She said as she ran her fingers over it. "I like Gunpla, and I want to stay … but," Nanashi smiled softly before patting her head. " It's fine, I understand." He said with a sigh. "It's all good! I'm pretty sure we can find a new guy to join the group!" He said pumped. "But anyways, did you SEE the Gunpla Sousuke used, the difference between that and the Master SD was like day and night!" "Oh yeah, it was pretty strong wasn't it?" "I wonder .. where did he get it?" Nanashi asked himself. … … "Hey senpai, didn't he say he wanted payment?" … … "... I can count Sousuke as a club expense right?" He asked with her shrugging.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa A little later that day, the voice of an excited boy could be heard from his hospital room. It made a nurse outside make a startled pause before continuing about her duties. "You battled today?" "Yep." "Wish I could have been there. You won right? You totally kicked butt?" "Of course." "That's my big bro. Your skill with my Gunpla? Unstoppable!" "You bet we are. By the way, um... I'll be battling a lot more in the coming weeks so-" "You joined another club, didn't you? Don't worry, I'll keep it nice and fixed up. If you're planning to enter the Under 19, you better make sure and tell me when your matches are so I can catch the livestreams!" "Like I'd forget to do something like that? We're still a team, even if only one of us can battle. It's you and me, got it?" "Yeah!" "Oh, um... that Master Gundam you gave me kind of-" "Lemme see it!" "Wait, don't-" "Hey! It's still in pieces! Did you even try to build it?" "Well..." "Leave it here with me. I could use something to pass the time while I'm stuck in here."</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei The forest he had landed in was just large enough to tuck him away. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the babble of a river snaking away. He looked over, knowing that he hadn't encountered anyone but somewhere close were two other Gunplas he knew near nothing about. He took a step forward, the impact of his foot thrumming the earth. Then he felt it, a bolt of instinct anchoring him with caution. A long beam bolt sung out, crashing into the earth to the left of him. Echo Barbatos jumped away from the initial shot before gazing in the direction of still ringing sound. As more and more bolts rung clear, followed by massive beams veering mostly to his left, he directed Echo Barbatos through the dense forest. The wild Gunpla surged through the trees like a feral beast, its Tail Blade extending out and whipping back and forth in anticipation. It wasn't long before he spotted the cause for the missed shots. Echo Barbatos tore through the trees and out into the open, standing in the raging river. A glinting in the distance gave him a hint of his shooters location, however, he also felt guided, or pushed in the direction he had ended up at. He looked up and around himself before noticing something, it was slight but the color was so pitch black that it begged for his attention in the mountainous daylight. "Prey ..." mumbled Natsu. His Tail Blade smacked the ground as he started towards the Crossbone Joker. He reached down and ignited one of the beam sabers on his hip during his charge, fully prepared to strike out at him once on him.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke watched the beams fire from a source a long distance away. Sniper fire, but it was a beam sniper rifle, meaning that it was easy to trace the shots to their origin. And it only took a moment for Sousuke to get a rough estimate of Nanashi's position. "Thanks for giving up your position... idiot. Next time try using something other than beam attacks so you're harder to spot." of course, it wasn't long before the rustling and shifting of trees betrayed the impending arrival of Sousuke's other opponent. He wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy, not that much anyway, "Oh for the love of... he does know he's being herded like cattle, right?" Sousuke's grip on his controls tightened, and he suddenly activated his own thrusters, firmly pushing the throttle all the way forward, "Sorry, Mr. President, but I'm not playing your little game." and he started flying right toward where he estimated Nanashi's hiding place was. Assuming the Barbatos was was still hellbent on targeting the Joker, that meant Sousuke would be leading the beast right to their would-be manipulator. "Okay no more hiding, 2nd Year. Time to face the music." without slowing down, Sousuke deployed his rifle, the Joker Magnum, and fired off a high-powered shot toward the spot he guessed Nanashi was hiding. Little did he notice, the crossbars on the Joker's back began to emit plavsky particles and the Gunpla's flight began steadily speeding up beyond what it was originally capable of, "Huh?" Sousuke quickly checked his settings, and that was when he finally figured out the meaning behind that note. It seemed there were now openings along the edges of the crossbars that could emit plavsky particles. Specifically, these would give it extra throttle, like a plane using afterburners. It also had the effect of the Joker leaving behind a rather pretty trail of sparkling particles. That meant it was easier to spot from a distance, but in exchange it could cover a greater distance in a shorter time.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Waaaah, Sousukes so mean!" He said chuckling as Sousukes blasts fires just over him. "But man, thats a cool upgrade, but in earths gravity how much particles can it use up before falling?" He asked looking at the now flying MS, before the three shields move to reveal the missile pods hidden away. He then began to fire missiles all along the mountain side, creating a large amount of smoke as well as making the mountain side a mess. He then began to fire more missiles to both of his enemies, makings them fly from different angles as not to show his position. Now the mountain side is messed up so Echo Barbatos can't get to him, and his rifles and missiles are intercepting the Crossbone Joker. Nasnashi was thinking he was doing pretty well right now.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei Natsu pursued the Crossbone Joker and despite all the ruckus, once he had caught up to the two, even with all the debris scattered and the mountainside crumbled down; the Echo Barbatos found it is to traverse with its hardened claws. Its strong frame and build endured the light pelting while its powerful legs bounded it up the cliff side. "Don't take me so lightly. I may be just a first year here but I'm skilled," he proclaimed with little passion. He surged Echo Barbatos up the mountain and through the smokescreen. Within said smokescreen, under the veil of Origin Zaku's poorly aimed missiles, he deploy the four funnels on his side upwards through the smoke -- stealthily changing his target from Crossbone Joker to Origin Zaku Phantom. The sound of extraneousness explosions dialed his cautionary instincts up to eleven. It was them that ushered him out the smokescreen and a few meters from Nanashi's Origin Zaku Phantom. Echo Barbatos let loose an odd, alien snarl from menacing face. A moment later and the thin whip of his tail-blade arced up before stabbing down at the Zaku-modded Gunpla. "Are you seriously the president?" Natsu asked Nanashi. " 'Cause I'd like to join."</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa The missiles, well, Sousuke admittedly didn't anticipate those. Maybe the 2nd Year wasn't as dumb as he looked, after all? Still, with him in the air, he did at least have one surefire way to dodge the salvo of missiles, but it wasn't going to be pleasant. Without warning, Sousuke killed his thrusters, and without anything keeping it in the air the Crossbone Joker slowly started to free fall back toward the ground, specifically the mountainside. It might get scuffed from the landing, but it was better than getting blown up by missiles. And that was then the apparent avalanche happened. And Sousuke just happened to have put himself in the worst place during it. He was tempted to fly up but that particle boost from earlier had ate up a good portion of his energy and he couldn't afford to waste anymore. Instead he stayed put and readied the Joker Magnum. Only one of the falling rocks rolled his way, and when it did Sousuke pulled the trigger and let the beam from the rifle split the rock in two so that it rolled in two separate directions on either side of the Crossbone Joker. That was much more cost-effective way to avoid the rocks then wasting more particles on high-speed flight. At this point, Sousuke returned to his original plan. The beastly Barbatos seemed to have lost interest in him, and by the time the smoke started clearing, Sousuke could just make out the two other two Gunpla staring each other down. He let them talk for a moment before thinking of a devilish idea. The two enemy Gunplas were only meters away from each other. The crossbars of the Joker Star had quite the long diameter. With a well-aimed throw... Sousuke gave a devilish smirk. From higher up Mt. Fuji, he made his Gunpla leap into the air instead of flying in order to conserve as much particle energy as possible. While airborne he made the Gunpla's body twist around while the crossbars simultaneously detached from the Gunpla's back and went into the Joker's hands. With both hands gripping it, and with momentum from the spin Sousuke made his Gunpla give as much of a mighty throw as he could, and the Joker Star went flying. Something Sousuke wasn't expecting was the Joker Star automatically beginning to emit particles again after it was thrown. Similar to when he was flying earlier, the particles acted as makeshift thrusters that added extra flight speed and spinning speed to the Joker Star as it screamed toward its two targets, and it would thus hit quite a bit harder than Sousuke first calculated, especially when taking the particle energy emission into account. It looked like it could hit one of them dead on while just grazing the other. Unless of course they detected the attack coming and were fast enough on the draw to avoid it. Then the Star would just go crashing into the side of the mountain and probably leave a very visible gash along the cliffs and possibly cause another avalanche.</s>

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<\|description\|>Emilia Rose Carter Dr. Emmy \| Carter \| Emmy --- --- "When life gives you lemons, make some lemonade!" --- --- Birthday & Age May 6 \| 29 Santa Ana, California Gender & Sexual Orientation Female \| Closeted Bisexual Other Labels Sweetheart \| Caucasian \| American \| Agnostic \| Liberal Occupation Pediatrician Specialized in Neonatal Medicine --- --- "I'm walking on sunshine, woah! \| And don't it feel good!" --- --- Personality The Positive: * Sweet * Kind * Patient * Energetic * Loyal * Caring * Affectionate The Negative: * Emotional * Too Trusting * Wears her heart on her sleeve * Can be a little annoying sometimes * Naive Evaluation Observations: Upon first encounters, you may notice that Emmy is this bubbly, energetic ball of sunshine. She always has a smile on her face, and no matter the circumstances she sees the bright side of things. She's the type to try and cheer up her coworkers and bring little baked goods for everyone every once in a while to brighten up their day. She's also very patient, kind-hearted and smart. Actual Personality: When you get to know Emmy, you realize that what you saw in your first encounter is what you get. However, the fact that she's single with no children makes for a rather lonely life, as there is nothing more that she wants so badly than to have a family of her own. Rumor has it that she can get a little too attached to her tiny patients because she doesn't have children of her own. Sometimes, when she lets her guard down, you could catch her crying over not being able to help a patient or some other little thing (once she cried over not making enough cupcakes for everyone because she'd miscounted). --- --- "Live life to the fullest, and focus on the positive." - Matt Cameron --- --- My Dreams Even though Emmy has achieved most of her dreams by becoming a pediatrician and saving the lives of many newborns and children, there are still some things she wants to do. One of Emilia's dreams is to live her own love story, get married to that special someone, and to have a few of those wonderful babies she loves so much. In order to achieve that, though, she needs to find that Prince Charming first. Fears * Infertility * Being Eternally Single * Losing her job * Losing a patient Likes * Babies and Children * Pop music * Her job * Cheesy Romantic TV Series * Cheesy Romance Novels * Romantic Comedies * Coffee * Margaritas Dislikes * Self-centered people * Drugs * Cheaters * Hard liquor * Tequila shots (after a rather memorable college incident) * Any life-threatening ailment to her little patients Reputation The resident sweetheart with the heart of gold, who wears that very same heart on her sleeve.</s> <\|message\|>Christopher Lewis Freeman Christopher Freeman I'm not gonna swallow the lie that I'm fed Cos I want the world coming down on my head You're gonna find out you're already dead And I was the world coming down on your head --- "I don't think you understand, son. There's an emergency. It's probably an absolute ruckus up there. Do you think my ears can handle that kind of noise? No, precisely. So you'll have to deliver the flipping blood samples yourself, won't you?" It was common knowledge among interns that you do not want under Dr Christopher Freeman. Ever. He would work them hard and use them for menial tasks that are too dull for him. This one was impressive, he had been working under Christopher for three weeks and his spirit hadn't been broken. Christopher liked the young man's spunk and determination, and therefore felt the need to work him harder than usual. As the boy ran off with the blood tests, Christopher moved quickly to the young man's work station in the lab. He seemed to be working on some equation he couldn't get the hang of for school. Topher was also known for being helpful towards those who he respected, so sticking to that image, he wrote out the hardest part of the work for the young man, and left him a note telling him that he just earned a 30 minute coffee break. He returned back to his desk, cleaning up various test tubes and watch-glasses. This was the menial part of his job, cleaning up his mess. He truly adored his work, but it could be a bit tiresome. Nonetheless, without him the entire hospital would collapse. He was one of the best lab techs in the U.S., and everyone knew it, including himself. What he was doing was important research for the sake of the country. Or something like that, the usual spiel his mother gave him whenever she visited him. He nodded at the intern as he came back. "Right then, I'm off on my break. I think I'll go and help with the ambulances. You'll know where to find me." His voice was unnaturally slow and he meticulously pronounced each syllable, a trick he learnt from speech therapy. "Are you sure, Dr Freeman? I mean, you just said you wouldn't go up there... And you look exhausted..." "Calm down, Lucas. I'll be just fine. What's the point of working in a hospital if you can't help 24/7." As he entered the auditorium, the wailing sirens screamed over his thoughts. It almost hurt him, sending him into a state of panic. He was tired, and his sensitive ears were getting the better of him. He needed to get out, but he wanted to help. That was his job. That being said, he never usually had to deal with this kind of noise. Taking a few deep breaths, he prepared for the worst. If distressed relatives needed help, he'd be there. If an impromptu blood test was needed, he'd be there. He looked around the room, spotting Tamara Hayes standing around, presumably as determined to help out as he was. He didn't think she was particularly bad company, so he walked up to her, coughing to make his presence know. "Well hello there. Someone looks tired today. Were you working all night or...?" Small talk was, clearly, not his forte.</s> <\|message\|>ari saleh alnaeli SALEH ALNAELI --- They day started like any normal day that he would have had coming back from his one free day off. Saleh got in an early morning work out at the gym followed by a stop at his favorite coffee joint for a dark coffee with no sugar. The darker the better as it helped energize and fuel his body for whatever was going to come next during his shift. Things were always unpredictable at Caduceus Memorial Hospital, something Saleh secretly enjoyed. Sure he was a man who favored routine, but being a doctor there never really was a routine, just rituals one did before the day would begin. That's what kept him sane, having rituals to keep his thoughts aligned on the straight and narrow. Being at CMH for a little more than a year, Saleh was still trying to integrate himself more into the community. Sure he was well liked by most of his superiors and the interns, but his other colleagues he needed to find more time to get to know. That was one thing he knew that he was lacking in as he was always throwing himself onto a case rather than getting to know those around him. His father would have been proud of all the work he has been doing, but his mother on the other hand would have bickered that he didn't have any friends to keep him company while he was there. As he pulled up into the Caduceus Memorial staff parking lot his phone's emergency text vibrated and rang. There was a colossal mess of an accident and his name was on team one of the triage. Without hesitation he bolted out of his car and rushed inside, leaving most of his belongings in his car other than his badge and scrubs. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into his car, swapping on his scrubs as he entered the hospital lobby, making his way to the trauma center. Saleh hadn't read who else was on the triage team as it never really mattered, the only thing that mattered to him was that he was summoned so he was going to do his job. But, it did ease his mind at who he was teamed with as all the doctors at CMH were competent enough, he knew with confidence those who stood before him were some of the best there. "Dr. Kim, Dr. Ivanov." He said with a respectful greeting bow. "Glad to be working with you today." Sure Saleh sounded like a kiss-ass with his good morning's, but it was how he was raised and it stuck on him like glue.</s>	<\|message\|>Emilia Rose Carter 'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know, the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah. No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no --- --- Once Xander had left the room, Emilia decided it was her turn to depart the premises as well. Sighing, she got up from the bed, stretched and glanced around the room, trying to locate every piece of her clothing. Once every item was accounted for, Emmy began her treasure hunt, taking the opportunity to do some retrospection about her life -and what she'd failed to accomplish in it so far. At the tender age of eighteen, right after graduating high school, young Emmy had decided to make a 10-year life plan for herself. Said plan consisted of the top five things she was dead-set on accomplishing in the next ten years: get her Pediatrics degree, land a job in one of the top medical facilities in the country, afford the car and home of her dreams, get married and have at least one child. Out of five, she'd managed to accomplish three of her goals. But for the blonde, the two goals she'd failed to reach were the ones the held the most significance to her. Not only had she not done so in the time period established, but she was also three months shy of that dreaded 30th birthday… And no sign of settling down in sight. Dressing herself, Emilia tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which things had gone wrong. Had it been when she'd decided to part ways with Wilfred Thompson back in her senior year? They'd been such a serious, stable couple for the best part of two years- until their career choices had taken them down different paths. Maybe if they had found a way to make it work, he could possibly have been the one to grace her with the blessing of marriage and children… Or had it been when she'd refused to take back Julius Kennedy back at the end of her sophomore year of college? Sure, he'd been a serial cheater and an overall douchebag. But what if her love was the key to him turning his life back around? What if, by neglecting to save Julius, she'd really lost her one opportunity at making her two biggest dreams a reality? Or had it been back that last December, when she'd ended up in Dr. Alexander Ivanov's bed after having one too many martinis and margaritas at the Christmas staff party? Had it been then, when she'd failed to hold her ground in her search for her soulmate and instead had consented to what would end up becoming a sting of meetings for casual sex? No matter how hard she thought about it, Emmy would never know which had been the second in which she'd fallen down this pit of despair; the one that had turned her into the kind of woman to hook up in broad daylight at her own workplace. Sighing, Emilia would take one last glance at the scene of the crime before making her 'Walk of Shame' to the nearest staff bathroom. She'd secretly prayed that the room would be empty on her arrival to save herself the judgemental looks. However, said prayers went unanswered, because as Emmy opened the door she found herself staring at none other than Victoire Bailey. Emmy died a little inside at the disapproving look Vic shot her as she washed her hands. "Someone's had a good morning," the raven-haired woman had commented, drying her hands on the cheap paper towels close to her. "You could say that…" the blonde sighed, taking up a spot on the first sink. She took a paper towel, wet it a little and began to wipe the mess that was her mouth and jaw. "You know that means the rest of the day will probably go to hell, right?" "Well, you know what I always say: when life gives you lemons, you just have to make some sweet, delicious lemonade." Emmy replied in her usual bubbly fashion, rummaging in her purse for her makeup bag. She quickly touched up the bottom half of her face with some powder foundation, put on a fresh coat of lipstick and fixed up her disheveled hair before turning back to Victoire. "Actually, Vic, I was heading down to the lounge for some coffee…" she trailed off, having second thoughts about what she was going to do but deciding to take a shot anyway. "And I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me? I kind of want to talk to someone about something, and I thought that maybe you could be that someone…?" Both women were making their way out of the bathroom when a familiar voice greeted them. Looking up, Emilia realized it was Abraham Cross: Victoire's partner in crime and resident hotshot lawyer with which the blonde had a story with… More news at 10. "Hey, Abe!" she happily replied to the man, shooting him the brightest of smiles. When asked about the haircut, Emmy giggled and waved a hand. "Nope, no new hair! Just same old me."</s>
<\|description\|>Athena Victoire Bailey CMH Personnel File Birthday & Age May 1st, 29 Gender & Sexual Orientation Female, Bisexual Other Labels Bitch. She got called 'Elsa' once, does that count? No? Well she's about as white as any other Caucasian lady, isn't into finding out any of that ancestry crap, so...it is what it is. Occupation Resident Lawyer, or as she so lovingly puts it, Professional Ass Shield --- --- "You're making me Ice Cold." --- --- CMH Psychological Evaluation Personality The Positive: * Has an excellent memory. Pretty good at remembering people's names and occupations, as well as their general personality and little things they mention to her. * Knows how to talk to anyone, and can handle even the most annoying patient with relative ease. * Genuinely does whatever it takes to make sure the hospital doesn't get sued for how much it should be, famous for taking lawsuits and belittling them into smaller, more affordable settlements if she doesn't outright get them dismissed. So in a sense, she's a real team player. The Negative: * Doesn't care enough about people to form reasonable relationships with them that don't include sex. Is currently making an effort to correct this. * Doesn't want to commit to anyone, this extends to her own bullshit problems. * Unwilling to compromise. While professionally she understands that sometimes things can't be helped, in her personal life she's way too fucking stubborn and has a 'my way or the high way' mentality. Evaluation Observations: Professional to a tee and obsessed with work, Victoire is a known workaholic who pours whatever free time she has into her job. Once she was granted the position, she etched her claws into it to make sure she wouldn't lose it. As a result she's always somehow always seen but never seen. Her office's open door policy is always inviting, and while she's usually all smiles and getting to the point, people who try to steer the conversation towards personal life tend to crash into a metaphorical wall that she slams up. She outright refuses to talk about her personal life, wanting to focus on the case at hand and preventing her doctors from losing their licenses and jobs. One patient described her as the nicest sheet of ice that they had ever met, so that's a pretty good summary. Still, she's been warned more than once to cut her stealth insults and sarcastic quirps, so she's working on that. Actual Personality: There isn't too much of a difference, though her real self is just always tired. If she could just stay home and sleep all day, she would. She knows she puts too much pressure on herself, but continues in a masochistic cycle to purposely torture herself. She hates everything about herself, from the way she looks to how she acts, as she's aware her personality drives people away despite her longing to make meaningful connections to people. She is actually quite the romantic, dreams of having her own family, and wants all that gushy, cliche love life. Her insecurities drive her self esteem to the negative. Despite everything, she has never publicly shown this side to anyone. --- --- "Pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work." - Aristotle --- --- Off the Record My Dreams Goals in life : Starting a family of her own. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. Fears * The idea that she won't actually be able to have a family of her own someday tears her apart, even though she knows it's her fault she hasn't started yet, but her phobia of commitment constantly gets in the way. * Being deliberately ignored or forgotten, though this has more to do with her childhood. * Her fear of abandonment just couples with her other two fears. Likes * Working. * Sex. * Drinking. * Her pack of cigarettes that she breaks out whenever she gets too stressed. * Plants, her apartment is full of them, with her having an orchid in her office. * Adores music, mostly classical, is quite talented with her violin. Dislikes * Days off. * Boredom. * People who think they know more than she does in a subject she literally has multiple degrees in. * Lazy people. * Overconfident people. * Newcomers who think they know shit, though admittedly she does enjoy watching them fall apart as they all do. * Oatmeal raisin anything. * Neglectful parents. Reputation Helpful, but cold. If she shows up, it's not usually a good thing. Extra information Loves the color blue, has dyed her hair a variety of colors, has a pet rabbit named Fifi, has an allergy to strawberries, majored in Medical Law & Ethics with a minor in music, plays the violin, once jumped out of a three story window and only had minor injuries.</s> <\|message\|>ari saleh alnaeli SALEH ALNAELI --- They day started like any normal day that he would have had coming back from his one free day off. Saleh got in an early morning work out at the gym followed by a stop at his favorite coffee joint for a dark coffee with no sugar. The darker the better as it helped energize and fuel his body for whatever was going to come next during his shift. Things were always unpredictable at Caduceus Memorial Hospital, something Saleh secretly enjoyed. Sure he was a man who favored routine, but being a doctor there never really was a routine, just rituals one did before the day would begin. That's what kept him sane, having rituals to keep his thoughts aligned on the straight and narrow. Being at CMH for a little more than a year, Saleh was still trying to integrate himself more into the community. Sure he was well liked by most of his superiors and the interns, but his other colleagues he needed to find more time to get to know. That was one thing he knew that he was lacking in as he was always throwing himself onto a case rather than getting to know those around him. His father would have been proud of all the work he has been doing, but his mother on the other hand would have bickered that he didn't have any friends to keep him company while he was there. As he pulled up into the Caduceus Memorial staff parking lot his phone's emergency text vibrated and rang. There was a colossal mess of an accident and his name was on team one of the triage. Without hesitation he bolted out of his car and rushed inside, leaving most of his belongings in his car other than his badge and scrubs. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it into his car, swapping on his scrubs as he entered the hospital lobby, making his way to the trauma center. Saleh hadn't read who else was on the triage team as it never really mattered, the only thing that mattered to him was that he was summoned so he was going to do his job. But, it did ease his mind at who he was teamed with as all the doctors at CMH were competent enough, he knew with confidence those who stood before him were some of the best there. "Dr. Kim, Dr. Ivanov." He said with a respectful greeting bow. "Glad to be working with you today." Sure Saleh sounded like a kiss-ass with his good morning's, but it was how he was raised and it stuck on him like glue.</s> <\|message\|>Emilia Rose Carter 'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die. I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down. You know, the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah. No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change. But I'm here in my mold, I am here in my mold. But I'm a million different people from one day to the next I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no --- --- Once Xander had left the room, Emilia decided it was her turn to depart the premises as well. Sighing, she got up from the bed, stretched and glanced around the room, trying to locate every piece of her clothing. Once every item was accounted for, Emmy began her treasure hunt, taking the opportunity to do some retrospection about her life -and what she'd failed to accomplish in it so far. At the tender age of eighteen, right after graduating high school, young Emmy had decided to make a 10-year life plan for herself. Said plan consisted of the top five things she was dead-set on accomplishing in the next ten years: get her Pediatrics degree, land a job in one of the top medical facilities in the country, afford the car and home of her dreams, get married and have at least one child. Out of five, she'd managed to accomplish three of her goals. But for the blonde, the two goals she'd failed to reach were the ones the held the most significance to her. Not only had she not done so in the time period established, but she was also three months shy of that dreaded 30th birthday… And no sign of settling down in sight. Dressing herself, Emilia tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which things had gone wrong. Had it been when she'd decided to part ways with Wilfred Thompson back in her senior year? They'd been such a serious, stable couple for the best part of two years- until their career choices had taken them down different paths. Maybe if they had found a way to make it work, he could possibly have been the one to grace her with the blessing of marriage and children… Or had it been when she'd refused to take back Julius Kennedy back at the end of her sophomore year of college? Sure, he'd been a serial cheater and an overall douchebag. But what if her love was the key to him turning his life back around? What if, by neglecting to save Julius, she'd really lost her one opportunity at making her two biggest dreams a reality? Or had it been back that last December, when she'd ended up in Dr. Alexander Ivanov's bed after having one too many martinis and margaritas at the Christmas staff party? Had it been then, when she'd failed to hold her ground in her search for her soulmate and instead had consented to what would end up becoming a sting of meetings for casual sex? No matter how hard she thought about it, Emmy would never know which had been the second in which she'd fallen down this pit of despair; the one that had turned her into the kind of woman to hook up in broad daylight at her own workplace. Sighing, Emilia would take one last glance at the scene of the crime before making her 'Walk of Shame' to the nearest staff bathroom. She'd secretly prayed that the room would be empty on her arrival to save herself the judgemental looks. However, said prayers went unanswered, because as Emmy opened the door she found herself staring at none other than Victoire Bailey. Emmy died a little inside at the disapproving look Vic shot her as she washed her hands. "Someone's had a good morning," the raven-haired woman had commented, drying her hands on the cheap paper towels close to her. "You could say that…" the blonde sighed, taking up a spot on the first sink. She took a paper towel, wet it a little and began to wipe the mess that was her mouth and jaw. "You know that means the rest of the day will probably go to hell, right?" "Well, you know what I always say: when life gives you lemons, you just have to make some sweet, delicious lemonade." Emmy replied in her usual bubbly fashion, rummaging in her purse for her makeup bag. She quickly touched up the bottom half of her face with some powder foundation, put on a fresh coat of lipstick and fixed up her disheveled hair before turning back to Victoire. "Actually, Vic, I was heading down to the lounge for some coffee…" she trailed off, having second thoughts about what she was going to do but deciding to take a shot anyway. "And I was wondering if you wanted to come down with me? I kind of want to talk to someone about something, and I thought that maybe you could be that someone…?" Both women were making their way out of the bathroom when a familiar voice greeted them. Looking up, Emilia realized it was Abraham Cross: Victoire's partner in crime and resident hotshot lawyer with which the blonde had a story with… More news at 10. "Hey, Abe!" she happily replied to the man, shooting him the brightest of smiles. When asked about the haircut, Emmy giggled and waved a hand. "Nope, no new hair! Just same old me."</s>	<\|message\|>Athena Victoire Bailey The literal ray of sunshine wanted to talk to her? Saying it was a surprise to Victoire was a complete understatement, her eyebrows raised in fascination as Emmy asked. The way she saw it was that the golden retriever puppy wanted to play with the vicious Rottweiler. Not that Victoire disliked anyone in particular, her general discontent for humanity doing that for her, but it was just...weird. Yeah, the woman must be desperate to go to her to talk. Maybe it'd be a good thing. Abe was always telling her that she was much too grouchy, that she needed to 'socialize' more. Or something. Speaking of the devil, before she could give Emmy a response, Abe himself seemed to pop out of nowhere. Go figure, he would show up right after she considered his words. Victoire couldn't quite respond the same way Emmy did, that is with a general cheerfulness and good natured thanks, but she figured she couldn't be a complete dick. She figured she should be as polite as Ms. Sex Hair, so she tried (and failed) to put on a convincing smile. "Impeccable timing as always," Victoire replied, silently berating herself. So much for trying to be nicer. Clearing her throat, she looked at Emmy, giving her a slight shrug. "Uh...and sure to...what you said." It was like her brain had been turned off or something. Hopefully coffee would help, or wake her up, or something.</s>
<\|description\|>Mariah Paris Fowler Birthday & Age October 31st \| 30 years old Gender & Sexual Orientation Female \| Bisexual Other Labels ϟ Bitchin' Badass ϟ Hardcore Occupation Attending Orthopedic Surgeon --- --- "Thank God I ain't have to smack a bitch today" --- --- Personality The Positive ϟ Easygoing ϟ Hardworking ϟ Passionate The Negative ϟ Uninhibited ϟ Short-Tempered ϟ Intense Evaluation Observations To everyone around her, Mariah is a brilliant young surgeon who isn't afraid to take risks. She's very dedicated and passionate about her work, spending the majority of her time in the hospital helping patients. To most of the interns, she's actually very likable; she cracks jokes whenever she can, doesn't talk to them as if they were children, and usually takes the time to teach them everything they need to know about her field of work. When it comes time for surgery, however, she is a completely different person; while sometimes giving an intern the reigns when she feels that they're ready for it, she does not screw around when it comes to the patient. She'll often yell or remove an intern or resident from her operating room if they're not up to the challenge. Mariah is also known for playing music (hip-hop or rock) and singing along as she operates. Actual Personality Despite being an open book, there are a few things about Mariah that not too many of her coworkers know. Not only is she a risk taker in the operating room, but also in the outside world. In her lifetime, she's gone rock climbing, skydiving, bungee jumping, and more. She's always been a bit of a thrill seeker. Many of her coworkers also know that she has a bit of a temper, but they haven't seen anything yet. Mariah's closest friends know all about her heated arguments in bars and near brawls with stupid men and shady women. She never has been and never will be one to hold her tongue. Despite all of her shortcomings, however, Mariah is a very dependable and fun-loving person who would go to hell and back for the people she holds dear. Anyone who pays attention can see that. --- --- - Queen Latifah --- --- My Dreams Mariah is living the life she envisioned when she was a young girl; she's secured a position as the attending Orthopedic surgeon, she drives an Audi, and she lives in a beautiful condo. All that she really dreams about now is broken femurs, being published, and taking a vacation to Waikiki. Fears ϟ Oblivion ϟ Making a costly mistake and losing her job ϟ Fear itself Likes ϟ Drinking beer ϟ Playing music while operating ϟ Rock Climbing ϟ Caffeine \| She drinks her weight in coffee ϟ Fixing (and occasionally breaking) bones ϟ Boxing ϟ Waking up early Dislikes ϟ Her therapist ϟ Laziness ϟ Most interns ϟ Bananas \| She's mildly allergic ϟ Being undermined ϟ Cigars, Cigarettes, etc. ϟ Not getting enough sleep Reputation Mariah is known as the hardcore, risk-taking Orthopedic surgeon. Extra information She has a dog named Scooter and drives an Audi.</s> <\|message\|>Athena Victoire Bailey --- The literal ray of sunshine wanted to talk to her? Saying it was a surprise to Victoire was a complete understatement, her eyebrows raised in fascination as Emmy asked. The way she saw it was that the golden retriever puppy wanted to play with the vicious Rottweiler. Not that Victoire disliked anyone in particular, her general discontent for humanity doing that for her, but it was just...weird. Yeah, the woman must be desperate to go to her to talk. Maybe it'd be a good thing. Abe was always telling her that she was much too grouchy, that she needed to 'socialize' more. Or something. Speaking of the devil, before she could give Emmy a response, Abe himself seemed to pop out of nowhere. Go figure, he would show up right after she considered his words. Victoire couldn't quite respond the same way Emmy did, that is with a general cheerfulness and good natured thanks, but she figured she couldn't be a complete dick. She figured she should be as polite as Ms. Sex Hair, so she tried (and failed) to put on a convincing smile. "Impeccable timing as always," Victoire replied, silently berating herself. So much for trying to be nicer. Clearing her throat, she looked at Emmy, giving her a slight shrug. "Uh...and sure to...what you said." It was like her brain had been turned off or something. Hopefully coffee would help, or wake her up, or something.</s> <\|message\|>Sarah Charlotte Rossi It's been such a long time coming I'd thought you'd understand @Syn @Denny --- --- CODE TRIAGE EXTERNAL - PREPARE FOR CASUALTIES - ALL AVAILABLE STAFF REPORT TO TRAUMA BAY Dr. Tiffany Archer was roused from her sleep as her phone blared. The annoying, but ominous alarm echoed throughout her empty office. The young Chief of Staff had fallen asleep on a stack of papers that she was supposed to get signed off and delivered to her secretary by the end of the day. But apparently, the hospital had different priorities for her at this moment. Whatever had happened was severe enough to trigger the alarm on her phone, and she was at the highest position a doctor could have at this hospital. She rubbed the bridge of her nose before pushing herself off of her mahogany desk. She was lucky she had scrubs on. It would've saved herself some extra time. Glancing down at her phone once again, she saw that she was picked to be on one of the external triage teams. Wonderful. A change of scenery was great for her. Looking at the coat rack in the corner of her office, she snagged her hospital jacket and made her way down to the trauma bay. Hopefully there was an ambulance for them right when she got there. She didn't feel like waiting around, especially in a situation like this where it was essentially all hands on deck. Taking a walk, she headed into an elevator and was going down to the floor the trauma bay. Taking a quick moment to observe her environment, the sea of eager looking nurses and doctors had basically told Tiffany that every single person in this elevator had the same idea. Now would be a great time to get an idea of what exactly had happened just. She nudged the nurse right next to her and leaned over to her. "Hey, do you know what just happened? I just got called after some rest and I have no idea what's happened." "Oh, I think it's a really big car accident. Over forty cars involved, I think. All of the hospitals in the area are being filled with patients." Tiffany nodded and thanked the nurse for being so informative and helpful, even to a Chief of Staff that was supposed to know what was going on in the hospital. Once the elevator arrived, everyone in there poured out and made their way to the trauma center. Watching patients rolling in past her, the severity of the situation hit her like a punch in the gut. Luckily for her, the rest of her team had arrived just as she did, which was great. Slipping on her jacket, she pinned her ID on the outside and grabbed the triage bag which had been conveniently set up by some extra staff. "Come on, people. Let's get moving! There's a ambulance outside waiting for us." Walking outside, there was an ambulance waiting for their particular triage team. The paramedic in the ambulance had urged them to get inside quickly so that they could start treatment sooner. Once everyone was inside, the ambulance took off like a bat out of hell. Tiffany had her hands folded on top of her triage bag, looking outside the little window just to see how fast they were going. The more she saw, the more she understood the severity of this event. Seeing all of the cars pulled over to the side made her feel like she was Moses, parting the red sea as they made their way to the scene. A few minutes later... Stopping in a diner parking lot, the paramedic sitting closest to the door opened it and revealed a scene that was pure, organized chaos. Firefighters, policemen, paramedics, and even other doctors and nurses were all running around trying to treat patients. Some doctors would be going off to the treatment areas to treat those with higher priorities, some would stay in the triage area and assess patients instead. Treatment was not up Tiffany's alley as she was a doctor, so she would be coming to assess patients and place tags on them as necessary. Getting settled in, Tiffany got set to start triaging. She walked up to a patient on the ground. It was an older male, probably late 50s early 60s, in fairly good shape. However, just by looking at him, she could tell he was at LEAST a red tag. Kneeling down, she took out her stethoscope and began examining the patient. With her examination, she was quickly determining that he wasn't going to make it. He looked whiter than snow, and he was cold to the touch. Taking her tag, she tore off the green, yellow, and red sections before scribbling in his vitals. Placing it on the patient, she took one last look at him before moving on. Hopefully he was able to go peacefully. The next patient, looked like they were in better shape. Hopefully she was able to designate this person a green tag. A female, late teens, looked like to be in perfectly good shape as well. Taking her assessment yet again, everything about her seemed perfect, save for a few scratches and cuts here and there. She was going to be fine. This was a green tag. She grabbed a tag from her triage bag and scribbled her vitals on there, before handing the green tag to her. Thank goodness she was okay. Getting up, Tiffany took a look around and realized that she, Eugene, Saleh, and Xander were going to have their hands full for quite a while.</s> <\|message\|>Abraham Simon-Francis Cross Pretty Lies @Hero --- Seeing these two beauties was always the highlight of Abe's day. And it was as if the gods themselves were in favor of his good fortune. Every day before he and Vic went to the legal floor, which towered above the medical wings, he would greet them with a smile, kind words, and if he felt lucky, maybe get some words in return. As it would turn out on this particular day, he was most fortunate to receive what he had given. Well, half of what he gave. Vic couldn't be bothered to even fake a smile for his sake. Emmy being Emmy had no problem doing as such. It was, of course, it's her nature to bring nothing but sunshine to the oft gloomy profession of working at a prestigious hospital. A breath of fresh air she was. "And yet it — and you — look positively glowing this morning." Abe, like a never-ending train of charm, said to the blonde Emmy. His eyes went to his fellow lawyer colleague, Vic, letting out a low chuckle. "I couldn't possibly have anything other than that, Vickie~" He simply told her, not letting her lack of awareness affect the good mood that had overtaken him. But something would undoubtedly do that as, not even a full minute later, came the announcement of Code Triage External. That resulted in a sour, yet somewhat-amused, whistle from Abe's mouth, resulting in him saying, "Guess break time is over."</s>	<\|message\|>Mariah Paris Fowler Daydreamin' its real when we wake up Gave my all but can't say I gave up They wonder what these dreams are made of --- --- TRYING TO DEFINE YOURSELF IS LIKE TRYING TO BITE YOUR OWN TEETH, impossible and preposterous. Sure, you can learn to understand what makes you tick and what your thought processes are, but how can you truly define who you are when you, as a person, are constantly changing? Every day we evolve; we're constantly gaining new life experiences that ultimately shape and remold us into our current selves. Therefore, it'd be foolish to characterize or define ourselves by some temporary quality, right? Mariah Fowler didn't try to define herself. Sure, she was the bad ass Orthopedic surgeon from Compton who was completely in love with her life and confident in who she was and where she was at, but is that who she would still be in the next couple of years or months, even? What if she woke up one morning and realized that, after spending a whopping twelve years preparing for her dream occupation, she no longer had that fiery desire to be a surgeon? What if she realized that who she really wanted to be was a professional skydiver or timid housewife? It was highly unlikely that either of these things would happen, but Mariah couldn't help but wonder as she stood in her bathroom mirror and carefully brushed her teeth. It was almost nine o'clock in the morning, just a few minutes before she would have to throw on her nearest pair of shoes, grab a quick cup of coffee, and drive down to the hospital. The young woman had went home the night before at eleven, right after she'd spent a couple of hours performing a femoral neck fracture repair. Thankfully, she wasn't on call for another day, so she'd enjoyed a good night's sleep. At least, she did after she'd finished fooling around with one of her interns. "I'll catch you at the hospital, babe," the younger male suddenly appeared behind Mariah, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She simply chuckled, spitting into the sink and rinsing her mouth before shrugging him off and heading out into the living room. "I'm not your babe, Hicks," Mariah said, quickly slipping her feet into the pair of sneakers that sat next to her couch. The younger male sheepishly shrugged his shoulders and followed Mariah to the front door. "Y'know, I just thought since we've been spending so much time together-" "Let me stop you right there," Mariah said, holding up a finger as she grabbed her car keys from the hook next to the door. "You're a good lay, Sidney. That's all that this is, and all it ever will be. Casual sex." Before the younger man could protest, Mariah pulled the front door open and stepped aside, motioning for him to exit first. As soon as he stepped foot onto the concrete, however, she slammed the door shut, locking it after yelling something about forgetting to grab her coffee. Hicks waited on the front porch of Mariah Fowler's home before he finally got the memo and left. Meanwhile, Mariah sat at her kitchen table, sipping from a coffee mug and absently scrolling through her social media accounts. Soon after, Mariah found herself speeding down the highway in her bright red Audi, bobbing and weaving through traffic to make up for lost time. By the time she'd gotten into the hospital and into her scrubs, word had begun circulating around that a multi-car pileup had just occurred on Highway 5. Upon hearing the news, Mariah simply shook her head and sucked in a deep breath. She could only imagine just how many lives had been lost in the accident. Sighing, the young woman then closed her locker and headed down towards the emergency room, ready to assist when the wave of the dying would finally arrive.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Finding themselves assailed by the press, Vivian soon found that she didn't have to do the talking as everyone else leapt in to deal with the reporters in their own unique way. Of course it was all definitely ended as a wall of earth rose up, forcing them to leap back or they'd get tossed like so many bowling pins. "Well I guess that settles that," Vivian remarked as she turned away from the hubbub. Her work here was basically done. Or at least she tried anyway, giving a tug only to find that Alice had a firm grip on her arm that didn't look like it was going to be released any time soon. Still, Alice had offered to buy dinner. Vivian wasn't the type to turn away a free meal and knowing Alice it would at least be a good restaurant. So she supposed that it was worth the hassle that shopping for furniture would end up being. "Alright," she conceded with a sigh. "Just don't blame me if it ends up all being tacky." She wasn't exactly a decoration guru.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart The reporters jumped back from the earth spikes, and after a quick look at eachother came to a singular conclusion: their lives were worth more than the news story. They refocused on the more amicable girls, no one noticing once Isana returned. Those who remained and were willing to talk gave similar stories, the honest one: they had no idea what was going on. Like Vivian, Emily remained quiet. Some of the reporters wanted to stay and ask questions, but for the most part they backed off to a distance as they recorded one of the news girls speaking: "Have they lost their edge? Hiding information? Either way, you heard them, folks. Our heroes, now older, have returned to save the city once again! Be sure to send any reports to the website W W W dot LIGHTYOURHEARTJUSTICEHEARTS dot Info as it is still up!" They seemed a little skeptical, but at least they seemed to be willing to forgive their want of privacy now - they had won a lot of good will with the city in general when they were younger. Looking over at Goldenrod, Emily frowned at the passed out body of her little sister. "Um, maybe it'll heal C-errr ... Justice Goldenrod? Magical Girl powers and stuff?" That probably wasn't a good answer, and if they went to a hospital it was very possible that their identities would be revealed. "... hey, JUSTICE HEARTS, we have an injured member ... ummm White Heart-" These names were ridiculous. "Is the lair still open for us? Could we talk together in there? Privately?" She hadn't heard Alice already making date plans, but with her own magical abilities she could make the entire group arrive quickly. "And Justice Yellow, please don't destroy their equipment unless they try to follow us." They didn't want the lairs location revealed, that much was certain. Isana was already transformed, but she'd find her own way. If Alice gave the confirmation, she'd wave her wand and she'd drag Goldenrod back to their prior home base.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Sofa Shopping --- Well, the reporters backed off, though by force more than her words. "Huh? Lair? I mean, yes. It should still be there. My parents have been too busy so they forgot about it. Thinking about it gave me episodes of depression so I stayed away... It'll be a little dusty." That was the part she sounded embarrassed about. Se figured Emily would take them all there, so she dragged Vivian over to the serial escapist, Isana, and took one arm and wrapped it around hers. "Is this what they mean by a flower in each hand?" She questioned before giggling. She couldn't let Isana run away like she knew the woman would. Alice's overarching goal was for everyone to be friends again... Perhaps... Perhaps this recent string of attacks was a sign? .... Maybe she should look into this a bit more. Discreetly. Not like she lacked the time to do so. "Anyhow, Emily, if we're going now would be the time since I have these two ruffians locked down!"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Ah, it was cold. The Chinese food had been sitting too long. Isana frowned, pausing in her indulgence...before continuing to eat the Chinese. Oh well, it was still great. What to do now though? Alice wanted to go couch shopping and she was bringing Vivian along. Out of all of the other justice hearts that were still active, Vivian was at least tolerable on some level. They may have had a mildly shaky history with the girl, but Isana always at least, respected her attitude. Hmm...maybe she could convince Alice to buy them one of those really expensive and extremely comfortable ones if she went. Seemed like a good idea so she'd stick around and talk with Alice once they were done. And no, Courtney no one wanted to...well, okay, maybe she took a quick peek at the other justice hearts butt, but she quickly stopped looking as soon as Emily mentioned that place. Oh no. Before she could make a speedy escape, Alice was already next to her and had her firmly locked in place. "I'm not a ruffian," Isana flatly stated as she held the half-eaten container of chinese food in her hand. "And I have no desire to go to urgh, that place with those people."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Justice Goldenheart To the bottom of these situations! --- Truly for that brief moment Isana was a trooper, because who would really want to look at a bloodied buttocks that had a chunks of epidermis missing. Well of course there was the not injured right side of the buttocks, but even that had a bit of the transfer from it. As for how this might prove more of an issue now than it did before, who knew. It might've been the fact the impact was so strong and in the heat of battle it did not register. Perhaps it was as Emily suggested and magical girl powers were at play. But the bottom line was simple; generally being struck by a poisonous barb from a shadow monster was a negative effect. At no point did Courtney ever consider such a thing to be a good thing. Well there was one good thing at least, it appeared they could still crash at a guest house. Maybe Courtney could finally find one of those old trinkets she lost there that one time! Or maybe, the real pressing deal of course, she could figure out how much she needed to worry. Justice Goldenrod didn't have anything to add, at least in terms of speech, while she was grabbed by Emily.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart Some of their members were being held (partially against their will), some of them were passed out, and some had wounds of various seriousness - but as Star Heart waved her wand and the celestial path lit up on the ground it only was a short trip for them to arrive at the lair. As Emily opened the door it was difficult for her not to visibly cringe at their previously terrible taste. At least the place seemed to heal them, and the members of the team with wounds would find themselves recovering from the damage they had taken - their magical girl powers still seemed to feed off the adorableness surrounding them, buffing their ability to regenerate. Emily dropped a drunken Elise onto a couch with enough plushies on it to give every child in China one before turning to the still awake members of the group. "Alright ..." The fast food worker dispelled her costume and lowered herself down onto one of the couches, taking a deep breath ... if they'd be using this place again, they'd need some serious renovations. "... hello. Again." The adult spoke awkwardly, unsure how to say hello to many of the members after having avoided many of them for two decades. "I assume no one has any clue whats going on? No one summoned the monsters or anything, right?" The mother hoped this conversation would be done and over with quickly so she could get back home and take care of her daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Alice's comment caused Vivian to roll her eyes as she was pulled along, Isana soon joining them in the iron grip of the rich magical girl as they were forcibly taken back to their lair. Not that she overly minded the place, she just didn't see a reason to go back there. She might also just have dim memories of what it was like, so her perspective was clouded. "Isn't this how we broke up the last time?" Vivian asked sarcastically in response to Alice's comment. She was pretty sure that that was indeed the case, or at the very least it was typical enough for Alice that she could confuse herself otherwise. As they headed towards the base, she shrugged. "I dunno, these attacks were too precise to be coincidental. It's worth talking about at least." It seemed like it might be someone attacking them, but who? There wasn't anyone around, or at the very least they would have heard of it by now Entering the base, Vivian went along wherever Alice dragged her, left without an option to do much else in this situation. "Which of us would even know how to do something like that?" Magical constructs were one thing, but actual monsters/ That was whole other matter. Besides, she was fairly confident that none of them hated the rest of the group quite that much</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright And lo, by the sweet nature of childish wonder, did Justice Goldenrod feel the ailments of the ass alleviate at an astounding rate! With a smirk on her face the magical girl did bend a bit and smack her own posterior. "Aaaaaah....", spoke out Justice Goldenrod as she reached towards her glasses. "...Good as new!" Flicking her glasses up and down Justice Goldenrod reversed the transformation and returned into her civilian attire. Unfortunately the pants still needed to be mended as they did in fact still have the hole from the monster incident from earlier. But that wasn't the important thing right now. Striding over towards the hot chocolate machine, Courtney casually leaned against it before glancing among all the members. "Only time I summon monsters is when I have to substitute for a colleague in Vice." Raising a finger she began to point around towards all in the base. "That in mind, it's totes obvious what we, like, need to do. Sting operations and stake outs. Carefully watch 'em while we set out one of us as bait to attract, then if we can catch any sorta smarty one alive we can interrogate." Courtney clapped as she smiled from ear to ear. "Who wants to be bait?!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Vivian grinned as the others began to agree with her, pleased by her own success in that regard. it was a lot better than just sitting around while someone played dumb and waiting for something to happen, and she had always been a bit more on the proactive side of things. Resisting the urge to facepalm at Courtney's antics, she instead addressed Isana's rebuttal. "hey could have assumed that we didn't keep in contact enough to know how to easily find each other, and it'd be stupid to use something that we could handle without breaking a sweat on our own." At least, if she was thinking as a villain anyway. The other suggestion was one that she couldn't disagree with even if she had wanted to. In fact, she was quite glad since it meant she got to get out of couch shopping with Alice. "Sounds good to me," she agreed with an aloof shrug. Of course, before she could address anything else the last member of their missing group showed up and made her presence known. Turning towards Ramona, Vivian couldn't help but scoff. "They probably figured you were too busy cosplaying as a Ren Fair to be worth bothering," she challenged in response. She didn't have a clue, though she did think it was kind of unfair. What made Ramona so special? After a moment she glanced back to the others. "I'll check out some of the Dollmasters old hideouts. I should be able to tell if anything has changed." She knew those places better than the rest of them after all.....</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Not Breaking Down... For now. --- "OWIE!" Alice complained as Isana pulled on her ear. "That's my cute ear!" She complained further. Whatever droopy mood she was in seemed over with that for now. [color=FAEBD7]"Fine, fine! I'm following Isana...." Isana obviously wanted to go, and she did come all the way here after all. From her current state, she noticed Ramona come in. "Hi Ramona! Don't fight with them or I'll cry." She said with a happy smile while having her ear dragged. She wasn't in control of her own body at this point was she? Isana had her by the ear after all! "Ahh! Wait, Isana. I'll call Keri up real quick and she can drive us home. She doesn't live all too far from here." She somehow made it out of Isana's grab and pulled out her smartphone. She went to contacts and clicked the one labeled "She-Devil", put the phone to her ear and waited a couple of seconds. "Hi Keri! Can you do me a favor?" A couple of seconds. "N-no... I don..." A couple of more seconds. "No, I just... Ride home..." A couple more. "No! I mean, I was going to faint..." You know by now? "I'm not on drugs!" ... "Just get to our old clubhouse or no tips next week!" With that she hung up. She sort of realized what she yelled and looked to everyone. "Ahahaha... It's kind of common in my field and uhh, my manager just wanted to make sure."</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s>
<\|description\|>The Roster The Name Justice Yellow claims to have come up with the name of Justice Hearts. (Shag came up with it in the interest check) The Hideout Alice's parents during their magical girl years allowed them to use one of their guest houses as their hideout. The Pet Judge Cinnamon is the group's pet, a bunny who has gotten tired of his job. Read Stern Algorithm's CS post to see it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s> <\|message\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion Ramona Saturday "Pyrrha" --- Any good feelings Ramona had about returning to the hangout spot of her sordid youth was burned away almost instantly at the mood that greeted her when she arrived. First Vivian being catty, then Isana and Alice leaving in a hurry (at least they didn't seem pissed off at her like everyone else), followed by... well. It looked like nothing had changed between Emily and Elise. Ramona glared at the ground sadly as Emily swept past her, throwing one last barb practically over her shoulder as she stormed out with Fiona in tow. Ramona sighed- there were myriad reasons why Justice Heart collapsed the way it did, but Ramona's ire always fell on Emily first and foremost. It was her stupid decision to get knocked up that knocked everyone else down the slippery slope to where they were now. She grit her teeth, then moved toward the last two she was left with. Without saying another word, she practically dashed over to Elise, wrapping her old friend in a tight hug. Aside from Isana, Ramona had always had the most kinship with Elise. "The Ken to your Ryu," she once referred to herself as, their friendly bickering over the "Strongest" title always having been good for a laugh. It would be nice to get back into the swing of that again. "Hey, Flower Girl," she said, giving one last squeeze before backing up. "Saw you on the news today. Didn't think I'd given you permission to use my title," she laughed with a crooked grin. She turned to Courtney afterward. "To answer the question that everyone's been askin', by the way? No. I don't know why I wasn't attacked. Maybe the dragon-girl thing scared 'em off?" She shook her head. "Anyways, as much fun as this is going to be, let's try and get it done ASAP, a'kay? I got swords to finish." At Courtney's suggestion of her taking a cab, Ramona shrugged. "I mean, I don't know if you guys remember, but I can move under my own power. If any of you can ride, you can take the bike. Though, don't tell Katja. Or wreck it. She'll kill me dead if she finds out someone else touched her baby..."</s>	<\|message\|>The Roster 9:00pm, Exploring the old Locations Woodcreek High - Courtney, Elise, Ramona When they wanted to go to the old schoolhouse, the party may have forgotten the place had been renovated and was actually still in use - kids weren't around this late at night, but some lights could be seen in the building where janitors were still working. This was actually the school where Emily's daughter, Mary, attended. There were a few locations they could go to - there was a small stadium for sports games and other school events, with seats added since the girls had been here. Nearby there was a small athletic facility, lights completely off. Inside were showers, lockers, and an area for storing various gym supplies and some weight machines. A tennis court was adjacent. The girls would likely remember fighting various sentient bits of sports equipment as they struggled to fight the dollmaster. The school building itself had two sections - one expanded onto more recently - with the old side having a large auditorium and a library. Previously the dollmaster had scared students in a plot to fill fear feeding monsters with powers in the auditorium, but the library had also been a place where she had possessed children with 'evil' knowledge. Standing outside of the fence to the school grounds, what would they do? Were they in civilian or magical girl clothes? Abandoned Theater - Alice and Isana The site of many plays and a hard battle with stage props, the Woodville Theatre had been abandoned as part of their adventures. After discovering the events that occurred on stage would have some (usually unfortunate) effect in the real world, the Justice Hearts had convinced the manager to give up on his family business and instead pursue his real dream of being a skydiving instructor. Currently the front was covered with wooden boards with old KEEP OUT tape wrapped around it. Though they hadn't seen it in many years, the girls would likely remember the general layout. Docks - Fiona and Emily With both of their cars decently damaged, Emily used her spell and they traveled across town magical girl style. It was a pit embarrassing - but in the end, the pair of them arrived at an old, abandoned dockyard. Previously the dollmaster had released a tentacled monster here - Star Heart winced slightly at the memory not that she thought about how she'd been caught up in it before and instead focused on their surroundings. Emily remembered that something had come out of a nearby sewer that was shut down for environmental reasons, but she figured a nearby warehouse would be the best place to explore first. Already in their magical girl costumes, she figured no one would question them as they actually looked busy. Bringing the other mom to the front door of the warehouse, Emily sighed. It was locked, of course. "Hey, Justice SolarFlare, mind blowing this thing open?" It wouldn't count as property damage if it was abandoned, right? Old Hideout - Vivian and Carrie Caves - the easiest place for anyone to hide. It didn't take long for Vivian and Carrie to arrive a small distance, and the pair of them would find the front front steel gates were open - perhaps the pair had forgotten, but the old hideout had become a tourist trap - and it was still open with a yawning security guard outside as it approached its closing hour - one disappointed couple was shooed away - they had likely come to check the area out given the events only a few hours earlier, but closing time was closing time. The pair would remember the general layout of the Dollmaster's lair. Beyond this gate was the trap room, with various traps having been 'partially deployed' with props and descriptions beneath them. There was also a gallery, showing the Justice Hearts in one of their final battles as depicted by a news crew - and group photo, taken the victorious day afterwards when they were all recovered. What would the two do?</s>
<\|description\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale "Money makes the world go 'round kiddo. You can have your love and friendship all you want, but that don't get you shit now does it?" Appearance: Standing at just over 5'7", Isana has an overall fairly slender frame. Sporting flawless pale skin and amber colored eyes, most would probably consider her fairly attractive. Typically, her white hair is kept long and not styled, though well kept and it's obvious she does at least, take care of her appearance somewhat. Oddly, she doesn't have to do much to maintain her appearance. She attributes this in no small part to her previous nature as a magical girl - obviously, she has to look fabulous whilst killing bad guys or it just isn't worth it. Cool girls don't look at explosions and all that. While at work or out and about, Isana comes off as fairly business like and professional. Sporting suit jackets and a plethora of other dressy clothes, one doesn't find her outside not looking at least somewhat fashionable in some manner, though if one were to look closely they'd realize her clothing are the 'cheap' kind of dressy. At home or when lounging about, she has a hard time even putting her shirt on. Often times she can just be found lazing about her room on a couch munching on chips and playing a video game. Magical Girl Costume: Honestly, maybe Isana got rather lucky with her outfit, though at the time it probably earned her a bit of negative attention since hers wasn't the usual frills and bows that the other magical girls possessed. A long black cape situated over her shoulders, and a rather professional looking uniform that could possibly remind someone of the military, or at least someone of rank. At her side, rests her large earthen blade, Vale Scar. Powers: To put simply, Isana's powers are completely earth based. In its simplest form, it allows her to manipulate rock itself to fight for her. She herself, doesn't particularly care too much about giving them fancy or embarrassing sorts of names, though she does have a few specialized more powerful moves in her arsenal that she uses on a regular basis. A few of her strongest abilities seem to incorporate being able to heat the earth, turning it into lava. Aside from this, she also has a few other perks thanks to her affinity for earth. It should be noted, that she has continued to develop a lot of her abilities since the good old days, and many of her abilities are a far cry from what they once were. Stoneskin, Earthen Heart, Strength of Atlas: To put bluntly, she is incredibly difficult to injure. It'd take a lot more force than normal for her to be injured in any capacity. When others relied on you to fight, then this was a necessity. As well, it allows her to really, go all day. It'd take her a long time to become tired when fighting and her physical strength isn't something to be trifled with despite her slender form. Marbled Perfection: A rather needless ability to always look her best. Hair's never out of place, clothes always clean. That sort of thing. What's it's use? Well, aside from looking fabulous all the time, not much. Combat Abilities: Rampart Spike: Spikes of Earth shoot from the ground, creating a field hazard and otherwise impaling anything under them on them. Castle of Stone: 'Castle of stone' is at its core, a defensive ability. Effectively she can create massive walls of earth and stone to trap and prevent people from escaping or otherwise halt advances. Diamond Breaker: Back in the good 'ol days, this was her signature, and most powerful move. Draws up reserves of crystals buried deep beneath the earth and uses them to attack foes. The crystals are just clumps of concentrated magic and reflect all kinds of light and at one point, filled her comrades with a small sense of comfort and assured victory. Vale Sever: Her strongest ability, yet to have been seen by most of the others. Developed sometime after the original adventure. Splits the earth in two with a mighty swing of her blade, causing a massive earthquake and eruption of magma from deep within the earth. Quite devastating, and magma tends to burn. Source: The ruby-red earrings are the 'source' of her abilities. History with Justice Heart: With Isana, her introduction came at the hands of a magical girl by the name of Chloe. A rather irritable and somewhat less than friendly older girl who wasn't exactly the nicest nor did she get along with other magical girls, often keeping them at a cool distance. Isana though, relished the chance to get some of the action. With a not so great home life, letting loose some of that aggression felt nice, and was a good way to blow off some steam. Often times she found herself fighting on the front lines, doing her best to take as many baddies as she could at once, while the others either focused on a bigger threat or otherwise fled if things got bad. Eventually, she even found herself starting to well, value their company and friendship. History after Justice Heart: For many years after the original adventure, Isana kept in touch with many of her former teammates. She liked them, and valued their friendship above all. After all, they were friends right? Friends watched out for each other. Friends didn't let bad things happen to their other friends. It was made hard though, by her parents continued failing financial situation and the fact she kept getting into trouble at school. Fights, mostly. She broke a guys jaw one time. As well, many of her former teammates ended up going to different schools or simply after some time, grew apart. But that was fine, that was life. Isana liked to think that when it came down to it, she ended it all on a good note with all of them. The only one who stuck around with her, was Chloe. Chloe hadn't been rather well liked by the others, but even so Isana considered her a friend. During highschool, they practically did everything together and were the epitome of 'besties'. Chloe even mellowed out a bit by then, and Isana's own personality seemed to start rubbing off on her a bit. Despite both of them being high school, neither of them could give up the one thing, they still loved to do - which is fight bad guys. Of course...just being the two of them, things were bound to go awry sooner or later. Chloe stumbled onto something big. Something bad. Or perhaps she had always been aware of it. She had been into some shady stuff as a kid - either way, Chloe disappeared and when Isana tried to get help from the others, they were all to busy or couldn't be bothered. Moved on with their life. When Chloe turned up murdered not long after, Isana's own reality seemed to shatter. She fell into depression, for a time, deciding that her so-called friends were nothing more than just fake people. She blamed them, and if her so called friends didn't want to help her, fine, she wouldn't help them. She buried herself in her studies, the final two years of her high school life having little to do with anyone else other than spending time shutting herself in her room with her computer, and studying. Eventually, she graduated high school with honors and found work as an IT specialist at a company, working a fairly mundane 9-5 job. Even so she objectively excelled at her job, and was considered to be one of their most valuable employees she couldn't help but to feel utter apathy towards everything, except her next paycheck. Today she moonlights as a bit of a vigilante on her off days, though not out of any sense of justice. She's bored, and the potential fight makes her feel like her old self. Plus, a good way to vent frustration. She's currently sharing an apartment with Alice...who's she still questioning whether that's a good idea or not. She hopes at least one day, to have enough money she doesn't have to work any more. Relationships: Parents: Doesn't see them much, considers talking to them a pain. One of the only few number of people in the world she gives money too, since they're still struggling somewhat. Alice: The only one on the old team Isana really keeps in contact with. Mostly for her money. Equal parts annoying and loved. When she's not busy stealing Isana's food and putting her in the red for the month, she's not so bad. They fact she's got money doesn't hurt either. Honestly speaking, that's the only reason Isana currently puts up with her. Elise McGillis: In one word, Annoying. Great source of stress relief by the way of beating her to a bloody pulp if they run into each other, but aside from that, absolutely irritating. Most of the time, she has better things to do than run around and be goaded into a fight. She has a job, one she rather likes, and for the most part this chick needs to slow her roll. Back in justice heart they had a friendly rivalry going, but now...well, Isana can appreciate her enthusiasm, and the fact she can actually give her a pretty entertaining fight...but honestly? She could do without her. If she just upped and vanished, she wouldn't care.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom With everything that was happening, Elise could only blink stupidly from her position on the ground. Running her head, she slowly got up and looked over to the fight. It looked like Courtney had caught a stinger to the ass, but she seemed to be handling it well enough. She'd managed to transform too, although the bug she was fighting probably wasn't going to make things easy for her. "Well, I guess it's time I got started too." She said, standing up shakily and grabbing her necklace. "As the darkness fades, I'll open up to face the dawn! Justice Bloooo-" And then she was cut off, as the electric monstrosity that she may have forgotten was also there threw her through the window of a nearby shop. For a moment, she simply lay there, slumped against the pile of glass and smashed furniture. To any onlookers, she may very well have looked dead. That is, until a single, glowing gold flower petal floated past her face. Suddenly, a second, a third, and a fourth joined the first, and it continued until a full stream of petals was floating around her. And then she grinned. "Promised Petal Blade." And as she spoke, the stream flowed to surround her sword, which she promptly slashed upwards. As she did so, an arc of petals flew from the blade, colliding with the black lightning monster and sending up a cloud of dust and debris. "You know, I'm pretty sure the old monsters at least gave us time to transform..." She said, cracking her neck as she reemerged from the smashed storefront. "Still though, considering you're fighting the strongest member of Justice Heart, I can't say I blame ya!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie knew she was outgunned. One on one, her versus the snake was likely to be in her favor, but she'd never been good at getting her attacks to penetrate any sort of armor, and if that shadowy monstrosity got its hands on her, she was dead. Fortunately, Emily gave her an out. Sliding onto Emily's ribbon of light, Carrie entered the car NASCAR-style. "Get us out of here!" she yelled. This serpent, the armored monster- she'd fought them before. Another piece of evidence that Dollmaster was back, and eager for revenge. The thought chilled her to the bone. Lily was still hammered, and it wasn't pretty. The other girl was barely functional. Carrie looked at her friend, knowing that they'd need her help to survive this. "Lily, listen to me. We're being attacked. You need to heal yourself, whip up a cure for drunkenness or something like that." She made a mental note to make Lily promise to lay off the booze, at least until the current crisis was over. Turning to Emily, Carrie asked, "Do we have any plans? Meet up with the other girls, try to get some numbers together? Anything's better than just running aimlessly."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "You might be the strongest but I am the fastest!" chirped up Justice Goldenrod hearing the boastful declaration of Justice Bloom. Goldenrod gasped a bit noticing how far the barbed spike had gone-through. Stumbling upwards, due to a myriad factors such as the bloodloss from removing that spike, the fact her costume had roller-blades and whatever was in that spike, she eventually emerged from behind the trash-can! Flailing her arms from side to side, "Eeeeewwooooa-" Justice Goldenrod squealed out as she found herself skating a bit off balance on the side walk. With a brief moment of thinking about why she wanted to have roller-skates, Justice Goldenrod found her traction. "Let me shoot from the heart~ YEAH!" declared Justice Goldenrod as she pulled out her twin guns and performed a quick pose. This wasn't cop business, this was magical girl business so she could afford to be more stylish and 'quippy' here! With that said she rollerbladed down the side-walk as she began firing blasts of yellow hearts from both guns at the dragon-fly monster.</s>	<\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Isana's and Alice's Apartment --- "Ha!" Isana laughed, Vale slamming into the couch hard enough to cut it cleanly in two. The large, earthen blade wasn't particularly sharp, but boy, did it pack a punch. Her victory was short lived, however. Whatever spirit had possessed the couch and rudely interrupted her dinner, flew right into the kitchen and started making a mess of the place. "Tsk-hey!" It had gotten into the refrigerator. A container of leftover spaghetti came flying at her, barely having time to avoid it and causing it to fly at Alice. "I was gonna eat that for breakfast!" Gah! How was she supposed to fight something she couldn't see!? It annoyed her to no end. These sorts of enemies were always the worst. Used to, she'd just attempt to blow everything to smithereens, but that wouldn't exactly be a good idea some thirty floors up indoors. As pots and pans continued to fly towards her, she expertly deflected them with Vale, sending them clanging and scattering off the blade and falling towards the ground. "Any bright ideas, Alice!?" She shouted. She hated being on the defensive like this, or relying on someone like Alice in this sort of situation, but she didn't have any ideas unless she wanted to level the entire apartment building in the process.</s>
<\|description\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale "Money makes the world go 'round kiddo. You can have your love and friendship all you want, but that don't get you shit now does it?" Appearance: Standing at just over 5'7", Isana has an overall fairly slender frame. Sporting flawless pale skin and amber colored eyes, most would probably consider her fairly attractive. Typically, her white hair is kept long and not styled, though well kept and it's obvious she does at least, take care of her appearance somewhat. Oddly, she doesn't have to do much to maintain her appearance. She attributes this in no small part to her previous nature as a magical girl - obviously, she has to look fabulous whilst killing bad guys or it just isn't worth it. Cool girls don't look at explosions and all that. While at work or out and about, Isana comes off as fairly business like and professional. Sporting suit jackets and a plethora of other dressy clothes, one doesn't find her outside not looking at least somewhat fashionable in some manner, though if one were to look closely they'd realize her clothing are the 'cheap' kind of dressy. At home or when lounging about, she has a hard time even putting her shirt on. Often times she can just be found lazing about her room on a couch munching on chips and playing a video game. Magical Girl Costume: Honestly, maybe Isana got rather lucky with her outfit, though at the time it probably earned her a bit of negative attention since hers wasn't the usual frills and bows that the other magical girls possessed. A long black cape situated over her shoulders, and a rather professional looking uniform that could possibly remind someone of the military, or at least someone of rank. At her side, rests her large earthen blade, Vale Scar. Powers: To put simply, Isana's powers are completely earth based. In its simplest form, it allows her to manipulate rock itself to fight for her. She herself, doesn't particularly care too much about giving them fancy or embarrassing sorts of names, though she does have a few specialized more powerful moves in her arsenal that she uses on a regular basis. A few of her strongest abilities seem to incorporate being able to heat the earth, turning it into lava. Aside from this, she also has a few other perks thanks to her affinity for earth. It should be noted, that she has continued to develop a lot of her abilities since the good old days, and many of her abilities are a far cry from what they once were. Stoneskin, Earthen Heart, Strength of Atlas: To put bluntly, she is incredibly difficult to injure. It'd take a lot more force than normal for her to be injured in any capacity. When others relied on you to fight, then this was a necessity. As well, it allows her to really, go all day. It'd take her a long time to become tired when fighting and her physical strength isn't something to be trifled with despite her slender form. Marbled Perfection: A rather needless ability to always look her best. Hair's never out of place, clothes always clean. That sort of thing. What's it's use? Well, aside from looking fabulous all the time, not much. Combat Abilities: Rampart Spike: Spikes of Earth shoot from the ground, creating a field hazard and otherwise impaling anything under them on them. Castle of Stone: 'Castle of stone' is at its core, a defensive ability. Effectively she can create massive walls of earth and stone to trap and prevent people from escaping or otherwise halt advances. Diamond Breaker: Back in the good 'ol days, this was her signature, and most powerful move. Draws up reserves of crystals buried deep beneath the earth and uses them to attack foes. The crystals are just clumps of concentrated magic and reflect all kinds of light and at one point, filled her comrades with a small sense of comfort and assured victory. Vale Sever: Her strongest ability, yet to have been seen by most of the others. Developed sometime after the original adventure. Splits the earth in two with a mighty swing of her blade, causing a massive earthquake and eruption of magma from deep within the earth. Quite devastating, and magma tends to burn. Source: The ruby-red earrings are the 'source' of her abilities. History with Justice Heart: With Isana, her introduction came at the hands of a magical girl by the name of Chloe. A rather irritable and somewhat less than friendly older girl who wasn't exactly the nicest nor did she get along with other magical girls, often keeping them at a cool distance. Isana though, relished the chance to get some of the action. With a not so great home life, letting loose some of that aggression felt nice, and was a good way to blow off some steam. Often times she found herself fighting on the front lines, doing her best to take as many baddies as she could at once, while the others either focused on a bigger threat or otherwise fled if things got bad. Eventually, she even found herself starting to well, value their company and friendship. History after Justice Heart: For many years after the original adventure, Isana kept in touch with many of her former teammates. She liked them, and valued their friendship above all. After all, they were friends right? Friends watched out for each other. Friends didn't let bad things happen to their other friends. It was made hard though, by her parents continued failing financial situation and the fact she kept getting into trouble at school. Fights, mostly. She broke a guys jaw one time. As well, many of her former teammates ended up going to different schools or simply after some time, grew apart. But that was fine, that was life. Isana liked to think that when it came down to it, she ended it all on a good note with all of them. The only one who stuck around with her, was Chloe. Chloe hadn't been rather well liked by the others, but even so Isana considered her a friend. During highschool, they practically did everything together and were the epitome of 'besties'. Chloe even mellowed out a bit by then, and Isana's own personality seemed to start rubbing off on her a bit. Despite both of them being high school, neither of them could give up the one thing, they still loved to do - which is fight bad guys. Of course...just being the two of them, things were bound to go awry sooner or later. Chloe stumbled onto something big. Something bad. Or perhaps she had always been aware of it. She had been into some shady stuff as a kid - either way, Chloe disappeared and when Isana tried to get help from the others, they were all to busy or couldn't be bothered. Moved on with their life. When Chloe turned up murdered not long after, Isana's own reality seemed to shatter. She fell into depression, for a time, deciding that her so-called friends were nothing more than just fake people. She blamed them, and if her so called friends didn't want to help her, fine, she wouldn't help them. She buried herself in her studies, the final two years of her high school life having little to do with anyone else other than spending time shutting herself in her room with her computer, and studying. Eventually, she graduated high school with honors and found work as an IT specialist at a company, working a fairly mundane 9-5 job. Even so she objectively excelled at her job, and was considered to be one of their most valuable employees she couldn't help but to feel utter apathy towards everything, except her next paycheck. Today she moonlights as a bit of a vigilante on her off days, though not out of any sense of justice. She's bored, and the potential fight makes her feel like her old self. Plus, a good way to vent frustration. She's currently sharing an apartment with Alice...who's she still questioning whether that's a good idea or not. She hopes at least one day, to have enough money she doesn't have to work any more. Relationships: Parents: Doesn't see them much, considers talking to them a pain. One of the only few number of people in the world she gives money too, since they're still struggling somewhat. Alice: The only one on the old team Isana really keeps in contact with. Mostly for her money. Equal parts annoying and loved. When she's not busy stealing Isana's food and putting her in the red for the month, she's not so bad. They fact she's got money doesn't hurt either. Honestly speaking, that's the only reason Isana currently puts up with her. Elise McGillis: In one word, Annoying. Great source of stress relief by the way of beating her to a bloody pulp if they run into each other, but aside from that, absolutely irritating. Most of the time, she has better things to do than run around and be goaded into a fight. She has a job, one she rather likes, and for the most part this chick needs to slow her roll. Back in justice heart they had a friendly rivalry going, but now...well, Isana can appreciate her enthusiasm, and the fact she can actually give her a pretty entertaining fight...but honestly? She could do without her. If she just upped and vanished, she wouldn't care.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s>	<\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- "Tsk," Isana's face scrunched into a scowl as Emily continued speaking, shooting a glare that could melt holes in metal towards Courtney. "For your information, I'm being practical, not broody." She retorted, leaning against a wall and as she flipped through some texts on her phone. "For all we know this was a one off thing. I don't have any interest in getting involved in something when I was just basically offered a promotion that could get me a lot of money." An excuse? Maybe just a small one. It was true her boss asked to speak with her on her next work day about something, and she highly doubted that it was for anything other than a job of some sort. "Unlike you lot, I've managed to be somewhat successful with my life and I don't have any intention of ruining that." She waved a hand dismissively as she put her phone back into her pocket, crossing her legs and folding her arms against her chest. Sure, on her off days she blew off steam by finding some 'bad guys' and giving them a lesson, but she didn't want to make a career out of this again. It wasn't much of a career to start with. Just something to blow off steam and escape from the troubles of home back in the day. She didn't want to get into a fight or argument here, but her patience was wearing thin.</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett It was so sudden that Vivian almost didn't see it coming, focusing on getting to the police bar as she was. As a result she was taken off guard when she rushed past the people she recognized as the fellow members of Justice Heart each taking on their own problems in their own particular way. She hit the brakes, quickly slowing to a stop as she turned to face the monster that had been chasing her for so long. Now they could handle this bit of business. She didn't have to say anything before Lily noticed her problem, sending an attack to ignite the thing on fire and hopefully kill it. At the very least it had a better chance of working than anything she had done so far, so she would have to be grateful for that. As much as she could be considering she'd barely heard from some of them for the past couple of years. The motorcycle parked, Vivian hopped off the bike before removing her helmet as well. "Alright, what did you guys do?" she challenged, figuring they were the cause for why she had just been attacked by a monster out of the blue. Who else would be culpable for something magical like that? She then noticed the conglomeration of furniture, held in place for the moment yet with no one else addressing it. "What, you guys couldn't handle a couch without me?" she asked with a hint of incredulity. Nonetheless she faced towards it, hefting her hammer and concentrating energy in it before launching another Dark Pulse at the thing. With it concentrated where it was, that would hopefully crush it down to nothing but splinters and debris, finishing it off for good. @shagranoz@AtomicNut@Rune_Alchemist@RabidAnubis</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed the water monster had been dealt with, and not a moment too soon. Other monsters of all shapes and sizes were attacking the girls, but at least they had the numerical advantage now. Carrie wiped her brow, feeling a little tired. Maybe she was out of practice, or perhaps years of reality had beaten the Friendship out of her, but she wasn't able to keep up the magic the way she had all those years ago. Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight; that just wasn't her style. The electrified magical girl looked around for her next target. The furniture monsters were made of wood, and therefore probably resistant to her attacks. The air monster seemed to be a better option, so she went for that just as Lily's attack hit hard. A blast of lightning slammed into the creature from the other side, hopefully speeding up its demise. "Could somebody get Goldenrod some duct tape for her mouth? She could really use it."</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:35PM Short Distance from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord As Isana did nothing but observing, the eternal twelve-year-old blasted the monster constructed of air with a magical attack along with her lightning wielding former companion - the attacks seemed to disrupt its internal bonds as they were enhanced by the bards singing, bringing the monsters tirade to an end as Lily cursed loudly in her victory and Carrie complained loudly. Also enhanced by the singing, Vivian forced the furniture demon's 'soul' to a single location, crushing it beneath her mighty hammer and ending it justly. Sure, her teammates furniture would evaporate in the attack, but wasn't that worth a victory? Now, only the electricity monster attacking their companion remained. And some news crews that were currently flying up in the air, viewing the after math. As for Emily, she sighed. "Come on guys! Courntey needs us!" Star Heart formed a trail to the enemies beacon, jumping on it to increase her speed as she fire a bolt to assist Justice Goldenrod from a far ranger - it missed, but at least she tried? She hoped neither Justice Goldenrod or Justice Blood died. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA Algorithm@Hero - Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar The surviving monsters were now in full retreat, aside from the one attacking Carrie. - Outside of Police Bar (GM NOTE: RabidPorcupine has done nothing, so I'm gonna write an assumption here.) Despite her desperate cheers for her teammate (that would probably make anyone cringe, including the vast majority of the people watching the news at the moment) Justice Bloom flew into the tavern from a mighty punch dealt by the lightning monster. Now it turned to look at Courtney, the remaining person acting as a 'threat' - it tilted its head once more, but seemed even more perplexed. What would Goldenrod do? Aside from likely ignoring Courtney's complaints, of course. How could anyone reduce her cheer?</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Ow fuckin Christ in a handbasket!" Elise shouted, having been thrown through the wall of yet another building by the electricity monster. However, on a brighter note, she soon realised that said building was the police bar, and she was currently slumped against the counter. Looking to her left, she saw a full bottle of whiskey, which she grabbed without a moments hesitation. And then, she nodded at the petrified man behind the counter and marched out through the hole she'd made in the wall, downing the entire bottle as she did. "Alright!" She slurred. "I'll admit it, these are beginning to hurt! I just wanna make it clear though, I am very drunk, and I may have been underestimating you because of that, I may have been underestimating you. I was just playing with you! PLAYING!" And then she smirked, casually chucking the bottle to the side. "Let me correct that now. Petal Prison!" As she shouted, a large whip of petals erupted from her sword, lashing through the Lightning creature again and again. With every lash, part of the creature split off, and although it quickly reconnected with the rest of the body, the part where the petals passed through remained gone. And with that knowledge in mind, the answer was simple. Death of a thousand cuts. Over and over again, the petals whipped through, getting faster and faster until the air was filled with a yellow blur. And just as she'd hoped, the creature was rapidly shrinking, as she continued to shred away at it. "STRONGEST! MEMBER!" She shouted, the excitement as clear in her voice as the alcoholism. "Hey Courtney, it's working right?! I'm awesome, right?!"</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Justice Goldenrod spun around on her heels as she turned to face Justice Bloom. Courtney raised up her hands and began quickly clapping. "Wooo~!" she declared and continued to clap. After a few moments of clapping Justice Goldenrod paused as she glanced up in the horizon. "Oh! Oh! Look! Look!" Justice Goldenrod declared as she the 'shooting star' bolt in the distance, whizzing past some news crew helicopters. And of course she heard the song of the one they called White Heart, though Courtney herself couldn't make out a few of the lyrics. "It's either a shooting star OR they are coming to the metaphorical light of your strength!" declared Justice Goldenrod to in an attempt to make Justice Bloom feel awesome. "OH! You know what we totally need to do, well assuming it isn't just a shooting star!? CHOREOGRAPHED POSES!" bubbly shouted out Courtney as she once again leaped into the air, this time kicking her feet behind her. "After you can't properly judge a warrior unless you've seen them posing. After that maybe we can work on coordinated cheers; cause like we need both voice and posing..."</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Alice's comment caused Vivian to roll her eyes as she was pulled along, Isana soon joining them in the iron grip of the rich magical girl as they were forcibly taken back to their lair. Not that she overly minded the place, she just didn't see a reason to go back there. She might also just have dim memories of what it was like, so her perspective was clouded. "Isn't this how we broke up the last time?" Vivian asked sarcastically in response to Alice's comment. She was pretty sure that that was indeed the case, or at the very least it was typical enough for Alice that she could confuse herself otherwise. As they headed towards the base, she shrugged. "I dunno, these attacks were too precise to be coincidental. It's worth talking about at least." It seemed like it might be someone attacking them, but who? There wasn't anyone around, or at the very least they would have heard of it by now Entering the base, Vivian went along wherever Alice dragged her, left without an option to do much else in this situation. "Which of us would even know how to do something like that?" Magical constructs were one thing, but actual monsters/ That was whole other matter. Besides, she was fairly confident that none of them hated the rest of the group quite that much</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright And lo, by the sweet nature of childish wonder, did Justice Goldenrod feel the ailments of the ass alleviate at an astounding rate! With a smirk on her face the magical girl did bend a bit and smack her own posterior. "Aaaaaah....", spoke out Justice Goldenrod as she reached towards her glasses. "...Good as new!" Flicking her glasses up and down Justice Goldenrod reversed the transformation and returned into her civilian attire. Unfortunately the pants still needed to be mended as they did in fact still have the hole from the monster incident from earlier. But that wasn't the important thing right now. Striding over towards the hot chocolate machine, Courtney casually leaned against it before glancing among all the members. "Only time I summon monsters is when I have to substitute for a colleague in Vice." Raising a finger she began to point around towards all in the base. "That in mind, it's totes obvious what we, like, need to do. Sting operations and stake outs. Carefully watch 'em while we set out one of us as bait to attract, then if we can catch any sorta smarty one alive we can interrogate." Courtney clapped as she smiled from ear to ear. "Who wants to be bait?!"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s>
<\|description\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Magical Girl Costume: The oh-so-adorable, well maybe not so much now, attire of Justice Goldenrod is compromised of a slightly poofy skirt that is in a goldenrod camo, that holds with two bright red holsters that contain two pink guns with the ends shaped with yellow hearts. Alongside this is a yellow mid-riff shirt emblazoned with a pink smiling face that has no sleeves, a pair of yellow rollerskates with bright red wheels upon her feet and a single pink stocking upon her right leg. Her hair also becomes a colossal set of gold locks that are formed into a heart held together by a giant pink heart bow. And of course she always has her trademark goggles on her; safety first! Powerset Synopsis: Justice Goldenrod didn't earn the nickname 'Grinning Gunner' for nothing silly! She got that nickname because of her powerset, she shoots things, shoots them quickly and is able to speed around quickly. She is rather frail when it comes to combat in melee and if cornered goes down pretty easily. Powers: Heart-throbbing Dash-dash! - This ability revolves around Justice Goldenrod's ability to engage in a burst of speed by harnessing the power of her heart to move at breakneck speeds via skating. During this dash she can even skate up vertical surfaces. Any time she uses this dash she has a trail of yellow hearts following after her, this cannot be turned off. Shot from the Heart - This ability is a simple and standard attack; in essence she aims one of her pistols and fires out a yellow lazer heart to non-lethally harm foes. Etched in Your Heart - By taking a moment to aim, and in turn get another 'ammo set' in, Justice Goldenrod can fire a rather curious shot at an opponent. When this yellow polka-dotted lazer heart hits its target it 'marks them' by placing an oversized heart over their head or facsimile of which allows for easy tracking! A Heavy Heart - Another of the different ammo set, Justice Goldenrod fires this yellow striped heart at a foe in order to slow down a foe! They both feel metaphorically weighted down by any sins they may have on their head, and oh the stripes from the heart which entangles them in chains. Heroic Finishing Move LOVEY-DOVEY MAXIMUM UNLOAD - This ability is the trademark signature finisher of Justice Goldenrod; in essence she takes out both of her pistols and dashes back and forth firing at such a breakneck speed that the end result is a large cone in horizontal or vertical direction shooting out all the yellow laser hearts to wipe out villainous creatures and cleanse them from the world. Source: Slightly transparent, but still distinctive, yellow goggles shaped in a heart. History with Justice Heart: Courtney Cartwright was always a pretty cheerful individual even before coming into the ranks of Justice Heart. Naturally that bubbly spirit attracted attention from others in the organization to recruit her. While she was sociable and generally friendly, Courtney Cartwright was like really pigheaded, rushing into combat to show off the Power of Friendship! This in turn led to many, many, many beat-downs from various monsters and relying on allies to pick her back up and help her back up. In the end she learned with her new friends to slow down and try not to rush into things. History after Justice Heart: And so the season of Justice Hearts ended with the defeat of Dollmaster and her lieutenants! Every member seemed to learn something from their journey, and everything would be happy. In comes Justice Hearts Gaiden! Skipping over the heart-breaks from boyfriends, even a secret girlfriend(!), and the catty backstabbing fights to assure dominance in her particular varsity cheerleading team, alongside other teen drama that occured in Courtney's schooling years both secondary and higher education we head to the moment of truth in Courtney Cartwright's life. That moment of course was entering the police force. She had many struggles going through the academy, from the physically grueling aspects to some mistreatment by her peers that were in her class, but she conquered through and became a police officer. Of course she was a beat cop who worked the graveyard shift, but hey at least that would probably be a stepping stone to a better position. That's what she thought anyway, but life has a strange way of working out. And so came that fateful day when Courtney and her partner Nicole were sent out on a routine domestic dispute call, when suddenly the situation became more violent as the sounds of a struggle were heard in the distance! The two coppers, the thin blue line protecting the virtue of society, rolled out in an attempt to find the suspect and apprehend them! That was a rather poor decision on their part as it ended up with Nicole Robinson dying and Courtney being sent to the hospital. Courtney began the painful process of rehab, knowing that she was bound to have more medical bills to pay and that with this incident she was not likely to be taken off the beat any time soon. But eventually she recovered, albeit with a nasty habit of some pill-popping, and was reassigned to a new partner. AND SO HERE BEGINS OUR TALE OF JUSTICE GOLDENROD IN JUSTICE HEARTS~ Relationships: Nicole Robinson - Good ol' 'Nikki', she was Courtney's first partner in the police force. Of course the keyword there just so happens to be was, as Nicole died in the middle of a botched attempt to arrest an unknown perp who was in the middle of a manslaughter. Nicole was killed in the crossfire while Courtney was hospitalized for a few months. Jessica Steele - Jessica or 'Jessie' is Courtney's current partner in the force. She has a rather frosty relationship with Courtney due to the fact that at an off-duty Christmas Party, Courtney tried to come onto her. However she hasn't asked for a reassignment for a partner due to a bit of sympathy for that injured officer. Lily Galbrett: Co-worker of the past and present! Courtney is one of the few cops who treats that 'labmonkey' alright but still will join in with other officers making jokes about her. Elise McGillis: Elise is like totally her BFF! After all they shared a past as Magical Girls, and they even shared the same High School! Courtney got into all sorts of shenanigans with Elise and even had a good friendship with her brother Conor and a few of his pals. Elise even helped her out during her hour of need! Courtney has Elise's number on speed-dial for a reason.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie teleported into the old lair, and immediately regretted her decision. Any interior decorator worth the name would have whipped up a bleach and cyanide cocktail at the sight. "Ugh. We really need to redo this place. Seriously, I need to keep my eyes closed or I'm gonna go blind." "If we don't know where the monsters are coming from, then we need to cover ground quickly. Our bait needs to be someone whose abilities make them mobile, but able to fight as well." A disturbing thought came to the blonde as she realized what she said. "Oh, fuck. I just volunteered myself, didn't I?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- Isana was one of the ones being held against her will. Alice practically dragged her up to their 'lair' and she wasn't going to enjoy a second of it. Aside from the terrible decor, she had to be here with those people. Alice was alright, she could tolerate her...but everyone else? Here? No way in hell was she going to be spending any longer time than she needed to here. They were already talking about being all friendly and doing things, just like old times without so much of an inkling of actual respect. God, she hated these people, and she was going to make that quite blatantly obvious. "...well don't involve me. I could care less what happened to you fucks." Isana rather bluntly stated, wrenching her arm free from Alice's grip. Normally she wouldn't mind being the bait for something like this, at least in the past...but now, she just wanted to go home and get some sleep. "Tomorrow is my only off day and I don't fancy spending it 'monster hunting' or being bait for you guys." She reached into the pocket of her suit, pulling out her cellphone, quickly looking through her work schedule that she had saved. There was still that meeting her boss wanted to talk to her about the day after too...hmph. She was planning on taking it easy so she didn't get injured or caught up in something so she didn't miss it, and she didn't plan to acquiesce to any demands made by these guys.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Note: Was instructed to add something by Pyro to my post. He is at work. 'Star' Heart Alice smiled at the group maniacally as she looked around, making her own declaration. "Bwahahaha! It was me all along! Well. Not really." The mother couldn't help but let out a small laugh at the shenanigans as the group arranged plans and one of their members signled themselves out as bait, but as Isana criticized the group Emily cringed slightly. Earlier in her life she probably would have backed off, but she was an adult now. "Look, Isana. We know you hate us. There's a LOT of old bones here that have been dug out." Emily took a couple of steps closer. "And we know you are busy. Y'know what? I am to. I have a daughter to get home to. I'm sure the others have adult things to do as well." Perhaps much to the annoyance of the woman she was talking to, she accidentally adopted the same tone she spoke when lecturing her daughter. "But these events affect you as well, and possibly the entire city. So put on your fucking big girl panties and give us a hand, Vale." With a wave of her hand and feeling that her point had been made, Emily turned her head towards Carrie. "And do you have an idea of where the best location for that would be? Perhaps a time that works for our schedules? That'd be late night for most of us, yes?" It was rather apparent that Emily didn't want to be here either, but she recognized she couldn't just ignore an assassination attempt.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Clapping with both of her hands at a very frequent paced, Courtney smiled at Carrie. "Wooo! A volunteer, you'd be surprised at how many times people won't volunteer for something that's like really dangerous or probably really dangerous." She tapped against her temple as she continued on with a bit more dialogue. "So I suppose I'll do some spotter work for that then. I'd call dibs for interrogation, buuuut I get to do that enough as is, so I don't mind sharing it!" Shortly after that Courtney focused her attention on Emily and Isana. Balling her hand into a fist and then resting her cheek upon it she waited until Emily had finished speaking. "I'm pretty much always on call, but I generally I don't have to do late nights anymore. Uhh, wasn't there a few places we always got attacked? There were more times than I can count that incidents happened at that elementary, or was it middle school playground..." Courtney Cartwright shrugged as she zipped open her purse and began pursuing through it. Seemingly not finding what she wanted she zipped it back up and focused her attention at the group. "Buut iunno, though all things considered what happened there wasn't neeearly as bad as what happened at college. ...Amy that little..." grumbled out Courtney before she shook her head. Pausing for a moment and with a few blinks a new thought occurred in Courtney's mind. Snapping her fingers she turned her attention between Isana and Emily, "Oh by the by! For the quip I woulda used..." Courtney began as she turned to face Isana exclusively, "...It's time to drop that brooding training bra and upgrade to a real one." "No? Not as good as it sounded in my head?"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger NOPE --- "Tsk," Isana's face scrunched into a scowl as Emily continued speaking, shooting a glare that could melt holes in metal towards Courtney. "For your information, I'm being practical, not broody." She retorted, leaning against a wall and as she flipped through some texts on her phone. "For all we know this was a one off thing. I don't have any interest in getting involved in something when I was just basically offered a promotion that could get me a lot of money." An excuse? Maybe just a small one. It was true her boss asked to speak with her on her next work day about something, and she highly doubted that it was for anything other than a job of some sort. "Unlike you lot, I've managed to be somewhat successful with my life and I don't have any intention of ruining that." She waved a hand dismissively as she put her phone back into her pocket, crossing her legs and folding her arms against her chest. Sure, on her off days she blew off steam by finding some 'bad guys' and giving them a lesson, but she didn't want to make a career out of this again. It wasn't much of a career to start with. Just something to blow off steam and escape from the troubles of home back in the day. She didn't want to get into a fight or argument here, but her patience was wearing thin.</s>	<\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Awww, someone could use a hug." Courtney said with a smarmy grin as she placed both of her index fingers against the edge of her smile. Cartwright placed her hand on her hip and continued to speak. "Nah, practicality is getting this done and over with, which means tracking whatever it is and hunting it down as soon as possible. Cause, narrative laws -while not as binding as law-laws, are still a thing. And narratively speaking this is just the prologue bit, the events that spark up an even greater and more dangerous chain of events." Sauntering towards Isana, Courtney quickly reached over to place a hand on Isana's shoulder. "Dunno if you understood the merit of this; how about I offer you another proposal?" Staring Seiger square in the eyes Courtney continued on, "If you quit your bitching and do your part for this one thing of trapping and catching the bastard, at the very least staying the entire time even if it is fruitless, I will owe you one." "One favor, whatever you may request and that is within my limits of course. Y'might forget dolly, but I am a member of the Force, that "Thin Blue Line" which separates the animals out there and those just trying to live their life."</s>
<\|description\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Appearance: Magical Girl Costume: (It's probably similar to how she use to look as well.) Powers: A basic explanation of her abilities would be the Manipulation of Sound, though that would be a bit misleading. In more words, Alice's abilities are that her words hold power in them, strengthening her allies and weakening enemies. She can also direct her words to making music note-like projectiles that exploded into sonic booms. If she felt like it, she could make them instead be words of power for her friends. She is great at supporting her friends in the back and could fight somewhat when she needed. Her outfit even included a microphone that projected her voice. She also seemed to have slight mesmerizing abilities, enthralling others with her song. Source: Alice originally got her powers through her love of singing. In time though, it turned into a love for her own voice. History with Justice Heart: Alice liked to think she was the pushing force behind the origins of Justice Heart, sinking much of her free time (which she had almost nothing but) into the endeavor and even convincing her rich parents to afford one of the guest houses to be their meeting place with all the biggest TV, games, and other miscellaneous things money could buy. She insisted they all take code-names of sorts so that the bad guys wouldn't know their real names and insisted she'd be White Heart. (Though not everyone seemed keen on her color coded heart system.) History after Justice Heart: Sadly not all things last, and neither did the Justice Heart. Alice tried as she could, but was unable to keep the group together for multiple reasons. She found herself going through a minor depression and only two things cheered her up. The first is that she loved the sound of her own voice. At first, that was just singing to herself for a long time. Soon, it developed into lust. Not for males as it seemed to work for others of her group, but for females instead. Perhaps the loss of her female friends for the most part manifest as such. Perhaps she is just a rich girl that does what she wants. Either way, Alice made her way out of her depression and worked towards a career that utilized her favorite tool, her voice. At first, she tried singing but found something much more entertaining... Voice acting! She enjoyed animated things and video games so what better way was there to utilize the greatest tool given to her... It didn't hurt that her power might have a bit of sway over people's affections for her, but that didn't need mentioning. She may or may not use her position to sleep with women that were attracted or admiring of her. She moved into an apartment (a rather large one) that her family owned and invited one of the people that she had somehow more easily stayed in contact to move in with her, Isana Sieger. For now, she lives her "normal" life and tries to stay in contact with her old friends if she can. Some are of course, more successful than others. Relationships: Parents: Alice is on decent terms with her parents now. They don't fully agree with her life choices on her chosen career, but there was little they could do as they never planned on making her take over the business. Justice Hearts (In General): She was sad when everyone disbanded eventually. She kept trying to do get togethers, but everyone had their own lives and jobs so she really could never get them together like she use to. She could never really bring herself to hate anyone though... It's possible that the breakdown in the group is what brought her to what she is now. Isana Sieger: Isana is an old member of the Justice Hearts that Alice is currently rooming with. She thoroughly enjoys messing with the money loving girl, and has enough money to be as lax as she wants... Including taking Isana's food and paying the consequences... Almost literally.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s>	<\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- "Woman," Isana began with a mildly annoyed expression as she pointed her fork at the other woman. "I just took my clothes off and I'm not putting them back on to go help a midget with her alcoholism and deal with a pedo." Isana sighed in response to Alice's insistence. "And love is something I have very little of towards anyone, especially lesbian nymphos who don't know the meaning of the word 'no'." Ugh, this woman was impossible. "...but as long as you don't hurt my budget, do what you want." Agh, today was tiring in general. Whenever the others were brought up it always made her stressed. Angry. Annoyed. Agitated. Ahh...She wanted to beat someone up. It seemed though, the world was about to grant her wish. Before she could question what was happening, it almost felt as though something slammed into her back, trying to crush her against the seat of the sofa. "Gah!?" Isana yelped in mild surprise, barely having enough time to react, bringing her legs up to the apparent mouth of the couch and her hands to what was once the back of the couch. Was...the couch trying to goddamn eat her?! Fine, this thing wanted to have the stuffing beat out of it, she'd beat the goddamn stuffing out of it. Thankfully, she was fairly confident in her physical ability and flexibility. First things first though... Isana's body was surrounded in a bright, white light as her usual clothing seemed to change, the fabric elongated and darkening in color as it extended to cover most of the rest of her body. The white light coalesced, finally settling and transforming into her old, magical girl outfit. A black and red uniform, along with a small cloak, boots with her constant companion, Vale appearing at her side as usual. "HHMPH!" Isana pushed back against the top of the couches mouth, the metal springs hardly even being an issue. She could have probably done this without transforming - this thing was hardly all that strong to begin with. Regardless, she pried open the things mouth, long enough for her to leap out of it and land readily next to Alice, not sparing a glance at her roommate. "I am goddamn sick and tired of things in this goddamn apartment always trying to eat me..." Isana rather grumpily huffed, drawing Vale from her side and pointing it at the monster. Even after all these years, she still had a penchant for trying to look overly cool. "Well, at least I can kill you." She lunged at the couch monster, slamming the weighty earthy sword horizontally into the top of it.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett "That will be $8.79, do you need a bag with that?" 'God let it be over' Vivian groaned inside of her own head, suffering through the boring existence that was working behind a cash register. Money changed hands and a product was bagged up, and the customer was sent on his way. Much to her relief as she waited for the next person to show up. There was no other pressing business that she had to tend to at the moment, so she could just stand there and wait for her shift to end. This wasn't exactly the best job one could have, but it met her needs well enough in terms of money and mostly importantly of all it provided her with plenty of free time. This wasn't how her parents had imagined she would end up, and to be honest she hadn't either. Though it was still a major drain on her nerves and personality. But at last her shift ended, and she was free to head out to her life away from customers and pretentious idiots and all that. "See you later," she called to her replacement as she swept out the door, heading into the evening light. The sweet taste of freedom embraced her, and she wasted no time in heading towards the parking lot to retrieve her motorcycle. There was a spring in her step now that she was off the clock, and Vivian was very much looking forward to enjoying her day. The vehicle soon came into sight, a burgundy color for a lean machine that she had spent way too much time, effort, and devotion to customizing in any way that she could with her own particular skills. It was her ticket to freedom after all, and she cherished her machine as much as anyone in the same position would. Not that her parents cared about her dedication and ideals but who cared about what they thought. She hadn't talked with them in a long while regardless, and she was just glad that San Francisco was big enough to keep it that way. She was just stowing away her things for the trip when the phone buzzed to indicate that she had a text. An eyebrow rose as she glanced at it, trying to figure out what was actually written before it clicked. At which point she went back to ignoring it in general. "Nice try, now pull another one," she muttered aloud in disbelief. Twenty years and then this? No fucking way. This was probably some drunk prank or something, that was the only explanation. At least, up until that telepathic presence made itself known in her head. "Geez, give a girl some warning," she protested as she hopped onto her bike. "They're tough girls, I'm sure they've got it under control." Roaring the engine, she headed off into the city and in the general direction of her predetermined destination. She wasn't in any sort of hurry to leap to their defense, not for something she was confident they could handle in their sleep.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- Alice was surprised when she saw the couch just about eating Isana. "Isana!" She exclaimed. She didn't have time to worry about the toughest of the Justice Hearts though, as a water monster thing appeared from the nearby bathroom. Well, this was fun. Before it could grab her by the leg, she quickly transformed. She could only assume it came out of the toilet... She didn't want such dirty water touching her! She grabbed her Magical Microphone and sang a high note, causing a music note to escape her tool. It floated gently into the middle of this car sized water monster and was ready to explode. "At least most things don't eat you for food. And can you try not to completely destroy the couch? I really like that one." Alice asked, not really seeing that it was pretty much destroyed anyhow. She kept her attention on the water monster thing now. "Anyhowser... Can you explode now?" Alice asked, snapping her finger and causing the typical sonic bomb of a music note to explode. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the creature reverberate to it's non-existence.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright Police Bar – Exterior --- "Okay!" Courtney eagerly said with a nod and a bounce in affirmation that they had to be stylish in heroics. Cartwright moved close to Elise and slung her arm around her shoulder. Leaning in Courtney began to speak. "So like, we gotta remember the most important things about dramatic entrances is that..." And as if on cue, to prevent this important piece of information from revelation, a power line snapped and landed in front of them! Shortly thereafter the monster was crafted from the wreckage. "OHMYGOSHSORRYNOTSORRY!" shrieked out Courtney as she valiantly pushed Elise to the side for a bit of help in avoiding the electrical monstrosity! But alas this gesture was probably not the best move for Courtney's self-preservation due to a horrid little, well smaller than that colossus of electricity, creature's set of attacks. Though it was safe to say it was a more heroic endeavor. While Cartwright was not hit by all of the spikes of the creature, one of those poisonous spikes did hit its mark and landed firmly in the left buttocks. Wincing in pain and landing down upon the sidewalk upon her belly she tried to crawl behind a nearby trashcan in order to take a bit of shelter. Hopefully she would be able to get a bit reprieve so she could, well for one thing remove that pain in her ass (the literal one) and figure out what sort of poisonous nasty she was inflicted with, and of course access her "magical accessory" so that she could properly transform. Oh and remembering that bit of advice she wanted to tell her friend about dramatic entrances would be a nice little cherry if the other things panned out!</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin If Carrie had been a normal woman, she would have been snake food. Fortunately for her, she wasn't. A quick dip of her shoulder and a twist of her hips sent the serpent sailing past, though she did take a slicing wound to her shoulder. What was worse, she went into her maneuver right as Emily threw the car into a turn, causing Carrie to lose her balance and plummet to the asphalt. Carrie was in a bad way. The armored monster was slowly advancing from behind, but she couldn't deal with it until she took out the snake, which had sped out of the storm drain for another assault. This time, though, it came at her face… which was the one place you didn't want to attack a magical girl with elemental breath powers.. "Thunder Breath!" Carrie exhaled a blast of lightning, catching the snake full-on and sending it reeling. It didn't finish the monster off, but it did give her a chance to get to her feet, staff at the ready. The snake circled her warily, not wanting a repeat of the previous rebuffed attack, and the armored monster was almost in range. She called out to Emily, "Yo! A little help would be nice here!"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Judge Cinnamon Eileen Fang AKA Justice Violet and Judge Cinnamon 7:32PM on the road "Hah!" Cinnamon cried out. "Wh-what's wrong?" Eileen asked, continuing to drive in a hunched over posture, like an old woman. Cinnamon was sweating bullets. How had his senses been so off? "This is bad!" he projected telepathically to all the girls, "Th-there's at least one monster for EACH of you! Abort rendezvous! Your top priority right now is survival! Fend off the one that is currently attacking you and report!" Cinnamon was shaking. Something of this magnitude had happened only once. Right before the final showdown with Dollmaster, Dollmaster had resurrected all past defeated monsters for one final blitz. Justice Heart was able to fend them off, but that was when they were at their peak. Cinnamon wasn't even sure if Justice Heart, old and rusty as they were now, could even handle one monster without taking a few casualties. "Wh-what?!" Eileen asked, unconsciously swerving from Cinnamon's announcement, eliciting a loud, annoyed honk from behind. The offended car changed lanes and zoomed past Eileen's car, but not before the driver rolled down his window, flipped her off, and shouted, "Crazy Asian woman drivers!" "Uuh...uuuuuuuugghhh..." Eileen slumped into her seat and slowed down some more, sobbing. "N-now's not the time for that!" Cinnamon said, "There are two heading right for us! Two? Cinnamon looked out the window and saw Justice SolarFlare's car driving beside them. That made sense then. "Quick! You two should get out and transform!" Cinnamon announced telepathically only to Eileen and Fiona, but as the creatures began to catch up, Fiona started accelerating. Taking her cue, Eileen followed suit. "Wh-what are you doing!?" Cinnamon demanded, frantically attempting to buckle up his tiny plush body into the passenger seat. He missed the days when he traveled everywhere either being carried around in the bosom of one of the girls, or riding in one of their totebags. He had never gotten the hang of riding in these flimsy, tin suicide machines known as 'cars'. "I-I'm j-just following..." Eileen squeezed out. As a timid driver, she had never driven this fast before. But due to her nature, she was usually perceptive when others gave her non-verbal cues, as her need to please others had become a sort of second nature. What happened next was a blur, and before she knew it, Eileen was leaving a fireball of a wreck behind her, while rolling down the window to let her comrade and mother of two inside the car. Cinnamon was unable to escape as Fiona sat right into him, crushing him against the back of the passenger seat. "G-good evening...oh what a day, what a l-lovely day..." Eileen replied, her brain and tongue confused from all the excitement. "Oh, uh...y-you're sitting on the Judge..." Eileen pointed out. Communicating telepathically, since all his mouth could achieve at this moment were muffled mumbles, Cinnamon said, "That collision won't have killed it, and it has a friend. You girls should probably get out and transform."</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:32 PM Fleeing "Geeeh." Lily weakly protested as her body still reacted to the ruckus going outside. She really wanted to be sleeping and taking a rest right now, believing her part had been done. But there was an awful racket outside. "Buzz off". She groaned, still half drunk. It was then when Carrie's voice awakened her once again. It was Carrie. She was on top of the roof, and more magical girls were arriving. But still, the fact that her old comrade was back despite her life pains, and was already kicking ass, all while her sister was looking there still trying to drive and look panicked, awoke something in the eternal 12-year old. "cksake." She half motioned as she pulled her pendant out of her purse, initiating a quick transformation complete with sparkly moves and the most tepid entonation of her transformation spell ever. "Star Transformation Water Lily whatever." She mumbled, as she pulled the door open and flung herself in the roof in the fray once more, her healing spells already burning the alcohol out of her body. She looked in top shape, in no in small degree the fact that she still fit the same childish dress of 20 years ago. "Time to kick ass!" She yelled as she aimed her wand and..." Moonlight BeeEEEEEGHRRMG!" Apparently that wasn't the type of projectile attack she wanted to do, but with the sudden jolts of the car, the healing rush, and the alcohol, the contents of Lily's stomach were flung at high speed towards the creatures. Oh well, it would serve as a distraction.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:32PM Fleeing by Vehicle from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz Carrie seemed to heavily injure the snake like monster with her Thunder Breath, the lightning electrocuting it to a critical state. The serpent was fast, but lightning was faster. It seemed this magical girl was ideal for fighting this creature. That wasn't the case for the armored creature running towards them however, which was barreling down on the now exposed lightning based magical girl. "L-Lily? What are you doing!?" The older sister watched her little sister climb out of the car window and get on the roof. Did she use to be this crazy? No, she was just drunk. The projectile vomit flew towards the armored creature. The attempt to have it be a proper distraction was effective though, with even the shadowy armored creature stopping at the display and blankly staring for a few seconds in complete confusion. Emily took her opportunity. "H-Holy on Lily!" The car spun around - thankfully not into oncoming traffic, as the cars behind the fight had stopped and were desperately try and run away. "Carrie! Get in, now! We can't fight it!" Carrie's powers were useful against a mobile target, she knew. But an armored target would likely be more resistant to her attacks. As she waited for Carrie to hop in, Emily sung the ridiculous tune that was needed to make her transform. "Celestial world come to me! Starheart Transformation!" The ridiculous costume she wore as a young teenager appeared on her body, wand in hand. In an attempt to help out her teamate, Emily drew a path to the car door her companion would be able to move more rapidly across. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA @Stern Algorithm - Driving together The car transference was nothing short of epic, as the car crashed into the plastic market both setting it alight as a pile of smelly, burning plastic and likely driving up Fiona's insurance rates considerably. The pair of them were focused on bigger things however, as Cinnamon continued his desperate job despite his current, crushed state. The plastic monster was slowed down, but the shadow monster was directly behind them in the car, hiding behind their seats from the angle of the sun. "Kzzzzkreeet!" The shadow monster lunged for the driver - it'd probably be good to transform before the attack hit her normal body. - Driving Fortunately, Vivian would find herself receiving an additional warning before a gust of wind flew by her, shaking the motorcyle and likely tilting it slightly and lifting one of the wheels off the ground before slamming back into the highway. In front of her appearing was a gigantic, humanoid, storm like creature that materialized next to the motorcycle, moving alongside and and reaching it's fist back. Driving would likely find itself a secondary concern for Vivian shortly. As Courntey's pain in the ass was easily removed - the poisonous spines were barbed however, so it carried a bit of extra skin along with it. She'd feel a little woozy from the blood loss and from something the spine had in it, but the transformation would fire off successfully, the twenty-year old costume assembling on her body with both pink guns materializing into her holsters. As she'd look up, she'd see the strange monster strafe throughout the sky, trying to find a favorable bead on it's currently hidden target once again. Before Courtney would get too comfortable, the trashcan with ring loudly - with one of the spines sticking halfway out of her own side as the monster started to fire at it. @Pyromania99 - Apartment The couch was easily cut in half, pieces of wood shattering and fabric tearing as Vale sliced it in two. An ethereal shadow briefly appeared, before flying into the kitchen. Cabinets began to open, drawers began to roll out, and their contents began floating as if carried by some unfindable force. Then they began to fly through the air at the earth-based magical girl. As for her companion in more ways than one, the water monster indeed did explode, detonating by the soundwaves into a million tiny drops, soaking the floor. If Alice felt relieved for a couple seconds though, she was foolish: detonating a liquid monster wasn't exactly the most lethal thing in the world, and the drops recoalased into a bigger, larger monster, with more water still flowing into the apartment. It was clear as the water elemental began to swing that the landlord would not be happy with them.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom With everything that was happening, Elise could only blink stupidly from her position on the ground. Running her head, she slowly got up and looked over to the fight. It looked like Courtney had caught a stinger to the ass, but she seemed to be handling it well enough. She'd managed to transform too, although the bug she was fighting probably wasn't going to make things easy for her. "Well, I guess it's time I got started too." She said, standing up shakily and grabbing her necklace. "As the darkness fades, I'll open up to face the dawn! Justice Bloooo-" And then she was cut off, as the electric monstrosity that she may have forgotten was also there threw her through the window of a nearby shop. For a moment, she simply lay there, slumped against the pile of glass and smashed furniture. To any onlookers, she may very well have looked dead. That is, until a single, glowing gold flower petal floated past her face. Suddenly, a second, a third, and a fourth joined the first, and it continued until a full stream of petals was floating around her. And then she grinned. "Promised Petal Blade." And as she spoke, the stream flowed to surround her sword, which she promptly slashed upwards. As she did so, an arc of petals flew from the blade, colliding with the black lightning monster and sending up a cloud of dust and debris. "You know, I'm pretty sure the old monsters at least gave us time to transform..." She said, cracking her neck as she reemerged from the smashed storefront. "Still though, considering you're fighting the strongest member of Justice Heart, I can't say I blame ya!"</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie knew she was outgunned. One on one, her versus the snake was likely to be in her favor, but she'd never been good at getting her attacks to penetrate any sort of armor, and if that shadowy monstrosity got its hands on her, she was dead. Fortunately, Emily gave her an out. Sliding onto Emily's ribbon of light, Carrie entered the car NASCAR-style. "Get us out of here!" she yelled. This serpent, the armored monster- she'd fought them before. Another piece of evidence that Dollmaster was back, and eager for revenge. The thought chilled her to the bone. Lily was still hammered, and it wasn't pretty. The other girl was barely functional. Carrie looked at her friend, knowing that they'd need her help to survive this. "Lily, listen to me. We're being attacked. You need to heal yourself, whip up a cure for drunkenness or something like that." She made a mental note to make Lily promise to lay off the booze, at least until the current crisis was over. Turning to Emily, Carrie asked, "Do we have any plans? Meet up with the other girls, try to get some numbers together? Anything's better than just running aimlessly."</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- "G-h-hey! My Chinese food!" Isana shouted in despair as she was suddenly yanked by her cape by Alice, dragging her out the window and down onto the streets below. At least she was going to be too upset about it. Alice was right, if they had continued to fight there then it would have likely cost them both a little money. Still...but thinking about that delicious food she had just lost, made her more irritable than she already was. More importantly though - "ISANA!" The voice of someone she'd rather not have heard ever again. She scowled, turning her head towards the source of it. Emily. Less than favorable opinions of her aside, she was not someone that Isana wanted to deal with, or speak to right now. A quick look at the situation though, it seemed they weren't the only ones present either. Lily, Carrie, and Justice Bloom were there too. Sickening. It almost made her want to fight them instead of the monsters. Hmph. If Alice wasn't here, she very well might. Well, whatever. She'd take her frustrations out on that rock monster. They were having trouble with that thing? Pathetic. It didn't even look a bit dangerous or large. Fine. She'd finish this in one blow so she could get back to her Chinese food...or whatever was left of it. When Isana hit the ground, and without missing a single beat or instance, a rampart raised from the ground beneath her, launching her with force towards the earthen creature wordlessly, not even acknowledging the other Justice Heart's presence. "DIAMOND..." She gripped the sword in her hand with both hands. Pillars of earth rocketed from the ground around her, before shattering into many bright, shining gemstones of some sort. Each flashed brightly, shimmering with magic. "...BREAKER!" Swinging the sword horizontally, Vale slammed into the midsection of the car sized monster, causing the beast to stagger backwards as it obviously hadn't expected such a quick, frontal assault. In the next instant the gemstones flashed, slamming into the monster at high speed, each hit causing it to lose more and more balance until it had finally fallen over. "Hmph." Isana landed on top of the monster, or whatever was left of it. some of the rock from it had been chipped off, scattering into pebbles around the area. She hefted Vale, resting it on her shoulders. "Weak. Too easy." She said in an almost emotionless, completely uncaring tone.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Eileen had transformed, much to Fiona's chagrin. She wiggled herself up, yanking Cinnamon by his ears so he wouldn't be crushed between her and the seat, though she let him go as she gasped. Shoot, the monster was attacking! She looked at Eileen, who meekly asked her to transform to take care of their enemy. Eileen may have been gung-ho about all this, but Fiona was a grown woman now! Well, they both were, but still! They had defeated the Big Bad, this was supposed to be their ever after! And her future did NOT include returning to the battlefield. She had a family, if she got hurt or lost her life, there would be repercussions! "Please don't call me that...!" Fiona couldn't help but whine her response at Eileen. No, she didn't want to transform! She didn't want any of this! Letting out a whimper of defeat, Fiona let out a groan as she fished her transformation trinket out of her pocket. Her heart raced against her chest as she gripped it tightly, forcing herself so go through the motions. Letting out a yell of frustration, Fiona rolled down the window on her side, exiting through it. The speed of the car whipped her hair around as she climbed to the top of the car, a death grip on the stupid trinket. "I summon the Passion of the Sun! Justice Solar Flare!" She called, wincing as flames covered her physical body. As they dispersed, her conservative, motherly clothing was replaced with something that a high school girl would wear to a rock concert. She visibly shivered, her outfit leaving her a lot more vulnerable to the winds. At least her hair was in a ponytail, but her exposed skin caused her to visibly cringe. She was much too old to be dressed like this! Regaining her composure, she drew her fist back, flames gathering, and she punched them forward at the monster.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Snickering to herself Justice Goldenrod performed a quick twirl and returned the gun in her left hand back into a holster. "Told you I'm the fastest." beamed out Justice Goldenrod clearly proud of what she accomplished. Though with that said, when she was younger chances were that she wouldn't have to oh, get shot with a mysterious barb, to defeat it. But hey a win was a win. While Justice Goldenrod had defeated the one monster that was endangering her, well not just hers after all it was very popular with colleagues and friends but it was one of her regular hangouts, turf there was still the other monster at play. The electrical abomination which Justice Bloom had the fortune, or misfortune rather, of facing! With that a slew of thoughts came into Courtney's mind. Would Elly be mad at me for taking a few shots at the thing? She is strong... Which quickly led to another thought, Maybe just one would be okay. She could beat it up afterwards. Again more flurry of thoughts had occurred to her. God I wish this thing was gone, I could scratch my ass. But wait, proooobably shouldn't do that! ...BUT IT'S SO ITCHY! Grimacing and shaking her head, Courtney focused on the situation at hand which again led her to more thoughts. Oh hang on. ...Didn't the other ladies need help? They couldn't have gone thaaaaat far. It's only been what, a minute? Two? Snapping her fingers, with the hand that didn't have a pistol in it of course, Courtney came up with an idea that would probably help out her pal without stealing the spotlight, and letting the others know for sure where the Hell some of them were. Justice Goldenrod opened up the magazine of her family-friendly-firearm and began motioning her index finger to make a series of presses upon the ammo within. "Pixels of Pixies, hic, prepare my pretty pretty pistol..." Courtney chanted out as she prepared the ammo for a more important attack. With that incantation, of sorts, finished she returned the magazine back into place. "Hey Sparky!" she taunted towards the creature, both as a mechanism for possible distraction and more of just wanting to get in some verbal jousting, "Time for a little heart to heart!" With that line shouted out, Cartwright fired the striped polka dotted heart at the electrical monstrosity hoping for a proper impact and more importantly marking the creature for tracking.</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:34 PM Lily stared blandly at the chaos unfolding before her, adjusting her suit and no worse for the wear after the stunt. There had not been much time to kickass, apparently. As flawed and annoying some of the former girls had grown, the instinct to fight monsters, bicker later was still running strong. The alcohol of her system healed and flushed, she spun her wand in a combat stance, her eyes eyeing the gathering of girls. Glorious clusterfuck if they ever saw one, as she eyed Emily in the dress once more. She remembered the first time they had gone all together, and how the dress seemed to look on her. Now, it looked atrocious. On everyone but herself, a stark reminder that, she alone, was still the only one who looked like a proper magical girl. Even though Justice Heart was long and done, it was at least a bit heartwarming that despite these issues they had still enough moral compass to tackle monsters before their personal problems. She narrowed her eyes, trying to scan for clues, her healing magic at standby. She gritted her teeth. "Somehow I doubt this is over, stay sharp." She blurted out. After years of dealing with crime, she knew that dropping one's guard was inviting failure. She grimaced, hoping that the reinforcements behaved. Isana was a selfish bitch, and Alice just had that stupid habit of treating Lily as either a doll or a kid, whichever she fancied. But well, Carrie was there. She was kind of reliable. Unlike Emily at times. Her sight lingered on her a bit too much, before making a sort of introspection. Why here, and why now? And why does it seem like the monsters are actually matched to our abilities?</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Glancing over her shoulder, Vivian was pleased to see that her hammer had effectively locked the monster in place by the force of gravity. But it was not dead, and if it could stand up to that then it could probably take all her attacks short of Meteor Strike. Which wasn't exactly something that she was going to break out in the middle of the highway. "Well hanging out by the police isn't exactly my idea of a good time," Vivian muttered as she received the message telling her where to go. "But I guess I can make an exception." Hopefully they wouldn't turn her in, or stick up for her if one of the actual cops noticed. Or something. Revving the engine, she made a sharp turn as she headed in the general direction of where she remembered the police bar to be. Those girls had better not be too busy, because she was not going to turn around just because they weren't. For a moment she actually felt pretty cool, riding on a motorcycle while swinging a hammer like a paperweight. Then she remembered that she was in her mid thirties, fleeing from a monster that by all rights she should have been able to smoke when she was in her prime. She hated being older. The creature rapidly closing in reminded her that she needed to focus, and she leaned forward with her hammer extended behind her, drawing closer to her destination. Hopefully they weren't too busy, because she was coming in hot.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed everybody had converged, both magical girls and monsters alike. In some ways, that was a good thing- if Justice Heart could focus all their attacks on one monster, that would probably wipe it out and tilt the odds in their favor. Downside was, the monsters might well be thinking the same plan, only in reverse. Then, Carrie saw the water beast flowing out of the apartment building, and she gave a killer smile. She'd played enough Pokémon in her youth to know what to do. Carrie considered her options. Wrath of the Storm would certainly fry her target into oblivion, and maybe even do some nasty collateral damage to another monster, but she wasn't sure she could channel so much electricity after being out of practice for twenty years, and some of her friends might well be caught in the blast. The latter problem was also in effect for Electric Explosion, and Thunder Breath was best used as a counterattack to charging enemies. With her choices reduced to a singularity, Carrie felt the power racing through her. How had she gone so long without this? "Electric Pillar!" Carrie slammed her staff into the ground, and a bolt of lightning ripped through the monster's watery hide. Hopefully, that would do some significant damage.</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:35PM Short Distance from Police Bar Direct Interactions - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord The armored figure was crushed easily beneath Isana's blow, shattering into a thousand pieces as she continued to watch over it. Following them were several pieces of furniture and a monster made of water, but the water monster exploded into a thousand tiny droplets as whatever made up its magical core detonated - and it seemed to have no intent of reforming in the face of Carrie's execution. The pieces of furniture threw themselves at Isana once again, but from the car Emily waved her wand towards the ground, collecting the pieces of furniture onto her magical path and gathering them into a single location - hopefully Isana would be smart enough to allow someone with a more magical attack to try finishing them off now that they were collected. As Lily watched, she'd see Vivian riding into the scene, some sort of wind-like monster following her - it would be the ideal chance to fire off her beam of moonlight at the damned thing. While it wasn't strong, it was the ideal chance to deal some damage that would hopefully stick to it. "A-Alice! Just do something useful!" Emily had stopped the car at this point - their group seemed far more collected, and they didn't need to flee anymore. She fired a shot at the pieces of furniture, trying to deal a bit of damage to them - hopefully someone would arrive shortly to finish it off. GM EVIL STUFF MUHHAHAHAHA Algorithm@Hero - Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar The shadow monster lunged forward, the movement of the car sending its mark off kilter on the tech girl driving the car - only causing a rather nasty gash on her arm. However, as the shadow monsters mortal enemy appeared - a magical girl practically comprised of the sun - its eyes widened as it let out a death screech, obliterating into nothing in a single blow. There were no ashes, although perhaps a few burn marks stretched around the car. It seemed the middle class mom had a few aces up her sleeve. The plastic monster was far enough behind, that if they continued driving they would find themselves arriving shortly. As for Judge Cinnamon, he'd detect that the serpent that had been after Lily had backed away from the fighting for one reason or another, fleeing from the scene. Shortly afterwards, it would wipe itself from the radar as if it was truly gone. - Outside of Police Bar As her companion fought the electrical monster, Goldenrod now left alone focused her lasers at the monster - it seemed the non-physical damage caused a hit, as the electrical being was hit by the magical woman's abilities. A large beacon appeared above them, making it apparent to the other magical girls where they were. The monster wasn't finished yet - the shot wasn't nearly effective enough to wipe it out, after all. However, it perhaps would clue their companions in on what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Oh good! Her shot fired true as it seemed the power of the pixies were with her. Justice Goldenrod smiled proudly at her craftsmanship, knowing full well the beacon would probably convince the rest of the gang to come to them instead of the other way around. Courtney tilted her head as she thought about the best course of action to take now. Well there was always the option of helping Justice Bloom defeat the electrical menace. But Elise totally had it in the bag! So that was a no go. Since the beacon was up there was no real point in chasing down the streets for the other gals. And Courtney couldn't just do nothing and idly wait. It was then she knew what she could do! Returning the remaining pistol back into its holster Justice Goldenrod cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered out. "LET'S GO JUSTICE BLOOM! LET'S GO!" She emphasized her cheering with a pair of claps. "LET'S GO JUSTICE BLOOM! LET'S GO!" Justice Goldenrod began skating from side to side while shaking her butt around. After a few moments of doing a potpourri of performance moves, which were seemingly took longer than they did, she pointed at Elise, with a large smile on her face. "KNOCK IT, ROCK IT, BEAT HIM OVER THE HEAD!" cheered out Courtney as she jumped up kicking her legs outwards in a split. "DON'T STOP UNTIL IT'S DEAD! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!~"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- The rock monster dealt with, Isana took a moment to observe the others to get a grasp of the situation. Alice was being her usual self, Lily was surprisingly sober seeming, Emily was being bossy as always, and Carrie was...doing whatever it was she normally did. To put bluntly, they were doing pretty much exactly what she thought they'd be doing. No surprise there, and she cared little to spare a second thought about them. Instead, she just calmly observed the going on's. Part of her wanted to completely level that ghost thing but that would be an effort in futility at the moment. Ugh, annoying and boring. These monsters weren't even halfway competent. It was like the monsters were playing with them. Plus, what were the chances of them all being targeted on the same night? Something smelled fishy here, and she didn't like being toyed with. "Tch, give me something fun to fight if you're going to send monsters after me..." She grumbled, lightly tapping Vale against her shoulder. As much as she wanted to fight those amalgamation of their furniture...she also wasn't stupid enough to try it. So for now, she simply watched and waited idly.</s> <\|message\|>Lily Galbrett / "Water Lily" / "Lil' Lily" / "The Black Lotus" 7:36 PM Somewhere not over the rainbow. @shagranoz@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@Flamelord@RabidAnubis "Alice, being useful?" Lily just shook her head. "She's a support type, just like me, haven't you heard?" Lily just feigned mock despair, as she eyed the dregs of the monster attack still coming at them. She scoffed slightly at Isana's flippancy. Some things just got worst with age, didn't they. She saw Vivian, the bad girl of their lot. Well, the first Bad girl of the group. These days... well, nobody had gotten with life without a stain or two. Even her older sister. Lily breathed deep, focusing her annoyance, but only failing to partially curb it. She fumbled with her phone for a second, only to then suddenly take the initiative. "Still, don't you worry sis!" She said, for a moment completely mimicking the inflections she had when she was 12. She didn't need to actually try to make her voice any different, since her voicebox had never changed. "I shall punish the evildoers!" She added as she spun her once staff in the air, making an exaggerated pose. "Piriririparu!" She added, launching her staff high in the air, her eyes aiming at the air monster. The battery of her cellphone flied away to meet the supposed "Face" of the storm monster as she did so, an innocent-but-not-quite so smile forming in her lips. "Moonlight beam!" She said in her sweetest diabetic intonation, before dropping her tone a few octaves "Lithium battery mishap special." FWOOSH. The hit was dead on, coating the air monster's face with a fast-spreading flame, and given that the thing was actually pure air, it would hopefully spread fairly quickly, disrupting any integrity the thing had. "How 'bout that, you mutant Hobo Fart! This is for messing with the Justice btches, you fcker!" She finished her spiel with a predatory grin.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Performance Time - @Ugii@RabidAnubis@shagranoz@Flamelord@AtomicNut@Hero@Rune_Alchemist@Stern Algorithm@Rabidporcupine --- Alice was feeling dismayed at the negative vibes from Lily. She didn't exactly feel anything sexual from her, but she thought she treated her well, just like the others back in the day. Not that she showed it on her face, but it dug deep... Well, deeper than the broken plates and stuff. There was still stuff she could do now though! Her song could reach far and wide. That was her power after all. Perhaps even now, she could reach out to the Justice Hearts and inspire them. Unlike the others, she had been practicing for years, mostly because singing was something she could do in her civilian form. "Fine, Lily! Be rude to me. Just because I sit this support role, it doesn't mean I'm useless." She gave a light bit of a pout to Lily before bursting up into the air. "I'm an idol now! Listen now to a popular new song, "Starful Night Sky!" She spun her staff-microphone into the air and caught it, holding the mic close to her mouth. "Can you see the stars tonight? Painted, across the sky!" She continued to sing her high pitch, bright toned song. All the magical girls would be able to hear the song and likely instinctively know that it was Alice's doing. "Let them light up your path but your compass is your heart!" They'd find themselves noticeably stronger now, perhaps more inspired or sure of themselves. Something Alice thought Lily might need.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett It was so sudden that Vivian almost didn't see it coming, focusing on getting to the police bar as she was. As a result she was taken off guard when she rushed past the people she recognized as the fellow members of Justice Heart each taking on their own problems in their own particular way. She hit the brakes, quickly slowing to a stop as she turned to face the monster that had been chasing her for so long. Now they could handle this bit of business. She didn't have to say anything before Lily noticed her problem, sending an attack to ignite the thing on fire and hopefully kill it. At the very least it had a better chance of working than anything she had done so far, so she would have to be grateful for that. As much as she could be considering she'd barely heard from some of them for the past couple of years. The motorcycle parked, Vivian hopped off the bike before removing her helmet as well. "Alright, what did you guys do?" she challenged, figuring they were the cause for why she had just been attacked by a monster out of the blue. Who else would be culpable for something magical like that? She then noticed the conglomeration of furniture, held in place for the moment yet with no one else addressing it. "What, you guys couldn't handle a couch without me?" she asked with a hint of incredulity. Nonetheless she faced towards it, hefting her hammer and concentrating energy in it before launching another Dark Pulse at the thing. With it concentrated where it was, that would hopefully crush it down to nothing but splinters and debris, finishing it off for good. @shagranoz@AtomicNut@Rune_Alchemist@RabidAnubis</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin It seemed the water monster had been dealt with, and not a moment too soon. Other monsters of all shapes and sizes were attacking the girls, but at least they had the numerical advantage now. Carrie wiped her brow, feeling a little tired. Maybe she was out of practice, or perhaps years of reality had beaten the Friendship out of her, but she wasn't able to keep up the magic the way she had all those years ago. Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight; that just wasn't her style. The electrified magical girl looked around for her next target. The furniture monsters were made of wood, and therefore probably resistant to her attacks. The air monster seemed to be a better option, so she went for that just as Lily's attack hit hard. A blast of lightning slammed into the creature from the other side, hopefully speeding up its demise. "Could somebody get Goldenrod some duct tape for her mouth? She could really use it."</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Eileen "Justice Violet" Fang Eileen Fang AKA Justice Violet and Judge Cinnamon 7:35PM Driving to Short Distance from Police Bar @RabidAnubis As Justice SolarFlare climbed to the roof of Eileen's car, Eileen began slowing down and heading to the side of the road, turning on her emergency lights for good measure. Suddenly, by some fluke, the monster dove straight at her as she was coming out of the car, slashing her arm. Eileen screamed as Fiona finished off the monster. "Lily..." Eileen panted, holding her arm, and recognizing that she needed medical attention. Looking back at the smoldering ruin of Fiona's car, many, many yards away, she noticed that the plastic monster didn't seem to be coming after them. "The monsters that haven't been killed are fleeing," Judge Cinnamon transmitted, "Do not pursue, regroup and we can debrief." "C-can you take us to the bar?" Eileen asked Fiona, suggesting that she drive Eileen's car. Eileen rarely sustained an injury of this magnitude as she was usually suited up prior to an engagement. She was also rather crestfallen that she had not had the opportunity to actually suit up and relive her glory days. Wordlessly, she crawled into the passenger seat, still cradling her arm, and giving the Judge time to move out of her way so she wouldn't sit on him. Eileen had been useless today, what else was new?</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| It's...retreating? Flare narrowed her eyes as the other monster made its hasty retreat, confirmed by Judge Cinnamon's mental announcement. Deciding it was safe enough and unwilling to bear the humiliation of her outfit any longer, Justice SolarFlare would immediately de-transform, her boots turning into heels as she jumped down from the car. She was relieved to be in her much more modest jeans and blouse as she turned towards Eileen, a frown on her face. She would completely forget about the monster entirely as she realized Eileen had gotten hurt. As much as Fiona wanted to just go home, there was no way she could leave Eileen in that state. At her request, Fiona got into the driver's side, although she couldn't help but give Cinnamon an irritated look. "I don't understand why this is happening," She stated as she would shift the car into drive, continuing on to where seemingly everyone was converging.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Quitting Time --- Alice finished her little performance and came to the ground where everyone was gathering. Well, perhaps more importantly, where her couch and other items were in pieces... Her heart cried out for the missing pieces... But most of all that couch... How many memories of messing with Isana did she have on that thing? How many woman had she seduced there? How many times did she have 'fun' with a multitude of her... Well... Perhaps it WAS time for a new couch... It was... Justice Verdant that did this, yes? Before she changed back, it'd probably be a good idea to make people disperse right? She put her microphone-staff close to her mouth and spoke. "Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Justice Heart reunion concert! As you can see, we're all done here so go about your way on your normal day! Thanks for joining us!" She exclaimed, acting as if it were some pop-up concert. Hopefully, her power would make it so normal people would stop paying attention to them. "OH! And don't forget to pick up your own copy of the new anime 'Orange', or even watch it on 'CrispyRoll'! Thank you!" She was shameless as always. With that, she made her way over to the one who destroyed her couch and changed back to normal once she was sure that no normal people were watching. She walked her way over to Vivian (if the woman were on the ground) and linked arms. "Heeeyyyy.... Vivian. Since you destroyed my couch, you get to have the honor of helping me pick a new one out." She tried her best to use that cutesy voice she used in some anime she was in.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Vivian nodded with satisfaction as her attack smashed the monster and finished it off for good. Seeing Dark Pulse in action always brought a sense of amusement to her with how it could destroy, and it felt much better to do it to that than to the wind monster she had been so completely ineffectual against. With that and one last monster dispatched, it seemed that the fight was over for now. Pity about whoever's furniture that was, but it probably wasn't relevant. Right? With everyone relaxing, Vivian took it upon herself to detransform back to normal as she stepped away from her bike for the moment. Much as she would like to go zooming off, she was at least dimly aware of the fact that without everyone else she would have been a smear on the highway somewhere, so she should probably give them some gratitude for the assist. Before she could say anything though, she found herself approached by Alice. Whoops, turned out that the couch belonged to her after all. Not that Vivian would have done anything different given the situation. "Not a chance," she replied firmly, crossing her arms defiantly. "That couch wasn't coming out in one piece after you let it get possessed by a monster. Besides, I'm sure you're rich enough that replacing that stuff shouldn't be a problem." She wasn't going to give in without a fight.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart 7:38PM Short Distance from Police Bar Elise quickly dealt the final blow to the electricity monster to Courtney's cheering, letting out a final electronic scream before coming to an end the thousand cuts were delivered. After cheering her teamate on, Justice Goldenrod insisted on the party working on their choreography, which made Emily roll her eyes to the top of her skull. They weren't pre-teens anymore - did they have to be any more ridiculous? The newspeople weren't really something she was interested in dealing with, and were actually far more concerning to her now than they used to be. Especially now that the internet was more of a thing. "Please, Courtney." Emily watched Isana leave the group out of the corner of her eye - and Justice Star couldn't blame her. She didn't seem to like any of them except for Alice, and it was entirely possible that if they arranged anything Alice would simply pass on the news. Emily watched as Alice dismissed the majority of the standing crowd with her magic, which solved most of her concerns. As the voice actor approached to complain to Vivian though and enthusiastic high pitched male voice overwhelmed the remaining magical girls. "WOW! Incredible! After 20 years, the Justice Hearts have returned, and with a bang! White Heart, why don't you tell us what prompted this reuinion concert? Why are the monsters attacking? What's it like now that you've grown up - and where have you been? How's do you plan to balance this with your careers?" The mid twenties reporter spoke with incredible speed, his body practically vibrating with a youthful vigor that somehow made him resistant to Alice's powers. A microphone was in his hand, which he shoved in front of the women's faces. The remaining magical girls arrived on the spot as Lily passed out, still somewhat drunk.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Sofa shopping --- Thankfully, the little incident hadn't happened too far from their apartment so it was an easy enough walk back. Just...one small problem... "Hey!" A cameraman crew and a reporter were chasing after her, likely wanting to get a nice juicy interview with a former magical girl. Isana merely sighed, shoulders slumping in mild annoyance. "You're Justice Gaia, aren't you? Or would you prefer we call you by your solo name of 'Luminous Vale?" The excitable reporter asked. Isana had to refrain from audibly groaning. She'd like to just send these two flying, but that would cause more problems than they'd help. "Hmm," Isana frowned, stopping and turning to look back at the reporters. "I'd prefer to get back to my Chinese food, and to convince my roommate to by the most expensive couch she can get her hands on." With that simple statement, she stomped her foot on the ground as the earth began to rumble. "Rampart Castle!" Several, large spikes of earth erupted in the ground between her and the reporters, spreading a thick wall of stone across the entire street, causing some of the street to suddenly have itself closed off and the reporters to have to jump backwards lest they find themselves stuck on top of the rampart. Isana of course, continued on her way back to her apartment. The rampart would dissolve by itself in a few hours, and it was easy enough to return to the scene of the incident. The building was empty as it ever was at this time, save for someone joining her on the elevator who was giving her a few odd looks. Easy enough to pass her attire off as Cosplay or something. Once back inside she finally transformed back to her regular appearance - meaning just a plain white t-shirt and her underwear. First things first, she picked up the remains of her Chinese food off the ground, a deep, mournful lamenting sigh leaving her lips. Well, whatever. Her computer was fine so she went about redressing herself in her usual attire. Cheap, but good looking red suit with a black tie and dress pants. After collecting what she could salvage of the Chinese food into a single carton, she headed back down. For now, she just watched idly from the sidelines again. She'd drag Alice off to the furniture store once the crowd dispersed a bit. For now, she'd enjoy the rest of her Chinese food that she could as she watched the rest of the events unfold.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Sofa Shopping --- Alice pouted a bit. This woman was a bit purposefully daft sometimes wasn't she? "Come on, Vivian. I'm telling you to buy it. Just help me pick it out. I'll even buy dinner." Alice said as she tightened her grip on the woman's arm. She wasn't letting her get away that easy! Nope. Not trying to get in her pants or anything at all. "You owe me this much after all these years don't you? Isana can be such a grouch, it'd be nice to have someone else look too." She added. Vivian was an enemy long ago, but she was a friend now! Or, suppose to be. Alice sort of wondered why a lot of the Justice Heart girls got kind of bitchy about things as they grew up. The rich girl still loved all of them, despite what they might think of her. "Come on, Vivi--" That was when the reporter appeared in front of her. So many questions she didn't know quite how to answer... "Oh, umm..." Right, they didn't know who she was for some reason. "Well, I'm not sure? I mean, these all took us by surprise I think... Oh, isn't it not journalistic standard to not divulge too much information when you don't have the full of the story? That's that on the monster issue. Otherwise... Ain't I looking good for a thirty-something? I'd like to the think it's a result of having been in the hearts and minds of fans for the last twenty years! Also, I think our careers are fine. Boy-o, would you mind letting us talk? It's a get together after twenty years and we'd love if you'd show a little delicacy." She tried to infuse a bit of her power into it. Hopefully he'll leave with a few of his answers.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Ugh, the fourth estate. Somebody should just tell them to leave us the hell alone. Back in the good old days, the media's electronic equipment had a nasty habit of overloading or shorting out around Carrie. Not that she'd ever owned up to it. Twenty years down the road, her attitude towards reporters hadn't improved a bit. In fact, it seemed to have gotten worse with age. "Listen, right now we're confused, scared out of our wits, and generally trying to figure out what the hell is going on. No warning signs whatsoever, and this was too coordinated to be an isolated incident. As to whether it's Dollmaster or something else..." she shrugged. "No clue. Now, let us get back to doing what we do, okay?"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Not Sofa Shopping --- "Wait, wait, wait! You all. Stop fighting!" Alice said pushing everyone apart. Courtney and Isana notably. "Why am I having to be the reasonable one here?" The woman said with a bit of a pout. This was bad though. Everyone started arguing again didn't they? Bad, bad, bad, bad. If this keeps up she might have a breakdown. They had gotten all back together! Just now! "Come on! We're a team! We always were! We are now!" Her eyes... Didn't look good. They looked like they were desperately trying to cling on to some sort of hope... "Isana! You'll help fight at least, right! And keep an eye out on the way to and from work!? Nothing more to take up time in your day!" She then turned to the others. "That's fine, right!?" Her thoughts impacted her face a bit more than she'd like at this point. It kind of looked like she was under duress... It would probably be best if everyone at least agreed with her and sent her away for a bit even if they didn't mean it.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana almost escalated things. She wanted to just be done and out of this, but before she could make a retort Alice interrupted - and not in her usually happy mildly perverted way. Team? Don't make her laugh. They hadn't been a team since they split up all those years ago. Still...Alice was her roommate, and out of all the girls was currently the one she tolerated the most. It'd be trouble for her later, but playing along now would save her more trouble later it seemed. "Fine," She sighed irritably, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her dress pants. "I'll use my precious day off tomorrow to help you guys do whatever, but don't expect me to be overly friendly. After that, I'll not make any promises. I am not compromising my life just to help you guys on a wild goose chase." She looked over to Courtney, glaring at her. "And I'll keep you to that, but don't make promises your not going to keep." Who knows, having a favor might come in handy later....more importantly though. "So then...what are we going to do? If we think about it logically then this was obviously just a ploy to get us together. Using someone as bait wouldn't solve anything." She was going to help, so she'd help to the fullest of her abilities that she could. Unlike the rest of these fools, she actually kept her word. "If they were looking to kill us then they could have just picked us off one by one instead of forcing us to be together. Even if we all became aware of it after one or two of us had been dealt with, it'd be much safer for them. So unless whoever this is is an idiot, I don't think it'd work." She shrugged. "But perhaps I'm giving someone too much credit."</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Guuuh..." Elise groaned, her eyes blinking open. "Where... What happened..." And then she actually managed to pick up on her surroundings, specifically their colour scheme, and a splash of vomit flowed from her mouth without her expression changing in any way. She just sat there, almost as if she was unaware it was even happening until she looked down at it on the floor. "You know, I think that might actually look better..." And then she lifted her head to look at all the people gathered around, immediately picking out the three people who registered as 'most important' in her mind. "Oh hey Em... What's going on coughscumcough?" She looked down for a moment, rubbing her throat, before looking back up to their old leader. "Huh, sorry. I must have something wrong with my throat. You see, I called you scum. Just worried you might not've heard it with the cough n' all." She then turned to Isana, a wide smirk growing across her face. "And as if today wasn't great enough, my number one rival is here as well!" She shouted excitedly. "Could it be that you're here for another rematch? Because honestly, I can't quite see you coming back to this ugly-ass place of your own free will... It's gotta be that hot-blooded fighting spirit, am I right?!" And then she hopped off the mountain of stuffed toys and fell rather naturally into an over-dramatic pose. The coolness of said pose may have been lost a little, due to the patches of vomit still present on her chin, but if anyone thought something like that would stop her, they clearly never really knew her in the first place. "Coco!" She called, pointing frantically to her best friend. "I can't quite say I remember why we're here, but join me! Together, let us pose and shout everything we would normally say, specifically so we can annoy the shit out of Emily and Izzy!" And then she spun around, finishing in a completely different, equally dramatic pose.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Frowning, Vivian crossed her arms over her chest as her gaze swept the room while they discussed exactly how they were going to tackle this problem. Isana was reticent and she couldn't really blame her for that. Not like they had done much in the way of group activities for some time now, and this wasn't exactly the best situation to start trying to mend burnt bridges. Leaving the jokes aside, she added her own two cents to the current argument. "Isana has a point," she noted aloud. "We don't know how they're tracking us or coordinating their attacks. Whoever is responsible might know that the bait is bait, or they might just choose to attack someone else because they better meet whatever criteria they have. Though I don't think they were intending to bring us together, since the one that I fought seemed pretty tailored to be immune to my own abilities." Frowning, she sighed as she rubbed the back of her head in thought for a few moments. "We should go check out the Dollmaster's old haunts, see if anyone's decided to use them recently. Other magical hotspots from the old days would be a good bet too." Maybe they'd be able to find some clues there. She ignored Elise for now. That was a can of worms she wasn't going to get involved in.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster 'Star' Heart Even though she didn't want to be here, Emily was glad Courtney had her side. Isana continued to be upset, until their little microphone wielding friend - and her ex - started to have some sort of breakdown. After the girl's breakdown, it seemed the rock smashing heavy hitter finally put their brain to use and proposed something. It actually made a bit of sense, when she thought about it. But Emily's increasingly peaceful thoughts were wiped out by her other ex's sister. "Hey, pukestain, I-" No, that would be taking it to far. Still though. "Are you going to contribute or not, Elise? Or are you going to keep puking everywhere? Because if it's the second, I have a daughter that's probably at home wanting me to cook dinner." She had been putting up with childish acts for the past 16 years, and she wasn't going to let Elise break her now. She hoped that stung a little as she turned her attention to Vivian. "I agree - it seems like my monster was intended to kill me. I was never the rock smasher of the party. If they wanted to get us together, they would have had to known all of our schedules put us in a similar area." Star Heart looked at Vivian. "I think a little investigation wouldn't hurt - it's possible someone malicious is somehow using the Dollmaster's power again." She turned back to Isana. "Although I wonder why you'd think someone would want us back together. This can't be good for anyone meaning harm."</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Oh speaking just from narrative's sake probably for some big moment like oh, totally destroying our base and thus hindering a lot of our ability for further communication and to make it a lot harder to recover from any damages in case the designated killing monsters failed." Courtney just blurted out as she listened to the various threads discussed by the group. "So you girls want to divvy it up then? A few going to old lairs of villainy to check while others go investigate the usual spots we got attacked at?" inquired Courtney as she began to ponder the other things that needed addressed. She cocked her head as she glanced towards Isana, "Noted. You may call it in whenever you may see fit." Whatever that favor might be, it probably would be worth it in the long game. Or maybe she made a deal with a devil she wished she didn't. Whatever at the moment that did not matter to Courtney. Nor did solving the problem at had and getting the plan together, she already asked those things. No what mattered now was something far more important. Courtney glanced towards Emily and soberly spoke, "You could've prevented this...Buuut that first liiine of address..." Dramatically pointing towards Elise, Courtney Cartwright spun around on her heels before jumping up in the air. "You've got it Elly!" Landing down on her knee she extended out both of her hands to the side, each one having a finger gun readied. "Prepare yourself! Faster than the speed of love~" Courtney declared as she sprung up extending her legs. Running side to side Courtney began firing off imaginary strikes, "Armed with the firearms of the faeries! Valor conquering villainy!" Performing a pirouette and striking a pose extending out a pair of finger guns, Courtney's eyes shimmered with an spark of energy. "THE GRINNING GUNNER AND PIXIE PISTOLEER, JUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSTICE GOOOOOLDEEEENROOOOOOD!!!"</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana merely glared coldly at Elise. She was looking to start something, obviously, but Isana had no intention of fighting at the moment. She just wanted to be done and out of here. While she might have roughhoused a bit with Elise had they met anywhere else, for now she just wanted to get through this with as little conflict as possible. So she ignored Elise, instead focusing more on Vivian and Emily. The two at least seemed like they both wanted to get this over with and go home without getting too much into it. "Because," Isana replied with a grunt to the question of why she thought this was a ploy to get them together. "Seeing you morons is giving me high blood pressure and detrimental to my own health, that's why." It was a sarcastic wise-ass reply to be sure, but she thought she could afford to be a little sarcastic with this. If the others had a problem with her attitude, they could get over it. "...but more seriously," She continued with a sigh. "Simple. They gave us monsters we couldn't fight by easily ourselves so do the math - unless any of us had a death wish, it'd be obvious we'd go and find another Justice Heart to help. Don't ask me why." She grunted, ignoring the two neanderthals...'posing'. "Or we'd just fight and either destroy half the city in the process, or exhaust ourselves." To what end though? Isana hadn't a clue. Maybe whoever it was had some bigger plan in mind. Maybe she was just overthinking it after watching to many mystery shows and objectively terrible anime. Could go either way, really, but exploring every possible avenue here was better than simply writing one off as wrong. Heh, maybe they were banking on them not helping each other and having them end up being a scapegoat for damaging the city in some way. Well, whatever. "Either way, if we're going to be investigating we should go in pairs so we don't get jumped again like this." Isana said, glancing over at Alice. She still didn't look like she was doing to well. With a sigh, Isana walked over and grabbed the womans ear and gave it a gentle tug to get her attention. "If that's what we're doing, then I'll take Alice and look at some of the old haunts. We can come back tomorrow evening after finish our investigating." Plus they could shop for that couch while they were out too.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin "Hmmm... I agree with Isana, as painful as it is to admit," Carrie commented. "We should all go in pair, as often as possible, and keep our cell phones handy. That way, if something nasty does show up, we can meet and take care of it, just like this time." She thought for a second, sitting back in the oversized chair. "As for how you all can keep track of me, what with the teleporting and all... perhaps some of us could requisition one of those ankle-tracker thingies? I mean, I can keep it in my purse, so I don't look like a parolee." "This keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?"</s>
<\|description\|>Carrie Martin 586 posts in 821 days Online Alias: Justice Yellow Age: 31 Current Appearance: Costume: Yellow top with crossed black lightning bolts, a white skirt, yellow stockings, white boots, and a yellow cape with crossed black lightning bolts. She also carries a metal staff that doubles as a lightning rod. "I look like a battery ad, but it could have been worse..." Powers: As one would expect from her costume, Carrie's powers are all themed around lightning and electricity. Lightning Leap: More of a utility move than anything else, Carrie turns herself into a bolt of lightning that travels a short distance before she reforms. Basically a short-range teleportation. Thunder Breath: Just what it sounds like. Electric Explosion: An area of effect ability, Carrie summons a dome of electricity that slowly grows and damages all in its path. Electric Pillar: Carrie conjures a ground-to-air lightning strike to hammer a single opponent. Wrath Of The Storm: A barrage of lightning bolts strike Carrie's staff, charging it up before unleashing an electric wave motion gun effect. Her finisher. Source: A pair of lightning bolt shaped earrings. History with Justice Heart: Carrie was one of the original Justice Heart girls- in fact, though she cringes at it, she came up with the name. She was always in the thick of the fight, thinking that the best defense is an overwhelming offense. Naturally, this led to her getting a bit of a reputation as a hothead. Her friends didn't like it at first, and it led to some arguments between over how best to defeat monsters. However, when she charged after Katarina alone one dark night, the Dollmaster beat her badly, and if it wasn't for her friends intervening and driving the villain off, she probably would have died. This led to better relationships with her teammates, as well as a calmer attitude in fights. Still, she had a good heart, and was a valued member of the team. History After Justice Heart: When Dollmaster was defeated there was no need for Justice Yellow anymore... but that was kept Carrie going through the day. She had major depressive episodes, and while her grades had never been stellar, they only slipped further. Health issues and bad luck only further crushed her once-indomitable spirit, and she now works as a food court grunt, living with her parents because she's unable to make ends meet on her own.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster The temptation to fire some sort of star as Elise's head was very, very strong. But Emily held back from that urge. Not out of any sort of love for the aunt of her daughter, but because Elise was tough enough she'd be able to take it and between a fight of her and Elise she was sure Elise would win. And besides, Connor wasn't even worth it. There was a reason the courts had granted near-total custody to her, rather than that miserable boy. Anyone who believed romance could really ruin someone was a fool - maybe she had been the straw that had broken the camel's back, but nothing more. Emily's thoughts began to travel down that dark path until the other mother started talking about her own kids. As the more responsible mom finished speaking, all Emily could manage was a shrug. "If SolarFlare somehow managed to settle down into Mrs. Corona, then I'm sure the ruckus in there can prevent themselves from murdering eachother utterly." Emily raised an eyebrow at her old companion, previously one of the more hostile people in existence. Back to the all important subject of kids though. "... That's good to know, I'm sure that she'll be a strong girl when she grows up ... If Mary had been through that many illnesses I'd probably have gone mad." The woman sighed. "They grow up really fast, so enjoy them while they still appreciate you. Heavens knows Mary is more responsible than I ever was, but I'm not cool anymore. She always wants to be with her friends." Emily paused, looking at the other woman. "Can you drive? My car ... well ..." It needed to be at least looked at after that previous fight.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s>	<\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Isana's and Alice's Apartment 7:30PM --- Alice was surprised when she saw the couch just about eating Isana. "Isana!" She exclaimed. She didn't have time to worry about the toughest of the Justice Hearts though, as a water monster thing appeared from the nearby bathroom. Well, this was fun. Before it could grab her by the leg, she quickly transformed. She could only assume it came out of the toilet... She didn't want such dirty water touching her! She grabbed her Magical Microphone and sang a high note, causing a music note to escape her tool. It floated gently into the middle of this car sized water monster and was ready to explode. "At least most things don't eat you for food. And can you try not to completely destroy the couch? I really like that one." Alice asked, not really seeing that it was pretty much destroyed anyhow. She kept her attention on the water monster thing now. "Anyhowser... Can you explode now?" Alice asked, snapping her finger and causing the typical sonic bomb of a music note to explode. Hopefully, it would be enough to make the creature reverberate to it's non-existence.</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright Courtney Cartwright Police Bar – Exterior --- "Okay!" Courtney eagerly said with a nod and a bounce in affirmation that they had to be stylish in heroics. Cartwright moved close to Elise and slung her arm around her shoulder. Leaning in Courtney began to speak. "So like, we gotta remember the most important things about dramatic entrances is that..." And as if on cue, to prevent this important piece of information from revelation, a power line snapped and landed in front of them! Shortly thereafter the monster was crafted from the wreckage. "OHMYGOSHSORRYNOTSORRY!" shrieked out Courtney as she valiantly pushed Elise to the side for a bit of help in avoiding the electrical monstrosity! But alas this gesture was probably not the best move for Courtney's self-preservation due to a horrid little, well smaller than that colossus of electricity, creature's set of attacks. Though it was safe to say it was a more heroic endeavor. While Cartwright was not hit by all of the spikes of the creature, one of those poisonous spikes did hit its mark and landed firmly in the left buttocks. Wincing in pain and landing down upon the sidewalk upon her belly she tried to crawl behind a nearby trashcan in order to take a bit of shelter. Hopefully she would be able to get a bit reprieve so she could, well for one thing remove that pain in her ass (the literal one) and figure out what sort of poisonous nasty she was inflicted with, and of course access her "magical accessory" so that she could properly transform. Oh and remembering that bit of advice she wanted to tell her friend about dramatic entrances would be a nice little cherry if the other things panned out!</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin If Carrie had been a normal woman, she would have been snake food. Fortunately for her, she wasn't. A quick dip of her shoulder and a twist of her hips sent the serpent sailing past, though she did take a slicing wound to her shoulder. What was worse, she went into her maneuver right as Emily threw the car into a turn, causing Carrie to lose her balance and plummet to the asphalt. Carrie was in a bad way. The armored monster was slowly advancing from behind, but she couldn't deal with it until she took out the snake, which had sped out of the storm drain for another assault. This time, though, it came at her face… which was the one place you didn't want to attack a magical girl with elemental breath powers.. "Thunder Breath!" Carrie exhaled a blast of lightning, catching the snake full-on and sending it reeling. It didn't finish the monster off, but it did give her a chance to get to her feet, staff at the ready. The snake circled her warily, not wanting a repeat of the previous rebuffed attack, and the armored monster was almost in range. She called out to Emily, "Yo! A little help would be nice here!"</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| As Fiona drove, the pit in her stomach grew heavier, especially when she spotted a familiar white car next to her. Eileen?! Great, it looked like an unwanted reunion was coming soon. As the thought crossed her mind, a light in the rearview mirror caught her attention. Letting out a groan, Fiona would decide to floor it, hoping Eileen would take the hint. As she did, however, she realized that whatever that thing was, it was faster, and would advance on them sooner rather than later. Shoot, what should she do? Seeing as how she had remained out of the action for some time, the first thought was calling the police, but in this case she technically was the police. Sort of. Taking in a deep breath, she gave herself a silent prayer of forgiveness to her husband as she closed her eyes. She had to discard her role of a housewife and get back into her daredevil, brash ways. Opening her eyes, she pressed down on the acceleration, taking off her seatbelt as her car would zip forward. Keeping an eye on Eileen's car, she would inhale and exhale out any second thoughts,simply waiting for the right timing. Closer and closer the monster came, and once she deemed it close enough, she slammed on the brakes. Yanking on the emergency break, she threw her door open and jumped out, her legs letting her leap high into the air. Her car would go crashing into one of the monsters, resulting in an explosion of gas and fire. As she came down, she found her timing to be as good as ever, managing to land on Eileen's car she she passed by. That being said, she was still a housewife, and would have went flying off the car if she hadn't grabbed the hood for dear life. "I'm not supposed to be doing this sort of thing anymore!" She wailed as she clung onto Eileen's car, her hair billowing behind her. Slowly and carefully climbing her way to the passenger side, she tapped the glass, and once the window was opened, she slid in. Her eyes were wide with annoyance, and she huffed as she put on her seatbelt. Fixing her hair, she leaned back in her seat, trying to regain her composure. "Good evening, how are you?" She asked, her voice meek as she tried to pretend everything was normal.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Eileen "Justice Violet" Fang "Why haven't you transformed yet!?" Cinnamon screamed mentally, panicking as he sensed the shadow monster swiftly close the distance. "I-I'm d-d-driving..." Eileen stammered, but a quick look into her side mirror sent her into a panic as well. "I-it's time for Justice!" Eileen called out, her voice cracking. Letting go of the wheel, a dangerous and stupid thing to do, Eileen did her best to perform her transformation pose, which normally involved her raising her hands above her head, her magical transformation pocketwatch in her right hand, while her left arm circled in front of her body, mimicking the hands on a watch face. When her hands reunited above her head, she would transform. As it was, the tiny hatchback was too small to accommodate full range of motion, so what Eileen ended up doing was a cramped, awkward, and extremely dangerous maneuver. Still, the magical laws of the universe accepted it, and in a violet glow, Eileen transformed into her skimpy magical girl outfit. This wasn't going to protect her though. But if she suited up right now into her mecha armor, the spiky bits of her materializing armor would rip right through her car. This not only could potentially hurt Fiona sitting next to her, but it would destroy their last form of transportation, since Fiona had already wrecked her car. Without any transportation, Eileen didn't know how they were going to rendezvous with the others, a vain goal that Eileen still hoped to achieve. "F-Flare...c-can you take care of the monster for a bit while I park on the side of the road?" Eileen asked timidly. "WHAT!?" I-I don't wanna destroy my car...w-we'll still need it..." Eileen replied, quiet and sullen.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger Unfriendly reunion - @AtomicNut@shagranoz@Pyromania99 --- "G-h-hey! My Chinese food!" Isana shouted in despair as she was suddenly yanked by her cape by Alice, dragging her out the window and down onto the streets below. At least she was going to be too upset about it. Alice was right, if they had continued to fight there then it would have likely cost them both a little money. Still...but thinking about that delicious food she had just lost, made her more irritable than she already was. More importantly though - "ISANA!" The voice of someone she'd rather not have heard ever again. She scowled, turning her head towards the source of it. Emily. Less than favorable opinions of her aside, she was not someone that Isana wanted to deal with, or speak to right now. A quick look at the situation though, it seemed they weren't the only ones present either. Lily, Carrie, and Justice Bloom were there too. Sickening. It almost made her want to fight them instead of the monsters. Hmph. If Alice wasn't here, she very well might. Well, whatever. She'd take her frustrations out on that rock monster. They were having trouble with that thing? Pathetic. It didn't even look a bit dangerous or large. Fine. She'd finish this in one blow so she could get back to her Chinese food...or whatever was left of it. When Isana hit the ground, and without missing a single beat or instance, a rampart raised from the ground beneath her, launching her with force towards the earthen creature wordlessly, not even acknowledging the other Justice Heart's presence. "DIAMOND..." She gripped the sword in her hand with both hands. Pillars of earth rocketed from the ground around her, before shattering into many bright, shining gemstones of some sort. Each flashed brightly, shimmering with magic. "...BREAKER!" Swinging the sword horizontally, Vale slammed into the midsection of the car sized monster, causing the beast to stagger backwards as it obviously hadn't expected such a quick, frontal assault. In the next instant the gemstones flashed, slamming into the monster at high speed, each hit causing it to lose more and more balance until it had finally fallen over. "Hmph." Isana landed on top of the monster, or whatever was left of it. some of the rock from it had been chipped off, scattering into pebbles around the area. She hefted Vale, resting it on her shoulders. "Weak. Too easy." She said in an almost emotionless, completely uncaring tone.</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Eileen had transformed, much to Fiona's chagrin. She wiggled herself up, yanking Cinnamon by his ears so he wouldn't be crushed between her and the seat, though she let him go as she gasped. Shoot, the monster was attacking! She looked at Eileen, who meekly asked her to transform to take care of their enemy. Eileen may have been gung-ho about all this, but Fiona was a grown woman now! Well, they both were, but still! They had defeated the Big Bad, this was supposed to be their ever after! And her future did NOT include returning to the battlefield. She had a family, if she got hurt or lost her life, there would be repercussions! "Please don't call me that...!" Fiona couldn't help but whine her response at Eileen. No, she didn't want to transform! She didn't want any of this! Letting out a whimper of defeat, Fiona let out a groan as she fished her transformation trinket out of her pocket. Her heart raced against her chest as she gripped it tightly, forcing herself so go through the motions. Letting out a yell of frustration, Fiona rolled down the window on her side, exiting through it. The speed of the car whipped her hair around as she climbed to the top of the car, a death grip on the stupid trinket. "I summon the Passion of the Sun! Justice Solar Flare!" She called, wincing as flames covered her physical body. As they dispersed, her conservative, motherly clothing was replaced with something that a high school girl would wear to a rock concert. She visibly shivered, her outfit leaving her a lot more vulnerable to the winds. At least her hair was in a ponytail, but her exposed skin caused her to visibly cringe. She was much too old to be dressed like this! Regaining her composure, she drew her fist back, flames gathering, and she punched them forward at the monster.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s> <\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s> <\|message\|>'The Grinning Gunner' Justice Goldenrod ~<3!; Courtney Cartwright "Huh nothing?" Cartwright mused aloud as she took note of the surprising lack of external reactions to her earlier display. Internally might've been different but Courtney wasn't a psychic. But she was an officer who had been involved in a few domestic dispute calls. And certainly the display between her pal Elise and the other Emily. Courtney glanced at Elise and nodded. Certainly it would be easier to resolve the situation by leaving and establishing breathing room among all. "I'm all healed up so I'm like ready to jet." With that Courtney gestured to Elise and Ramona, "Any objection to checking around the old school grounds?" "We can make a bit of sport out of potential captures. Don't think Ramona's got enough of a ride so I'll fetch a cab or something." suggested Cartwright as she exited the building and began searching her purse for her phone to do just that.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- "No part of you is cute." Isana bluntly stated as she began dragging Alice towards the door until the woman decided to use her own two good legs. It was then she notice just about the only member of Justice Heart she didn't entirely hate. Ramona. An old rival of sorts, same with Elise. Unlike Elise though, Ramona was a little different. She actually made attempts to not be a complete stranger and after what had happened...well, Isana couldn't hate her. She was still pissed about the whole thing - but at least Ramona had made attempts to make amends. "And maybe you shouldn't have been too busy being a complete degenerate." Isana replied with a light scoff, lips forming into a small smirk. It was more of a playful jab than anything particularly hostile. "We all got attacked by a monster. You didn't?" Isana questioned. Curious, if that was the case then. Not that it mattered right now. She had a...ergh, date with Alice. That she was currently regretting every second of. "Well, whatever." Isana sighed, rubbing the back of her head. "I'm taking Alice I think we're gonna go checkout that old abandoned theater. See if we can dig anything up." After that, it was couch shopping and her sleeping in all day and doing abso-fuckin-lutely nothing if she could help it. "...and maybe dump this one off at a rehab center." As much as she didn't hate Ramona, she pretty much still hated everyone else here and had no intention of sticking around longer than she had too. "Don't get into too much trouble, because I won't be saving any of your asses this time around." With that, Isana turned to leave, a final dismissive wave towards the rest of the others in the club house. Ah, she was missing an event raid. Ah, sweet shiny loot, why must you be so limited...</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| What!? She didn't want any part in this! Fiona couldn't help but let out a whimper of defeat, though she hesitated when she couldn't help but notice the tension in the air. She couldn't say she disliked any of the other girls--as they were responsible for their own paths--but the hostility some had was rather alarming. So much so, that when Emily had decided to take her along, she found herself actually concerned as Elise hurled rather hurtful words at Emily. Letting out a sigh, she scratched her cheek, only coming back into focus when Emily addressed her. Fiona searched Emily's face for a moment, wondering how she could answer properly. Maybe if she had gotten there sooner, she could have tried to sit them down to air out their problems. But did she stand a chance when she would be fighting years of resentment and bitterness? Fiona counted herself lucky; her normal life had been a blessing, and it was easily something that the others could have wanted, too. Did Emily resent her for it and was just pretending to be nice? Shelving the thought, Fiona decided to respond to Emily. "Everyone's fine, Sarah was sick again but she's recovering well," She said, taking out her phone and shooting a text to her husband that she wouldn't be home for some time. But she found she couldn't quite let things go. Pocketing her phone, she looked at Emily. "You think it's alright to leave everyone like that?" She asked quietly.</s>
<\|description\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Appearance Magical Girl Form Powers Flare naturally absorbs power from the sun, said power resulting in giving her the ability to create fire at will. The bigger the flame, the more power she needs. She is strongest on a clear, sunny day, and weaker at night and cloudy days. Her secondary power is her inhuman strength; formerly being the scrawny, flat-chested, short toothpick of a girl, she often surprised her enemies by easily punching a crater into the ground. The more she concentrates, the stronger she is, although even her quick jabs hurt. Her prowess for martial arts made her a force to be reckoned with. Special Attack: Fire Bloom Punch! -An enhanced punch surrounded by flames that burns the foe! Damages an enemy!- Special Attack: Solaris Charge Beam! -A charged up beam that comes out like a flamethrower! Damages several enemies!- Signature Move: Phoenix Corona Blast! -The power of the sun manifests in the form of a phoenix, surrounding Justice SolarFlare and enabling her to ascend and become Justice Phoenix Flare! Using every ounce of power, an eruption of flames goes forth, taking the form of feathers that cleanses the area of evil! Heals allies and damages enemies!- Source \| Passion of the Sun \| A small, circle shaped garnet on the back of her left hand decorated with golden flames. Looks like a sun from a distance. History With Justice Heart \| "I was very much full of myself back then. I thought I could rule the world alone, never needing anyone. But I was just a lonely girl who wanted friends. Still, I was frustrated, my anger often pushing people away. Quite the conundrum, don't you think?" \| Fiona's early childhood was typical. She was the second child, treated kindly by her elder sister, though she did feel sometimes like her parents didn't pay attention to her. Even at a young age she knew how to sustain herself, so at least she could take care of herself. As she got older and went to school, her sister's talent shined, leaving her further behind. She saw less and less of her family as her parents would take her older sister to talent agencies, hoping to cash in on their daughter. Fiona found herself frustrated and eventually gave up on trying to get their attention. Fiona was formerly Justice SolarFlare (yes, the two words were combined as she would insist on having it that way, though she begrudgingly let people call her Flare) the hot-tempered, loud mouthed, reckless girl of the group. She primarily joined seeing how they so obviously needed her power, seeing as how they were useless without her! There wasn't a challenge she wasn't willing to take head on, opting to use her fists instead of waiting for an actual plan. She was stubborn, unwilling to compromise, and often made it a point on doing things her own way. It took a lot of friendship to get her to be a team player, and as the powerhouse of the group, she was often hailed as one of the better fighters. Her sharp tongue would often cause more than one argument, though she begrudgingly worked with the other girls since it was 'the right thing to do'. Sappy but whatever. There was also more than one occasion where she would get in over her head, prompting a rescue from the same girls she used to belittle. But that only happened once in a while! B-Because even the greatest Justice needed a break! Or whatever! Still, friendship was important and whatever, and having some help did feel nice...so she did get nicer to her teammates. Sort of. History After Justice Heart \| "It was just something I did...honestly, I remember it fondly, but life goes on. I have different priorities, like my family. I've gotten married, we have our own house, our children...As long as they are healthy and safe, that is all that matters to me. My family is my life now." \| Once everything was said and done, life went on. Her home life didn't improve, and she ended up getting a low-paying job and moving out in high school. Things really only changed in her senior year, where she met a mysterious transfer student named Aster Corona. An odd name befitting the stereotype of a 'cool kid'. There was something very comical about watching the two interact, his tenderness completely contrasting her harshness. A lot of people noticed she seemed to go out of her way to mess with him, but he took it with stride. She found herself getting attached to him over time, even getting disappointed she wasn't able to get into the same college. Somehow she graduated and got a job, and whether it was dumb luck or sheer fate, she ran into Aster again. This time, however, he would completely shock her by asking her out. Without really thinking, she immediately rejected him, flustered and confused. Aster would only smile, saying he'd just keep asking her every day until she would say yes. It only took three days. A few months passed, they would become official. A few years passed, and Aster would slowly peel away at all the pent up anger Fiona had. It was a long and difficult process, as she found opening up about herself was as easy as trying to pet a cactus, but he wore her down, moreso when he proposed. At that point everything seemed to fall into place: the engagement, the wedding, the first pregnancy, the house, the second child...For the first time in her life, everything was right. It wasn't perfect, of course, but she didn't feel the need to lash out, she worked together with her husband to overcome whatever difficulties came their way. That being said, to say she is less then thrilled at the possibility of going back to the magical girl life is an understatement... Relationships \| The Corona Family \| - Aster Corona - "He was calm, cool, and collected, just like ice. We met in high school, and the moment we met I knew I wanted to marry that man. Of course, it was difficult for me to express my emotions, so I...relentlessly bullied him. His smile was always so gentle, he put up with everything I did. I didn't know it at the time, but he was infatuated with me. Me! The girl who couldn't so much as express gratitude and raged at the world! I didn't understand. But he made me want to be a better person. He still does. He makes me feel like I mean something, and he never stops showing me how much he loves me every day. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for him." - Caleb Corona - "My adorable little mini-Aster. The moment he was born was one of the happiest days of my life. Although, I was in shock. I mean, I knew I was pregnant, I knew he was my son, but to think that I created that little boy with my husband? It honestly remade my world. He's still young, so I'm savoring all the times he tells me he loves me before he gets to that stage where he hates everything. He's very good to his little sister, although he is having trouble paying attention in school. He definitely has my temper...and I hope I'm doing everything right so that he doesn't end with any of my other traits..." - Sarah Corona - "Sarah is usually sick, but she's always so happy, so I hope I'm doing things right. My pregnancy with her was a little more difficult than Caleb's, but it just makes me love her more. Aster says she has his gentleness, but I think she's a little more sassy. I can't wait for her to get older, she just mastered walking and I think she's going to turn Aster's hair gray." \| Justice Heart \| WIP!</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Gritting her teeth, Vivian frowned as everything...well, to put not too fine a point on it, fell apart. "This is why I don't come to the group reunions," she huffed to herself. It wasn't like it was her fault that someone had decided to sic a bunch of monsters on them out of the blue. But fine, she was the asshole here. She wasn't sure why she was surprised. She'd always been the outsider, different from the rest of then. Justice Heart had been a team from the beginning and she had been the outsider, defined by the fact that she had once been allied with the Dollmaster against them. They all liked to claim that they had moved past that, but it was times like this when her position was more obvious than ever. It wasn't like there was anyone standing here with her as the group splintered apart into pairs. Holding back everything that she could have said, such as why certain individuals were even around when they didn't want to be associated with anyone else, she fell silent. She'd let some of the people leave before heading out herself on her motorbike, mostly because they were already in front of the entrance. Not that she minded too much. She was used to relying on herself, and she'd just have to do it again.</s> <\|message\|>Isana Sieger/Luminous Vale Isana Seiger --- Isana walked out of the clubhouse, sighing tiredly as Alice walked behind her. Well tonight was a bust on all accounts. Nothing fun to fight, tomorrow was pretty much guaranteed to be terrible, and worst of all she had to -ugh- work on her off days. Blegh, she needed a vacation. A long, international, vacation really, really, far away from here already. At least Keri was relatively timely with the car and she didn't have to wait long. Isana stepped into the car, giving Keri a brief wave but otherwise ignoring her as she got into the backseat with Alice. She leaned back in the seat, folding her arms across her chest and crossing her legs as they started moving, glancing idly out the window as Alice told them where they were heading, enjoying the momentary silence from what had just happened at the clubhouse. At least she tried to. She had to pry a certain lesbian off of her multiple times throughout the short trip. Thankfully she didn't have to put up with her long before they arrived at the abandoned theater. Isana exited the car, gazing up at the tall, abandoned building. "Try not to get distracted once we're in there, Alice. I'd rather not be here any longer than we have too." Closing the door on the car, she began walking up to the front of the theater, hoping it wasn't locked or blocked.</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s>	<\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s>
<\|description\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom Appearance: Magical Girl Costume: The sword she wields is named Morning Glory. Powers: Morning Glory can project a large number of small, phantasmal golden flower petals. These petals can be manipulated using specific movements of the sword into a number of different abilities: Promised Petal Blade A relatively simple move, where the blade projects a small wave of petals during a slash, causing them to form an arc that flies from the sword into the target. This can be either blunt or sharp, depending on Elise's intent. Projectile Petal/Torpedo Petal Projectile Petal is a relatively simple ability, where Elise rapidly fires petals from the end of her sword as soon as she projects them. This is fairly weak however. Torpedo Petal is a somewhat stronger form of the attack, where she takes a moment to project more petals, shifts into a shape resembling an American football, and then fires that at an enemy. (Number) Petal Barrier Elise projects a number of petals and shifts them to form a large barrier, which takes the vague shape of a flower. The more petals are poured into the barrier, the more petals the 'flower' will appear to have, up to a maximum of ten, with each additional petal signifying a stronger barrier. However, the number of petals the flower will have must be specified during the initial casting of the barrier, otherwise it will collapse. More petals also cause the barrier to take longer to cast. Petal Prison A move where Elise manipulates the petals into the shapes of chains or rope emerging from the end of Morning Glory, with the intention of wrapping around the target and preventing their movement, allowing them to be captured without doing too much damage. That being said, it can also be used as a whip, so it isn't purely for easy captures. Petal Platform Petal Platform is fairly simple, being exactly what it sounds like it is. Elise simply forms some of the petals into a solid, cloud-like platform which she can stand on, or more usefully, use to redirect herself while in midair. These platforms can move with her on it, but it takes a significantly higher level of concentration to accomplish this than it does to just make multiple stationary platforms and run across them. The Blade called Glory Elise's strongest attack, leaps and bounds ahead of any of her other techniques when it comes to raw power. In essence, its similar to Promised Petal Blade, except for one glaring difference. The petal arc of this attack is enormous. Because of its size and ridiculous power, Elise has barely used it, as to do so within the city would cause absolute chaos and disaster, likely tearing through at least a couple of large buildings before it dissipates. Source: A silver and gold necklace with a floral design at the centre. History with Justice Heart: Funnily enough, the only reason Elise was even introduced to Justice Heart came from a complete accident. One day while she was walking home from school, she found that her usual route home was undergoing roadworks, meaning that she couldn't get through unless she decided to try and walk on the road in the heavy traffic. Unfortunately, the next fastest route she knew was one of her brother Connors 'shortcuts', which meant that it was probably at least half an hour longer and would take her through a maze of alleys. Still, she was fast, and knew karate, so she thought she'd be fine. Little did she expect to encounter a large, dog-like monster deep in the alleyways... Ten minutes later, members of Justice Heart arrived, and were surprised to see that Elise, armed only with a small piece of rebar she found in the alley, had somehow managed to hold her own, and even get in a few well timed strikes at the monsters eyes. After they finished the monster off, they invited her to become one of them, an offer she accepted even before they'd finished speaking. After all, one of her dreams was to be a real hero, and save people! As Justice Bloom, she quickly proved herself as a more than capable fighter, often trying to take on the strongest enemies she could find all on her own. The thrill of fighting such a powerful opponent became a controlling factor of her life as a magical girl. However, despite managing to succeed a good chunk of the time, her blunt, boisterous personality mixed with her aggressive tendencies to make people think that she just didn't care about the rest of the team, or even something as simple as consequences in general. While this wasn't the case, she did tend to push people's buttons a lot, sometimes for amusement, but sometimes genuinely by accident. The fact that her brother somehow seemed to find himself involved in more of their fights than he didn't only seemed to make things worse. Miraculously though, by the time they fought Dollmaster for the last time, she'd managed to express just how much her teammates really meant to her, and she would stand by them to the ends of the earth. History after Justice Heart: As it turns out, Justice Heart ended long before the world did, and the friends she'd made were quickly torn away as she found herself in a school where barely any of her friends went other than Courtney Cartwright. Alone, with few people to turn to, she eventually decided to make do with Connor and his friends, although she did do her best to drag Courtney into their group as well. She's pretty sure she succeeded... One thing she quickly began to notice was that something was wrong with him, which began to confuse her. Over the next year, she began to notice him staring at her friends, looking extremely troubled by something, and would occasionally catch him hyperventilating whenever she talked to them for too long. She had a theory about what might be causing it, but she was worried what might happen if she brought it up. She thought that maybe, just maybe, he was somehow managing to recognise them, as well as her, as the members of Justice Heart who he always used to try to fight beside. She realised this wasn't a conscious recognition, and that even he didn't realise that he was making the connection, but that almost seemed to make it worse. By the time she was sixteen, Connor was having panic attacks pretty regularly, and it was beginning to affect his performance in school, making it look pretty unlikely that he'd be able to achieve his dream of joining the police force. This hurt her especially deeply, as only a few days after the final battle with Dollmaster, he had told her that it was only because he saw the way the members of Justice Heart never stopped fighting for what was right that he even decided on that dream. They were the ones who'd shown him what he wanted to dedicate his life to, and now, no matter whether they chose to or not, they were about to rip that dream away from him. She was about to destroy it. The way she saw it, there was only one way to help him now. And so one day, she told him everything. She showed him her transformation, her skills both as a magical girl and as a normal human, and he finally realised why the mere act of being around his sister had begun to terrify him. She didn't tell him which if her friends had also been magical girls, but she didn't need to. He only had to look at them to figure out which ones he must've known before. After this revelation, everything became clear to him, reminding him why he wanted to become a policeman in the first place. Unfortunately though, it turned out to be too late, his inability to properly pay attention in the previous years making it too difficult for him to catch up. Eventually he managed to find work as a bartender in a small place downtown, but the pay was never really great, and both he and Elise knew that entering the police force was well out of his reach. As could be expected, Elise felt terrible. This was her fault, especially considering that she made Courtney hang around with his friends as well. It was around that time though that Elise managed to reconnect with Emily Galbrett, one of the other members of Justice Heart she had felt closest too. For just that little while, she let herself believe that having her around might help her get over how horrible she felt, and she began to return to her normal, boisterous self over the next year. And then Emily got pregnant with Connors kid, and Elise felt more betrayed than she even knew she could. How long where they together before that night? Were they even together before that night? Connor had mentioned that he was getting more and more depressed with his own situation... Did Emily decide to take advantage of that? Take advantage of the poor idiots minuscule self esteem for an easy screw? Or what, maybe he was actually fine! Maybe while she was being torn apart by the guilt, the two of them had been giggling and whispering sweet nothings to each other in secret! Letting her suffer and not even letting her know she didn't have to! And now she was pregnant! Hell, Elise may have been an irresponsible person, but Jesus fuckin Christ! Nearly a full year passed before she even talked to Connor again, she felt so hurt. She threw herself into vigilanteism to try and deal with those feelings, getting through her emotional pain by dealing it to criminals physically. She quickly realised she was actually quite good at it, and it slowly evolved into her current job as a... 'private investigator'. Still, the only reason she even began talking to her brother again was when his depression got bad enough for him to start getting into some pretty brutal fights with random assholes around the city. Slowly, they managed to repair their relationship. However, Elise still despises Emily, now firmly under the belief that she took advantage of her brothers lack of self-worth to get what she wanted that night, despite his protests that that wasn't the case. Relationships: Connor McGillis Connor is Elise's shyer, more awkward brother, older than her by a year. Although they are both constantly fighting, its pretty clear to most that they're basically best friends. Each one constantly sticks their heads into each others business, and they'll defend each other to the death. He works as a bartender in a smallish bar downtown. Their relationship did become pretty strained after he got Emily pregnant, but after noticing his personality spiralling into anger issues and vicious self loathing, they managed to reconnect, and he is now back to his old, composed yet nervous self. Courtney Cartwright: Courtney is probably the member of Justice Heart that Elise has remained closest with, being pretty much the only one that went to her highschool. In fact, she would probably call Courtney her best friend, and along with Connor they formed a pretty close crew. When she was hospitalised, Elise went into one of her rare serious phases, trying to stick around her through her time in hospital and rehab and, in a less healthy resolution, track down the bastard who did it and ruin him for life. Isana Sieger: If there was anyone Elise would ever consider a true rival, it would be Isana Sieger. Back in Justice Heart, the two were constantly butting heads, making jabs at each other and fighting. Elise likes to think they still saw each other as friends, but pissing the white haired girl off was just so much fun! Nowadays, they tend to run into each other every now and then while she's on a job. Whenever this happens, she'll drop everything and try to goad her into another fight for old times sake. She's pretty sure they're still frenemies, although she's not sure how invested Isana is in their rivalry anymore. Emily Galbrett: Scum. Goddamn manipulative scum. Connor was in a bad place, where he was vulnerable and needed support, and she took advantage of that. Elise doesn't know if Emily really cared about her when they reconnected anymore, and the mere fact that this doubt is even able to exist in her mind has convinced her that the old Emily, one of her closest confidants, is dead and gone. Now the result is a sixteen year old niece she's never talked to, and a sixteen year old grudge she's never gotten over. Lily Galbrett: At this point, the best way to describe Elise's relationship with Lily is 'drinking buddies'. Her relationship with the woman's sister coughscumcough notwithstanding, she tends to enjoy their little 'bonding sessions', which she's gone out of her way to make a thing ever since she realised Lily drank at the bar Connor worked at. These sessions usually involve Lily telling her to piss off and stop being so annoying or other similar insults, to which Elise responds with underage drinking jokes and giggling fits.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| The door to the lair would be slammed open, a less than pleased Fiona stomping her way in. Her heels could have broken the concrete if she chose to, and she came to a halt before the already gathered group. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally counted to five before placing her hands on her hips. Her blue eyes scanned the group in front of her, and she let out a small whine of annoyance. Admittedly, Fiona had little contact with a majority of the group since her wedding, and even that was a little much in her opinion considering how drunk a certain someone got. Inhaling through her nose, she shook her head as she tried to think of what to say, though the glaring pinkness of the room was super distracting. "If there's a way to take care of the situation without getting me involved, I would greatly appreciate it," She said, not bothering to ask what was happening.</s> <\|message\|>The Roster Isana's jab at the entire group made Emily snicker in spite of herself, Goldenrods antics annoyed her, but afterwards simply listened idly to the remainder of the conversation. As Fiona entered, Justice 'Star' gave a shake of her head. "Nope, your on team mom Fiona. We are searching the Dollmaster's old locations tomorrow as pairs, so be sure to hire a babysitter. I'm sure the others can form teams on their own." Looking around the room Emily wanted to make sure there was nothing left to be dealt with. "That's all? Great. We'll be going to the docks. Talk to ya'll if we find something. Bye." Saving the other mom from the group conflict, Fiona would feel a light touch turning her around on her forearm as the pair left the room. "So, how are the little ones Fiona? Your better choice of men than me?" Fiona was probably the poster cut out of the truly happy, successful ending of one of their group members - Emily was a little jealous, but she wouldn't try and decry Fiona of the bragging rights she had earned.</s>	<\|message\|>Elise McGillis/Justice Bloom "Alright, how about you go fuck yourself Emily!" Elise shouted, dropping out of her pose and walking away from Courtney. She was fine when the bitch was just being crappy to her, but start slinging shit at Connor for no damn reason? That would get you on the fast track to her shit list! "In case you've forgotten, you were the one who went after him. You snatched the poor idiot up when he was going through a rough patch, and then you threw him away because of it! But oh, wait, that wouldn't be fucked up enough for you, would it? No, first you had to have a fucking kid with him! A kid who you constantly try to keep to yourself, might I add... Seriously, he'd give his life for that kid, and you barely let him spend time with her!" She gave a dry, humourless laugh as she watched her leave with Fiona. "Then again, maybe it's good that you don't let him see her, because it's let me dodge around your goddamn spawn for ages now!" And then she turned to Courtney and Ramona, a strained grin trying to cover the anger in her face. "Alright you guys, maybe we should get moving! God knows you two are the only people who actually give a damn about the freindships we made way back then!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion "Calm down, it's not the end of the world. Unless it is. Either way, I'm here, so you can stop your whining now." Magical Girl Costume: Powers: Ramona is a master of the forge- fire, steel, smoke, and sharp edges. Her power usually manifests as flaming metal blades or guns that rain molten bullets on her foe. Subtle, Ramona is not. Dragonscale Armor Ramona is really, really hard to hurt in her transformed state- even exposed skin is hard as steel. She's also basically fireproof. Battle-Forged Wings You know what wings have always needed? Jet thrusters. Ramona grows dragon wings made of flaming metal. She can also channel fire magic through them to give herself a speed boost. Demigod of Fire and Steel Ramona bears the mantle of Ignis' divinity. She possesses good health and longevity, even as a mere human. In addition, the gift of the King in Red gives Ramona the knowledge to forge marvelous weapons, and then call them to her side whenever the need arises. Where else did you think all those swords came from? Magic? Ha. Veins of the Earth Ramona can sense metal. Particularly precious ones, or ones good for making stuff out of them. Thus, she's never in short supply of... well, supplies. Howling Blades Ramona's bread and butter; a mandala of eight molten swords manifests around her, controlled by her will. She can either use them at medium-range to slashy-stabby something, or go straight-up "Gate of Babylon" on someone and fire them as projectiles. Roaring Dragon Fang For when the situation calls for "up close and personal." Big effing greatsword made of molten metal. Its use is obvious- crush the foe. Hell Dragon's Flight Like Howling Blades, but with guns! Eight rifles that spit molten bullets manifest. Bring on the dakka, with added fire. Wrath of the King in Red Ramona's magnum opus: A claymore the size of an apartment building, hurled pointy-end-first at the unfortunate bastard that just pissed Ramona off this much. Get hit with this, and you're not walking away- scraped off the pavement by a street sweeper is more like it. Unfortunately, it also leaves Ramona basically bereft of magical power for a while after using it, so she better make it count. Source: The Mark of the King in Red- A stylized dragon "tattoo" made of iridescent red metal on her left collarbone. Must be activated with the incantation, "Here standeth the Champion of Fire and Steel! IGNITE!!" History with Justice Heart: Ramona ran away from home at the age of 14, due to, "strong differences of opinion." A few months in, she was desperate, still living on the streets, when a man by the name of Cato found her. Apparently a traveler from another world, the man offered her a "Gift," in order to give his Lord a presence in their new world. Not having anything better to do, and hoping this "Gift" could lead to a hot meal, Ramona accepted, and was marked by Ignis, god of the forge in the world he once called home. Ramona became Pyrrha of the Forge, the most fucking metal magical girl of all time. Soon after this, she met Justice Heart. Their relationship was... rocky, at first. Ramona's obsession with comic books and shounen manga meant that her magical girl antics came with a severe lack of restraint- because superheroes never have to worry about things like collateral damage, do they? In short, accidentally exploding potential allies tends to alienate them. As the gravity of some of her actions began to reach her, and her desperation to belong to the group increased, Ramona was forced to learn the greatest and most difficult of lessons: restraint. Not by much, but she wasn't knocking down buildings left and right anymore. Little by little, she got to be friends with Justice Heart, and eventually allies, culminating in helping her new family banish the Dollmaster into oblivion. Ramona had finally achieved her dream: to be an awesome protagonist, a hero! History after Justice Heart: ...And then some idiot just had to get knocked up. As this incident, among others, began to chip away at their group dynamic, Ramona was forced to watch as her new family slowly began to tear itself apart. While she tried to stay in contact with her friends, eventually the pain of watching the group destroy itself got to be too painful, and she struck out on her own. It wasn't easy at first- her marketable skills were all better suited to a life in the Middle Ages, and selling too much gold had a tendency to draw uncomfortable questions from certain authorities. But she managed to find her niche when she discovered that certain nerds were willing to pay a lot of money for some fancy sword from their favorite book or show or whatever. Nowadays, Ramona is in high demand among fantasy circles, who commission her to smith (supposedly) decorative weapons for them. Heck, she even found love. Twice, in fact. Her girlfriends, Katja and Izzy, help her make her fancy nerd stuff, and keep her grounded when she's being particularly manic. Unbeknownst to anyone else, however, Ramona occasionally still moonlights as Pyrrha, hunting down the occasional monster or bank robber or whatever. But above all else, she longs for the glory days of her youth, when she and the rest of Justice Heart were in their prime... ...She never did like the name "Justice Vermillion," though. Relationships: Katja Volk and Isabel "Izzy" Santorini- "My girlfriends. Yes, girlfriends, plural. Calm your titties. Katja's some kinda Amazon, and Izzy is a punk rock kinda chick with bitchin' blue hair. They help me with my commissions from time to time, but they're mostly the ones who keep me sane." Cato- "The guy who gave me Ignis' mark. Some kinda priest in their old world. He's utterly forgettable in his human guise, very Clark Kent. Aside from the glowing eyes, anyway. Haven't seen him since the Big Guy went missing. Wish I knew where he was." The King in Red, Master of Fire and Steel, Lord Ignis- "The Boss. He marked me with his Gift, gave me powers, turned me into the literal spitfire that I am now. Apparently he used to be a god in his old world, or something. His true form is some kinda robot dragon or something. I haven't heard his voice in years; not since we put Dollmaster Katherine into a bottomless hole in the universe. But I know he's out there somewhere." Justice Heart- "Haven't seen most of the others in years. I catch Isana and Elise around sometimes, especially Isana, when I go out, ah... moonlighting. We still have our little thing going on from the old days. Even though it's obvious that I'm still the strongest member of Justice Heart. I mean, my swords can explode. Can theirs do that? I didn't think so. Check and mate~"</s> <\|message\|>Carrie Martin Carrie walked up to Vivian. The other girl seemed to be alone, which just wasn't right. Not to mention, it was damned dangerous. Sure, she'd never been the most liked member of Justice Heart, what with the villainy and all, but right now, they needed all the help they could get. "Hey, Viv. I- I think we should work together on this one. Cover each other's backs and whatnot. I recall that was one time we were attacked over by the docks." She left out the fact that it was Vivian who attacked them there with a monster, and it was there Justice Heart turned her good. "If this is Dollmaster- and I will admit to being skeptical on that point yet- it seems she's going back to her old tricks. Maybe there's something left at the location that we can pick up. You know her better than any of us, so you know what to look for."</s> <\|message\|>Alice Augustine/White Heart Alice Augustine Exploring the Past --- During their car ride, Alice spent a lot of time trying to lean on Isana lovingly though the other woman didn't seem all for it. It didn't matter much though, she loved everything about Isana after all. She was still being quite a bit obnoxious while sending a text to Vivian. Sorry about that, I'm sure you were looking forward to dinner too. I'll take you out sometime later! And maybe a bit more if you're interested too~~~ Hehehe." With that, she sent the text and tried cuddling to Isana. "It disgusts me still how forward you are." Keri said, peaking back at her charge. It was obvious to Alice the woman was just trying to rile her a little. "Come on Keri, you love me as I am." Alice said with a smile, looking towards the driver. "Are you sure you're not on any drugs?" "I am not! Never ever!" It was about that time they arrived at the abandoned theatre. "Sure, sure. Now here's where you wanted to go. Why did you want to come here of all places?" Keri said as she pressed a button and opened the doors for Alice and Isana to get out. "Old memories!" "And I instantly don't wish to know any more. Get out, please. I've TV to catch up on." In the front of the car is a small monitor which flicked on to a show about a detective recounting his past investigations. As the two exited the car, Alice looked back at Keri and mouthed, "We'll have some fun later, ok?" Keri's reaction was to turn the sound up in the car speakers. With a giggle, Alice turned back to Isana that said she doesn't want to spend too long in there. "You don't want to spend a long time with me in the dark? Geez, aim at a maiden's heart why don't you?" Alice giggled as she lead the way up to the theatre. "This will be interesting at least." She entered first.</s> <\|message\|>Vivian Everett, 'Justice Verdant' Vivian Everett Waiting to leave, Vivian came to a stop as she found herself approached after all. Seemed someone did want to take pity on her after all,or at least it looked like it might be that way. She shot Carrie an unamused glance at the mention of the dock attack before reiterating the plan that she had initially espoused. "If it is the Dollmaster, she wouldn't care about that spot in particular," she explained. "I'm going to go check out one of her old hideouts, see if anyone's been in there recently. Even if it isn't her, someone could be using her leftovers." Personally she thought that she could handle it herself, but as long as Carrie wasn't expressing some deep seated desire to not be involved in this whole thing then she supposed that she could live with it. A second set of eyes to catch things she might have missed would be useful. It was at that point that something else presented itself to her, causing her to cast her gaze to her default companion yet again. "I only have the one motorbike," she added. She couldn't remember if Carrie had drove here on her own, but this might be tricky if she needed to give her a ride too.</s> <\|message\|>\| Fiona Rosalind Corona née Athens \| Fiona definitely appreciated Emily's compliment--she did have a point. Well, they had all been changed, for better of for worse, and Fiona only hoped that she was right. Perhaps once they got to the bottom of...whatever was happening, maybe Fiona would do her part for the team. How ironic, considering she wanted nothing to do with any of these shenanigans. Shenanigans, and yet she was roped into fighting for 'the greater good'. How good could it be if it continued to disrupt her life? Would she ever know what normal was? She had managed to fight fine, all things considered, though she was only so active because chasing around her kids took a lot out of her. That and she was unemployed; taking care of her kids only took so much time, and she had to keep herself fit for her husband! But she never imagined staying fit for this. "I'm glad," She replied when she would mention her own daughter. She must be so big by now. When it came to the topic of cars, however, her face flushed red. "I-I can...considering I may have totaled my own..." Oh man, she still hadn't called the insurance or let Aster know. Geez, how could she be so irresponsible? "Lead the way."</s>	<\|message\|>Ramona Saturday/"Pyrrha of the Forge"/Justice Vermillion Ramona Saturday "Pyrrha" --- Any good feelings Ramona had about returning to the hangout spot of her sordid youth was burned away almost instantly at the mood that greeted her when she arrived. First Vivian being catty, then Isana and Alice leaving in a hurry (at least they didn't seem pissed off at her like everyone else), followed by... well. It looked like nothing had changed between Emily and Elise. Ramona glared at the ground sadly as Emily swept past her, throwing one last barb practically over her shoulder as she stormed out with Fiona in tow. Ramona sighed- there were myriad reasons why Justice Heart collapsed the way it did, but Ramona's ire always fell on Emily first and foremost. It was her stupid decision to get knocked up that knocked everyone else down the slippery slope to where they were now. She grit her teeth, then moved toward the last two she was left with. Without saying another word, she practically dashed over to Elise, wrapping her old friend in a tight hug. Aside from Isana, Ramona had always had the most kinship with Elise. "The Ken to your Ryu," she once referred to herself as, their friendly bickering over the "Strongest" title always having been good for a laugh. It would be nice to get back into the swing of that again. "Hey, Flower Girl," she said, giving one last squeeze before backing up. "Saw you on the news today. Didn't think I'd given you permission to use my title," she laughed with a crooked grin. She turned to Courtney afterward. "To answer the question that everyone's been askin', by the way? No. I don't know why I wasn't attacked. Maybe the dragon-girl thing scared 'em off?" She shook her head. "Anyways, as much fun as this is going to be, let's try and get it done ASAP, a'kay? I got swords to finish." At Courtney's suggestion of her taking a cab, Ramona shrugged. "I mean, I don't know if you guys remember, but I can move under my own power. If any of you can ride, you can take the bike. Though, don't tell Katja. Or wreck it. She'll kill me dead if she finds out someone else touched her baby..."</s>
<\|description\|>L'eonard Aldvin NPC LIST Age: 28 Species: Human Class: Magic Knight Rank: King of Meteora Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Personality: King L'eonard Aldvin has been described as young, brash and bold. He is a hothead but he has the power to back it up. He doesnt let anyone try to push him over as he is a very proud person. He holds that who he favors very close but everyone is expendable. For his goals he will sacrifice anything including his own life. Appearance History: Ask IC Powers/Abilities Blood of the First King: Is a bloodline ability passed down from generation to generation. It was said that the first king was a powerful mage he used both a sword and a staff. Anyone with this ability has +50 MP. Meteora Spell Book: A vast book of spells exclusively availible to the royal family of Meteora. Equipment: Unknown Extra: He loves Cookies King Level 45 Health 375 MP 600 Vitality: 15 Speed: 20 Strength: 15 Endurance: 15 Mana: 50 Name: Chett Ubecha Age: 38 Species: ???? Class: Beserker Rank: Champion of Meteora Homeland: ????? Personality: Quiet and Fierce. If you're not worth his time he won't acknowledge you. Appearance: History: ??? Powers/Abilities Beat of the Champion: This trait known only to the champion, increases all of his stats +10 for the first 5 rounds of battle. Equipment -Champions Scorn (Long Sword) - Bandages x4 - Chains x 20 Extra: Has absolute undying loyalty to the king Name: Apostle Knights Age: 15+ Species: All Races Class: Magic Knights Rank: Foot Soldier Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Appearance History: The Apostle Knights are the Meteora Kingdoms signature troops. The ways of old taught Swordsman foot soldiers so a knight was very unheard of. The first Knights were trained by King Aldvin himself. Utilizing a rare combonation of magic and might these Knights are ranked among the top in the world. Named "Peoples Heroes" because most of these Knights were either farmers or sons of farmers coming from improvished fields or looted villages. The people of Meteora celebrate them year round to keep their morale and loyalty at their peek. Powers/Abilities Flames of the Emporer - An sustained S class spell that constantly keeps the users weapons engulfed in flames. This spell is the secret to the power of the Meteora Kingdoms Apostle Knights. Equipment -Claymore -Dagger -Apostle Knight Armor (Increases Mana +10) -Health Potions x2 -Mana Potions x2 Extra: Apsolute undying loyalty to the King. Newbie Level 25 HP 375 MP 50 Vitality: 15 Speed: 15 Strength: 15 Endurance: 15 Mana: 15 Name: Sampson Ubecha Age: 25 Species: Beastman - Lizardman Class: Magic Knight Rank: Captain of the Knights Guard Homeland: Meteora Kingdom Personality: ????? Appearance History: ???? Powers/Abilities Flames of the Emporer - An sustained S class spell that constantly keeps the users weapons engulfed in flames. This spell is the secret to the power of the Meteora Kingdoms Apostle Knights. Heat Scale - Umong the Lizardman people, Sampson belongs to the Heat Scale clan. This particular breed of Lizardman have an adaption to night and fire making them accel at night time combat and have a high resistance to fire. The Heat Scale people originate from the equator. WAA Handbook Equipment -Captain Claymore -Captain Armor -Teleport Scroll -Health Potion x3 -Mana Potion x6 Extra: Brother to the Champion Name: Jack Tunic Age: 14 Species: Human Class: Keeper of Knowledge Rank: Scribe Homeland: The College of Knowledge - Nothing is known about the college besides the fact that they record every great even that happens throughout the world. Personality: ????? Appearance History: ????? Powers/Abilities: ????? Equipment -Codex of Monsters -Health Scroll x10 Monster List Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0 Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún "Mind if I take this seat? My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" Arwyn's first reaction as the human lunged towards her was to reach for her blade, but when she heard his name, in the strange gutteral tongue the foreignerrs used, her hand paused mid-gesture. "Yule?" She asked curiously, "Are you also of the wood?" As she spoke the elf glanced down at the man's attire. It didn't seem appropriate for the woodlands, but then again they were not currently in the woodlands and it was entirely possible he had chosen to change into clothing more suitable for the human nest. "I am named Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún of Glad-o Dú. I come in search of my destiny." Before their conversation could continue the meeting seemed to come to order, with one of the other humans addressing the crowd in front of him as though he were the assigned leader for this endeavour. As the 'King' spoke Arwyn studied him carefully. Nothing about his demeanour sewemed to indicate he was a great man in any way, everything from his posture to the turn of phrase he chose spoke of mediocrity, but for some reason the others in the room paid heed to him, and so Arwyn followed their lead. This was a strange place for her after all, and a person's true depths were rarely uncovered at first glance. As the King finished his presentation, turning to discuss another mater with the armoured individual seated across the roomn Arwyn found herself puzzled by the turn of events. "You said this 'Champion' of yours was sent on the quest, but now you gather us to go after him?" She asked, raising to her feet, the shadows of her cloak dissipating around her as she moved, Arwyn followed the King towards the doorway. "If you had need of our services, why was time wasted with someone not skilled in the task?"</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| The question briefly perplex him, not sure what it was supposed to mean. Ebonglen did have a large forest nearby he supposed and he did explore it often. Pitch-black eyes blinked in slight amazement at her long and elegant sounding name, even the tone of voice she used brought a certain majesty to it. And she spoke of finding her 'destiny'? He was sure what that was but it sounded very important. His attention turned to commotion around him as people left the room, leaving only a select few behind. The individual he idenified as the King began to speak, grabbing her all of their attention as a impressive map was laid down on the table. Magic wasn't his strong suit but it interested him nonetheless, as the minor amazement in his eyes could show. He immediately thought, If their champion was sent, then why call for us?. His question would quickly be answered, along with a troubling explanation. A dungeon was a notably infamous place in the WAA, full of untold dangers and traps. It did not matter to Arton, though he was attracted to this quest for the experience and gold...there was now the entire safety of a kingdom and its people at stake. That was enough motivation to spur him past any hesitance he might have. He got up from his seat and followed the king and other member of the adventuring group. Arwyn's question seemed perfectly fine to Arton, not really understanding the way it might come off. "Did the champion go with any others?" He decided to ask after Arwyn. If there were more people to look for, it was vital to know. No one was getting left behind if Arton could help it. Everything was kicking off rather suddenly, but he was prepared as he ever could be. Soon they would all be fighting together against heaven-knows-what in the dungeon. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\|</s>	<\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin As the King exited the building he was first approached by the Night Elf of the group. L'eonard had heard of the Night Elf people but he had never seen one before in person. A look of fascination crept across the king's face. He couldn't help but ponder her up and down, taking extreme note of her clothing. He couldn't help himself but intrude into her personal space and lightly flick her armor. He was quickly interrupted by Gunthrum clearing his throat very loud and abrupt. Taking a mental note of everything he just learned the look vanished from his face. He briefly cleared his throat. "Apologies.....Arwyn? To answer your question. Chett and I have conquered 2 dungeons in our time of knowing each other. He is very strong and knowledgeable. But even then it only took us 5 days max. I do agree with you though, that time has been wasted. The King came to a complete stop as the Draeni, Arton, asked his question. I mean this group looks really strong. How many dungeons have you conquered? I should have called the WAA in the first place." The group now stood in front of the front doors to the castle leading out into the courtyard. Before the King could answer the question for himself, Sampson spoke."15 Knights hand-picked from my own elite squad by me. They're ready to die to complete their mission!" After speaking, Sampson hawks a loogy on the floor. Gunthrum immediately begins cleaning it with a rag. The King glares at Sampson, letting out a slight killing intent. He points his finger at Sampson. "Bad Dog!" A small stream of water hits Sampson in the face through the opening in his helmet. Afterward, he releases the pressure and turns towards the door pushing them open. "What he says is true. 15 men. Try to find them but don't strain yourselves. Dungeons are perilous and sometimes infinite with millions of pathways. I recommend you lot stay together. The King began laughing loud and obnoxious like. "What am I saying?! Your all dungeon crawling badasses!" On the other side of the door were 2 knights. Sampson led the group out, while Gunthram and L'eonard stayed inside the castle. "These 2 knights will escort you to the dungeon. It is up to you to complete your task." The 2 knights stood on top of what seemed to be a carpet. Once everyone was standing on it, the 2 knights began to conjure magic spells that made the carpet float and then take off high into the sky. From that high up, the group could see the view of the entire city as well as ships sailing in from miles away. On the outer edge of the city was a formation of earth that looked like it obviously didn't belong there. The magic carpet was flying the group directly towards it. It was then that the usually silent boy began to speak. "Hey!! Look at that. It's the entrance...oooooooh. This looks interesting." Jack began spazzing out into his book. Upon getting closer the group could see the dungeon clear as day. The area around the entrance was scorched black, however, ash covered the majority of the area. The entrance itself resembled a giant head with the mouth serving as a gateway beckoning the heroes to go deeper. The eyes glowed red and emitted a smoke cloud that rained ash into the area. The place reeked of death and despair. Jack was the first off the carpet before it could even land. He was cycling through his book taking note of everything around him. From the way, the dungeon looked, to the ash clouds above that only lingered around the head of the dungeon. Anyone with magic affinity could feel darkness emitting from the cloud. Sampson quickly hoped off to catch up with the boy."Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful." The boy seemed hypnotized by the very essence of the dungeon. "Stay close kid you don't know what may come out of that pl-" Before Sampson could finish his speech a lone knight began walking out of the dungeon. Exhaustion could be heard from each step he took. One after another until he was finally visible to the entrance. He made brief eye contact with the group before collapsing. "Cap..tain?" His armor looked bloody and beaten. The soldier himself was missing an arm and his helmet. Sampson quickly rushed to his aid.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone "Watch out....they're coming...." This was the magic sentence that made Rio turn his attention to the entrance which was currently being guarded by the elf and that guy. From the dimness was a metallic clinking sound with a herky-jerky rhythm. The source of this noise would soon reveal itself in the form of a shuffling undead soldier. He saw it lurch over and start charging at the two as it screeched, with two other ones like itself in tow. As he watched the battle unfold he flexed his clawed hand in anticipation. He looked at their armor and figured what needed to be done to help out. Waiting for the two in front of him to finish their attacks, he then ran off to the side in indirect manner not wanting to draw the enemies' attention, and then ran at them them from the side to flank them and deliver an empowered slash at all three of them with his claw (rend). His goal was less to hurt them and more to specifically destroy that armor that get in the way of delivering blows to them. After delivering the blow he continued to run and then loop around back to the group.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 60------------------------------------------------------ The undead charged forward towards the entrance of the dungeon. They were first met by arrows that seemed to disintegrate into nothing upon making contact with the monsters. While Sampson accompanied the soldiers back to the carpet, Jack seemed to move in closer towards the entrance unsuspected. He pulled out a book that began to shine and make his eyes shine. "I just need to get a closer look..." The boy whispered creeping up behind Arton just as the monsters made contact with his shield. Artons defense was built to withstand even such a charge from the first undead as he holds his ground not budging an inch. As the second one impacts, the force increases. By the third one, Arton could be seen slightly getting pushed back. As Arton attacked back at the wraiths, the first would raise its arm to guard. However, this was a hopeless attempt as its arm was completely destroyed. From the side of the monsters, Rio charged in landing a critical blow on all of them. The wraith in the front taking majority of the damage. The first wraith was reduced to nothing but ashes as the other 2 scatter. One to the Left and one to the right. Just then Jack spoke, now appearing at Sampson's side. "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!! The boys' voice appeared to be strong and omnipotent, a complete change from the child that once spoke. Battle Calculations {Arwyns attack has no effect} {Arton Deals 25 Damage to Undead 1} {Rio Deals 80 Damage to Undead 1, 40 Damage to Wraith 2 & 3} {Undead 1 Destroyed} {Rio Looses Quarter Stamina} Undead 2: The monster slides to the right after suffering some damage from Rio's attack. After a unified screech with the other undead, it turns its sights to Arton. This soldier was carrying a large ax, however, any former skills the person possessed with the weapon was now gone. Its stance was sloppy and its movements were more than slow, its will remained unchanged. It charged once more towards Arton, this time lifting its ax and dropping it down with all its undead might. HP: 60 Undead 3: The undead rolls off to the right, in the same direction as Rio. This one seems to be holding a grudge from the attack earlier. This monster carried no weapon and yet it still charged reeling forward towards Rio. It releases a barrage of slow and sluggish punches towards him. HP: 60</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton was unable to catch any sarcasm, if there was any, and believed that Nanda was indeed the princess that she claimed. The kingdom she spoke of sounding way too good to be true, so that was enough to cause him to doubt it was as amazing. No kingdom was without their faults, that much he had learned. He didn't have time to respond as Rio kicked in the door. He was relieved that they found two more knights awaiting them on the other side, so far this mission was going far better than expected. This would be three extra lives that were saved if the other one survived. He briefly closed his eyes for he fallen soldier and spoke an internal, short prayer. Realistically, it would not be the last time he would have to do so. His guard did not drop as they stood in the room and agreed with Princess Nanda that they should not remain here for long. The benefits of a smaller party was the ability to move quickly. His attention was immediately grabbed by the sound of coming from one of the corridors. Quickly, he did his best to isolate where exactly it was coming from and took up position to engage them once they got into range "It is never a good idea to go off on your own in dungeons." Arton mentioned as they argued about what to do "I will take on the corridor the noises are coming from so whatever you plan on doing, just do it fast." He stated plainly. The first dungeon he have ever been in, one of the party was killed by a trap when he recklessly engaged a small group of monsters. That was when he knew that as long as you're in the halls of the dungeon, never assume you have the upper hand or are safe.</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s>
<\|description\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún Age:168 (equivalent to about 28 in human terms) Species:Night Elf (Dú Edhel) Class:Shadowbow (Magic/Martial Arts) - Stealth specialist skilled in reconnaisance and precision marksmanship. Usually operating in a detached manner, ever watchful over their companions but rarely seen unless they want to be. Rank:Specialist - Huntress Homeland:Little is known of the dark forest realm the Night Elves call Glad-o Dú (lit. Forest of Night.) Rumours and ancient tales speak of cities carved into the oldest and tallest of trees, lit with natural magics borrowed from the wood itself, but no living person remains to varify the validity of these myths, and the Night Elves rarely deal with outsiders in a manner which leaves them capable of returning with fresh news of the realm. The dense trees and sunken valleys keep the forest floor in almost perpetual darkness, and the Night Elves have adapted to this perfectly. With the ability to see clearly with even the smallest glimmer of light and blending in with the shadows seamlessly they hunt down any who would dare encroach on their sacred lands. Night Elf society is a meritocratic socialist state, where whoever proves themselves best suited for a role is placed in that position until another rises to supercede them. Advancement is based on ritual contest, with an individual's skills tested against their rival's in direct competition, with the victor awarded the prestige and honour of advancement, while the loser is stripped of their rights and ranks, reduced to mere servants of their conqueror. No profession is held in higher regard to another, with each member of the tribe providing the skills they have for the betterment of the whole, and when circumstances dictate the leader of the tribe is chosen from whoever has the most appropriate skills to deal with the current situation, before handing off power to another once the circumstances change. The highest members of society are the master craftsmen and artisans who have shown their ability above all others on numerous occasions, and often duel skills with their apprentices to ensure only the best retain the exalted ranks. No animosity is shown between displaced lords however, as the opportunity to hone their craft and challenge the seated Masters is always open to any who so choose. Night Elf children are raised by the tribe, with the Many Mothers caring for all infants as a group until such time as a child's natural affinity and skills become apparent. Once it becomes clear what path they are to take in life the child is 'fostered' to a Master, who then both trains them as their apprentice and raises them in the culture of the tribe. While it is rare that a young Night Elf switches Masters, it isn't so uncommon as to be unusual, with some shifting between many professions before settling on the one they will follow for life. In some cases this has even led to new professions being created when a particularly gifted individual shows skills which cross many disciplines, and form a new training opportunity for those who follow them. It should be noted that Night Elf language is mostly gender neutral, with terms like 'Many Mother' and 'Master' used for either gender depending on each person involved. Anyone skilled enough to challenge an individual's role is considered a valid contender, with their abilities and talents the only thing deciding whether they achieve the position regardless of any other considerations. Personality:Arwyn is an elitist snob, to put things bluntly. She has little understanding of other cultures and having never been tested against them assumes that none have the skill or ability required to challenge her. Her service is offered gracefully, but she has little respect for those who have not shown their worth to her through actions and personal sacrifice, no matter what titles or honours they may claim for themselves. Appearance:Standing at an impressive 6'3" with a lithe, athletic frame, Arwyn would be considered attractive by most humanoid standard, if it were not for her ash grey skin. Her armour while appearing black at a glance is actually made up of many subtle shades, most too dark for humans to distinguish between easily but to her they stand out clearly. In the same regard the Night Elf often finds it difficult to distinguish between bright colours, seeing pale blues, pinks and yellows all as subtle shades of white. While this helps her greatly in low light conditions it makes it difficult for the knife-ear to recognise things such as sigils and banners carried by most human houses, and she tends to treat all humans as if they belong to one 'tribe'. History:From a young age Arwyn showed affinity for hunting and archery, and was quickly apprenticed to a skilled hunter who helped guide her hand in the use of bow and stealth. For her first few decades the young child was taught to move through the shadows, choosing targets and passing by them as closely as she could without being detected by them. Soon this became second nature to her, to the point where Arwyn could pass entirely unnoticed through a herd of grazing dear without spooking a single one. As her skill increased Arwyn reached the point where she began to surpass her Master, and as tradition dictated she challenged him for a respected position within her tribe. The contest was a close thing, but the younger, more agile huntress prevailed and took the rank of Master for herself, her former Master now serving as her retainer, helping to guide her with advise and further training when required. Her new position brought with it certain responsibilities in support of her people, and when the call came out for a skilled messenger to travel beyond the borders of the forest Arwyn was one of many to offer her skills to the tribe. Over the next few weeks various contests and challenges were held to determine the tribesman best suited for the role as diplomat, scout and spy. Eventually it was determined the Arwyn's skill at stealth and speed of movement surpassed the knewledge and talents of other professions in this regard, and so she was named the tirbe's Wanderer and sent forth. Finding herself in unfamiliar lands, Arwyn seeks to discover the cause of the recent turmoil within the human realms, and assess any possible danger it may pose to her tribe. Powers/Abilities:Darkvision, Keen Eye, Shadowmeld, Arcane Arrows, Light Step Darkvision Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: Racial Trait Stamina Drain: None Description: Creatures with Darkvision can see in dim light as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it was dim light. They can differentiate details in dim light and darkness, seeing colours as if they were in bright light or dim light respectively. They cannot differentiate light colours in bright light, instead seeing them in monochromatic shades of white. Keen Eye Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: B Stamina Drain: Low Description: A technique that increase the range and scope of their sight. Shadowmeld Element/Type: Darkness/Innate Ability Rank: C Stamina Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Shadowmeld can blend into their environment, either by changing their skin tones and appearance to match their surroundings or generating obscuring fog and shadows to disguise their location and appearance. Arcane Arrows Element/Type: Variable; Standard, Elemental, Ailment Rank: B Mana Drain: Standard 2 MP, Elemental (Fire, Lightning, Ice, etc.) 10 MP, Ailment (Poison, Paralysis, Sleep, etc.) 18 MP Description: By channelling mana, usually through a weapon or focus, a creature may launch a guided projectile at a distant target with great precision. This ability requires time to both aim and focus energies, much as a normal bow and arrow would, but the arcane arrows can also be tuned to different elements by concentrating greater amounts of mana into them before releasing. Light Step Element/Type: Wind/Martial Art Rank: C Mana Drain: Light Description: Creatures with Light Step can gather the air around their body, propelling themselves forwards or upwards a short distance. This can be used to quickly enter into or leave combat without provoking a reaction, to assist when climbing short distances, or to extend a jump when leaping forwards. In each case the spell would extend movement by the equivalent of one extra step for the creature, as if they were stepping on a physical object which was placed in the air. Equipment:Gúl Peng Arwyn, Estent Magoli, Gwathren Gollo, Leather Body Armour and Boots Item Type: Bow Name: Gúl Peng Arwyn (lit. Arwyn's Magic Bow) Appearance: Carved from the heartwood of an ancient tree using methods and magics unknown to other races, Arwyn's bow has no string, but instead a band of magical energy pulses between the two ends of the bow's frame, allowing her to summon forth arrows by channelling her mana into the weapon.Ability: Used in conjuction with Arcane Arrows spell. Damage: Variable, depending on the amount of mana invested in the shot before the arrow is released. Item Type: Blades Name: Estent Magoli (lit. Short Swords) Appearance: A pair fo finely crafted blades, usually used when hunting to skin and butcher kills with speed and precision but just as effective in close combat when required.Ability: They cut things. Damage: Dependant on wielder's Strength (4 when used by Arwyn.) Item Type: Cloak Name: Gwathren Gollo (lit. Shadow Cloak) Appearance: It's arguable whether the Shadow Cloak is a garment, or simply a manifestation of Arwyn's natural ability. Regardless of this, the cloak constantly swirls around her disguising her appearance with a veil of fog and smoke which fluctuates depending on her need and desire. Ability: Used in conjuction with Shadowmeld ability. Description: Provides constant cover for Arwyn, even when standing out in the open. Blends her with her surroundings when in dimly lit areas making her difficult to locate. Extra:As a Night Elf Arwyn is wary of the attentions of other races. Her people usually remain out of the affairs of others preferring to keep themselves hidden away from the rest of the world, but the turmoil in recent years have led to them sending one of their skilled huntresses to uncover what is happening beyond their borders. As such she has little understanding of the cultures, customs and habits of other races, and often misunderstands cultural cues which others take for granted. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 75 MP 50</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s>	<\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The king patiently waited for the arrival of the rest of his guests. One by one they were each escorted to the meeting room. The last to enter, a young girl claiming herself to be a princess. The King waited 15 minutes after her entrance to begin his meeting. With a simple wave of his hand, the attendants, servers, and violinists all left the room. Gunthrum was the only one to remain, standing silently on the Kings left side waiting for an order. The mood of the room suddenly changed to a more deathly-serious tone. The King showed a welcoming smile before he began to speak. "Oi oi. Seems like this is everyone. Well, thank you all for joining us here in the castle. For those I haven't met yet, I am the King of Meteora Kingdom, L'eonard Aldvin. I assume that all of you have chosen to come here for whatever reasons, the goal will be the same." The King snapped his fingers never taking his eyes off his guests. Gunthrum placed a mat on the table. The map had been altered by some form of magic and thusly a more detailed map projected from the paper into the air itself. "This is a map of the area outside the city. About a week ago, a dark cloud appeared here shooting a bolt into the ground." The king pointed to the map and it instantly was marked with an X. "I figured that it must have been some sort of dungeon. So I sent my Champion to investigate." Up until now the Kings voice was happy and cheerful. Now it began to change into a more worrisome tone. "He has yet to return. I fear that something has happened inside the dungeon. Even worse, Meteora's enemies linger on the border. If they were to find out about the Champions absence they will surely attack the capital." The King stood walking over to a bag in the corner. This was the first time the King looked away from his guests. He returned, dropping the bag on the table. The sound of thousands of coins smacking together could be heard. I have 20,000 gold here for anyone that returns alive with my champion. The treasure you find inside is yours to keep. The knight Sampson began to speak. "My King, why have you summoned me here? Their adventures look skilled enough to take on this mission." True, however, I have a different mission for you and Jack. Jack is from the college of knowledge and will be a great help while moving through the dungeon. However hes just a boy. You will protect him Sampson. If you happen to reach the end and extract the artifact, there will be a bonus for bringing it back." The King moved to the door opening it up. Now if there are any questions please follow me and id be happy to answer them on the way out. Im afraid time is of the essence." The King exited the room first, followed by Gunthrum, Jack and lastly Sampson. The King was heading towards the Castle entrance where another platoon of Apostle Knights waited to escort the group across the plain and to the dungeon itself.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún "Mind if I take this seat? My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" Arwyn's first reaction as the human lunged towards her was to reach for her blade, but when she heard his name, in the strange gutteral tongue the foreignerrs used, her hand paused mid-gesture. "Yule?" She asked curiously, "Are you also of the wood?" As she spoke the elf glanced down at the man's attire. It didn't seem appropriate for the woodlands, but then again they were not currently in the woodlands and it was entirely possible he had chosen to change into clothing more suitable for the human nest. "I am named Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún of Glad-o Dú. I come in search of my destiny." Before their conversation could continue the meeting seemed to come to order, with one of the other humans addressing the crowd in front of him as though he were the assigned leader for this endeavour. As the 'King' spoke Arwyn studied him carefully. Nothing about his demeanour sewemed to indicate he was a great man in any way, everything from his posture to the turn of phrase he chose spoke of mediocrity, but for some reason the others in the room paid heed to him, and so Arwyn followed their lead. This was a strange place for her after all, and a person's true depths were rarely uncovered at first glance. As the King finished his presentation, turning to discuss another mater with the armoured individual seated across the roomn Arwyn found herself puzzled by the turn of events. "You said this 'Champion' of yours was sent on the quest, but now you gather us to go after him?" She asked, raising to her feet, the shadows of her cloak dissipating around her as she moved, Arwyn followed the King towards the doorway. "If you had need of our services, why was time wasted with someone not skilled in the task?"</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| The question briefly perplex him, not sure what it was supposed to mean. Ebonglen did have a large forest nearby he supposed and he did explore it often. Pitch-black eyes blinked in slight amazement at her long and elegant sounding name, even the tone of voice she used brought a certain majesty to it. And she spoke of finding her 'destiny'? He was sure what that was but it sounded very important. His attention turned to commotion around him as people left the room, leaving only a select few behind. The individual he idenified as the King began to speak, grabbing her all of their attention as a impressive map was laid down on the table. Magic wasn't his strong suit but it interested him nonetheless, as the minor amazement in his eyes could show. He immediately thought, If their champion was sent, then why call for us?. His question would quickly be answered, along with a troubling explanation. A dungeon was a notably infamous place in the WAA, full of untold dangers and traps. It did not matter to Arton, though he was attracted to this quest for the experience and gold...there was now the entire safety of a kingdom and its people at stake. That was enough motivation to spur him past any hesitance he might have. He got up from his seat and followed the king and other member of the adventuring group. Arwyn's question seemed perfectly fine to Arton, not really understanding the way it might come off. "Did the champion go with any others?" He decided to ask after Arwyn. If there were more people to look for, it was vital to know. No one was getting left behind if Arton could help it. Everything was kicking off rather suddenly, but he was prepared as he ever could be. Soon they would all be fighting together against heaven-knows-what in the dungeon. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\|</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin As the King exited the building he was first approached by the Night Elf of the group. L'eonard had heard of the Night Elf people but he had never seen one before in person. A look of fascination crept across the king's face. He couldn't help but ponder her up and down, taking extreme note of her clothing. He couldn't help himself but intrude into her personal space and lightly flick her armor. He was quickly interrupted by Gunthrum clearing his throat very loud and abrupt. Taking a mental note of everything he just learned the look vanished from his face. He briefly cleared his throat. "Apologies.....Arwyn? To answer your question. Chett and I have conquered 2 dungeons in our time of knowing each other. He is very strong and knowledgeable. But even then it only took us 5 days max. I do agree with you though, that time has been wasted. The King came to a complete stop as the Draeni, Arton, asked his question. I mean this group looks really strong. How many dungeons have you conquered? I should have called the WAA in the first place." The group now stood in front of the front doors to the castle leading out into the courtyard. Before the King could answer the question for himself, Sampson spoke."15 Knights hand-picked from my own elite squad by me. They're ready to die to complete their mission!" After speaking, Sampson hawks a loogy on the floor. Gunthrum immediately begins cleaning it with a rag. The King glares at Sampson, letting out a slight killing intent. He points his finger at Sampson. "Bad Dog!" A small stream of water hits Sampson in the face through the opening in his helmet. Afterward, he releases the pressure and turns towards the door pushing them open. "What he says is true. 15 men. Try to find them but don't strain yourselves. Dungeons are perilous and sometimes infinite with millions of pathways. I recommend you lot stay together. The King began laughing loud and obnoxious like. "What am I saying?! Your all dungeon crawling badasses!" On the other side of the door were 2 knights. Sampson led the group out, while Gunthram and L'eonard stayed inside the castle. "These 2 knights will escort you to the dungeon. It is up to you to complete your task." The 2 knights stood on top of what seemed to be a carpet. Once everyone was standing on it, the 2 knights began to conjure magic spells that made the carpet float and then take off high into the sky. From that high up, the group could see the view of the entire city as well as ships sailing in from miles away. On the outer edge of the city was a formation of earth that looked like it obviously didn't belong there. The magic carpet was flying the group directly towards it. It was then that the usually silent boy began to speak. "Hey!! Look at that. It's the entrance...oooooooh. This looks interesting." Jack began spazzing out into his book. Upon getting closer the group could see the dungeon clear as day. The area around the entrance was scorched black, however, ash covered the majority of the area. The entrance itself resembled a giant head with the mouth serving as a gateway beckoning the heroes to go deeper. The eyes glowed red and emitted a smoke cloud that rained ash into the area. The place reeked of death and despair. Jack was the first off the carpet before it could even land. He was cycling through his book taking note of everything around him. From the way, the dungeon looked, to the ash clouds above that only lingered around the head of the dungeon. Anyone with magic affinity could feel darkness emitting from the cloud. Sampson quickly hoped off to catch up with the boy."Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful." The boy seemed hypnotized by the very essence of the dungeon. "Stay close kid you don't know what may come out of that pl-" Before Sampson could finish his speech a lone knight began walking out of the dungeon. Exhaustion could be heard from each step he took. One after another until he was finally visible to the entrance. He made brief eye contact with the group before collapsing. "Cap..tain?" His armor looked bloody and beaten. The soldier himself was missing an arm and his helmet. Sampson quickly rushed to his aid.</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio kept quiet and let the scene play out between the elf woman and the king. He was somewhat amused at the insolence at display. The king's reaction was surprising as he was expecting a bit more annoyance than curiosity. But he was more focused on a far more important thing that was, that this champion of his would be lost despite his rather impressive credentials are dungeon running. It was shaping up to be a potential suicide mission, which didn't quite sit well with him. But then again, he knew the potential risks to be had by signing up for this mission. As he stepped onto the carpet he readied his weapon and waited. He had to admit this method of traveling was a bit unusual but at least it was pretty fast. He looked at the entrance the moment the boy spotted it. Its foreboding nature was quite obvious what with the face and ominous eerie smoke being belched out. His walking pace shifted to a sprint when the group spotted a soldier coming out that entrance. Rio followed suit after Sampson and the other soldiers that made way to their fallen comrade. He thought back to Sampson's line about the knights but with the number down by one. The possibility of a dead man greeting them at their arrival wasn't a great thing to start off with. Rio stood close but to the side of Sampson and his men as they attended this soldier. As he stood by for further instruction he cast his gaze upon the entrance. His ability was active as now would be a good time to make sure something doesn't pop out of that entrance. "Tell me if you need me to do something." was all he said among this commotion.</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton held his shield firmly in front of his chest, covering his vitals, as the soldier screamed. The wounded man wasn't just stumbling out of the dungeon, he was fleeing from enemies. He readied himself for combat as he was reinforced by the other members of their party, but he took the center. Soon enough, three figures emerged from the mouth of the dungeon...decayed and decrepit. They would not pass, not while he stood. He lifted his shield to block the wraith's attack, and to keep him away, then followed up with a powered strike(Hyper Slash) across the attacker's torso. Piercing attacks hardly did good against these kind of creatures. They were terrible abominations, evil monsters that must be destroyed. That much was certain "Send them back to their graves!" He chanted, a look of disdain on his face at the creatures.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone "Watch out....they're coming...." This was the magic sentence that made Rio turn his attention to the entrance which was currently being guarded by the elf and that guy. From the dimness was a metallic clinking sound with a herky-jerky rhythm. The source of this noise would soon reveal itself in the form of a shuffling undead soldier. He saw it lurch over and start charging at the two as it screeched, with two other ones like itself in tow. As he watched the battle unfold he flexed his clawed hand in anticipation. He looked at their armor and figured what needed to be done to help out. Waiting for the two in front of him to finish their attacks, he then ran off to the side in indirect manner not wanting to draw the enemies' attention, and then ran at them them from the side to flank them and deliver an empowered slash at all three of them with his claw (rend). His goal was less to hurt them and more to specifically destroy that armor that get in the way of delivering blows to them. After delivering the blow he continued to run and then loop around back to the group.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 60------------------------------------------------------ The undead charged forward towards the entrance of the dungeon. They were first met by arrows that seemed to disintegrate into nothing upon making contact with the monsters. While Sampson accompanied the soldiers back to the carpet, Jack seemed to move in closer towards the entrance unsuspected. He pulled out a book that began to shine and make his eyes shine. "I just need to get a closer look..." The boy whispered creeping up behind Arton just as the monsters made contact with his shield. Artons defense was built to withstand even such a charge from the first undead as he holds his ground not budging an inch. As the second one impacts, the force increases. By the third one, Arton could be seen slightly getting pushed back. As Arton attacked back at the wraiths, the first would raise its arm to guard. However, this was a hopeless attempt as its arm was completely destroyed. From the side of the monsters, Rio charged in landing a critical blow on all of them. The wraith in the front taking majority of the damage. The first wraith was reduced to nothing but ashes as the other 2 scatter. One to the Left and one to the right. Just then Jack spoke, now appearing at Sampson's side. "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!! The boys' voice appeared to be strong and omnipotent, a complete change from the child that once spoke. Battle Calculations {Arwyns attack has no effect} {Arton Deals 25 Damage to Undead 1} {Rio Deals 80 Damage to Undead 1, 40 Damage to Wraith 2 & 3} {Undead 1 Destroyed} {Rio Looses Quarter Stamina} Undead 2: The monster slides to the right after suffering some damage from Rio's attack. After a unified screech with the other undead, it turns its sights to Arton. This soldier was carrying a large ax, however, any former skills the person possessed with the weapon was now gone. Its stance was sloppy and its movements were more than slow, its will remained unchanged. It charged once more towards Arton, this time lifting its ax and dropping it down with all its undead might. HP: 60 Undead 3: The undead rolls off to the right, in the same direction as Rio. This one seems to be holding a grudge from the attack earlier. This monster carried no weapon and yet it still charged reeling forward towards Rio. It releases a barrage of slow and sluggish punches towards him. HP: 60</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Ananda HP 100 MP 24/50 The injured soldier's scream set Nanda on edge. Almost by instinct, she casted Fleeting Steps on herself, then soundlessly made her way around the group, taking a good measure of the dungeon's entrance. When the undead appeared, she was somewhat closer to the entrance than anyone ought to be. Fortunately the monsters more concerned with with attacking the nearest bulky adventurer than a particularly sneaky rogue. Nanda considered a sneak attack, but as the undead crashed and pushed back the bulky adventurer, she discarded it as a bad idea. Instead she focused on the adventurer, Arton. His muscles should be able to hold on harder than that, could they? Wordlessly, Nanda spoke to his Strength, convincing them that they're stronger than they seemed (Fool Sense +2). "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!!" said the boy all of a sudden. "Kid, you're not making sense," Nanda muttered. "They have magic resistance so we ought to use magic?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone The sound of his claw's attack was all Rio need to know that his attack was successful. As he slowed down to survey they damage he saw that one was taken out and the other two were worse for wear. His attack seemed to have angered one the undead soldiers seeing as it had followed him and was now in the process of attacking him. The attack were sloppy and uncoordinated, reminding him of drunken louts trying to fight. The kid shouted about them being weak to fire, but Rio didn't have on him any method so he'd leave it up to the others like Arwyn who was launching a fiery projectile to his side at the same undead. Rio took advantage of such sloppy strikes against him to use his gauntlet to secure a good grip on one of its arms and use that momentum of the sloppy punches to stagger it forward towards the fiery arrow's path.</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio picked out the gold pieces from that cinder pile happy that these undead soldiers were easily dispatched. He took his time to inspect the hopefully now permanently dead soldiers for anything of interest causing him to lag behind. Following the group into the dungeon he went to Sampson and asked, "So do we know anything about what happened?". Given what happened to the soldier it would be prudent to know what happened if they managed to get any information from him before sending him away. As they approached the door, Rio kicked it open.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 Stowing her bow Arwyn hung her head with shame. Despite the knight's supportive words she knew that her presence had done nothing to aid the party during the engagement, and in fact had placed one of her companions in danger from her poorly aimed attack. Her lack of knowledge about the creatures they faced, as well as her slow reactions and poor display of skill at failing to land even one solid blow on them once she'd been informed of their weakness, left her wondering whether she truly deserved to accompany warriors who obviously were far more skilled than she was in this situation. Watching the others carefully she hung back from the rest of the group, and once it was clear they were making their way forwards she used her natural ability to blend with the shadows (Shadowmeld ability), ready to observe their actions in order to learn from them and hopefully improve her own performance in future. If no opportunity presented itself her distance from the rest of the party would make it all the easier to slip away in the darkness rather than trouble them further with her disgraceful presence.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton crouched over the remains of the skeleton he had just finished, picking up anything worthwhile. He examined the decayed armor and bones trying to tell if this was one of their missing soldiers or just a spawn of the dungeon. Whether he managed to find answers or not, he rose back up to a standing position as Sampson called them to regroup. He decided not to correct the knight that what they faced inside of the dungeon would likely be far more dangerous than a few shambling skeletons. The man seemed keen on upholding his sense of authority. He walked close behind Rio, who was in the front, with weapons still in hand. There were sometimes 'safe havens' in these dungeons but finding them was quite rare so he wouldn't let down his guard. Arwyn he could tell was for some reason ashamed, perhaps because of her first arrows doing nothing against the skeleton's magical resistance. Before he could say anything, she seemed to slip into the very darkness of the dungeon itself. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting of the dungeon as he overheard the young boy talking to the woman referred to as Nanda. A princess? He recalled her casting some spell on him earlier and he could feel some kind of boost in his muscles "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" He asked curiously, turning his head back a little to talk. It was a shame really that he was so poor at picking up on sarcasm. Thinking back on the dungeon, Arton wanted to see if they could follow the trail of blood. It may be able to lead to more clues, but for now he readied his shield as Rio kicked down the door blocking their way.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin The deed was done, the undead has fallen, and there was no wound even to lick. That was a bit uneventful, was it? But good enough for a palate cleanser, especially since she saw something shiny from the ashes they left behind. Shinies which was quickly picked up by the two big guys of the group. "Aww, come on you two," she said, laughing casually. "We beat them together, did we? Don't keep the loot to yourself." She turned quickly to face the cavern, careful to make it look nonchalant, but she got her eye on where exactly they were putting those money. And then the young magic boy was suddenly all over her. "Uhm....Nanda? That's your name right? And..You're a princess?...Right?.." The boy would continue truly fascinated. "I've never met a princess before. My names Jack!" This was soon followed by the other guy, Arton? Asking the same question. "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" She grinned, then nodded and flourished her cloak the way she had seen royalty did. These poor innocent boys! They won't last a second in her hometown. "Pleasure to meet you, Jack. Well! You've both seen a King earlier today. Really, I don't know how a mere 'princess' like me could compare." As they walked into the dungeon, she regaled them with her story. "I came from the city of Zamrud. Have you been there? It's a beautiful place. Imagine towering castles side by side, their roofs gilded with jewels. Imagine a street where no one is hungry, where oh-" It was a very short story. Rio was kicking a door down. "Yeah, great. Dark creepy dungeon filled with undead and the first thing you do when you see a door is to kick it open. Perfect. Now all we need is for our dark elf friend to follow it up with a sneak attack." Speaking of which, she hadn't seen the dark elf in a while.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The conversations were cut short with the thud of the door being kicked open. The old doors slam against the walls, permanently indenting them into the wall. The door opened up to a large open room. To the left and right was a single line of pillars leading all the way across the room to the other side. There were no candles but somehow the room was lit with enough light to see across to the other side. Roughly 6 corridors led into the room. It was then that the group could notice that this wasn't just some room, but a battlefield. A good portion of the pillars was either destroyed or broken. Bodies of undead lay all across the room. The bodies being destroyed and some leaving no trail at all just ashes. "What happened here?" Sampson questioned to himself as he made his way inside. He went to go examine the bodies as a voice called out from the other side. "Captain?!" 2 Apostle knights stood on the other side of the room. Their clothes covered and dark soot and ash. The 2 had obviously been in an intense power struggle, but when and for how long? Sampson slowly made his way over to them with Jack sticking close behind him now. "Well aren't you a sight. I was starting to fear the worse. The captain responded. The knights sheathed their weapons making their way towards the group. "Aye. Its good to see you, captain. We've been locked in a battle with these creatures for days now. We sent Jackson for reinforcements. Looks like he made it in time." Sampson shook his head towards the soldier. "I'm afraid not. The King instructed us to come here. When we arrived, Jackson had barely made it out alive. He must have been ambushed by those things. Whats going on here?" The soldiers looked in dismay to the news the captain spoke. "Shame to hear it. Almost 3 days ago the Champion instructed us to return here from the 4th floor. He said something wasn't right and we should investigate. He dispatched 5 of us here. When we arrived this place was filled with wraiths. They were no big deal but they kept coming and coming. They wouldn't stop. They dragged Kyle off somewhere to do god knows what to him. When we finally got a break we sent Jackson for help. Zanzibar died covering his escape." He pointed over to a corpse in the corner that was badly mutilated. Sampson put his hand on the soldiers shoulder. "Do not fret. We are here to put an end to this madness." He handed the 2 soldiers each a potion. "Where is my brotha?" The soldiers quickly drank the potions recovering most of their strength. If you take the corridor all the way down, look for the Kings Seal. There's a hidden passage that will take you to the 4th floor. He shouldn't be too far from there." Sampson nodded turning to see what the remainder of the group had been doing. Just then the sound of scratching could be heard coming from one of the corridors. The sound growing louder and louder as it begins to draw closer to the room.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s>
<\|description\|>Rio Leone Age: 27 Species: Human Class: Change blader- His gauntlet is both his weapon and also the source of a power up gimmick once Homeland: Kharlei, who's climate ranges from cloud forests at higher altitudes along with like mountain highlands to a more subtropical locale at lower elevations. It consists of 13 provinces each ruled by a provincial administrator assigned by the current ruler. The capital Jenomizl, lies up into the north carved into a hillside with nearby Cozol lake that feeds the Greenway river, so named because the river lands acts as a water source for not only agriculture but also is a main avenue for moving things along the river's path. Personality: : Rio is pretty easy going and friendly. An adventurer by trade he's got a sense of wanderlust and curious that is satisfied by moving around. Appearance:He's got blonde hair and tanned dark skin from being outdoors a lot. He's dressed in a dark color longcoat that sports a fur trim around the collar punctuated by studs. His pants and boots are equally neutrally colored. His gauntlet is the most striking feature because of how it covers the entirety of his left arm. It's made of a silvery material and has an intricate designed carved into the metal along the weapon. History: He hails from Kharlei and really doesn't care about bringing up history as it's pretty boring and mundane. After reaching the age of adulthood in his country he pretty much immediately joined the WAA and started doing low rank jobs and spending quite a bit of time learning how to fight. It was during an adventure that he would gain his signature weapon, called the "Lordly Talons". This relic while serving as a great weapon however is not at it's full power and currently Rio does not have the ability to bring forth the dormant power it contains. Powers/Abilities: Spell Name: Dive bomb Element/Type: Sword Rank: Mana Drain: Rio jumps up and uses the gauntlet to slam the target Spell Name: Rend Element/Type: Rank: Mana Drain: Energy flows into the gauntlet allowing for an empowered clawing attack that not only hits multiple targets in front of it but also does more damage than an unpowered attack. Spell Name: Circulation Element/Type: Martial Arts Rank: Mana Drain: By focusing his internal energies he is able to skillfully use his body allowing for great feats of agility. Equipment: * Duster * Lordly Talon(s) * Sturdy boots * lucky charm * Satchel + Enough coinage for food and lodging and perhaps some supply buying + Rations + Notebook & pencil</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Well, damn, this is cool," Nanda muttered to herself when all the weapons in the room burst to flame. It was almost distraction enough against the undeads that were making a beeline for her. She tried to dodge away behind the knight, Arton ("Why, thank you, sir."), while at the same time throwing two now-flaming knives at her pursuers, aiming for their unprotected heads. Nanda glanced quickly around the room, assessing it. Arton and Rio seemed like they were doing fine defending their stance, but what about the other guards? The dark elf was attacking with flurry, and she seemed to have more luck attacking from behind. Nanda Fooled her arms to have more Strength and Agility, for stronger faster blows. Now where is the magic boy?</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 32 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: 80% Stamina: 75% Stamina: 70% Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ The group quickly springs into action splitting up to tackle the threat. Rio dashed to defend the boy Jack. The Undead were quickly outmatched in speed as Rio made it to Jack before they could. With a powerful blow from his furiously flamming fist, one of the flesh eaters was obliterated. It writhes backward as it screeched in pain before disappearing into a pile of ashes on the floor. The second flesh eater, circles around to the side of Rio brandishing a golden blade. It swings fast with a barrage of black slashes. "Dont worry about me old man just watch out yourself!!" Jack yells as he retreats further back. Meanwhile the remainder rush to help Nanda. The first zombie slams hard against Artons shield, yet his strength remained unwavering, as the blow smacks the creature in the face. It recoils back aiming to kill the defender when 2 knives meet its face next. Before the zombie could return attack it was met by a slash from Arton, severing its head. Meanwhile, the Elf found herself behind the zombies. Weapons brandished she unleashes a barrage of slashes finishing the monsters off before they could return an attack. Battle Calculations {Rio Destroys Zombie 1} {Arton, Nanda & Arwyn Destroy Zombie 3 & 4} The knights fight off the last of the horde. The 3 of them standing tall begin to generate high amounts of flame in their swords. With a powerful synchronized thrust from all 3, they blast the roof of the corridor causing it to collapse and cut off the path of the zombies.</s>	<\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio ignores the kid's remark content to know he diverted the attention of that one pair away. The one zombie he manged to slay effortlessly but the other one seemed to have the insolence to no fall alongside its companion. Still using his enhanced speed and agility he did an effortless backhop to evade the zombie's wild slashes. Using the distance he ran at the zombie but jumped into as he brought down his flaming claw into the zombie hoping to finish it off. (speed buff & divebomb)</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin The soldier seemed to be unresponsive to those that were trying to help him. Sampson conjured up a fireball and shove it into the soldiers still bleeding arm. The Knight seemed to not feel the pain as his wound was burned shut. "Open your eyes Jackson! Stay with me!" With a heavy-handed smack, the young boy Jack, slapped the Knight in the face. Jack no! You disrespectful little-" Just then the Soldier came back to reality. "Cap-Captain...is it....really you?" The dying knight said almost to his last breath. "Rest now. We'll get you back to the city." The Captain motioned for the soldiers that accompanied them there to take the wounded back to the city where he could get some much-needed healing. As the 2 knights are dragging their comrade back to the carpet the injured soldier suddenly screams out. "Watch out....they're coming...." This caught Sampson off guard as he was primarily focused with tending to the injured. The group split, a few went to assist the injured man while the others acted as a shield for what was to come out of the entrance. Good thinking on their part as a few moments pass, a pair slow clumsy footsteps could be heard approaching. Heavy armor clinking about as the footsteps begin to approach closer and closer. A figure could be seen in the distance. A slightly taller person with bigger and bulkier armor then the soldier that had previously exited. Sampson turned towards the entrance seeing as much as he could into the darkness. "Brother?" Anyone whose eyes could adjust to the dark could see the figure plain as day. It was a Skeletal Monster, wearing dark retro-style armor and carrying a large axe. Upon further examination, one could see he wasn't alone either. He had at least 2 behind him. As the Wraith approached closer, it let out a large screech before charging the line towards Arwyn and Arton. Name: Undead Soldier Species: Low level undead Class: Knight Appearance Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 4 Speed: 1 Strength: 5 Endurance: 3 Mana: 0</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full The shadowbow's keen eyes (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait) picked out the details of the creatures moments before they began to screech, and in those seconds Arwen quickly assessed them based off what she could see. Their ancient pitted armour showed signs of battle both old and recent, and their rotting flesh seemed resilient to standard damage. Unsure if a straight headshot would even stop the creatures Arwen instead lowered her aim for their legs, firing off several arrows as the monstrosities began to charge forwards. Hopefully her attacks would at least slow their advance, if not immobilise them completely. (Three Standard Arcane Arrows STR 3 Attacks, targeting the creatures' legs)</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton held his shield firmly in front of his chest, covering his vitals, as the soldier screamed. The wounded man wasn't just stumbling out of the dungeon, he was fleeing from enemies. He readied himself for combat as he was reinforced by the other members of their party, but he took the center. Soon enough, three figures emerged from the mouth of the dungeon...decayed and decrepit. They would not pass, not while he stood. He lifted his shield to block the wraith's attack, and to keep him away, then followed up with a powered strike(Hyper Slash) across the attacker's torso. Piercing attacks hardly did good against these kind of creatures. They were terrible abominations, evil monsters that must be destroyed. That much was certain "Send them back to their graves!" He chanted, a look of disdain on his face at the creatures.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full Growling angrily as her arrows melted away when they made contact with the enemy Arwyn began to back away from the monsters, trying to decide whether to hit them with a more powerful attack or switch to her magoli. Just then she heard the young boy's voice calling out, and with a smile she knew what to do. Calling the power of the wind to her she launched herself high into the air (Light Step ability), giving herself a clear line of fire to the undead soldier armed with the axe. Channelling her energy into her bow she launched a fiery arrow directly at the beast's head (Elemental (Fire) Arcane Arrows STR 10 Attack, targeting Undead 2's head) using the force of the release to flip herself backwards before landing gracefully on the ground several feet further from the monstrosities than where she'd started.</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Ananda HP 100 MP 24/50 The injured soldier's scream set Nanda on edge. Almost by instinct, she casted Fleeting Steps on herself, then soundlessly made her way around the group, taking a good measure of the dungeon's entrance. When the undead appeared, she was somewhat closer to the entrance than anyone ought to be. Fortunately the monsters more concerned with with attacking the nearest bulky adventurer than a particularly sneaky rogue. Nanda considered a sneak attack, but as the undead crashed and pushed back the bulky adventurer, she discarded it as a bad idea. Instead she focused on the adventurer, Arton. His muscles should be able to hold on harder than that, could they? Wordlessly, Nanda spoke to his Strength, convincing them that they're stronger than they seemed (Fool Sense +2). "These are Undead soldiers. They have magic resistance. USE FIRE!!!" said the boy all of a sudden. "Kid, you're not making sense," Nanda muttered. "They have magic resistance so we ought to use magic?"</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone The sound of his claw's attack was all Rio need to know that his attack was successful. As he slowed down to survey they damage he saw that one was taken out and the other two were worse for wear. His attack seemed to have angered one the undead soldiers seeing as it had followed him and was now in the process of attacking him. The attack were sloppy and uncoordinated, reminding him of drunken louts trying to fight. The kid shouted about them being weak to fire, but Rio didn't have on him any method so he'd leave it up to the others like Arwyn who was launching a fiery projectile to his side at the same undead. Rio took advantage of such sloppy strikes against him to use his gauntlet to secure a good grip on one of its arms and use that momentum of the sloppy punches to stagger it forward towards the fiery arrow's path.</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 The presence of Jack behind him encouraged him to hold strong against the skeleton attackers, when the first was obliterated by an attack that damaged the other two. Now that they were off him, he re-adjusted his grip on his sword and shield. He laughed at the indication to use fire "I would if I had any." Arton spoke aloud, the only fire he had was the one that burned in his soul. The un-dead with the axe seemed to wish to try its chances at his defense once more, a welcome challenge if it wasn't for the poor state of the creature. He lifted his trusted shield above him at an angle to absorb the strike, meanwhile swinging his sword upwards starting from his left-side waist and across to dismember the arm that held the weapon. If he managed to accomplish that, he would push for a frontal kick into the Skeleton's chest with all of his strength. Arton might not be agile like a rouge or a ranger, but he was fast with his sword and shield.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio picked out the gold pieces from that cinder pile happy that these undead soldiers were easily dispatched. He took his time to inspect the hopefully now permanently dead soldiers for anything of interest causing him to lag behind. Following the group into the dungeon he went to Sampson and asked, "So do we know anything about what happened?". Given what happened to the soldier it would be prudent to know what happened if they managed to get any information from him before sending him away. As they approached the door, Rio kicked it open.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 Stowing her bow Arwyn hung her head with shame. Despite the knight's supportive words she knew that her presence had done nothing to aid the party during the engagement, and in fact had placed one of her companions in danger from her poorly aimed attack. Her lack of knowledge about the creatures they faced, as well as her slow reactions and poor display of skill at failing to land even one solid blow on them once she'd been informed of their weakness, left her wondering whether she truly deserved to accompany warriors who obviously were far more skilled than she was in this situation. Watching the others carefully she hung back from the rest of the group, and once it was clear they were making their way forwards she used her natural ability to blend with the shadows (Shadowmeld ability), ready to observe their actions in order to learn from them and hopefully improve her own performance in future. If no opportunity presented itself her distance from the rest of the party would make it all the easier to slip away in the darkness rather than trouble them further with her disgraceful presence.</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton crouched over the remains of the skeleton he had just finished, picking up anything worthwhile. He examined the decayed armor and bones trying to tell if this was one of their missing soldiers or just a spawn of the dungeon. Whether he managed to find answers or not, he rose back up to a standing position as Sampson called them to regroup. He decided not to correct the knight that what they faced inside of the dungeon would likely be far more dangerous than a few shambling skeletons. The man seemed keen on upholding his sense of authority. He walked close behind Rio, who was in the front, with weapons still in hand. There were sometimes 'safe havens' in these dungeons but finding them was quite rare so he wouldn't let down his guard. Arwyn he could tell was for some reason ashamed, perhaps because of her first arrows doing nothing against the skeleton's magical resistance. Before he could say anything, she seemed to slip into the very darkness of the dungeon itself. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting of the dungeon as he overheard the young boy talking to the woman referred to as Nanda. A princess? He recalled her casting some spell on him earlier and he could feel some kind of boost in his muscles "Is that true? Are you really a princess?" He asked curiously, turning his head back a little to talk. It was a shame really that he was so poor at picking up on sarcasm. Thinking back on the dungeon, Arton wanted to see if they could follow the trail of blood. It may be able to lead to more clues, but for now he readied his shield as Rio kicked down the door blocking their way.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to soldier explain what happened to Sampson intently. The origin of that wounded solider was solved and he felt a bit bad that he didn't get to the King in time for them to have come early, as it no doubt would have made things easier. The report of the horde of undead was mixed news to him as on one hand it meant that at least for a while their foes would be easy enough to take out, but on the other hand regardless of how easy they were it would also mean they ran the risk of being overwhelmed. With the party being just slightly larger than the knights he wondered just how much better they would fare against a swarm. Almost as if on cue, there was yet again the sound of something coming towards them. Most likely undead and hopefully just as strong as the first group they took out. "Hey elf woman," he said referring to Arwyn, "You mind using your sneaking powers and taking a peek into the corridor? If there's a bunch I suggest you guys with the magic and ranged weapons attack into the corridor, it's a perfect chokepoint that will waylay the undead and allow us to safely engage them."</s> <\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "If the wraiths keep coming here," Nanda wondered out loud, "Then we probably shouldn't stick around here. There are way too many spots they could flank us from." She gesetured at the six dark corridors surrounding the room. Flanking and being flanked was common in the maze-like slums of cities. Then again, cities don't usually spawn undead. "Anyway, if they keep spawning, we shouldn't stick around at all. We gotta find where they're supposed to spawn from, right? Is that what the big boss asked you to investigate? Did you find anything?" Scratching noise then was heard from one of the corridors. Rio was asking Arwyn to do the scouting. "I could do it, if you like. Or we can do, both. You can take that corridor and scout them out," Nanda pointed at the one where the noise was coming from. "I can go scout somewhere else. Make sure there's no more wraiths in the other direction."</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio listened to girl's comments and wasn't terrible convinced of the hazard, yet. He coolly responded to her, "There's ten of us and more than half are magic users which is enough to cover those passages including the one we came through. With proper magic the incoming swarm should be delayed enough for the scouting to be complete. Now if there's a source spawning these damn critters than I suggest you hurry in deciding who goes to check that noise or I'll do it, because the last thing we need is dealing with a horde, anyway I figure if we do this fast enough we can check all the passages our and stop whatever problems brewing."</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton was unable to catch any sarcasm, if there was any, and believed that Nanda was indeed the princess that she claimed. The kingdom she spoke of sounding way too good to be true, so that was enough to cause him to doubt it was as amazing. No kingdom was without their faults, that much he had learned. He didn't have time to respond as Rio kicked in the door. He was relieved that they found two more knights awaiting them on the other side, so far this mission was going far better than expected. This would be three extra lives that were saved if the other one survived. He briefly closed his eyes for he fallen soldier and spoke an internal, short prayer. Realistically, it would not be the last time he would have to do so. His guard did not drop as they stood in the room and agreed with Princess Nanda that they should not remain here for long. The benefits of a smaller party was the ability to move quickly. His attention was immediately grabbed by the sound of coming from one of the corridors. Quickly, he did his best to isolate where exactly it was coming from and took up position to engage them once they got into range "It is never a good idea to go off on your own in dungeons." Arton mentioned as they argued about what to do "I will take on the corridor the noises are coming from so whatever you plan on doing, just do it fast." He stated plainly. The first dungeon he have ever been in, one of the party was killed by a trap when he recklessly engaged a small group of monsters. That was when he knew that as long as you're in the halls of the dungeon, never assume you have the upper hand or are safe.</s>
<\|description\|>Arton Yule Age: 22 Species: Draeni - These humanoids possess an increased resilience to pain, able to withstand blows that most could not. Their bodies can withstand extreme temperatures and possess a naturally high body heat, but this requires them to eat much more than average. Their typical features include some shade of charcoal-gray skin, black eyes except for a colored iris, black horns, and a pair of black fangs on their bottom and top lines of teeth. Draeni express very little through physical expressions in public, requiring a trained eye to pick up on the nuanced movements they do make. That being said, this makes Draeni very good at reading the expressions of others but struggle to recognize sarcasm and suggestive tones. Their special eyes allow them to perceive a wider spectrum of colors and are better at distinguishing between different shades. Draeni, once persecuted, secured their place among the other races for their warriors daring and courageous acts during the Battle for Existence where many sacrificed their lives to protects others. While the emergence of the WAA and a general acceptance for all people has encouraged Draeni to re-intergrate with the rest of the word, they are still a rare sight outside of their homeland of Roughann. Class: Defender (Sword skils/Martial Arts) - Utilizes the user's innate physical capabilities and combines them with self-boosting Martial Arts to make them a wall between the enemy and the rest of the group. Defenders are trained to withstand large amounts of damage and keep fighting to the last breath. Their expertise is the sword and shield but their training covers most kinds of melee weapons. Rank: Adventurer Homeland: Roughann The kingdom of Roughann lies within what the citizens call 'The Mother's Embrace' which refers to the steep mountain ranges and dangerous terrain along its borders that make it difficult for travelers and armies alike to enter the isolated country. The first Draeni settled the area to protect themselves from the other races for their 'demon-like' appearance and reserved nature, placing them as the target of an ancient period of persecution. Though the kingdom of Roughann has freely opened its borders to the outside world, the path into their land still remains treacherous. A large ceremony is held every year to acknowledge the kingdom's newest generation of adventurers, often the most promising mages and warriors of the kingdom. This is the only time when all the streets of Roughann's cities fill with food, dance, and music. Every city in Roughann has a large, communal spire located at its center that contains all of the city's commerce and entertainment. Naturally all of the housing is located around the spire making every city circular in shape, with the most expensive housing closest to the spire. The greatest of these spires resides with the capital city of Dremore, serving additionally as a massive citadel for defense. Roughann is a direct monarchy meaning that the King or Queen has the final decision on most matters. There is no nobility in Roughann because the government is operated by elected officials deemed best suited for the job. The majority of these officials are retired adventurers who returned to Roughann with all the experience they have accumulated. Every descendant of royal blood is required to join the WAA for a minimum amount of 10 years before they are able to take the throne, unless the current ruler dies. Personality: Honest to a fault, Arton is perhaps the most trustworthy companion an adventurer could have. Unlike the majority of his race, he had learned to overcome the reserved nature of his people and has become more open with both his expressions and words. He does from time to time slip into an almost unreadable state when he is not actively engaged in social interactions. He is incredibly humble when it comes to his own abilities but is always looking to spar and/or fight stronger opponents so that he may get stronger. It is only when battling against monsters that he shows the fierce side hidden within him. Appearance: Arton has bright yellow iris amongst his black eyes and three long claw marks extending from under his right ear to his chin that has long since healed. History: Arton was born to a large family of farmers on the edge of Roughann's territory, working alongside his nine siblings to tend to the crops and animals. Their farm was part of a small community called Ebonglen, where his best friend Furi also lived. The two of them would always go one their own little adventures into the forest surrounding Ebonglen, never venturing too far into the dense,dark woods. One day a set of demon wolves set upon the residents of Ebonglen, catching the local militia off-guard. Arton's father was part of that militia and was home at the time so he went out to face the monster threat with only a couple others. Despite their valiant efforts, they were all killed before the town blacksmith, a human by the name of Cyth, vanquished all that remain like a hero from the fairytales. Arton had watched all of this take place from a hidden spot and after grieving for their fathers, both he and Furi approached the blacksmith to demand to train them. Demands turned to begging as he initially refused, but finally gave in to their constant pleas. As payment for their lessons, they had to help with the forge along with their chores at home. Over the next few years, Cyth taught them the ways of the warrior and both progressed fast, though Furi was notably progressing faster. The two decided to venture deep into the forest around Ebonglen, armed with weapons they had made themselves, to seek out a pack of large rats that had been terrorizing the farmer's fields. What laid in store were not some oversized rats, but a pack of demon wolves that took the lives of their father's years ago. They were barely teenagers and were suddenly fighting for their lives. Furi did her best to protect Arton, as he was the weaker of the two, but they were quickly overwhelmed. Arton could nothing but watch as the beasts swarmed Furi and knocked her to the ground. Her screams of pain were the last thing he heard as she was dragged deeper into the forest. Fury filled Arton's veins and despite his own wounds, he fought hard against the remaining demon wolves. His fury was not enough to overcome them and if it wasn't for Cyth timely intervention, he would have died right there. No search party could find any traces of Furi or the demon wolves that took her, only the lingering presence of their evil. Fueled by his guilt and hatred, Arton spent the rest of his time in Roughann honing his abilities. When the day came for him to officially join the WAA and begin life as an adventurer, he set off with two goals in mind. Protecting the lives of the innocent from monsters and finding any clues about what happened to Furi. Powers/Abilities: Temperature Resistance Element/Type: Natural Rank: Racial Trait Mana Drain: None Description: Species with this ability are able to withstand both extremes of the temperature scale, but require a higher intake of calories as a consequence. Hyper Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: A sword skill that increases the speed of ones attacks. Effect: Increases speed +1 when attacking. Power Slash Element/Type: Sword Skill Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: An attack that increases the power of an attack. Effect: Doubles strength for a single attack. Temple Element/Type: Martial Art Rank: C Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Purges the body of negetive aligments. Ironskin Element/Type: Martial Art/Sustained Rank: B Stamina Drain: Medium Description: Increases the user's resistance to physical/magical attacks for as long as it is active. - A masterfully-crafted blade created by Arton's teachter, Cyth. This sword boasts incredible durability and sharpness. It was mentioned that this weapon would grow as he did, but as of now it is simply a fine-quality sword. -Damage: 8 - A shield to match Arton's sword, the inside of this metal shield is engraved with her name and the promise they made together. Lesser quality weapons fail to scratch let alone dent this shield. It hold the same mysterious property that Severance has. -Damage(Shield Bash): 1 Reinforced Leather Armor Leather pack -Small amount of money -A change of clothes -A waterskin -Hunting Knife -Map -Rations -Silver necklace with a single, blue gem Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 125 MP 25 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s>	<\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone A couple of days ago Rio was lounging lazily amidst the outdoor patio of the WAA building. He sat on a thick bough as he munched away on a ripe pear, whose flesh was so succulent that juice dripped to the ground with each bite. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw some greater amount of moment and voices from inside. Eventually the commotion got big enough that his curiosity was piqued and he just had to see what was going on. Approaching one of the attendant he asked, "Hey Neal, what's going on? " "The King of Meteora has sent a dispatch to all WAA branches asking for adventurers to come see him to investigate a dungeon that mysteriously appeared." replied Neal. "Huh, anything else?" Rio said. "Well if you want to get there first you should sign up as everyone else is going to sign up and rush to the call since there's the potential of a fat payout provided success." "Then sign me up! I'll be rushing to the next airship to Meteora then." Rio said cheerfully. While the potential rewards was great, his instinct told him that it was going to be a lot of work to go through. Still, it would be something to do that would hopefully let him gain rank and that license, perhaps he could find something that would help him learn further about his gauntlet as well. The flight over to Meteora was pretty uneventful and gave Rio plenty of time to rest up for the journey. A gentle breeze under the warmth of the noonday sun accompanied him as he made way to the castle. Already there was quite a bit other odd looking people, no doubt adventurers, who were moving around town. This city looked nice but he'd hopefully have time later to acquainted with Meteora once this meeting was over and perhaps during down time of exploring this dungeon. Upon entering the room he quickly scanned the room. He was surprised at the man who looked about the same age as him sitting in front of everyone. After being being escorted to a seat he thanked the old man and took a seat. It felt more like a formal dinner party with the music playing in the background. He didn't care for it but it wasn't a deal breaker either. He scanned the room around and saw some knight, a kid, and some flavor of elf. He closed his eyes for a moment only to be alerted by some worker offering a snack and refreshments. Seemed like it was a dinner party after all. A lazy "nah" floated out from his mouth as he closed his eyes again.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| In the couple of months after leaving his homeland and joining up with the WAA, Arton found himself in constant demand among the other other adventurers of his rank. It turned out that Arton was good, really good as hold down the front-line and defending others from getting overwhelmed. While others may turned away from such a task by its inherent danger, Arton found himself filling the role of a tank happily. However, he was feeling his growth halting where he was currently working out of. That was why when the call to travel to Meteora to assist its King came, he was all too eager to sign up. The countless looks from people as he passed through the street was something he had gotten used to already. It was not their fault he appeared so different from what they were used to, Draeni hardly settled outside of Roughann. What he sincerely missed was the communal spires of his home, these human kingdoms were so inefficient and difficult to navigate compared to Roughann's cities. Nonetheless, the city possessed its own unique charm. He managed to find his way to the front gate of the castle, where he was approached by the guard "Halt." He spoke firmly, Arton stood several inches over the armed soldier "Are you one of the adventurers here by our King's request?" He asked astutely, looking at the Draeni up and down. Arton nodded with a faint smile "That's right. Here..I got the papers right here." He had them in his hand already, expecting this to happen. The guard nodded with a solemn, unchanging expression "Mhm, Allen here will guide you to the room where the rest are." He pointed to a younger looking guard who gave a light salute at being mentioned. The interior of the Castle completely astounded him. His family was never wealthy so the ornate paintings and statues that decorated the halls were something new to him. It all was so different than what he was used too, therefore it was interesting to him. Allen led him to the room without saying a word, Arton was too busy gazing at all the sights anyway "Here you are, sir." He said plainly, though Arton could the nervousness expressed in his face "Thank you Allen, I probably would have gotten lost without you!" He laughed lightly, seeming to get the anxious guard to chuckle just a little "Yeah, well good luck." Allen replied a bit more friendly this time around, departing down the corridor. At last he had arrived, he could hear the dulled sound of a violin through the door. His hand opened the door and it grew much louder as he saw the others who had gathered here already. Slowly he made his way further inside, his expression appearing cold though this was merely because he slipped back into old habits. His dark eyes glanced between the characters in the room, one immediately striking him out as the king. The other four he had no idea who they were, but he hoped he would find out. However, one individual drew his interest over all the others. He wasn't even sure what she was, but her appearance and clothing were just so foreign to him that his curiosity couldn't resist. He walked over to the nearest chair to her and asked "Mind if I take this seat?" He asked rather politely, his expression solid and unchanging as he waited for her permission. Once had, he sat down after setting his bag behind him "My name is Arton Yule, an adventurer with the WAA. What's yours?" He asked directly, friendly in his tone. His people didn't waste time with asking pointless questions. Unknowingly, the person who he was talking to was a Dark Elf who held disdain for the culture of other kingdoms. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Interacting with:@Genni</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Are you wizard?" asked the little urchin boy. He was fast, even for an urchin. He was always one step ahead of Nanda as she slipped through Meteora's many alleyways. "Is that how you do that trick with the coins, earlier?" Nanda grinned. That trick earlier was nothing; something to impress people on the streets, and distract them from the urchins scurrying away with their purse. Perhaps not the best thing to do in a new city, especially since she was hired by the literal King of the place, but she couldn't pass the opportunity up. The kids were practically worshipping her now. "What do you think?" she said. She flicked her fingers and her cloak burst into flames... or at least that was what it looked like. In a split-second the flames seemed to be absorbed into her cloak, turning the drab black cloth into a burning red. A velvety, expensive-looking burning red. The boy stopped in his tracks and stared wide-eyed. "Sure, I'm a wizard." She laughed. "So you said you know where the castle is?" The boy grinned. --- "Ananda, princess of Zamrud," she announced herself to the elderly steward. She was no proper princess, of course, but she made sure to look the part, mostly through her cloak. It was a piece of wonder, fine red velvet decked around the edges with what appeared to be gems. Gunthrum said nothing as he read the official WAA parchment she had given him. Finally, he gave it back to her. "I though Zamrud doesn't have any royalty." "It doesn't," Nanda chuckled. "There's no royalty so anybody can be prince and princess." He sighed, apparently not seeing the humour in it. "Please, have a seat." Nanda bowed with a flair, then turned her attention to the room. There were a couple of people already, some she thought she recognized from the WAA. And there's the king! At the head of the table, of course. "It is an honour to meet you, your majesty," she said with a curtsey. This king in particular wasn't very much interested in court manners, she heard, but it seemed a waste not to pull it off. She then took a seat somewhere in the middle of the table, a good place to observe all the others, or to be seen herself.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún As the human poked her Arwyn's arm began to reach up to snap his finger, but out of the corner of her eye she noticed that even her small gesture of defiance had several of the nearby guard tensing up, their own hands moving towards their weapons or raising bows subtly towards her direction. After a moment's consideration she relaxed herself once more. After all she was here in search of her destiony and killing all of the guards would waste far too much of her valuable time. At least the little man had answered her question, although his response raised several more. Her own people would never contemplate sending an unworthy representative on a quest without them having passed the ritual testing to prove they were the best suited for the task. Even now the humans seemed to be simply choosing randomly from whomever gathered and throwing all of them at the problem, rather than having each compete for the right to complete the task alone, saving the others for tasks which would best suit their abilities for the greater good. They were soon introduced to even more candidates for the task at hand and Arwyn had to almost physically prevent herself from throwing her arms up in despair at the sheer wastefulness of the whole endeavour. The humans almost seemed to be trying to outdo themselves with unskilled combatants who would most likely not even last the first day in the dungeon which had been described to them. Especially not if their greatest warrior, who must assuredly have outclassed all of the knights presented before them, had already failed in the task. One of the armoured figures towards the rear of the group seemed particularly unsuited to the role, the bright red tunic he wore over his armour almost crying out to be shot at. If gambling had been something her people had experience with Arwyn would certainly have placed a large wager on that individual being one of the first to fall. Leading the group onto a waiting rimpa lán the knights began to chant what seemed a bastardised cantrip based on elven magics which had long been superceded by more enlightened enchantments among her people, but as the carpet rose swiftly into the air Arwyn had toi admit that even though outdated and obsolete the old spells still had some value to them. Before long the party were settling back down to the ground not far from a gaudily carved entranceway which seemed far more elaborate than the setting entirely required. Shaking her head Arwyn joined the several of the others as they made their way closer. When a figure began to emerge from the cave the shadowbow was immediately on guard, her bow in her hands before any of the human could react and the string pulled back as she began to channel her energies into the weapon. Her cloak immediately closed in around her, generating a mist which obscured her position until she began to relax, recognising the similar style of crudely crafted armour the other humans were wearing on the approaching stranger. Relaxing her posture, Arwyn let the magic seep from her bow, reabsorbing it into herself as the arrow vanished back into mothingness once more. Examining the newcomer from a distance she noticed he seemed to be missing some parts to his armour compared to the other humans, and while the removal of his helmet was understandable, as the rough piece of metalwork would do nothing but impair the wearer's senses and awareness of their surroundings, the missing gauntlet, vambrace and couter seemed a strange choice, especially considering his arm also appeared to have been left behind along with the armour pieces. Leaving the humans to deal with the presumably injured man, Arwyn quickly moved over towards the cave entrance, seting herself up in a position within its shade that gave her a clear view down into the ominous opening. With her bow held at the ready, prepared to summon and loose an arrow at a moment's notice, the elf settled in to guard the way ahead while the humans discussed matters amongst themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| It always astounded him how easily read the emotions of other races were, especially humans. A two-second glance was all it normally took him to figure out what they were feeling. The changes in posture and facial expressions were enough to dis-certain this. His first impression of Arywn was that she was rather unimpressed with everything around her. Hardly anything seemed be worth her time. When she asked him if he was of the woods, He couldn't help but think that the change in her expression came from the hope of some kind of familiarity. The more he learned of the Champion, the more he began to believe that this would hardly be like anything he's been through before. Arton had been through two dungeons along with a party of other adventurers, always able to rely on his solid defense to protect him and his teammates. Now he was now sure if that would be enough in this situation. The knight named Sampson replied to his question instead of the king, and he didn't like the use of die in his speech. The spit shot onto the floor was more confusing, Arton not understanding what that was supposed to mean. Arton didn't like the fact the King was so willing to let 15 of his supposedly elite guard just to die "There shall be no man left behind if I can help it, your majesty." He responded strongly. His advice was not all that helpful, they were taught that at the WAA rather early in their admission. Arton found the King...rather hard to read, he felt he was hiding something under his strong expressions. He simply admired the view of the city as they left it, turning his attention forward as they approached the dungeon. While menacing, it was normal of dungeons to have a sort of foreboding entrance. At the very least, its presence was enough to deter some ambitious treasure seekers who'd otherwise get trapped or killed. Their landing was rather quiet, the accompanying knights faces obscured by their helmets. Arton's body tensed as he spotted the figure, his right hand hovering over the hilt of his sword in its scabbard. It was only when the man spoke did he drop his guard some. He could see fear in the man's tired eyes, his body moved barely able to carry his own weight let alone the armor on him. A somber look befell the Draeni, the state of the knight did not bode well for the others. That did not mean he would relent in his personal mission to make sure as many came back alive as possible. Since he didn't know healing magic or medicine, he rushed forward drawing his sword and shield to guard at the mouth of the dungeon. His sword and shield greatly outclassed the appearance of his armor in both construction and design. His blackened eyes noticed that Arywn had decided to watch the entrance as well, giving him a bit more comfort knowing she was watching his back. From her earlier reaction, He had figured she was a rather sharp shot with that bow. As much as he wished to help the wounded solider, he was better suited where he was now. "I'm afraid I'm not of the wood.." He suddenly spoke out "At least, not in the way I suspect you mean it." Arton was not able to answer her earlier "So much for an elite knight though." It might have sounded harsh, but he spoke this with sadness. If they were truly elite, then whatever was in this dungeon could not be allowed to live. \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| Interacting with:@Genni</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "I mean this group is really strong," said the king. "I should have called the WAA in the first place." Nice sarcasm, your majesty, Nanda wanted to say, but she only smiled. She couldn't tell whether to take the king seriously. He seemed like someone who is unironically fun at parties, and that already earned a point of respect from her. Another point came when he revealed that the escort method is an honest-to-goodness flying carpet. Nanda shook her head in amazement. "Boy, people would kill to get sights like this." The view was certainly remarkable, and Nanda made it a point to memorise the layout of the city while they were far above. It was a very short trip unfortunately, and soon the dungeon was in sight. It was a grim-looking place, and she could feel nothing but bad vibes coming from either the dark clouds or its dark cavern. "Loooooook at that cloud. It's so beautiful," the boy said, which surprised her. It took her a while to realise that, yes, well, there was something of a beauty to it? A beauty that was cut short by the emergence of the bloody soldier. Nanda rushed to the injured man along with Sampson. "You're going to be okay," she said, firmly. "What happened in there?" One of her hands went to the dagger in his belt. The red colour melted from his cloak, turning it the colour of the ground. She glanced at the dungeon's entrance. 15 elite knights, gone. Hmm, she might have to take this more seriously than the king was making it out to be.</s>
<\|description\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin Age: 18 Species: Human Class: Rogue / Illusionist - Generally sneaky and quick. Capable of casting illusions which can indirectly harm enemies or support her teammates. Homeland: The City-State of Zamrud is an opulent merchant city on the coast. Zamrud has no government in the usual sense; instead the city is run and regulated by the merchant's guild and anyone rich enough to influence the populace. With no state-directed crime enforcement, the city is also home to a thriving black market, including all the thieves, bandits, and underground industry that comes with it. Personality: A charismatic trickster. Nanda has a demeanor that makes it easy for people to trust her. She is pleasant to talk to, always telling you what you want to know. She has a generally high opinion of herself, but will have no problem putting herself on the bottom if needs be. A perfect chameleon in social circles, although she has a penchant for dramatic flairs. To strangers she always aims to impress first. That's often a misdirection. She puts a show in front of you so you won't notice when she nicks your purse. If your outfit is particularly shiny, she won't feel half-bad about it. If it isn't, she might feel a bit guilty, but she's still going to keep the loot. Behind the charming facade and fierce confidence, there's an aimless girl who doesn't exactly know what she's going to do with her life. Stealing and tricking people is what she's good at, so she rolls with it. Traveling the world with the WAA is fun too; she enjoys seeing new sights. She's just not sure it's all she wants for life. Appearance: Ananda is a bit shorter than the average, although you might not notice it from her confident stride. She has shoulder-length auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and light skin. Most people would say that she's pretty, or at least cute. That's mostly thanks to her easy smile and that she keeps herself clean. Her outfit, since we're gonna go dungeneoneering, is more functional than stylish: a dark coat with many inside pockets, and a darker cloak. It's a bit nondescript, but she often cast some illusion spells to make it look nicer. History: Ananda's father is one of the most skilled thief in Zamrud. He is, however, a quiet man. While his skills are legendary and his heists infamous, not many people has guessed that it was all his doing. He uses enough of what he takes for a humble life, and he's eager to pass those skills along to his only daughter. Ananda's uncle, on the other hand, is a traveling magician. He's able to put on the most marvelous shows with both his deft hands and his ability to craft illusions. Compared to her somewhat dull father, he was fascinating. His frequent visit was where Ananda learned how to walk the walk and talk the talk, no matter who she is talking to or where in Agartha she is doing it. There were plenty of real magic too, and not just the sorts one can do with smokes and mirrors. Ananda's mother is an enigma. An adventurer in the WAA, she only appears in Ananda's life in brief, sporadic bursts. However, those bursts are enough to, eventually, push Nanda to use her tricks for more than simple thieveries and join the WAA herself. Despite that, she still doesn't see her mother much. Powers/Abilities: If they believe it, then it exists. Spell Name: Create Illusion Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 15+ Create an illusion. An illusion can resemble anything the caster can imagine, which also means things from memory is easier than something one makes up. An illusion can't make any sound, can't make complex movements, are not solid to the touch. For those moments when your natural charm is not enough. Spell Name: Charm Speak (Efficient on NPCs with below 25 MP [Until higher level]. Only effect on PCs with their consent) Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 5 Convince the target to do something. Good lies are as good as the truth. Spell Name: Fool Senses Element/Type: Illusion Rank: B Mana Drain: 18 Effect: +2 to 1 Stat or +1 to 2 stats. Lasts 2 posts. Buff the target's stat of caster's choice. Can target self. If they can't hear you, they won't see you. Spell Name: Fleeting Steps Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Movement will not make noise. Other creatures are less likely to notice the caster even if they see her passing by. Leave their eyes no room for escape. Spell Name: Rain of Terror Element/Type: Illusion Rank: C Mana Drain: 8 Cast on a projectile weapon to create visual duplicates of it, making it seem like an unavoidable rain when fired. Fire. For show. Also for setting things on fire. Spell Name: Firesparks Element/Type: Fire Rank: C Mana Drain: 4 Create sparks of fire. Given enough time and concentration, it can light a fireplace, although some flint and starter would help. Equipment: - Traveling cloak - Coat with plenty of pockets, containing: -- A bag of coins -- A deck of cards -- Needles and thread -- A set of lockpicks -- 5 Throwing Knives - Belt, holding: -- A dagger -- A flask of water Weapons: Item Type: Dagger Name: Just a dagger Appearance: It's very functional; good for cutting ropes and monsters alike. Nanda polishes and cleans it daily, enough that she can use it to cut up food. Ability: Nope Damage: 5 Item Type: Throwing Knives Name: She ain't gonna name all her things. Appearance: A leaner, lighter variation of a dagger. Small enough a child can hold it. Probably will still hurts a lot. Ability: Throw them to hurt. Damage: 1 each. Stats Newbie Level 1 HP 100 MP 50 Vitality: 4 Speed: 7 Strength: 2 Endurance: 4 Mana: 8 TL;DR: Daughter of a king of thieves, raised by a showman. At home in the spotlight as much as in the shadows. Support kid in battle.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 A little unsure why the party were wasting time arguing rather than simply taking action Arwyn quickly moved over to the corridor, her bow held ready as she peered into the darkness with her enhanced senses (Keen Eye ability, Darkvision racial trait), trying to at least identify the direction the sounds were coming from. Her cloak wound tighly around her body, coating her in darkness and helping her blend into the shadows of the dungeon as best as she could (Shadowmeld ability). She knew from her experience hunting however that not every creature used sight to find its prey, and so she kept herself silent as she gazed into the gloom, not wanting to give away her position with unnecessary noise.</s> <\|message\|>L'eonard Aldvin Character Status Arwyn Arton Rio Nanda HP: 75 HP: 125 HP: 125 HP: 100 MP: 50 MP: 25 MP: 25 MP: 50 Status: Clear Status: CLear Status: Clear Status: Clear Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full Stamina: Full EXP to LVL: 38------------------------------------------------------ As the Elf made her way to the corridor the noise would stop, something wasn't right about this enemy. She would be met with the stairs from 15 pairs of glowing red eyes. Almost as if they could see the blood flowing through her veins and hear the beat of her heart even from so far away. However, the corridor was far too dark to see exactly what it was that was staring at her. Without a seconds glance the creatures would take off in a full sprint, much faster than the speed at which they had previously seen. Sensing the bloodlust creeping from the corridor, Sampson sprang into action. "We don't have time for this. Knights to Arms!!" He roared throwing himself in front of the corridor, just far enough inside so that none could pass him, at the same time, being close enough to the outside room to aluminate a small bit of the corridor. The knights follow suit, one joining his left and the other joining his right. "Jack you stay back. If it gets past us, kill it." The knight commanded with extreme authority. He unsheathed his sword, a brilliant blade both long and thick. An average knight wouldn't be able to lift such a thing but the Captain did so with ease. The knights following his lead brandished long swords of their own. "May the Fire of the Sun God guide us!" Sampson roared, his sword becoming completely engulfed in flame. Almost in complete sync, the knight's blades as well burned with an intense flame. In fact, the whole parties weapons began to burn with never before seen fire. When the enemies hit the light they were much different from the undead from before. These were fleshy creatures, decked out in golden armor with equally golden weapons. "Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater)." Name: Caro Comedenti (Flesh Eater) Species: Low Level Undead Class: Assasin Appearance Skills: -Consume: If a Caro manages to eat a fresh supply of meat it can heal itself perfectly back to full health. -Flesh Sense: The Caro uses a unique magic that allows it to combine the combination of all its sense to hunt out fresh pray. Stats HP 100 MP 0 Vitality: 3 Speed: 4 Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Mana: 1 The first of the flesh-eating undead was quickly put down by Sampson with a clean slice, splitting the monster completely in half and setting it on fire. The soldiers doing the same, slicing them and letting them burn to ash. They were able to quickly dispatch 6 before 4 of the monsters snuck through. Either by jumping over, or sliding around, these monsters proved to be far craftier than the previously thought. The 4 rushed towards the ones they thought to be the weakest, the princess and the boy. Breaking into 2 groups, the undead split and set off towards their target.</s> <\|message\|>Rio Leone Rio couldn't fault Arwyn for just going up ahead. Scouting out the noise was something of urgent importance, and standing around arguing wouldn't help in getting the drop on the enemies making their way towards them. Unfortunately it seems they took too long to respond. More undead popped up but they were shinier and a lot livlier than the first encounter. He watched as Sampson and the knights rushed to the entrance to stop the throng of monsters from bumrushing them. A handful were cut down with flaming weapons which now was on everyone. It was rather curious, seeing his arm completely covered in magical flame. Such wonderment would have to be saved for later. The gold clad undeads mananged to leap ove the human wall and were rushing to the boy and girl in separate groups. They were fast...but he was faster. With a bit of energy he made a leaping run to Jack as he yelled at Arton, "Go cover the 'princess' I got the kid!" Rio stood in front of Jack and said without facing him, "Try not to exhaust yourself this quickly." Concurrently while saying that he unleashed another charged attack at the shiny zombies. With his flaming claw it should do a number on them, so he thought. (Used the speed buff and cleave)</s> <\|message\|>Arton Yule 𝓐𝓻𝓽𝓸𝓷 𝓨𝓾𝓵𝓮 \|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\| HP: 125 MP: 25 STM: Full Effects: None Newbie Level 1 Vitality: 5 Speed: 3 Strength: 7 Endurance: 7 Mana: 3 Arton nodded strongly at Rio, they could allow none to get through them. His focus diverted from everything else but the un-dead headed for the princess. His shield raised just underneath his eyes and sword ready to strike, he met the first un-dead by bashing his shield into its torso as it came for them. Anything to slow it down before swinging his blade across the creature's neck in a attempt to quickly decapitate it, these things were best taken out quickly he surmised. "Ironskin!" He yelled out, strengthening his defense as he didn't want to take any chances right now. It was his sworn duty to protect others as a defender, so he would not so easily fall. His trust was put in the others to take out the remainder of the enemies, knowing that each one was very capable in their own right "I'll take the brunt of the attacks, just do what you can." He said to Nanda.</s> <\|message\|>Arwyn Dúlóth Gurthchwest Thúlnún HP 75 MP 50 Sta Full XP 38/60 As the undead approached Arwyn backed away. Not only were her archery skills failing her but now her vision was as well, sight which should've made the darkness as bright as day seemingly worthless in the shadowy depths of the dungeon. With the beasts closing quickly the archer quickly stowed her bow and instead pulled out her twin blades of trusty elven metal while calling the winds to her to push herself back, letting the monsters pass by as she moved out of their way. (Light Step ability) Once the beasts had moved up between herself and the Yule-bidden human Arwyn surged fowards, her blades slashing at them from behind. Having seen Arton's example the elf aimed for the creature's necks, above their golden breastplates where the rotting flesh was exposed and vulnerable. She alternated between the two closest corpses, hitting each in turn to keep them staggered and offbalance as she struck again and again. (Flanking melee attacks with Estent Magoli)</s>	<\|message\|>Ananda, daughter of Sahrin "Well, damn, this is cool," Nanda muttered to herself when all the weapons in the room burst to flame. It was almost distraction enough against the undeads that were making a beeline for her. She tried to dodge away behind the knight, Arton ("Why, thank you, sir."), while at the same time throwing two now-flaming knives at her pursuers, aiming for their unprotected heads. Nanda glanced quickly around the room, assessing it. Arton and Rio seemed like they were doing fine defending their stance, but what about the other guards? The dark elf was attacking with flurry, and she seemed to have more luck attacking from behind. Nanda Fooled her arms to have more Strength and Agility, for stronger faster blows. Now where is the magic boy?</s>
<\|description\|>Kinoko / Kinokou { Ignore the tail } Alias: Princess Kinoko/Kinokou, Princess of Saiyans (formerly), Son Kinoko/Kinokou, Universe 7's Last Female Saiyan, Third-Mightiest Saiyan. Date of Birth: April 18, Age 735. Age: 44 (physically 30-31). Height: 5' 7". Weight: 121 lbs. Species: Saiyan. Gender: Female. Relatives/Relationships: * Bardock (biological father; deceased). * Queen of Planet Vegeta (biological mother; deceased). * Raditz (older paternal-brother/former teammate; deceased). * Vegeta (older paternal-brother/teammate). * Goku (younger paternal-brother/teammate). * Tarble (younger paternal-brother). * Android 21/"Amaia" (younger adoptive-sister/teammate). * Gohan (paternal-nephew/teammate). * Goten (paternal-nephew). * Trunks (paternal-nephew). * Bulla (paternal-niece). * Pan (paternal-grandniece). * Chi-Chi (sister-in-law). * Gure (sister-in-law). * Bulma (sister-in-law). * Ox King (father-in-law). * Dr. Brief (father-in-law). * Panchy (mother-in-law). Occupation(s): Princess of Planet Vegeta (formerly); High-Class Warrior; Farmer/Grocery Clerk. Affiliation(s): Dragon Team/Z-Fighters. Former Affiliation(s): Galactic Frieza Army. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Black. Personality: Mature, Caring, Capable, Helpful, Intelligent, Optimistic, Confident, Honorable, Gentle (yet Tough), and Stubborn. (When Turned-Evil: Ruthless, Arrogant, Devious, Selfish, and Manipulative.) Power(s): Super Saiyan 1-3 (possibly 4), including Blue. Abilities: Superhuman Strength/Speed/Durability/Senses, Martial Arts, Acrobatics, Flight, Afterimage/IT, Telekinesis, Ki-Control/Sense/Transfer/Regeneration/Rapid-Fire, Kamehameha (descended from Bardock), Galick Gun (taught by Vegeta). Voiced By (actor/actress): Liza Jacqueline Live-Portrayer (actor/actress) {just for fun}: Chloe Bennet Theme Song:</s> <\|message\|>Froze There were a lot of things being said between the heroes of Earth just immediately following Frieza's sudden visit to Earth. It was soon learned that his troops used the Dragonballs in order to bring him back to life and with his renewed vigor tried to get his revenge but was soon stopped by Goku and Vegeta. The following day after that, all of them were within Bulma's home. Well, all except Goku and Gohan. Since Chi-Chi caught wind that Goku was back, immediately put him back to work in the fields. However everyone else had been there and decided to talk amongst themselves about that day's events. The first one to speak up was Krillin, who had just shown up after a couple of others had arrived. The rest had looked at him as he had flown in. "Hey guys! I'm here! Sorry it took so long, I had been training a bit before and realized what time it was. 18 had to come and remind me." he said with a chuckle as he landed down softly beside Yamcha. "Oh it's no problem. A lot of us just got here too. Don't know where Goku is but Vegeta is training as usual. Wouldn't kill him to show at least just a little interest after what happened yesterday." he said huffing a bit. "You already know how he is and I don't think Goku will be here. Last I heard, Chi-Chi caught him immediately and he's out there working in the field already." Piccolo quietly said, he was leaning against one of the pillars of the small patio out there in the backyard of the Capsule Corp. "Right, right. So what are we here for? Moreover, who told us to come here? I thought it was agreed we'd be training after what happened." asked Tien who then walked up to the rest. "I don't know. I got a call from Bulma and she told me to come here yesterday. Said something about the Dragonballs. I'm not really sure since she was shouting so loud. So glad 18's not like that..." Krillin had gave a light sigh. It was almost noon there in West City. Goten and Trunks were playing outside like usual, the Pilaf Gang were down in the lab along with Bulma' father who had been working on something for the past few days. Soon enough Gohan had came but unlike the tracksuit he was wearing when Frieza first came to Earth but his regular Gi just like his father. "Gohan." Piccolo said just as he landed on the ground. "Everybody. I decided to come after all. After what happened yesterday, I thought it'd be a good idea to keep myself in the know what might be going on or will be." the Saiyan said before looking around before raising and eyebrow. "Where's my dad and Vegeta-san?" he questioned. "Goku's working and Vegeta's training. Apparently neither of them has gone back with Whis this time. I figured at least Vegeta would but he's been acting kinda weird all day long. Bulma knows but she won't say anything about it." says Tien. Gohan was about to ask what he meant by that when a spaceship was seen overhead, everyone knowing who that belonged to didn't say anything until it touched down. Out of it popped out the Galactic patrolman that they all knew. "Whew, Bulma has a way with words. I was out on official duty when she called me. Sounded kind of important so I just couldn't ignore." Jaco said as he coughed into his hand. Everyone knew what he meant by that considering she kinda forced everyone to be here literally the next day but they figure it was important enough in light of what happened yesterday during the assault and considering it had something to do with the Dragonballs, they couldn't ignore it either. Piccolo had a guess to gather them so they couldn't be used again, at least to revive any enemies they may have had but considering they were stone until next year, that would be impossible to find them until they became active again. So they talked among themselves until Goku decided to sneak in and show up or Bulma came out, one of the two.</s> <\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko figured that Frieza's assault on Earth would make her push pass her limits of protecting her family. When Gohan, her eldest nephew, got repeatedly and nearly shot-to-death by the Emperor himself, the ex-princess had to step in, and cover him, right up to the point where Piccolo sacrificed himself to save them both...until her two brothers finally showed up: Vegeta, the eldest, and Goku, the younger. During that whole scenario, Kinoko kept both Gohan and Piccolo in her care, while she took care of the remaining soldiers who'd dare get any closer to them. This battle became one of those she would never forget. Even to this day of celebrating, it continued to haunt her; probably as much as was for Vegeta. She left her older brother alone to his thoughts, just knowing that those said-thoughts would continue to bother them both, as they contained the memories of their servitude for Lord Frieza himself, back in the past. The female Saiyan did consider going with him, in order to get those traumatizing memories out, including the ones involving the amount of abuse Raditz put on her. But then, she decided to stay behind, and look after her family. The Dragon Balls then came to her mind. If anybody wishes to revive their evil superiors, then the only option would be the retrieve them before it again ends up in the wrong hands. Floating above everyone, still in her battle outfit, and staring towards the sunset, she finally crossed her arms upon her chest, until Jaco arrived. That was when she decided to descend gracefully back down to the ground. It felt as if they wouldn't go away...the memories. As much as Kinoko wanted to forget them, she feared that the more they continued to bother her, the more she feared of becoming an uncontrollable Super Saiyan. However, the only reason she didn't was because of Goku and Vegeta, who've managed to convince her that she wouldn't. From there, she believed, thanked, and loved them. Whenever times like these began to take their toll, she would go to either go to Chi-Chi, Bulma, or Videl to talk about it. The ex-princess knows that she's really tough like her father, but yet, she was a gentle soul, like her mother. With much thought, she decided to use Instant Transmission to quickly change into something that was suitable for the occasion: a dark-blue midriff top, a pair of dark skinnies, and high-heeled boots.</s> <\|message\|>Froze Everyone had looked up when they felt Kinoko's presence, well, mostly Piccolo was the first to notice then the others did as well. All of them were rather fond of the Saiyan princess. After all, she had done much to help them in their long journey. They remember it like it was yesterday when she had came to Earth with Raditz. Some of that were bittersweet memories and even to this day, none of them knew what prompted her to switch sides like that but they couldn't have been more thankful especially Gohan as young as he was. They had gotten rather used to her fast soon after, considered her one of the gang with much help of Goku of course. Took Piccolo a lot longer to come around but consider she didn't kill him after he had no choice but to kill Goku that day to make sure Raditz had perished, he thought she couldn't have been that bad and he was right after he had mellowed out over the years. The others had various opinions of her, none of them were too out there...I mean, if we're talking about right now at this moment. "Glad you decided to join us finally, Kinoko. I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday but thanks for saving us both. I don't think we would've made it without you." Piccolo had walked over to her as he said that. "I agree. I didn't know that Frieza had gotten so much stronger. I should've been more careful...no matter how many times I go through it in my head. I feel like I could've done better then." Gohan said with a heavy sigh. "I wouldn't worry about it Gohan. None of us knew that he would get that strong. We're sorry we couldn't do anything to stop him at the time." Krillin had added. All of them agreed and had a moment of silence after that. Jaco had something he wanted to say, a joke to lighten the mood but he advised against it since he didn't want to get blasted just for making light of a dire situation yesterday. Probably the only time he seen Frieza up close, just thinking about it gave him the shivers something awful. It wasn't just him, however. All of them were more on alert after that. Peace had really gotten them soft and after what happened, it gave them a wakeup call that they should not be slacking off when there's no threat to be had just yet. No one really felt that more than Gohan, the more he thought about it, the more the strain on his face worsened a bit. His mind fell back on both Videl and his child, Pan. What had happened if Kinoko wasn't there? What if he had died as a result? He'd be leaving them and that thought alone really bothered him. He had asked Piccolo to train him again, from the basics up. He really didn't want to mess up again. Things may have changed but he was still a warrior, he needed to keep up with his father and everyone else. Sure he handled himself well against Frieza's henchmen but Frieza himself was so much stronger than him it wasn't funny. He looked down at his own hand and squeezed it, the only time he was horribly disappointed in himself. He was hoping he'd get over this wall pretty soon, he didn't want to be a burden to everyone like he was when he was a child.</s>	<\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko had landed a few feet away from Piccolo, and she had heard his every word when she had done so. As much as she knew about the Namekian, there was no surprise about when he knew detect her looming presence. "There's no need to thank me; I had to do what I had to do, and that's to protect my family; every call must be answered", she assured, giving him a friendly smile. It was a vow she was sure to follow, ever since the defeat of Raditz. The abuse had taken its toll, and it finally made her decide to kill him, probably for the first time without honor. That was the reason Kinoko had changed sides in the first place: She had enough of it. She looked at her nephew when he began to ponder about his own actions during the battle. "Gohan, don't doubt yourself. You did what you could; by giving it your all", the princess walked to Gohan, stopping next to him, and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt as if he was back as a child again; back when she had rescued him and Goku. This time, as much as she could remember, it was as if it would never get old. Like she said, she had a family to protect; as an aunt, and a sister, she will live up to that expectation. If she had to babysit her nieces, nephews, or her siblings, she would. It felt as if her sixth sense was her ability to detect the melancholy auras of people. Because she was certainly seeing it in Gohan. "Gohan, there was no chance that Frieza would ever defeat us. Know why? Because we are family. We fought as one; the bond is much stronger than you think", the princess smiled once more, before nodding, hoping to give him hope that they will succeed...and that there's always a way. In some ways, like how she is with Goku, she had gotten closer to Gohan, ever since the incident. Of course, before the eradication of their homeworld, she had remained really close with Vegeta, considering that they had obviously grew up together in the same status and household. As close as they were, rather emotionally, Kinoko just knew that, even though her older brother would be out training, he wouldn't put it above family-oriented scenarios. Especially when it comes to the wellbeing of his wife, his son, or his sister. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Saiyan prince will put their wellbeing before his own. Since there wasn't necessarily a place for her to reside, the princess normally stayed with Goku and his family. At first, she found Chi-Chi to be somewhat strict, but Kinoko could only understand that she just wants what's best for her family. As much as those expectations were overbearing, Kinoko tries to do the best she can, in order to help her younger brother with the amount of stress his wife puts on him. Sometimes, they were rather lucky in getting her to agree with them taking a break or two, but this varied. Especially when it came to Goku and training...</s>
<\|description\|>Kinoko / Kinokou { Ignore the tail } Alias: Princess Kinoko/Kinokou, Princess of Saiyans (formerly), Son Kinoko/Kinokou, Universe 7's Last Female Saiyan, Third-Mightiest Saiyan. Date of Birth: April 18, Age 735. Age: 44 (physically 30-31). Height: 5' 7". Weight: 121 lbs. Species: Saiyan. Gender: Female. Relatives/Relationships: * Bardock (biological father; deceased). * Queen of Planet Vegeta (biological mother; deceased). * Raditz (older paternal-brother/former teammate; deceased). * Vegeta (older paternal-brother/teammate). * Goku (younger paternal-brother/teammate). * Tarble (younger paternal-brother). * Android 21/"Amaia" (younger adoptive-sister/teammate). * Gohan (paternal-nephew/teammate). * Goten (paternal-nephew). * Trunks (paternal-nephew). * Bulla (paternal-niece). * Pan (paternal-grandniece). * Chi-Chi (sister-in-law). * Gure (sister-in-law). * Bulma (sister-in-law). * Ox King (father-in-law). * Dr. Brief (father-in-law). * Panchy (mother-in-law). Occupation(s): Princess of Planet Vegeta (formerly); High-Class Warrior; Farmer/Grocery Clerk. Affiliation(s): Dragon Team/Z-Fighters. Former Affiliation(s): Galactic Frieza Army. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Black. Personality: Mature, Caring, Capable, Helpful, Intelligent, Optimistic, Confident, Honorable, Gentle (yet Tough), and Stubborn. (When Turned-Evil: Ruthless, Arrogant, Devious, Selfish, and Manipulative.) Power(s): Super Saiyan 1-3 (possibly 4), including Blue. Abilities: Superhuman Strength/Speed/Durability/Senses, Martial Arts, Acrobatics, Flight, Afterimage/IT, Telekinesis, Ki-Control/Sense/Transfer/Regeneration/Rapid-Fire, Kamehameha (descended from Bardock), Galick Gun (taught by Vegeta). Voiced By (actor/actress): Liza Jacqueline Live-Portrayer (actor/actress) {just for fun}: Chloe Bennet Theme Song:</s> <\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou Kinoko had landed a few feet away from Piccolo, and she had heard his every word when she had done so. As much as she knew about the Namekian, there was no surprise about when he knew detect her looming presence. "There's no need to thank me; I had to do what I had to do, and that's to protect my family; every call must be answered", she assured, giving him a friendly smile. It was a vow she was sure to follow, ever since the defeat of Raditz. The abuse had taken its toll, and it finally made her decide to kill him, probably for the first time without honor. That was the reason Kinoko had changed sides in the first place: She had enough of it. She looked at her nephew when he began to ponder about his own actions during the battle. "Gohan, don't doubt yourself. You did what you could; by giving it your all", the princess walked to Gohan, stopping next to him, and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. It felt as if he was back as a child again; back when she had rescued him and Goku. This time, as much as she could remember, it was as if it would never get old. Like she said, she had a family to protect; as an aunt, and a sister, she will live up to that expectation. If she had to babysit her nieces, nephews, or her siblings, she would. It felt as if her sixth sense was her ability to detect the melancholy auras of people. Because she was certainly seeing it in Gohan. "Gohan, there was no chance that Frieza would ever defeat us. Know why? Because we are family. We fought as one; the bond is much stronger than you think", the princess smiled once more, before nodding, hoping to give him hope that they will succeed...and that there's always a way. In some ways, like how she is with Goku, she had gotten closer to Gohan, ever since the incident. Of course, before the eradication of their homeworld, she had remained really close with Vegeta, considering that they had obviously grew up together in the same status and household. As close as they were, rather emotionally, Kinoko just knew that, even though her older brother would be out training, he wouldn't put it above family-oriented scenarios. Especially when it comes to the wellbeing of his wife, his son, or his sister. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Saiyan prince will put their wellbeing before his own. Since there wasn't necessarily a place for her to reside, the princess normally stayed with Goku and his family. At first, she found Chi-Chi to be somewhat strict, but Kinoko could only understand that she just wants what's best for her family. As much as those expectations were overbearing, Kinoko tries to do the best she can, in order to help her younger brother with the amount of stress his wife puts on him. Sometimes, they were rather lucky in getting her to agree with them taking a break or two, but this varied. Especially when it came to Goku and training...</s> <\|message\|>Froze Gohan's face had soften at Kinoko's words, exactly what he needed to hear at the time. Although that didn't stop his drive from wanting to get better. Sure, he gave up fighting to focus on his family, he was never really much a fighter like his father and younger brother was but he realized in order to have that life he needed to help keep the Earth safe from harm. He nodded with a smile. "Thanks, Kinoko-san. You're absolutely right." he said pushing those doubts to the side now. Gohan never realized just how much of an impact that Kinoko had made on him in the amount of time he had known her. Well, coming from a human standpoint, Vegeta was exactly what Saiyans were like. Not that the way he acted was bad or anything, he thought. Seeing her though was completely different, maybe not all Saiyans were so hard to have a heart to heart with. Just then, Bulma came out side with a smile on her face and everyone turned to face her. He clapped her hands once to grab everyone's attention. "Everyone! Thank you for coming out here on such short notice." she said as she stood mostly in the middle of them with her hands on her hips. "Well, to be honest, you yelled for me to come. I was on official business, you know!" Jaco said rather defiantly. Bulma just rolled her eyes and wagged her finger in front of his face. "You protect this sector of the universe, right? Then this affects you just as much as us. Just be thankful you aren't out there fighting alone, hm?" she said with a bit of a smirk on her face. Jaco just awkwardly laughed and scratched his cheek, looking away a bit. Tien, however, stepped in. "So Bulma, what is this all about? Sounded pretty serious when you contacted me earlier. Is everything okay?" he softly asked. That's when everyone else had leaned in to find out just what was it that they came here for. Bulma rustled in her pocket a second then took out a Dragonball. Everyone looked at it a second but Piccolo instantly had noticed. "That Dragonball, it's not stone. It hasn't been too long since Frieza had been revived. It hasn't been a year yet, I mean." he said walking over. Everyone else's eyebrow raised as they thought about it. "Yeah, you're right. It should be stone yet here it is, not stone. What's that supposed mean? Do you think something happened at the lookout?" Krillin asked as he leaned in for a closer look. Piccolo frowned a bit before turning around and walking away. "Wait here, I'm going to the lookout to talk to Dende." he didn't really wait for anyone to answer, he just flew off at top speed. Gohan softly took the Dragonball from Bulma's hand then looked at it himself. It seemed normal to him but there was this unshakeable feeling that something was off about it. He frowned a bit and gave it back to her just then Yamcha said something. "Well that's good right? Just means we just find them and get them before anyone else does. If they're wish ready, I don't think that's all that special." he said crossing his arms. Bulma pursed her lips a bit and shook her head. "That's exactly the problem. You already know how these Dragonballs work. The fact that they're not stone would mean that something should be wrong. I don't like it. When you look at it, just looks normal but the feeling it's giving off..." she said just as Tien cuts in. "Makes it seem like something or someone tampered with them. Do you think it has something to do with wishes that Frieza's henchmen had made?" he asked but no one there knew. Bulma crossed her arms and thought about it a moment. "We don't know unless we collect them all again and see what Piccolo says when he comes back. I wouldn't be making such a big deal about this but the last time this happened, it wasn't so pretty." she muttered. However she looked back up again and took out a Dragon radar. "So that means you guys are on Dragonball hunting duty! Go find them and bring them back here so we can figure out what the problem is. I don't have a good feeling about this and it may be nothing at all but I rather not leave this up to chance." she says handing it to Krillin.</s>	<\|message\|>Kinoko / Kinokou For Kinoko to possess such traits were considered strange to many. Most Saiyans thought of her as being of non-fighting material, but they thought differently, when they came to discover that her kind and gentle nature was only a facade. On the inside, she does indeed have a fighting spirit, and that she possesses a great form of power that would surpass most of their planet's warriors; she was at least, an inch away from Vegeta's own strength. If not, she would be his equal. They both obviously haven't come close to surpassing Goku, so for Vegeta to continuously call himself by his royal title, Kinoko could only believe that her brother will be training long and hard to do so. And she literally means long and hard. For herself, as far as training goes, she tries, at least until everything is done around the residence of Goku and Chi-Chi. She had managed to learn about the aspects of finance from Bulma and Videl (considering that they were rich), so the idea of getting a job was an option with considering, if she ever wants to support her family. The princess became a full-time grocery-store clerk. Highly unlike her younger brother, Kinoko grew fond of the task, almost immediately. That also meant that she and Goku are on the same page and business in handling fresh food: he harvests and collects, while she stocks and gives them away. If she wasn't on her shift, she can make Goku's task a lot easier. After all, it's a win-win; the faster it gets done, the more time for training for the both of them! With the princess' eyes looking up at her nephew (since she was three inches shorter), Kinoko smiled gently and nodded back, with a hum. "Just know that if you want a training session, I'm open. Know that, Gohan", she added, with a friendly wink. And then, that was when Bulma announced for everyone's attention. Kinoko listened, before giving an amused chuckle at the blue-haired woman's interaction with the Galactic Patrolman. As long as she had known her sister-in-law, Kinoko just knew that Vegeta married a strong one, since she heard that became a major factor in how Saiyans find the right mates. Back on her homeworld didn't the princess to be worthy since she held a nature that was totally different to how a true Saiyan should behave. Only Raditz and Vegeta knew that she didn't get those traits from the king at all, who held pride and ruthlessness. It was then particularly guessed that she got them from Bardock and Vegeta's mother, who possessed fiery yet compassionate spirits. Looking at the Dragonball that Gohan managed to take from Bulma, Kinoko looked back at all of the times they had to hunt these relics down. Especially the time that she had to fight with Vegeta, when he ran off with them. As much as she loved him, as his sister, she had no choice but to face him in combat. The memory was painful, but she had to prevent him from doing anything stupid. Now, the other six were scattered, and they would have to find them once again. As much as the princess would like to go with them, she had to stay, and lend a hand with the others, who may not have the ability to defend themselves. After all, they might need someone powerful enough to protect them. The whole scenario with Frieza has made the circumstances a lot more difficult, and that meant they needed all the help they can get, if it ever happens again.</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus Tags: Villain lesson #1: Ignore problems and maybe they'll go away. The satisfying clicks of the lock tumbling into place met his ears, and he reached out a gloved hand to give the knob a jiggle. Perfect. It was then that the considerably less satisfying sound of a witness caught his attention. Raker stood, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to face the young woman. The blank, black fabric eyes of his mask stared at her, emotionless and indifferent. The fiend's own expression underneath wasn't much different. No matter; she was but a small gnat on the windshield of his plan. Mindraker did what he did best: he reached out into her mind, raking it over the hot coals of confusion and haze. Where am I? Keep walking. What was I doing? Saw nothing. Foggy. Leave. As he played his trick, he slipped into the office and shut the door behind him, locking it back. If he pretended he wasn't there, she would probably just turn and go away. Meanwhile, he very quietly proceeded to ransack the place. Raker pulled open drawers and cabinets, sorting through papers and manila folders. He pocketed a thumb drive and picked out a few papers, then neatly put them into a folder and tucked them into his hoodie. The process felt as though it had taken long enough for the woman to be gone, but just to be sure, the hooded man approached the door and leaned his ear up against it. Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian Location: His apartment Orren walked a few blocks to where his shabby apartment was nestled. Given his rough start on life, he'd had to work long hours and take short breaks to hammer out a life for himself. Government assistance helped a little. He noticed his elderly neighbor, Miss Renfroe, outside watering her lilies. She waved at him, and he offered her an awkward smile. His door creaked as he headed inside. He should probably spray the hinges soon...or not. Orren set is stuff down on his plastic card table and plopped into his beat up old chair. His tiny apartment was a little better than living on the street. It was cheap, the neighbors were loud, and he was pretty sure that he would be murdered if he didn't lock his doors, but it was home. He reached for his remote and turned the TV on to watch something before bed. Lately, Orren had been going to sleep earlier and earlier. He was always tired, and no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to feel rested. He had been to a couple doctors about it, even did a sleep lab, but everything came out normal. It was frustrating to say the least. Some times he wondered if his condition was coming back. God, he hoped it wasn't. As the show he had on played out, his eyes slowly got heavier and heavier. Maybe he could just nap here in his chair. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep when his phone sounded off the text alert tone. He grunted as he pulled it out, seeing a new text with a video attached, the caption reading "wake up".</s> <\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, hallway At first, nothing seemed to happen. The figure turned its head to stare at her, though she couldn't make out a face in the half-light. All at once, Dinah felt hazy, the kind of fog you feel after a bad trip or intense high. She forgot what she had been doing, or why she was here. She had been standing there for seconds, no hours? Minutes. Maybe she should go- A sudden stabbing pain flashed through her brain, her vision going red as she let out a yelp of surprise and hurt, knees buckling as she dropped to the floor clutching her head, the water bottle in her hand clattering to the floor and liquid spilling out onto the tile. She squeezed her eyes shut, palms covering her face as she struggled to recover. The pain reminded her of something she had long since forgotten, from a time long since past. She had forgotten all about the person by the door, but now she was confronting a whole new set of problems. She had felt something like this before, when she was a child strapped to a metal chair, wires and bright lights everywhere. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there before the black spots in her vision started to clear and she recovered control of her limbs. She exhaled sharply and shook her head as her eyes fluttered open once more to see an empty hall before her. What the hell was that? She thought, slowly picking up the water bottle and using the fountain to help haul herself to her feet. She had had panic attacks in the past, not so much anymore, but certainly never like this. She looked down at the dark glove on her free hand, fingers slowly closing into a fist as she regained her composure, taking one last look down the hall. Empty. Maybe she was just seeing things, the ambience had set her off. She hesitated before turning and hurrying back to the library. Man, this place was creepy when it was empty. Garry was still vacuuming, so she simply gathered her things off the table and stuffed it all into her backpack. That was enough for one night, she could finish the paper somewhere else. She shouldered her belongings and hurried back out into the hallway.</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: At Kinko's straight flippin' copies Soft footfalls lead away from the door. Raker waited until he was sure the coast was clear before he slithered out of the room. He'd fixed it back to make it look as though no one had been inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, gaining him the attention of the janitor as he vacuumed. The two exchanged brief glances. "Hey what are you-," The man didn't finished his sentence before he cut himself off, his brows scrunching in confusion. The masked man walked right by him while he stood there, trying to remember what it was he was going to say. By the time the janitor recollected his thoughts, the Raker was long gone. As Mindraker approached his new destination, his cohort was already waiting for him. The plain, black plastic of his mask stared blankly at him from under the black hood. Mask was crouching down in the shadows of an alley, hidden among the trash bags and discarded furniture. Mindraker approached and gave him a silent nod, and the man stood to follow him. The two silently slunk through the dark, heading down an adjacent alley that lead into the better lit street. They stuck to the shadows, like two rats out of the sewer. Finally, they reached their destination. A...Kinko's? A strange front for villainy, that was for sure. The office store was closed by now, the doors firmly locked. But that didn't stop Black Mask from teleporting them inside. They stood outside the glass doors, then in a blink of an eye and a bust of black smoke, they were on the other side of the glass. Raker slipped the files out of his hoodie and went to start up a copy machine while Black Mask glanced around for security cameras and/or guards. The sound of several pages being copied and printed filled the shop as the two began to meander around, waiting for the machine to finish. Fresh ink and the smell of slightly mildewed carpet wafted through the air. Once Black Mask was certain that they were in the clear, he let his guard down to peruse the magazine rack that stood near the check out. He picked up one of the glossy gossip books and began to flip through the pages, offered only meager entertainment at best. $12.99? Who bought this shit?</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song, a band of miscreants The equipment, once all unplugged and stashed into a large tote, wasn't exactly light. After this haul, they would have to return to their base to drop it off. Once Mindraker was done compiling it all, Black Mask came over to pick it up. He grunted as he shouldered the heavy bag. This would slow them down considerably. He walked slowly towards the door and peered out the window to make sure the street was still clear. All was well. So, like that, the two disappeared again. Black Mask put them in the alleyway next to the building, and the two began to slowly work their way past the homeless camp that occupied it. People were packed against the walls, snoozing in sleeping bags and small tents. Someone had a barrel fire going. No one stirred to bother the two villains, however. At this point, these guys had probably seen just about everything. The two crossed the street that the alley exited into and where about to slink into the next before they were stopped. A group of young men, dressed in baggy clothes and smelling of drugs, took notice of them. The leader of the pack, a lanky if not slightly muscular man with a brown paper bag in his hand to hide the booze, waddled his way towards them. He seemed to have misplaced his belt. His minions flanked him, looking every bit as disheveled. "This ain't your neighborhood, freaks," Was the opening line the man chose. He smirked as he looked them up and down. "What're you tryina' be? Some kind of bad guys? I don't know if you heard or not, but I'm the bad guy in this hood." There was a round of soft chuckles and a couple "Tell 'em man"s from the group. Mindraker wasn't interested. Black Mask eyed them as the two moved to get around the group, but their path was quickly blocked. "Oh he think he can't talk. What, you too good or somethin'? What you got in that bag, man? You just get done robbin' a bank in my hood, and you think you ain't gon' share?" This was getting ridiculous. Mindraker scanned his eyes over their numbers, about eight in total. He should be able to handle them without much strain, but lately he'd been having trouble tackling groups. Black Mask took notice of Raker eyeing the group; he had a bad feeling about this. Last time his cohort tried this, a couple weeks ago, it hadn't worked out so well. Just in case, Black Mask ported away, taking himself to a nearby rooftop to drop the bag off safely and reappearing by Mindraker's side to offer back up. "Oh! What the fuck!" That was the general reaction of the thugs as Black Mask reappeared. They were starting to cause a ruckus, trying to decide if they should try and take out the two not-so-normal villains. They didn't get a chance to finish before Raker entered their minds, collectively drowning the group in a hazy fog of confusion. The degenerates immediately lost their aggression and started to wander off. Raker kept his hold over their minds until they were far enough away to not start the scene all over again. Once he was satisfied, he released them and turned to stagger off. Mindraker took a couple clumsy steps, as if he were drunk. He used his hand to guide himself along the brick wall. Black Mask followed behind him, watching him intently. Was he going to...and then there it was. About halfway down the alley, Mindraker's legs gave out. He crumpled to the group, his body rigid. The hooded man began to convulse violently. Black Mask quickly glanced down either side of the alley, making sure that they were alone. He carefully rolled the seizing man onto his side and backed off to wait it out. He couldn't teleport with Raker like this, not unless he wanted to make it worse. He knew the best thing to do was to wait and hope they went unnoticed.</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The wait, just as the pursuit, proved all the worthwhile as a figure drifted so faintly to the window of the broadcast station. So they did manage to get inside, Song noted, but it was not long before the silhouette utterly vanished; apportation, perhaps some form of invisibility or phasing too. It had the man cross his arms, sleeves riding to his chest as his head canted to one side, pondering the events he bore witness to. At least his intuition was as keen as it ever had been, which only raised the question now of what to do with it; obviously their activity was criminal, trespassing, breaking and entering, probably some form of petty theft, but that wasn't the problem at its core, it was how to do something about it. Walking across the street casually, the black clad figure maneuvered about with as little haste as he displayed before, happening to come upon an alleyway. As it were, his sense of direction was about right; the two men seemed to favor the side streets and anything that kept them out of the open. Not an unreasonable tactic if one was attempting to be somewhat subtle as they had been, although the running betrayed their activity. So by the time Song came down that same path, illuminated by the licking flames of the barrel fire, he soon noted the stoop people and vagrants minimally milling about. Standing just between the two buildings that led down this way, the sense something was odd or off became more evident; people slunk off into alcoves, others down narrowed paths, some back into huddling among themselves, and then of course back to the warmth of the fire. Song adjusted his hood more and looked back toward the ground. Someone, rather two someones, had shunted these people back to their lives with a newfound sense of aimlessness, more than there already was. Walking past the drifters, turning a shoulder now and again to avoid a collision here and there despite not so much as laying eyes on them, the third hood kept on his way; just as he imagined, they ignored him for reasons inexplicable. There was a novelty to the experience and it made the man's tailing of the duo easier, though things took an odd turn. Some ways deeper down the narrow street, one made ever so faintly claustrophobic by the looming buildings, did their follower come upon a figure slumped on his side, seizing and convulsing, one who no less closely resembled a member of the two seen earlier. There wasn't much hesitation in Song, in fact none at all, as he then drew closer to the man and went to crouch beside him, reaching a hand out...</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song Black Mask glanced at his watch. It had almost been a minute now; they were starting to get longer each time. He leaned back against the cool brick behind him, hidden in the shadow of the building and a dumpster. He was tired, his eyes growing dangerously heavy. He had almost nodded off when he heard the ever so quiet sound of shoes on rough concrete. His eyes popped open. There was a man crouched over Raker, and Black Mask couldn't tell if he was trying to help or hurt. It didn't really matter, did it? Mindraker had stopped seizing, but was still unconscious. His limp form laid lifelessly on the cold ground. The only sign he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his ribs, just a bit too prominent under his too-big hoodie. Black Mask lunged. He seemingly materialized out of the darkness, aiming a hard kick at the man's side.</s>
<\|description\|>Orren Daily Alias: That guy who always spells your name wrong at the coffee shop Gender: Male Age: 25 Alliance: He's a citizen, but a good citizen Powers: None that he knows of. Other: He works at a local coffee shop called "Hallowed Grounds". The names is more a pun and the shop has no religious ties. Personality: Orren does his best to be the average Joe. He goes to work, goes home, eats, sleeps, repeats. His childhood wasn't a very fun one, leaving him a bit shy and unsociable. He gets along with others pretty well, and is generally accepted as a nice guy, but he doesn't go out of his way to make friends. Appearance: He's kept himself in decent shape. Orren visits the gym about twice a week and enjoys jogging. He stands at 5'8", an average height and mildly muscular build, and has fair skin with a freckled face. His dark brown hair is often messily combed. Orren has dark brown eyes. Overall, he could be called attractive. History: Oddly enough, Orren doesn't remember much of his own past. He knows he was in a foster home as a young child, and then in and out of the hospital as he got a little older due to health related conditions. He experienced some mental outbursts as an older child, around 10 or 11, and words like early onset schizophrenia were thrown around. After one particularly bad episode, Orren was admitted to a mental hospital. He was treated there for two months before being released, having been prescribed antipsychotics for his condition. He's not sure if this 'condition' was ever explicitly named. Orren's medical files have since been misplaced, and he hates going to the doctor. So, for the most part, he just lays low, takes his medicine, and doesn't worry too much about it. Everything seems fine now. Name: Unknown Alias: Mindraker, named by those who have encountered him. Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: His morality and motives are unclear. He seems to do as he pleases, whether it's illegal or not. Could probably be considered a badguy due to this. Powers: Mindraker seems to possess some kind of ability over the human mind. He has been reported to daze those who see him, make people forget that he was even there. Any attempts at his arrest have ended in the police officers wandering the area, confused on what they were supposed to be doing. He doesn't seem to be able to control people's minds, but he can certainly change the state of mind they were in before they came across him. Personality: Not much is known about the mysterious fiend. He doesn't seem particularly evil. He certainly doesn't burn down orphanages or rob banks. But the things he's been caught doing have been pretty sketchy. Sneaking around government facilities, breaking into city buildings, or even people's homes. One thing is for sure: he's not a guy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Appearance: He's an average height and skinny build, but what he looks like unmasked is unknown. Race, age, and technically even gender have never been revealed. He wears a dark grey hoodie and a burlap mask with black eyes cut out. History: The Mindraker was first written about in a small blurb in a newspaper a few years ago. It was mentioned that a man in a mask broke into a college professor's house and ransacked the place before the police arrived. The professor was found, unharmed, wandering in his backyard. Apparently, he didn't remember calling the police, or why he was in the yard to begin with. A neighbor's security camera caught the culprit sneaking into an unlatched window. Since then, the mysterious figure has been behind several break ins around the city. What it is that he's trying to accomplish is still unknown. Name: Unknown Alias: Black Mask, named by witnesses Age: Unknown Gender: Male Alliance: He seems to work closely with Mindraker, but his motives are just as mysterious. Powers: Teleportation. On security feeds, the figure in a black mask will just disappear. No witnesses have ever seen him do this in person, but it is assumed that he is a teleporter. He can disappear on one side of a wall and reappear on the other, or even "jump" from one location to another. Since no one can get him to talk, the limits are unknown. However, he doesn't seem to be able to port to places he hasn't been to before. Personality: If Mindraker was the brains behind the operation, then Black Mask would be the brawn. He is much more willing to physically attack those he sees a threat. Although he never speaks, he often seems angry and hostile. Like Raker, his motives are unknown and he rarely appears during the day. Appearance: His signature feature is the blank, black, 2.99 costume store mask he wears. It doesn't have any details other than being a smooth face with cut out eyeholes. He is most often seen wearing a black sweatshirt and black pants, but can occasionally be seen in other street clothes, though nothing really defining. History: He first appeared on the news a few months after Mindraker began his string of break ins. The two often work together, but Black Mask is never seen working alone, unlike Raker who occasionally does things on his own. Mask is wanted in several trespassing cases, although break ins are very hard to prove when he's around. He usually just teleports himself and his cohort inside. He has assaulted several security guards, and has a few warrants out for his arrest. However, arresting a man whose identity is unknown is fairly difficult.</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The wait, just as the pursuit, proved all the worthwhile as a figure drifted so faintly to the window of the broadcast station. So they did manage to get inside, Song noted, but it was not long before the silhouette utterly vanished; apportation, perhaps some form of invisibility or phasing too. It had the man cross his arms, sleeves riding to his chest as his head canted to one side, pondering the events he bore witness to. At least his intuition was as keen as it ever had been, which only raised the question now of what to do with it; obviously their activity was criminal, trespassing, breaking and entering, probably some form of petty theft, but that wasn't the problem at its core, it was how to do something about it. Walking across the street casually, the black clad figure maneuvered about with as little haste as he displayed before, happening to come upon an alleyway. As it were, his sense of direction was about right; the two men seemed to favor the side streets and anything that kept them out of the open. Not an unreasonable tactic if one was attempting to be somewhat subtle as they had been, although the running betrayed their activity. So by the time Song came down that same path, illuminated by the licking flames of the barrel fire, he soon noted the stoop people and vagrants minimally milling about. Standing just between the two buildings that led down this way, the sense something was odd or off became more evident; people slunk off into alcoves, others down narrowed paths, some back into huddling among themselves, and then of course back to the warmth of the fire. Song adjusted his hood more and looked back toward the ground. Someone, rather two someones, had shunted these people back to their lives with a newfound sense of aimlessness, more than there already was. Walking past the drifters, turning a shoulder now and again to avoid a collision here and there despite not so much as laying eyes on them, the third hood kept on his way; just as he imagined, they ignored him for reasons inexplicable. There was a novelty to the experience and it made the man's tailing of the duo easier, though things took an odd turn. Some ways deeper down the narrow street, one made ever so faintly claustrophobic by the looming buildings, did their follower come upon a figure slumped on his side, seizing and convulsing, one who no less closely resembled a member of the two seen earlier. There wasn't much hesitation in Song, in fact none at all, as he then drew closer to the man and went to crouch beside him, reaching a hand out...</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song Black Mask glanced at his watch. It had almost been a minute now; they were starting to get longer each time. He leaned back against the cool brick behind him, hidden in the shadow of the building and a dumpster. He was tired, his eyes growing dangerously heavy. He had almost nodded off when he heard the ever so quiet sound of shoes on rough concrete. His eyes popped open. There was a man crouched over Raker, and Black Mask couldn't tell if he was trying to help or hurt. It didn't really matter, did it? Mindraker had stopped seizing, but was still unconscious. His limp form laid lifelessly on the cold ground. The only sign he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his ribs, just a bit too prominent under his too-big hoodie. Black Mask lunged. He seemingly materialized out of the darkness, aiming a hard kick at the man's side.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongNews 41 Broadcast Station - Alleyways The ambusher had the advantage of surprise, materializing out of the veil of darkness that he had faded into, but Douglas Song was perhaps as much of a bewildering experience all his own too. This manifest as the moment the kick was launched, the blur of an attack in motion, the third man that had joined the earlier pair rolled backward, and from his supine position upon his back, staring up at the black clad attacker, he leapt to his feet and was standing already. The acrobatic display wasn't an exceptional feat, at least not superhuman despite being physically remarkable, though it were a fair indicator Song was no drunkard or streetperson. There he stood idle for no longer than a breath, raising a brow, before breaking the clinch range with a push that sent them both sliding backward, shoes grinding against the ground as friction struggled against their unexpected movement. Following the space of a few feet being made, the outstretched arm and hand of the interloper, the so called "Golden Tiger" whose fingers were flexed in and thumb cocked back, dropped to his side and the other arm chambered at the hip fell to rest along with it. Strangely the motion hadn't much more a sensation than just being pushed despite the apparent force involved, that which was enough to send two grown men backward. Either way, Song looked from the standing masked man, whose seeming "lack" of a face gave no obvious emotions, to the other limp on the ground. When he returned his attention to the conscious member he spoke plainly, fingers releasing their slight tension as he relaxed entirely. "Your friend isn't well." He expected no response, masked criminals either were tremendously vocal or not at all; it mattered little one way or another as it were.</s>	<\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: Super secret evil villain liar Black Mask grunted as he was shoved back. He took another step forward, fists balled and ready to swing, before he thought better of it. He knew what Raker would say: this isn't the time or place for a fight. Especial with said Raker slumped on the ground. Mask glared at the man from behind his facade and stalked over to his comrade. Black Mask crouched down beside him and rolled him back a bit. The hooded man stirred ever so slightly, groggily regaining consciousness. Black Mask took this as a sign that it was okay to move him. He scooped the lanky villain up and turned to give the other man one last look before he headed off down the alley. Once he reached the end, the two vanish in a cloud of black smoke. Mask reappeared the next street over. He would have to go back and get the equipment on his own. Right now, he needed to worry about getting Mindraker home before someone else decided to confront them. As with before, he took the back roads and alleys, keeping to the shadows as he approached the hideout. The villain slunk onto a very old residential street, one nestled in the ghetto of the city. It was filled with mostly crack houses and meth dens. One of the many boarded up townhouses sat empty and dilapidated. The former home loomed over the street, looking every bit like an old ghost haunt. Black Mask went around to the overgrown garden in the back and slipped inside. There was a door that sat half on its hinges that led into the basement of the home. Said basement was clearly the only part that was being lived in. The wooden stairs creaked in complaint as Mask slowly descended them. The dreary dwelling was just barely lit by a street light shining though a small window from outside. There was an old mattress, the springs that stuck out having been taped back in place. It was covered with an old blanket, and a comforter on top of that. Furniture was made out of plastic milk crates and boxes. A lantern sat on the makeshift night stand. Black Mask laid Mindraker down on the mattress and tossed the blanket over him, then plopped down on the foot end. It was cold, no heater and poor insulation. On worse nights, Black Mask had seen his own breath down there. He honestly didn't know how Raker lived here. Maybe because he didn't have any other choice. Raker seemed content to rest for now, and Mask wished desperately do to so as well. Unfortunately, it was supposed to rain in the morning. If he wanted that equipment to be any good, he had to go back for it immediately. He let out a sigh and stood, heading silently back towards the stairs.</s>
<\|description\|>Jason Ryker Alias: "Hijack" Alliance: None. All supers need to go. Appearance: Jason is 6' 2", lean and muscular. He's not stupidly overbuff, but he likes to keep athletic, nimble and strong. He has to be if he has any chance of standing up to Supers. He's usually wearing hoodies, ripped jeans and graphic design tees when he's not fighting as "Hijack". However, his attire quickly changes when he's on a mission. He switches to black, military gear. Sort of like SWAT gear, but instead of the blocky white logo that the SWAT would have, he has opted for a crimson red Anarchy symbol. The A is especially prevalent on his ballistic face mask. The A takes up the center of the mask, which is put on over his balaclava. He uses black paint around the parts of his eyes that would be showing. Age: 24 Gender: Male Personality: Jason is a cold, calculated fighter. However, most of all, he hates Supers. Any chance he gets presented with to take one out or take the fight to them, he'll be on the front lines. Although, he much prefers a more... tactical approach. In a world of gods among mortals, how does a non-believer fight the unnatural. It takes time, patience. Bombs and and a hail of bullets will do nothing against an impenetrable wall. It takes a systematic demolition. The right trap, the single squeeze of a sniper rifle, the opportune moment to slide the knife. This is Jason's mantra. He doesn't like talking about why he hates Supers, not until his respect has been earned. He can be seen to have a one-track mind, usually only wanting to discuss a mission and nothing but that mission. He's distant from what people would call "normal society" and that makes him hard to get along with. He doesn't care. He's not there to make friends, he's there to get revenge. Powers: Jason is a human. He does not have any powers. He does, however, have guerilla training and a good armament of weaponry. His custom, M4 assault rifle is his usual weapon of choice, usually fitted with a foregrip, a 4x ACOG sight, tactical stock, extended magazine, and sometimes a suppressor if the situation calls for it. However, he does have a couple more weapons in his home, if the situation calls for it. Including pistols, sniper rifles and flashbangs and tear gas grenades. He also has a grappling hook launcher, allowing him to scale up tall heights to get vantage points. History: Jason was an ex-marine, who was given discharge to take care of his ill sister in Centerville. However, little did he know that Centerville was a Warzone in it's own right. He kept his physical fitness up when he wasn't taking care of his sister, able to rent a cheap apartment nearby. However, his mind hit the mental switch from sane to not so about two weeks later. Him and his sister was caught in the crossfire when a fight broke out between two supers. It seemed like there was no care for the civilians around them in this explosive fight, and because of that, his sister was caught beneath some rubble. Surviving throughout this city had been a nightmare, but he had to be there for her, and they took it away all for personal gain. Of course, Jason was wrong in his decision that ALL supers were like that, but he didn't care anymore. He went off grid, and started preparations to start his personal crusade as "Hijack"... Theme song:</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongSanders Street - News 41 Broadcast Station The majority of the night life had remained just as tame as it had started, perhaps more promising than it should have been here, but nothing as that ever lasts long in the city; cities never sleep after all. Far down by now, having walked perhaps an hour or so, minding his own tempo, Song noted two figures break from the concealment of an alleyway and with blind, but apparently directed motivation, dash across the street. Looking up for the first time everything as as off as one imagined it to be. Two masked men in black, running? Darting between one alleyway and another, all while running out across an open street? Even if they were not criminals they kept things lively, enough so that as soon as they came, they were already gone. Song had a moment to decide his course of action. He looked to his left, then to his right, noting no real attention from the line of sight of his hood before he shrugged to himself. With a short sprint across the equally devoid street, Song's boots soon left pavement and a stride stepped atop the roof of a car with no more sound or force than a gust of evening wind, and soon he was upward bound to a fire escape. Catching the chill metal railing with his hands, the man pulled himself up to crouching atop it with four points of contact. Having already covered two stories, the last couple were no more than a leap off the rail, a jump from a windowsill, and a few steps run up the vertical brick. Landing atop the roof and skirting along its ledge, Song hadn't an issue getting sight of the two men from a distance, dropping from one roof to another after without so much as a noise. He laid low, but never once crouched, stooped or slunk, just calmly walking to keep in sight of the two equally black clad men. Of course the trailing followed with a reward of sorts, the kind that he really hadn't been expecting. That was assuming he had a reason to expect anything at all like this; it sort of happened, a happy accident, rather an unhappy one that could be made well, perhaps. The duo stood there at first, peering into the window. Song knew from his own experience the men were scoping the place out, after all, a local radio station at night, well after closing hours, while dressed in black and hustling from cover to cover in the bad part of town? The real question was not what they were doing, but why. There was really no getting a better look at this distance, the observer walking behind a rotating vent that poured out a faint steam, all to obscure his presence, but by the time he rounded it only one thing was certain; they both had vanished. "Interesting." He noted, hands back again in his pockets, not to spite the brisk air but think more of what he just witnessed. There was a short period of pause, a few minutes, before it was clear they either had vanished physically or just appeared to have. Whatever the case was, it was a far cry from normalcy and something that merited a bit of investigation. Looking over the ledge, some fifty feet up from the concrete, Song made himself sure that no one would notice a shadow slide down a darkened corner, one cast into more darkness between two buildings. Boots silently grinding against the brick, he let off at the last bit and landed crouched, a palm steadying him. Good, no one seemed to notice he was here, but now finding where the other two figures went at the broadcasting station was the only challenge remaining. How did they manage that disappearing act and why here? The building was somehow related, considering they sought to get inside. So the first place to check? The inside of the building, but that would come soon enough.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: News Station 41: The Eye Tags: Douglas song, a band of miscreants The equipment, once all unplugged and stashed into a large tote, wasn't exactly light. After this haul, they would have to return to their base to drop it off. Once Mindraker was done compiling it all, Black Mask came over to pick it up. He grunted as he shouldered the heavy bag. This would slow them down considerably. He walked slowly towards the door and peered out the window to make sure the street was still clear. All was well. So, like that, the two disappeared again. Black Mask put them in the alleyway next to the building, and the two began to slowly work their way past the homeless camp that occupied it. People were packed against the walls, snoozing in sleeping bags and small tents. Someone had a barrel fire going. No one stirred to bother the two villains, however. At this point, these guys had probably seen just about everything. The two crossed the street that the alley exited into and where about to slink into the next before they were stopped. A group of young men, dressed in baggy clothes and smelling of drugs, took notice of them. The leader of the pack, a lanky if not slightly muscular man with a brown paper bag in his hand to hide the booze, waddled his way towards them. He seemed to have misplaced his belt. His minions flanked him, looking every bit as disheveled. "This ain't your neighborhood, freaks," Was the opening line the man chose. He smirked as he looked them up and down. "What're you tryina' be? Some kind of bad guys? I don't know if you heard or not, but I'm the bad guy in this hood." There was a round of soft chuckles and a couple "Tell 'em man"s from the group. Mindraker wasn't interested. Black Mask eyed them as the two moved to get around the group, but their path was quickly blocked. "Oh he think he can't talk. What, you too good or somethin'? What you got in that bag, man? You just get done robbin' a bank in my hood, and you think you ain't gon' share?" This was getting ridiculous. Mindraker scanned his eyes over their numbers, about eight in total. He should be able to handle them without much strain, but lately he'd been having trouble tackling groups. Black Mask took notice of Raker eyeing the group; he had a bad feeling about this. Last time his cohort tried this, a couple weeks ago, it hadn't worked out so well. Just in case, Black Mask ported away, taking himself to a nearby rooftop to drop the bag off safely and reappearing by Mindraker's side to offer back up. "Oh! What the fuck!" That was the general reaction of the thugs as Black Mask reappeared. They were starting to cause a ruckus, trying to decide if they should try and take out the two not-so-normal villains. They didn't get a chance to finish before Raker entered their minds, collectively drowning the group in a hazy fog of confusion. The degenerates immediately lost their aggression and started to wander off. Raker kept his hold over their minds until they were far enough away to not start the scene all over again. Once he was satisfied, he released them and turned to stagger off. Mindraker took a couple clumsy steps, as if he were drunk. He used his hand to guide himself along the brick wall. Black Mask followed behind him, watching him intently. Was he going to...and then there it was. About halfway down the alley, Mindraker's legs gave out. He crumpled to the group, his body rigid. The hooded man began to convulse violently. Black Mask quickly glanced down either side of the alley, making sure that they were alone. He carefully rolled the seizing man onto his side and backed off to wait it out. He couldn't teleport with Raker like this, not unless he wanted to make it worse. He knew the best thing to do was to wait and hope they went unnoticed.</s>	<\|message\|>Jason Ryker "Hijack" Near Kinko's "Outta my way!" --- Jason cursed under his breath as his shot missed. He looked back up the street to see the two supers escape. His fist slammed down onto the concrete. "Goddamn it!" Jason yelled out, frustrated that his quarries got away. He was not stopping until he took at least one super down tonight. Clicking the safety back on, he took a mental note of how many bullets would be remaining within his magazine. It was always a good idea to keep count. He also changed the firing mode to burst in case he ran into those two by chance and would require some close up engagement. However, his attention was stolen by the metallic slam of a door and the man from earlier. Jason whipped around and immediately raised the gun at him. He had to be cautious, especially as this guy was in the vicinity of the two supers. He could be involved or another super himself. "You there. Shooter. Who are you?" The voice was... slightly off. Everything about this guy's outer appearance seemed to be spot on, but there was a certain echo to his voice, almost like he was hearing it through the other side of a phone call or through a PA system. If Jason played his cards right, he could get some evidence to open fire if he was indeed a super. It was odd how he was at the shop and here suddenly too. "None of your concern..." Jason said beneath his mask. This guy seemed unarmed for the most part, but Jason couldn't be too careful. "Sir, I will only warn you once. Outta my way..." He said firmly, slowly and cautiously approaching the man, keeping his sights vigilantly trained on him.</s>
<\|description\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ "Mɪᴅᴀs" ▪ ʜᴇʀᴏ ▪ 21 ʏ/ᴏ ▪ ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ There's nothing striking about Dinah or anything that screams "hero" when you look at her. A 5'5 ectomorph, she not an intimidating figure in the least, and her physical abilities extend about as far as hitting the gym regularly to stay in shape. She's not notably curvy or thin either, floating somewhere in between, though you wouldn't be able to tell anyway because she wears a lot of baggy clothes. Her blonde hair is wavy and reaches just below her shoulder blades usually pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of the way. Her face is round with smooth features and hooded lids. She sports soft blue eyes and an array a freckles across the bridge of her nose, cheeks, extending down to her shoulders and upper back. There's a small "013" tattooed to her inner left arm closer to the crease of her elbow from her lab days. Dinah is a cautious and reserved individual, but very genuine. She's mellow by nature and a fairly easy person to get along with once she gets to know you a bit. While she is friendly and approachable, she's careful of who she places her trust in, and is generally a fine judge of character. She's a survivor type, and tends to look out for herself first, but not at the cost of other people. Those she is close to are the people she is the most open around, and the shyness melts away to show a quirky and energetic young woman. In the time since she was returned to her family, she has become much more vivacious and outspoken as opposed to her earlier years. She's very intelligent and witty, someone who is driven by common sense and practicality rather than emotion. She won't do something unless it is the logical thing to do. She doesn't have much in the way of a sense of humor, not much of a jokester type, but she does love to laugh, and enjoys being around people who are funny. She is far from naive and has a sense of quiet wisdom about her, the kind that comes with growing up too fast. Despite that, she's terrible at letting things go and is apt to hold a grudge. While she managed to move past what happened to her as a child, sometimes it still haunts her, and there's a part of her that wishes she could find those people and bring them to justice, the ones that got away at least. Her anger is of the cold variety, the kind that slowly builds up and festers before cumulating at a breaking point. As she's not typically an angry person, this hardly occurs, but she becomes sloppy and emotional when it does. Much like her name sake, everything she touches with her fingertips turns to gold. Everything, even people. She is immune to the effects of her touch, but anything else is fair game. The smaller the thing is, the faster it changes. Larger objects, like cars, she can touch but it will only turn parts of it. However, it doesn't last long. The effects reverse after a few hours as if nothing happened. This is due to the fact that, on the molecular level, the atoms changed are unstable and will revert back to their original makeup. That is, if what she's touching is not alive. People, animals, and plants suffer a harsher fate under her touch. While the body will change back to normal, the initial act of their atomic structure changing will kill a living creature. There are limitations to this, as the more she touches, the more exhausted she becomes, and with no real physical powers, she becomes drained fairly quickly. To prevent something unfortunate from happening, she wears a pair of gloves at all times, thin and dark blue in color. As a child, she didn't remember a time not living in the facility, surrounded by doctors and scientists. There wasn't anything necessarily cruel about the place; she had her own room and was fed regularly. The tests were awful, but the nurse was always kind. The adults were stern, but if she did as she was told, she wouldn't get in trouble, and she saw no reason to rebel. It wasn't until she was 10 and the lab was shut down after a devastating electrical fire that she realize that she had been abducted as an infant and experimented on by a corporation in the business of making super soldiers, or in her case, finding alternative ways to fund the research. The series of experiments she was involved in was code named "Midas", and she was the one child to survive those tests. To this day, she doesn't know the name of the corporation that did this to her. Once the government extracted the people being held inside the lab, she was placed in a hospital to monitor her vitals, and it was concluded that, physically, she was perfectly fine aside from a few tiny scars here and there. She insisted they not take off her gloves, as she knew the consequences. Her files were burned, so the nature of her supposed "abilities" was never discovered. She was placed in the foster system, and after living in a home for a year, her original parents found her and she returned home with them. After that, she lived a pretty normal life, aside from wearing her gloves all the time. She told everyone it was because she was a germaphobe and generally no one questioned it. She hardly ever used her ability, there wasn't much reason to. She tried to leave the the past behind and move on, more concerned with enjoying having a real family and her plans for the future. Now in college, she is pursuing a degree in atomic physics so that she might figure out what was done to her, and more importantly, how she can undo it completely. ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ: Gold -- Imagine Dragons</s> <\|message\|>Jason Ryker Hijack --- On the outskirts of Centreville, Jason was taking refuge in an abandoned apartment block. No one ever came by this part of town anymore, so it was an obvious choice for Jason to set up his base of operations. It was time to begin his crusade, and no one was going to stop him. After he called in some favors, Jason managed to set up all of his equipment and armaments in his apartment. Everything was meticulously organised in place, which including a rack for a small amount of weapons, all ranging in sizes, and another wall rack with attachments onto it. Jason had finally laced up his boots and looked at his ballistic mask one more time. Once this was on, he knew Jason was gone, and Hijack would have to take over. However, this is what he wanted. Finally, payback was close. Payback on every super that ran about thinking they can do whatever the hell they want without repercussions. Even some of the so called "Heroes" held their battles with wanton destruction of their surroundings. They all had to go. Jason affixed the mask and then looked at his weaponry. He had everything else on him. A couple of flashbangs, his grappling hook, and a combat knife. He looked on his wall and picked up his prized M4 assault rifle. It had a sling on it, and Jason began to affix the rest of the attachments. He wasn't about making loud statements, but being the silent killer. He screwed on the supressor, and then clicked in the extended magazine and slid on the 4x scope. He slid out the stock and then made every check before setting out. Hijack kept mostly to the rooftops, stalking the streets below, keeping an eye out for anyone that caught his interest.</s> <\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, Library Dinah wasn't one for late nights studying in the library, but her roommates had picked tonight of all nights to host a party in their apartment, so this was the only other option. She had a paper due at midnight and had done very little of the required reading for it, so the endeavor was taking longer than she would have hoped. Tired of staring into the screen of her laptop, the blonde sat back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply before raising her head to look around the room. She realized that she was the only one left in the room, which made sense for campus on a Friday night. If only her professor had given them till Monday, she thought to herself glumly. She jumped slightly when a voice behind her asked, "Hey, Dinah, you planning on being here much longer?" The young woman turned her head to see the middle aged janitor standing in the doorway between the library and the hall. "Give me another hour?" she pleaded, "I'm nearly finished, I'm sorry, Garry," she apologized, getting up from her chair with a slight stretch as she looked at the time on her phone. "You can be here until I have to leave," he conceded, "Although I'm going to vacuum in here, so it's going to be noisy," he warned, plopping his mop in his bucket and rolling it off to the side as he began to unravel the vacuum cleaner's long cord and plug it into the wall. "That's fine," Dinah replied, "I need a breather anyway," she grabbed her empty water bottle of the table and slipped out of the room as Garry turned the vacuum on, the load hum of the machine filling the library and echoing into the hall. Dinah walked down the dimly lit passage and fished in the backpocket of her jeans, smiling when her gloved fingers closed around a roll of cash. A snack from the vending machine didn't sound too bad right about now, she was craving pretzels. She turned the corner and stopped next to the water fountain, unscrewing the cap of her thermos and holding it under the spout, patiently waiting as the water trickled into the bottle. She stopped filling it when the faint sound of metal scraping metal reached her ears. It was then she realized that she wasn't alone, slowly turning her eyes down the dark hall to see a human form crouched in front of one of the doors the red light of the "exit" sign beyond silhouetting them in a crimson glow. She wasn't sure if this person had noticed her presence yet, or what they were doing (though it look suspicious), but she was rooted to the spot, unsure of whether she should approach, go get Garry, or pretend she hadn't seen anything.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Mindraker/ Unknown/ Male/ Unknown Location: Downtown area, college campus Tags: Villain lesson #1: Ignore problems and maybe they'll go away. The satisfying clicks of the lock tumbling into place met his ears, and he reached out a gloved hand to give the knob a jiggle. Perfect. It was then that the considerably less satisfying sound of a witness caught his attention. Raker stood, his hand on the doorknob, his head turned to face the young woman. The blank, black fabric eyes of his mask stared at her, emotionless and indifferent. The fiend's own expression underneath wasn't much different. No matter; she was but a small gnat on the windshield of his plan. Mindraker did what he did best: he reached out into her mind, raking it over the hot coals of confusion and haze. Where am I? Keep walking. What was I doing? Saw nothing. Foggy. Leave. As he played his trick, he slipped into the office and shut the door behind him, locking it back. If he pretended he wasn't there, she would probably just turn and go away. Meanwhile, he very quietly proceeded to ransack the place. Raker pulled open drawers and cabinets, sorting through papers and manila folders. He pocketed a thumb drive and picked out a few papers, then neatly put them into a folder and tucked them into his hoodie. The process felt as though it had taken long enough for the woman to be gone, but just to be sure, the hooded man approached the door and leaned his ear up against it. Orren Daily/ Male/ 25/ Civilian Location: His apartment Orren walked a few blocks to where his shabby apartment was nestled. Given his rough start on life, he'd had to work long hours and take short breaks to hammer out a life for himself. Government assistance helped a little. He noticed his elderly neighbor, Miss Renfroe, outside watering her lilies. She waved at him, and he offered her an awkward smile. His door creaked as he headed inside. He should probably spray the hinges soon...or not. Orren set is stuff down on his plastic card table and plopped into his beat up old chair. His tiny apartment was a little better than living on the street. It was cheap, the neighbors were loud, and he was pretty sure that he would be murdered if he didn't lock his doors, but it was home. He reached for his remote and turned the TV on to watch something before bed. Lately, Orren had been going to sleep earlier and earlier. He was always tired, and no matter how long he slept, he never seemed to feel rested. He had been to a couple doctors about it, even did a sleep lab, but everything came out normal. It was frustrating to say the least. Some times he wondered if his condition was coming back. God, he hoped it wasn't. As the show he had on played out, his eyes slowly got heavier and heavier. Maybe he could just nap here in his chair. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep when his phone sounded off the text alert tone. He grunted as he pulled it out, seeing a new text with a video attached, the caption reading "wake up".</s>	<\|message\|>Dɪɴᴀʜ MᴄBʀɪᴅᴇ Dinah McBride / female / 21 / hero Location: Centerville Community College, hallway At first, nothing seemed to happen. The figure turned its head to stare at her, though she couldn't make out a face in the half-light. All at once, Dinah felt hazy, the kind of fog you feel after a bad trip or intense high. She forgot what she had been doing, or why she was here. She had been standing there for seconds, no hours? Minutes. Maybe she should go- A sudden stabbing pain flashed through her brain, her vision going red as she let out a yelp of surprise and hurt, knees buckling as she dropped to the floor clutching her head, the water bottle in her hand clattering to the floor and liquid spilling out onto the tile. She squeezed her eyes shut, palms covering her face as she struggled to recover. The pain reminded her of something she had long since forgotten, from a time long since past. She had forgotten all about the person by the door, but now she was confronting a whole new set of problems. She had felt something like this before, when she was a child strapped to a metal chair, wires and bright lights everywhere. She wasn't sure how long she knelt there before the black spots in her vision started to clear and she recovered control of her limbs. She exhaled sharply and shook her head as her eyes fluttered open once more to see an empty hall before her. What the hell was that? She thought, slowly picking up the water bottle and using the fountain to help haul herself to her feet. She had had panic attacks in the past, not so much anymore, but certainly never like this. She looked down at the dark glove on her free hand, fingers slowly closing into a fist as she regained her composure, taking one last look down the hall. Empty. Maybe she was just seeing things, the ambience had set her off. She hesitated before turning and hurrying back to the library. Man, this place was creepy when it was empty. Garry was still vacuuming, so she simply gathered her things off the table and stuffed it all into her backpack. That was enough for one night, she could finish the paper somewhere else. She shouldered her belongings and hurried back out into the hallway.</s>
<\|description\|>Vigilante Watch The no. 1 resource for vigilante enthusiast We are a free website and every donation will help. Help us keep tracking superheroes with a dollar today. Vigilante Database>Centerville>Currently Active>Hotshot Hotshot Birth Name: Believed to be Richard Chang. Have yet to be validated. Other alias: The Backburner, The Human Heater Age: Believed to be 28 years old. Gender: Believed to be male. Notable affiliations: None that is known of at the moment. Appearance: Hotshot is primarily known for his iconic yellow overall costume which spans the entire length of his body except for his hands, feet and head. While the dominating color of his costume is yellow, it has notable black and orange trims that run across the edges of his costume (Where his gloves, boots and headgear end). He also wears what appears to be costume heavy-duty gloves, boots and headgear. The make of his costume has yet to be identified but it is notable for being able to conduct heat that Hotshot produces naturally. Hotshot's face is completely concealed by his headgear. A large orange visor goes across the area where his eyes would be to provide vision. Power(s): Heat manipulation. Hotshot is known to primary emit a field of heat around themselves which, at the most, is believe to extend an area of about five inches (12 centimeters) before dissipating. Hotshot uses this close-proximity "heat aura" by engaging in close hand to hand combat with their opponents. At this moment, the heat radiating from Hotshot incapacitates their foes by either direct contact or by gradual exposure to high temperature. Hotshot has also been observed to use what can only be described as a heat blast. It is theorized that Hotshot can concentrate high temperatures towards specific points of their body and release the stored energy into a focused beam. This beam was observed to have a maximum temperature of 1500 degrees Celsius (2732 degrees Fahrenheit). However it is observed that Hotshot takes a considerable amount of time to focus and release the energy needed for a beam. History: (Warning! This section has yet to be approved by moderators because of inconsistencies, unconfirmed details, eligible writing and/or etc. If you wish to help add to or improve this article, contact user Wheelerman23, the author of this page.) Richard Chang was born in St. Jude's Hospital in June 23, 1994. Richard was born to the couple Spencer and Martha Chang. Martha passed during childbirth because of complications. Spencer Chang was forced to raise his son alone, refusing to remarry for personal reasons. Richard grew up without incident after. He developed an affiliation for sports at an early age according to later interviews with his father. Later in life, Richard would receive full scholarship at the University of St. George for his notable American football skills. He enrolled for a Bachelor of Marine Sciences. He was notable in his batch for his athletic abilities, being voted the Most Valuable Player by his home team in 2011. He graduated with honors four years later. In March 2, 2014, Richard was involved in the Mayflower Mall incident where a group of armed, superpowered criminals seized the malls and the people inside as hostages. One of the assailants, known by his alias as "Monsoon", had placed a firearm to Richard's head and used Richard as a Human shield. However seconds into the encounter, Monsoon had began to move in an erratic manner. Closer observation of bystander image shot during the confrontation would suggest Monsoon had blisters forming on his skin. Richard tackled Monsoon back into the mall property after which a large explosion was observed. Authorities who rushed to the site of the incident found neither evidence of Monsoon or Richard remaining. Authorities claim that Richard was deceased however his father, Spencer Chang, is adamant that he is still alive. (The following information has been verified by multiple sources and has been approved by moderators.) The first confirmed known activity of Hotshot was during the a conflict between superhuman criminal Commodore and law enforcement. While Commodore was engaging several police officers, an unknown individual at the time lept towards the assailant and made contact by pressing their hand against the back of Commodore's head. Commodore was observed to be flail his arms wildly at yet unknown individual at the time. However after a few minutes of struggling, Commodore was seen stumbling to the ground completely exhausted with a large red mark on the back of his head. The individual explained that Commodore would be in need to immediate rehydration but is otherwise unscaved. The figure left the scene before he could be questioned by authorities. The individual that engaged Commodore was wearing the same yellow with black and orange trim that would become iconic of the superhero popularly named Hotshot. Hotshot is known to primarily engage superhuman criminals and only rarely non-superhuman threats. Attempts to question Hotshot has been met with silence. Current whereabouts of Hotshot is also unknown. Alliance: Hero. Hotshot works for a NGO foundation that provides heroes daily necessities, lodging and additional payment if they are under their employment. This organization, known as the Global Defense Initiative Foundation, operates discreetly and avoids the attention of the public. Hotshot, who is indeed Richard Chang, has been employed by the GDIF ever since his reported demise at the hands of Monsoon.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: At Kinko's straight flippin' copies Soft footfalls lead away from the door. Raker waited until he was sure the coast was clear before he slithered out of the room. He'd fixed it back to make it look as though no one had been inside. He pulled the door shut behind him, gaining him the attention of the janitor as he vacuumed. The two exchanged brief glances. "Hey what are you-," The man didn't finished his sentence before he cut himself off, his brows scrunching in confusion. The masked man walked right by him while he stood there, trying to remember what it was he was going to say. By the time the janitor recollected his thoughts, the Raker was long gone. As Mindraker approached his new destination, his cohort was already waiting for him. The plain, black plastic of his mask stared blankly at him from under the black hood. Mask was crouching down in the shadows of an alley, hidden among the trash bags and discarded furniture. Mindraker approached and gave him a silent nod, and the man stood to follow him. The two silently slunk through the dark, heading down an adjacent alley that lead into the better lit street. They stuck to the shadows, like two rats out of the sewer. Finally, they reached their destination. A...Kinko's? A strange front for villainy, that was for sure. The office store was closed by now, the doors firmly locked. But that didn't stop Black Mask from teleporting them inside. They stood outside the glass doors, then in a blink of an eye and a bust of black smoke, they were on the other side of the glass. Raker slipped the files out of his hoodie and went to start up a copy machine while Black Mask glanced around for security cameras and/or guards. The sound of several pages being copied and printed filled the shop as the two began to meander around, waiting for the machine to finish. Fresh ink and the smell of slightly mildewed carpet wafted through the air. Once Black Mask was certain that they were in the clear, he let his guard down to peruse the magazine rack that stood near the check out. He picked up one of the glossy gossip books and began to flip through the pages, offered only meager entertainment at best. $12.99? Who bought this shit?</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongBest 8 Motel Tea, fresh tea, brewed in a cheaply made and all too bland white plastic and glass little coffeepot. It was sort of a disappointment, but it was the best there was at the moment; wasn't as though he had a teapot and a stove, let alone fireplace and a steel kettle, but he did at least have boiling water and somewhere to drink it. It also helped that he had the tea itself, considering it was a luxury on a non-existent budget. In fact, all of his situation the lone man at the edge of the tiny bed was thankful for, even if it was ten years out of date and all off-white and equally garish honey oak furniture. Pouring a cup carefully now, the pair of hands then garnished it with the bag itself, setting it aside after to steep. This was the morning routine, the ritual, tea first before all other things, though the entire "morning" matter was debatable. Rather whatever time he awoke this story played out just as it did in the same room in the same manner. It did not deviate, it did not change. The time of day certainly did, but paying the few bills that existed required a flexible schedule. After all, being paid by relieving petty criminals of their cash? Not all too efficient work. Sure, it was theft all its own, but maybe they would reconsider their decisions, perhaps better than a prison sentence would have offered. Song did not really think too deep into the matter, instead only looking to the rising steam of the cup and where it sat upon the tabletop. Had his attention been allowed to drift, his mind to wander, he might not have noticed the face of the coffeepot itself being slightly off center. Still, not so much as shifting or interrupting his thought of no thought, a hand of his reached out to straighten little machine out; so subtle an adjustment that returned it to its rightful place. "There." He said, speaking to no one but himself, nodding in approval. It at last freed him to do as his work demanded of him, rather his moral compass. It was work itself, perhaps "good" work, perhaps not. What it was at this point was whatever it was, good and bad. However, there was no sense in staring down the steeping tea anymore now that he had resolved the issue and cleared his mind of its inner debates. In short order he dressed himself, having only devoted enough time to wash his face, give a brush of the teeth, and throw a jacket over the familiar white sweatshirt before he returned to the tea and sat down. Between drinking it, sitting there at the edge of the bed, he emptied his mind. No room for anger, above all other things. That was the difficult one, especially knowing that in short order he would be on and out into the night, with the sole purpose of finding something constructive to do with it. It was tempting to find other means to say the least, the few intrusive thoughts he had, but they were all impulsive to him; Song wasn't just a "boy" anymore who could live that life. At least now he truly understood better, at the very least more lucidly, given the tea had come to replace alcohol. But the last cup had always been the most difficult. Until he was out on the night, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him...</s>	<\|message\|>Vigilante Watch Agent 021, alias "Hotshot". Location: Centerville South Expressway Time: 19:22 Responding to disturbance by meta-Human identified as "Mindraker". --- "That's not Mindraker." Richard Chang said as he was placing his gloves over his hands. The van he was riding swerved to the left, forcing him to grab a metal rod welded to the roof of this van to keep his balance. "Any information you would like to share with us?" A voice came over the intercom. From a speaker set on the front wall of the van separating Chang and a field agent from the driver and a security personnel. "The man… or whatever that guy is… doesn't just climb the fence of a Naval base. He sneaks around it. He hitches on a ship and hides there until it docks at the base. Don't you find it suspicious that he was seen taking the front entrance?" Chang responded with another question. "Several witnesses have reported an individual of his likeness. Our remote observational drones have took images that confirm their visual reports." Chang sighed. He placed on his other glove before answering back. "We're talking about a guy who mind controls people. Who's to say we're not chasing some kind of mirage or something?" "In any which case your orders are to investigate the disruption and apprehend any individual operating that vehicle. Is that understood?" Chang's superior asked. He nodded his head and answered with a stiff "Yes sir". The last piece of equipment Chang had to place on was his headgear. He always hated wearing it. The feeling of being smother because of its tight design. He felt the smooth hydro-plastic polymer touch his lips, nose, ears and the rest of his exposed tissues. Even after god knows how many times he wore it, it still felt uncomfortable. The field agent in front of Chang held thermographic camera directed at him. "Field test Mr. Chang. Whenever you're ready." She said. The camera picked up the gradual change of temperature from Chang. He and the area around him spiked up in temperature. Not enough to cause any damage but it was clearly visible on the camera. The field agent held up her thumb and Chang reverted back to his normal body temperature. "Agent 021 is ready for service." She spoke. "Affirmative." The speaker system answered back. "Good hunting Hotshot." The van came to a halt by the side of the highway. Hotshot and the field agent unloaded device and placed it on the side of the road. "10 minutes till ETA." The security officer inside the van yelled. Hotshot nodded. He took a deep breathe in and waited for the car to get within sight. Nine minutes later, he saw the vehicle speeding towards their direction. Hotshot ordered his team to get ready. Hotshot was using the heat from his body to partially melt the asphalt on the road behind the spike strip. He hoped the flat tires would sink into the road. And then it came. The spike strip popped on mark. It extended just in time to catch the vehicle's front tires. Then it shredded the back. The front wheels sunk into the partially melted asphalt sending the vehicle into a somersault. The car crashed on its back. This was not part of Hotshot's plan. "Get paramedics on my location as soon as possible." Hotshot ordered through his mike embedded into his headgear. He then rushed towards the smoking wreck.</s>
<\|description\|>Adala Ann Posner Adala Posner Scorn (Image for the face paint that's all this is for) {"Insanity is just a synonym for imagination."} - Scorn --- --- The Basics Nicknames Ada- Simply a shorter version of her real name that came up during her grade school years and few use in the present time. Code Name Scorn Alliance Villain Age 29 Birthdate January 13, 1988 Gender Female Sexuality Bisexual Role Attacker \| Stealth --- --- (Image for her claws which are her weapons) {"I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it."} --- --- Digging Deep In-Depth Appearance Her skin is pale nearly white. She always has her skull face however, never going outside without painting it on so few know what lies under the skull. Her eyes are a haunting vibrant orange that seem to glow unnaturally. It doesn't matter if she has a t shirt or a sweat shirt the one thing she always has on is her skull hoodie. She primarily wears a t-shirt and shorts with simple shoes and long stockings. Not much changes between that and what she has in the field except for the added skull shoulder pads, the boots, gas mask, and skeleton gloves. Habits and Quirks * Her face has to always have the skull painted on. No exceptions. * Habit of talking to herself constantly, having full conversations with herself. * Loves pulling jokes on her unsuspecting comrades. * Always wearing the skeleton hoodie. * Moving her hands while expressing herself Likes * Weapons * Video Games * Hard rock or heavy metal * A good fight * Drawing Dislikes * Modern music * Silence * Authority * Spiders * Sitting still Fears * Entrapment, then being forgotten * Loosing everything she holds dear and slipping further into her own mind. Personality Adala has most of her marbles, emphasis on most. After her metal break down at age sixteen, all the pieces haven't quite gone back to the original places leaving her hyperactive and a mind that most would deem a mess and needs to see someone for help. It doesn't mean she can't focus on a task, just that she is prone to either improvise or go and do something else. At times this makes her speak to herself. On the plus side it keeps her mostly in a good mood, best not to piss her off because she holds a grudge like no other and can be patient for her revenge. She does suffer from PTSD after what her father did to her as well as what the rehabilitation center's torture methods. For the most part she keeps this secret to herself self medicating herself by taking what she needs when she can. This doesn't stop the nightmares and night terrors but helps her during the daylight hours. --- --- {"I'm not crazy! No wait... Maybe I am crazy... One second, I have to talk to myself about this."} --- --- Origins Background Adala was born into a broken family to put it mildly. She grew up neglected and rejected by her alcoholic father and abusive stepmother. She never got a chance to meet her real mother who up and abandoned her and her father after Adala's birth. Despite the negative home life though she managed to be a happy little girl thinking on the positive and being oblivious to the grim truth's that haunted her house life. To her if she felt the wraith of her parents it meant she must of done something wrong and deserved it, even if she could never figure out the reason they would be so mad at her. Her false reality came crumbling however shortly after her seventeenth birthday. Her father eventually did unspeakable things to her which shattered the facade she had lived with but from the pieces came a new being that she has since embraced as her true self. A disturbance call would have the police discover Adala outside a blazing home laughing and cackling away in pleasure at the sight. She would be charged with murder though eventually the charges would be dropped replaced with a plea of insanity and stacking evidence of her parents neglect and endangerment. She was sent to a rehabilitation center to try and help her with the damaged caused to her along with the addition of PTSD attacks that was observed after her arrest. This rehabilitation center would be where she would spend six years of her life in a new personal hell. The experiments done on her were new forms of augmentation that was kept well under wraps by those running the asylum. Any shred of humanity left her while trapped in that prison. She would have the last laugh. She escape one stormy night, using her new augmentations on her captors before disappearing into the darkness of the night. She didn't reappear until a year after her escape, running a small gang in Centerville. Place of Origin Austin, Texas Family Jonhathan Posner (Deceased): Her father a drunk who blamed Ada for her mother leaving and took out his frustrations on her while she was a young girl. To say Adala got the last laugh is an understatement. Ashley Wheatly (Deceased): The woman who Adala had to call her mother, or step mother. Ashley simply ignored Adala mostly, she wanted nothing with her except at times to use Adala as a punching bag or take her verbal frustrations out on. Adala eventually made her eat her words literally. Abilities Passive: Shadow-Stalk - Scorn stealths when moving in shadowed areas, she gains stronger stealth depending on the shadows extent and darkness. She gains additional movement speed as well, that gets stronger the more she is stealthed. Weapon: Claws - A short-range attack that replaces her quick-melee as well as regular attacks. Strikes quickly and deals decent DPS. She has no ranged option. Ability 1: Lunging Strike - Does a short lunge and deals damage at whatever enemy gets in the way. Only strikes one target. This move has higher range and critically strikes from stealth. If the attack lands on an enemy's back, the move can be used again after a brief moment. Ability 2: Disappear - Scorn will jump into the nearest patch of shadows and fully stealth for a small moment. If there is no shadow to jump to, she will jump backwards by default and stealth briefly. This move has no damage component. Ultimate: Nightmare - Scorn will plunge the area into darkness, granting her essentially full stealth within that area so long as she is there, she will still be seen if they are close enough to her. This move has no damage component, but will let her capitalize on her passive and lunge to the fullest potential. Do note once more, in this mode, all her Lunging Strikes will critically strike, and she will move incredibly fast with stealth. Weapons Claws augmented to her body, that she uses with her minor shadow abilities. Extra She has haemolacria, a rare condition where rather then crying tears, she cries blood. Experimentation can lead to... Some undesirable after effects (it will be mentioned in the first few posts I just want a little surprise). Theme Song</s> <\|message\|>Adala Ann Posner Scorn / female / 29 / Villain Location: On the move to 'Where the wind blows' Having defaced one billboard with little to no results, Scorn gave up on her little adventure and returned to her tunnels. By the time she returned to homebase, one of her lackeys were scrambling over to her showing her some strange broadcast that had popped up on one of the televisions that were scattered about. She had shoved him aside to see what the chatter was about. Most of it she didn't care about. The image of Hotshot irritated her just reminding her of failed heist. She was about to leave when the television had a series of numbers appear on the screen. Scorn got one of her lackeys to photograph the numbers with a pilfered old cellphone, good enough to record the series of numbers while she dug around for a stolen laptop. One of the tech freaks she kept would know something about decoding, or they would regret not knowing. Luckily enough one of them did seem to realize the type of decoding method that the numbers were using and found a means of decoding it online through a decoder. "Well boys looks like your leader has to go make one more visit for the night. Don't wait up and play nice," Scorn cackled merrily rushing out of her lair to find what exactly waited at the place 'Where the wind blows'.</s> <\|message\|>Douglas Song Douglas SongCenterville Electric Corporation Windfarm Answers may come from unexpected places and Song made no mistake in pursuing them where they came. The dorm room once belonged to a young girl, young at least in the sense she was straight from primary education and into college. Blonde, average in height and build, and pursuing a degree in science. What little more the man could gain was not worth recall, but Song took it as no mere coincidence that he had seen a woman by this very similar description not more than a day before. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps heavenly action, it all made no difference now. It constructed a narrative, one punctuated by the fact both women so described wore gloves, which the questioned party - a bit inebriated as he was - noted was really weird; like a weird quirk everyone eventually noticed. For Song this confirmed his suspicions that something was afoot, but he did not end there. No, he bid his company goodbye with a simple smile and his thanks; it would have been more difficult and strange had the man not been slightly off as he was. To the outsider to the campus, it was evidence he needed and the direction came from there. Now to discern the coded messages they had sent and what better way to do that than the media itself? They had time to digest the information, now just to access it. On a college campus? A computer wasn't far, though the morality of using it without their owner's due attention was very, very grey to put it kindly. Song cared not for that either, the stakes were building higher after all; several "heroes", some seemingly antiheroes or villains at worst, a string of metaphors and secret messages, some of which were nods to other things. Happenstance was eroding quickly and the man in scarf, hidden in plain sight here, noted the answer in short order. Tapping away slightly in his search, fingers deftly perusing the keyboard so as to not make any error in the process, the message was revealed. This created a number of problems, the most notable was that it was not too difficult to decipher and had seemingly multiple recipients intended, him apparently included. This was not just a meeting with the "me" mentioned and to assume otherwise would be folly. In fact, Song knew "me" to be "they". Pausing, coming to see his reflection in the dim screen of the room he so invited himself into, he deliberated with himself. Was this worth it? Was finding out more, edging closer towards the truth and what darker leanings it had, worthwhile at all? The broadcaster, rather broadcasters, made it clear it was calling out others who had better time, resources, knowledge to answer this. They unquestionably would be falling in on it in short order. But if it were a trap, seemingly aimed at them, would it be wise to let them go into it alone? Song could... well, he could right some of his wrongs. That was what he had been trying to do for a time, wasn't it? It was not that they needed him, or that he needed them, but it was the right thing to do, to lend his aid in the face of a trap. Should it not be a trap, what issue would that even be then? Sighing, closing his eyes, he set a hand upon the lid of the computer and closed it, having set it to sleep after clearing out his doings; the owner would be perhaps confused why things had so subtly changed, but none the wiser. Standing then, adjusting his clothes, he looked at himself once more in the confined room's mirror and its messy, disorganized life story strewn about. "We will go then, together." He commented, disappearing out the door and to his concealed cache not far away, left hidden high above in scaffolding among the tools of construction workers who had secured their equipment with locks and chain. Browsing through the bag not just for a change of clothes which he soon donned, but for a companion piece of equipment. A firearm was mostly for show, but on a windfarm and likely open terrain? He resigned himself that it might be the difference between him seeing another night or that of others. The choice however, was subtle and small, concealed among his dress, joined by a set of short and balanced blades for throwing and more sources of its ammunition. This all would suffice, Song would need it to. At that point, having shifted shapes again from nobody to his identity, he layered one last liberal use of his jacket over. The drive there wasn't long, the cab fare not expensive, and the walk into the night the worst of it; the going into the unknown. The gate leading in was the most obvious route, perhaps the most dangerous, but it was the first place to start, especially with a sign as forward and as obvious as the "Centerville Electric Corporation Windfarm", followed by a shack, an arm-gate, and a lone, sad little light.</s> <\|message\|>Orren Daily Creep Bros Location: The Wind Farm Tags: Whoever else is there The tall grass swayed gently in the wind, softly illuminated by the not so far off city lights. The fields were dark, save for the eerie red lights that sat atop the turbines. Almost silently, they spun in the cold night breeze. Only a slight hum could be heard from most of them, all but one. A single turbine seemed to have something just a little bit off, as it clicked each time it turned. Under the dark shadow that this white giant cast stood two figures. They watched as their company arrived, waiting to be noticed. Or perhaps waiting to pounce. Not much time had passed before their little meet up was interrupted, however. The sound of blades chopping at the air approached. This wasn't a turbine, but a fan of a different sort. A helicopter. It was almost invisible in the night sky, black just like the tarry background behind it. Only the lights made it stand out, a spot light in particular. The light swooped over the grassy plain, clearly looking for something, or someone. The two villains were quickly unsettled by the sight of it. They ducked behind the mast of the turbine they stood under, semi-crouched in the tall grass.</s>	<\|message\|>Adala Ann Posner Scorn / female / 29 / Villain Location: Arriving at 'Where the wind blows' Borrowing one of her associates vehicles, Scorn had made her way to the coded meeting area from the television, at least what she presumed was the meeting area. She parked the vehicle a little out of site as a precaution and walked the rest of the way to the front of the fence where another vehicle was seemingly all ready parked."Guess I'm not the first to arrive," Scorn muttered to herself looking at the fence. She was about to make her way in when the sound of blades were heard. She disappeared into whatever shadows were available and waited to see where the helicopter was approaching from. If this was all a ruse I'm going to blow something up, Scorn thought to herself waiting for the helicopter to go away before continuing onward into the wind farm. Before hiding she had noticed some form of movement in the field though whether they were others who were brought in by the message or the messenger themselves she had no clue.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black In black, thunder sounded just before one came even louder. Lightning flashed until there was a singing female voice in the vicious wind. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me... The thunder came again as the voice continued with a British flag blowing in the wind. We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. We pillage, we plunder, we rifle, and loot, drink up me hearties, yo ho. This time, rain began to fall over a town which looked like a harbor. Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me... The singing faded as thunder striked once more as a pirate flag was being carried by the wind. A male voice began to narrate. It was John Silver. Those were almost the first words she spoke to us. We remembered her name, her idea, and yet, we still could not forget that it was she who invented it. Cannon fire sounded as it dueled with another ship, causing explosions on the sea craft. The ship began to sink as its flag blew in the wind. The flag sank into the depths. That idea still could change the world. People have killed in the name of it...and died, defending it. A figure of a boy floated to the surface of the water until he laid on a piece of the ship, drifting to a shore nearby. We could never kiss it; could never touch it or hold it. Jamaican peasants ran to the water as they saw the figure drifting, being able to pull him ashore. It would not feel pain or show love. Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann run over to the group as they see the unconscious boy before them. "Get a doctor!", Norrington told his lieutenant, Theodore. But it was never the idea that we missed. A gold glimmer shined near them, but they didn't notice. It was her. A woman that made us remember. A woman, we pirates can never forget. The story title appears in the darkness of the screen.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Port Royal. The main British port on the island of Jamaica, it was an essential supply post for the British navy - and any other vessel in this area (excluding the Spanish of course). The governor, Weatherby Swann had overseen the British colony for near nine years. He had taken the position after his wife had died, giving himself and his young daughter Elizabeth, a chance at a new place - without all the memories. He had married a bit later in life and though he wasn't fairly old, he was older than most were with a nineteen year old daughter. A daughter who which was set to marry the Commodore Norrington - Governor Swann's chief military advisor and expert in these areas. The wedding itself was what put the port in a very festive mood. Elizabeth Swann was well liked by most of the inhabitants of the colony. She was sweet, kind, and beautiful. Her wedding to the Commodore was something that the entire colony was going to celebrate. Well - the entire colony with the exception of maybe Ms. Swann and a certain young blacksmith. Will Turner stood outside the governor's mansion, the box of the commissioned sword under his arm as he waited for the door to open. He - well, actually his "master" - had been tasked to make a sword for the wedding. It was actually a masterpiece of a sword and the drunken fool who was his master hadn't done a single thing. The door opened and the servant let him in. "I will inform the governor that you are here." The man said with polite coldness. "Wait here." Will nodded and stood there patiently as the man left. ~ ~ ~ The sun was still fairly low in the horizon as Abigail felt the waves lick at her bare feet. Digging her toes into the sand, she couldn't help a grin as she glanced toward her cousin. Having recently arrived from England for her summer holiday, Abigail was glad to be here. It felt like home almost. Though not for long. With her cousin marrying and then her own wedding probably planned in the upcoming year, this was truly the last either of the two would be able to do this. As it were, neither were really supposed to be here on the beach. But this was a more private area, where not that many people would even notice - presuming any noticed at all. "I've missed this," she said with a slight sigh as she closed her eyes, the sun warming her face. She wished she could stay like this forever. On the beach, the waves lapping over her feet, the sun shining down on her. But life wasn't always what one wanted. It was a hard lesson that she had just recently learned herself. Her eyes opened. "When do you have to get ready for the wedding?" She asked, not really wanting to leave but knowing they'd have to return.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Sir, you have a visitor", one of the male house servants spoke to the governor upstairs, who was checking his gray, curly wig. Hurrying downstairs, he could spot the young man already there, and he presumed that this young man had the sword that was to be expected at the Commodore's preposition. For him to be governor, it wasn't easy. Looking after his only daughter wasn't easy. Yes, his daughter. The beautiful Elizabeth Swann; expected to be married off to a wealthy young man to spread the family branch. However, finding the right spouse wasn't simple. In this town, wealthy and low-class don't mix. But, he expected her to find one soon enough. "Ah, Mister Turner! Right on time", governor Swann proclaimed as he approached the young man. --------------------- Elizabeth knew that she and her younger cousin couldn't resist the beach. For some time, she and Abigail have grown fond of the sea, and have always wondered what laid beyond it. If only their already-prepared life wasn't in the way of their imagination, they could find out for themselves and let the wind carry them. Though it wasn't quite right for a proper lady, Elizabeth agreed to walk with Abigail before the wedding, taking the time to embrace the experience as their one last adventure. She thought of Norrington to be a very noble man, bound to the law, and always trying his best to let the British empire flourish. Sure, Elizabeth found him handsome and smart, but in a way, she felt that she couldn't exactly choose what she wanted in life. She knew it was the same with Abigail, whom she always considered to be a dear sister to her, rather than a cousin. This wasn't to say that she disapproved her father's decision to marry her off to an attractive, high-ranking man. In fact, she considered it to be the only way for her family to continue the name. That, she will continue to represent, and not bring disgrace upon. Sticking a little close to the dryer part of the beach, Elizabeth watched Abigail, before looking back out at the horizon; the wind gently blowing her blonde hair. Hearing her cousin speak, she continued to look out in wonder. "I should be right now, but I can't. It's not right for this view to be ignored". She knew they weren't supposed to be here at this time, but she can't just ignore everything. She might as well take in much of the experience as she can.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will quickly moved away from the candlestick as the governor could be heard coming. He straightened, brushed his jacket down and waited. He gave a slight bow as the man walked in. There was power radiating from Governor Swann. Purpose. Despite the fact the man had been there when he had drifted on the shore, there really hadn't been a lot of connection between the two. Oh, he owed the governor thanks for arranging a place for him to stay before setting him up with an apprenticeship. For that he was grateful. But there was no relationship beyond that. The man had never been an integral part of his life. Despite the fact that Will and Elizabeth had been friends. "Governor," his tone was polite, his facial expression respectful. He offered up the case. "Just as you requested. My master sends his regards." Not really. The other man had been drunk that he wasn't really cohesive. But it was all part of the whole act. Nobody cared. Though anyone who really paid attention and came by the shop quickly realized that the older man was barely cognitive and active. It was really Will who did the work. But the charade continued. They'd ask Will for his "master" to make something, he'd tell them it will be done. He makes it and then lets them think what they will. It was far kinder than he should be but it was something he was used to do. It had started when he was a bit younger and he hadn't wanted to give away the secret. First off, it was a bit humiliating. Second, despite everything, the drunk man had taken him in and taught him. Though still, it was amazing he knew anything. "Created just like you requested. May I?" He asked taking the sword from the governor. "Perfect balance." He showed the craftsmanship off slightly. He was very proud of this piece. Probably one of the best he had done. He handed it back to the governor. "The Commodore will love it." ~ ~ ~ Abigail tilted her head slightly to hear her cousin. A smile grew on her lips at the reply. She didn't mind. In fact, she could probably stay here all day. The waves, the sand on her feet, the breeze, the smells, the sights - all of it was so much. She had missed this so bad. London was nothing like this. You had the rare smell of the ocean but most of the time you had other smells: fish, tar, people, smoke - there were so many other odors in the air that it destroyed the perfect smell of the sea. And then of course the riverbank had no sand. And even if there no people around, you dare not walk barefoot due to getting a splinter or hurting your foot on the wood. Not that she would go barefoot there. As it was, just going barefoot here would have caused her mother to have a fit. It was completely unladylike and improper. But she loved it. Couldn't resist it. And would dreadfully miss it. Turning she headed further up the beach to where Elizabeth was. It was amusing her cousin didn't go too close to the waters. If she knew she could get away with it, Abigail would wade even further out and let the waves crash against her. But it was difficult to do so with an overly bearing dress and others would then know what she had done. And that would take away any chance of her coming back here. Elizabeth knew but they both understood her father would not approve. Nor would Commodore Norrington. Pausing beside her cousin, Abigail looked up at the woman who she considered a sister, someone closer than anyone she ever had known. Even her 'friends' - if you wanted to use that term - back in London held no candle to the relationship she had with Elizabeth." "Lizabeth," She said, using her nickname for the other girl - the one she had called since first meeting her so long ago. "Are you nervous?" She looked over curious and a bit afraid of the answer. She had yet to tell her cousin that her family had already started looking to engage her and that this would be her last trip out here. She had meant to but things happened. And of course, the news that Elizabeth was getting married had carried over everything.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The governor sheathed the sword out of its holding as he listened to the young man, immediately marveling the craftsmanship on such a weapon. Throughout the entire meeting, he wasn't exactly interested on the blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill, but kept his regards on the master, being more overly impressed that the master would do such an amazing job in crafting it. "Impressive. Very impressive. I'm sure the Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly. ~ ~ ~ Though it wasn't exactly right, Elizabeth had sat right down on the spot she was standing at, right upon a giant rock, that would keep her dress from getting dirty and not letting her father get suspicious. She was wearing the dress that was meant for the wedding, and if she got it full of sand, someone at the ceremony would be more than likely to faint. It would be considered disgraceful and humiliating for the Swann family. For that, she kept an internal promise to not get it ruined. Her time of gazing at the horizon was interrupted, once again, but knowing that it was only her young cousin talking, Elizabeth didn't get upset. "A little", she admitted, almost too afraid of what he future would bring for the both of them. Their trips to the beach would end, and their visits with Will might cease than normal. Dissapointely, Elizabeth knew that the Commodore would disapprove of William being near his soon-to-be wife, but he had to give the young man some level of regard, since Norrington also played some part in Will's rescue. She remembered that day like it was yesterday - from finding him, to growing up together. To this day, she still considered him to be one of their closest friends. Sure, Abigail may not know Will that much, but if anything, Elizabeth would trust him to put Abigail in his hands. Now, it felt like those days would officially come to an end after all of the marriage. Life was just unfair, but they were ladies of privilege; everything was arranged, not by their own choices. After a time, and a sigh, Elizabeth stood up from the spot of where she sat, being very careful in maneuvering herself, in order to not ruin her dress. "We should go", she softly said to Abigail, being internally sad, at the fact that they were leaving their favorite spot in Port Royal.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The governor sheathed the sword out of its holding as he listened to the young man, immediately marveling the craftsmanship on such a weapon. Throughout the entire meeting, he wasn't exactly interested on the blacksmith apprentice's technique and skill, but kept his regards on the master, being more overly impressed that the master would do such an amazing job in crafting it. "Impressive. Very impressive. I'm sure the Commodore will be most pleased with this", he passes the sword back to Will, so it would placed properly back in its sheath. "Well, do pass my compliments to your master, would you?", he asked him expectedly. ~ ~ ~ Though it wasn't exactly right, Elizabeth had sat right down on the spot she was standing at, right upon a giant rock, that would keep her dress from getting dirty and not letting her father get suspicious. She was wearing the dress that was meant for the wedding, and if she got it full of sand, someone at the ceremony would be more than likely to faint. It would be considered disgraceful and humiliating for the Swann family. For that, she kept an internal promise to not get it ruined. Her time of gazing at the horizon was interrupted, once again, but knowing that it was only her young cousin talking, Elizabeth didn't get upset. "A little", she admitted, almost too afraid of what he future would bring for the both of them. Their trips to the beach would end, and their visits with Will might cease than normal. Dissapointely, Elizabeth knew that the Commodore would disapprove of William being near his soon-to-be wife, but he had to give the young man some level of regard, since Norrington also played some part in Will's rescue. She remembered that day like it was yesterday - from finding him, to growing up together. To this day, she still considered him to be one of their closest friends. Sure, Abigail may not know Will that much, but if anything, Elizabeth would trust him to put Abigail in his hands. Now, it felt like those days would officially come to an end after all of the marriage. Life was just unfair, but they were ladies of privilege; everything was arranged, not by their own choices. After a time, and a sigh, Elizabeth stood up from the spot of where she sat, being very careful in maneuvering herself, in order to not ruin her dress. "We should go", she softly said to Abigail, being internally sad, at the fact that they were leaving their favorite spot in Port Royal.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe There was a sense of pride, accomplishment that Will felt when the governor complimented the sword. Of course, he didn't show it. From the governor's point of view, it wasn't Will who had done it but his master. And that was fine. He kept the charade. "I will, Sir." He gave a slight bow. He lingered slightly hoping he might see Elizabeth but he doubted he'd see her. It was her wedding day and she probably had so much to do. Besides, it was probably for the best. She was getting married. It never really would have worked for him. He was a blacksmith and she the daughter of a governor. He was an orphan washed upon the beach, she was a princess, raised like royalty. "Congratulations on your daughter's wedding," he said not really feeling it but being polite. With another slight bow he left. Again, it was probably for the best. As much as he'd love to see Elizabeth, talk to her, he knew there was a level of propriety expected. She could never know he has feelings for her. That he cared for her. And now that she would marry, he had to ensure she'd never know. He left the governor's mansion and started the long walk back to the village below. ~ ~ ~ Abigail bit her lip. Her gaze turned seaward again. It was strange seeing her cousin, someone who always was a bit of a rock in her life, be nervous. But at the same time, it was probably expected. Every bride to be was nervous. She wasn't even betrothed to someone yet and already her nerves were on edge. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Gentle? Loving? Or would he be harsh? Stern? Would he be old and unattractive or young and gorgeously handsome? That was one thing Abigail knew Elizabeth had going for her. The Commodore was attractive. He was also a lot older than her but that wasn't uncommon. Though she knew her cousin's heart was really more set on someone else, though neither discussed it and the older girl would probably deny it if confronted. Still.... She sighed as Elizabeth stood and told her they should go. Going over she found her shoes though she didn't put them on yet. Her feet and ankles had sand on them and she would need to clean them off before putting her shoes on. The fact they were wet didn't help any. Not that she was complaining. In fact, she would do it again if she could. As they headed off the beach and up toward the house Abigail saw Will. A smile formed on her face, not so much for her but for Elizabeth. She personally didn't know Will too much. They interacted while she was in Port Royal but they didn't have the friendship he and Elizabeth had. She nudged her cousin and inclined her head. "Look who came to visit." Her eyes danced as she knew he was the someone her cousin liked.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Taking the case in hand, Weatherby Swann was just about to consider looking for his daughter, until she and his niece just happened to enter the family home...at the right time. He knew that Abigail and Elizabeth had a habit to sneak off, but when it comes to rather important occassion, he would want them to stay put, until everything was in order. But no...they would rather go out and pass the time. He would only have a heart attack if he saw a smudge or stain on his daughter's wedding dress. Thankfully, it would appear that she was being very careful this time. Highly unlike all of her other dresses... "Oh, would you girls just stay in one place? Here, in the mansion, please?", he asked them, almost exasperated and relieved at the same time. It was like he had an extra child, who would be too much for a single father. "Well, no other. You look absolutely stunning, Elizabeth", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up, and in her wedding dress. On the other hand, Elizabeth almost didn't hear her father, since she happened to look over at her childhood friend, who appeared to just be leaving. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while putting her shoes back on, almost clumsily, probably due to her excitement of seeing her dear friend.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail put a polite apologetic look on her face at her uncle's lecture. She was glad her skirt covered her ankles otherwise, the sight of her sandy feet and ankles would undoubtedly cause even more concern and possible lecturing. As it was, he seemed exasperated with them. Then he turned, getting a bit sidetracked and complimented Elizabeth on her dress. Abigail kept the smile from appearing on her face. Good. They weren't going to get into any more trouble or have a punishment. The fact Elizabeth was getting married today - something the dress obviously reminded the governor of - would probably wave any annoyance with their escapades. Keeping her shoes behind her back, she watched the slight exchange and then almost grinned again at Elizabeth's response - not to her father but to seeing Will. As well as her fumbled attempt to put on her shoes right there in his presence. Will, ever the gentleman, kept his gaze on Elizabeth's face, keenly aware that her father was right there as was her cousin. Having been notified of his station before, he kept his expression polite and gave a slight nod to both ladies. "Miss Swan. Miss Ashe." He had been like this for the past few months - longer in public - whenever he saw one or the other. His feelings for Elizabeth hidden from view as he tried to maintain the cultural requirements of their respected stations. The fact that she was also about to marry also tied into it. The days of calling her by her Christian name was gone. Abigail, the apex of grace and social mannerism, inclined her head politely back, addressing him just as formerly. "Mr. Turner." Though they had interacted a bit when she was younger (he and Elizabeth had hung out a lot whenever she came and visited - at least the earlier years), the two of them hadn't really grown close or anything. They had a mutual friend and did things together through her but at the same time, neither really interacted on their own. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Abigail highly doubted Will would have much to do with her. Not that he didn't like her. No, he was polite, friendly - or had been - and easy going. But there really wasn't much there. Not like what she and Elizabeth shared or what Elizabeth and Will shared. So it was no difficulty for her to fall into the polite social structure. Well that and the fact, she had been raised extensively in it all her life. London was a lot more sophisticated and had higher expectations than Port Royal. Still, she watched her cousin, hiding the slight amusement as the 'country' girl didn't seem to care for social structure OR her father being right there and engaged Will as if they were equals and good friends. Also ignoring the fact that both were now adults with that whole set of rigorous societal expectations.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", the blonde young woman asked him, until her father walked off to get the necessary money to pay for the sword. The governor's only daughter, Elizabeth Swann, had the physical appearance of a fine young woman; a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior. It only took them a few moments to look at each other in the face, before the governor cut back in, giving Will the payment. "Well, we don't want to be late now, do we?", he took the presentation case in hand, and gestured the girls to follow him out to the carriage that was waiting outside. "Come now, Elizabeth. Abigail", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Good day, Mister Turner", she softly said, sounding slightly disappointed to not talk to him a little longer, before following the elderly man out of the mansion. "Oh, Abigail. Do something about your hair, would you?", Weatherby asked the younger girl, as soon as he noticed her hair to be in such disarray, as they walked towards the carriage. ~ ~ ~ Both the harbor and the town were bustling with activity; markets selling and buying, and animals communicating with each other, either on the streets or their stables/pens. Leaning in the shade, against one of the barns sat a womanly figure, who appears to be wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western saloon girl; a lace-trimmed, ivory-colored tank-corset with an addition of tight, long-sleeves, and a matching short mini-skirt stopping at her upper thighs. Attached to her back-waist, was a matching ivory organza bustle pooling down to her feet, and revealing her front bare legs. She also appears to be wearing black, lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled dark brown hair was covered by a hood-like piece, that also seems to cover some places of her youthful face. However, despite the coverage of some parts of her face, she seems to be able to gaze out into the market with keen, blue eyes. Stepping out of the shadows, and revealing more color, the mystery woman strolled casually right past a fruit stand, and snuck an apple from the cart. However, this didn't go unnoticeable. "What-? Hold up there, you", the seller called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and turn back around to walk back towards him. "It's a shilling for one piece of me fruit", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the cart. Sighing before smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and placed them on the cart. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget this even happened?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her English-accented voice. The seller seems to consider this as he stepped away. "Welcome to Port Royal, miss", he welcomed her before moving off. She acknowledged the welcome with a nod and a cool smile, before moving past another cart, spotting a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pocketed it and moved on. Thank god, she told Mr. Silver to keep the ship in one of the hidden arches, a few yards away from the dock. 'Do not, under any circumstances, engage', she remembered telling him. With the vessel hidden between too rock formations, it would be increasingly difficult to spot, even to the eyes of the patrolling British. However, she knows that the ship can't stay camouflaged forever. Ninja</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "Just once more." Will's polite smile never faded as he looked back at Elizabeth. He knew his answer didn't please her. Nor had his more recently distancing of himself from her. She wanted to be friends and though he wouldn't mind spending time with her, propriety demanded something different. Not only looking at the cultural aspect of an unmarried man and woman but also the financial class difference, which would guarantee that he'd never be able to marry her even if she was interested. He stared at her for a moment before the governor's voice kicked in. Giving a nod back, he wished them a good day as well before leaving. Abigail made her way into the carriage, her hands moving up to her hair at her uncle's remark. It wasn't that bad, was it? She had done it first thing that morning but then again, that was before she went out onto the beach and enjoyed the wind her hair and face. Hanging back a moment, she quickly brushed the sand off her feet and ankles so she could put her shoes back on. Accepting help into the carriage she quickly fixed her hair best she could. The carriage ride down the little mountain wasn't that long. They passed the walking Mr. Turner as they wound their way further down. Abigail watched him for a brief moment before her eyes shifted over to her cousin. She knew there was something there, had been for some time, and was a bit more than even her cousin realized. However, she also knew that life rarely went that way. Raised in London society, the concept of love was a romantic aspect that was played with but no one ever took seriously. One did not marry for love - ever. Love might come after the fact but it was never the deciding factor in an arrangement. At least not in the upper classes. In a way, she figured Elizabeth knew this. She was marrying the Commodore. Though, how much was it she was following tradition and how much was it she didn't realize how much she loved Will? It was a bit amusing and sad almost to see something her own cousin didn't fully accept or notice herself. Abigail wondered if there was anyone she actually loved but was too blind to see it. Not that it mattered. The carriage arrived at its destination. The wedding was going to take place at the top of the fort battlements, looking out over the bay. A beautiful location.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ninja Meanwhile, at the harbor, the mystery woman made her way towards the dock, attempting to cooly pass two redcoats that were on sentry duty. Before she could saunter past them, they were immediately alert, running up to block her path. "This dock is off-limits to civilians", one of them told her. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know. If I happen to see one, I'll let you know", she kept it cool with a hint of innocence as she, once again, attempted to move around them, only to find herself blocked again. How was she going to do this? Now, she knew. "I heard there's an event going on up at the fort. Tell me, how can two upstanding gentlemen like yourselves, not merit an invitation?", she half-curiously asked them. "Miss, someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians", the other marine responded. "That's very true, but there's one thing that's nagging the back of my mind. A ship like that", she gestured to the Dauntless in the distance. "...does, unfortunately, make this one a bit downgraded, really", she commented while gesturing to the Interceptor, perched at the dock. "The Dauntless is the power in these waters. But there's no ship that can match the Interceptor for speed", one of them said to her as he talked about the ship. "I've heard of one, supposed to be very fast, nigh uncatchable. Ever heard of the Fancy", she gave a breathed out the name. Clearly, they were confused. Not ringing a bell. "A ship, captained by a man; so evil, that hell itself spat him back out", she told them with grim in her eyes. One of them scoffed. "No", he chuckled with amusement. "It's a real ship, you know. I've seen it", the other told him, only for his comrade to turn to him. "So you're telling me, that no ship that's captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out couldn't possibly be any other ship than the Fancy? Is that what you're saying?", he patronized him. None of them noticed the woman slipping past them unnoticed as they continued to argue. "No", he answered, shaking his head. "Like I said, there's no ship that can match the Intercept..", he trailed off when he noticed that she wasn't there. Looking around, they spotted her standing at the wheel of the Interceptor, casually examining the mechanism. "Hey! You!", she looked at them with exaggerated, innocent surprise. They hurried towards her and raised their muskets. "Get away from there! You don't have permission to be aboard!", they told her. "I'm sorry, it's just...it's such a pretty boat. I mean, ship", she innocently corrected. "What's your name?", one of them asked. "Smith", she responded casually, almost too casually. "What's your purpose in Port Royal? No lies", they demanded. "Okay, okay", she smoothly feigned defeat. "It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder, and otherwise, pilfer my weaselly black guts out", she answered with a bit of a ramble. "We said, no lies!", one of them told her. "Think she's telling the truth", the other said. "If she were telling the truth, she wouldn't have told us", the other argued. "Unless, you wouldn't believe the truth, even if I told it to you?", the mystery woman cut in as they seem to consider it. It wasn't exactly the truth... That was when they heard the sound of something hitting the water nearby, narrowly missing the jagged rocks, and causing them to turn their attention to the source. The brunette-haired woman and the sentries looked over the side of the ship and noticed a ripple. "Aren't you gonna go see what that was?", she asked them in curiosity. "I can't swim", he simply answered as his comrade shakes his head. Neither does he? So be it. Not surprised, the female gave a groan of frustration. "Prides of the King's Navy, you are. Do not lose these", she first scoffed before handing them her pistol, and her sword belt. Climbing onto the railing, she dove into the water, making her hooded headpiece come off.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her. Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad. Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else. The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help. Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again. She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed. Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Trying to register what fell in, the sentries looked at each other, before a gust of wind comes up, forcing them to hold their hats. Abigail's unmoving form hit the bottom of the shallow ocean, and the brunette-haired woman swam down to her as fast as she could, eventually wrapping an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress. As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, and the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slipped one her knives out from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs. Just by seeing the young girl cough up the water, the mystery woman now knew for a fact that the damn corsets made for the English women, were not suitable in a place like Port Royal. Many times, she had worn fancy corsets, but that didn't mean she would proudly wear one now, or ever, for that reason. The brunette tossed the torn corset aside. For some, she was one of a few on her ship that would even express any sympathy to colonists who were not buccaneers. She usually stole from the wealthy, but didn't really expect an opportunity in rescuing one from distress. More likely, a damsel. By the looks of this girl, she was rather young. So, why not? Impressed and dumbfounded, the sentries didn't speak for a moment. "Never would have thought of that", one of them admitted. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore. Impressed?", she rolled her eyes before looking back at the young girl laying before her. But before she thought of anything else, something gold, with a skull, was right before her, exposed. Taking a good look at the round medallion, a question rose out of her. "Where did you get that?", she softly demanded.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Fighting, Abigail tried to get back to the surface but the disorientation and her heavy skirts made it nigh impossible. As she clawed at the water, sinking deeper, she thought it strange that she would die by the one thing she loved the most. She started to see spots even as her lungs burned from needing air. Her hands fell limp, resistance slipping out of her even as the spots grew larger. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she felt something grabbing her arm but the thought barely registered before she blacked out. Her next conscious thought was coughing. Sitting upright, she coughed out the water she swallowed as she oriented herself. She was on a pier. Stripped down to her underdress with two soldiers standing above her and a woman leaning over her. Her eyes went to the cut corset beside them and the knife in the woman's hands. It didn't take a genius to realize that the woman had just saved her life. Before she could even express any gratitude, the question came at her. She frowned glancing down. Hanging there, catching the rays of the sun was the skull gold piece. Embarrassed and a bit worried, she stuffed it under her undershirt having not wanted others to know she wore it. Elizabeth knew - but then again, what did Elizabeth NOT know about her? Well, minus the marriage proposal. But no one else knew she carried a piece of pirate gold around her neck. She didn't know fully why she did but at the same time she didn't like to leave it around. Though, in London, she usually had to hide it if she went to a formal event. The intimacy of some of the dances would have someone spot the chain. But in most cases, she wore it. Hidden. Close to her heart. "It's nothing," she said quickly sitting up. She regretted her harsh outburst, especially as the woman just saved her life. "It's...not something I'd like to discuss," she said quietly. Then she turned her head to look at the woman before her. The woman was just as wet but it was the attire that surprised Abigail. It wasn't something that normal, everyday woman wear. But then again, she was in her underclothes here as well. Throwing her arms around the woman, she hugged her. "Thank you for saving me," she said pulling away, even as a commotion could be heard as those above were finally making their way to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...hugging her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice. The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was. Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend? Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, tyrannical. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. At least I don't have to say my real name, she thought before making her response. "Black. Vivienne Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage. The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her weapons. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin' about stealing a ship."</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked over as the guards and Elizabeth came running up. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of her cousin. Though it turned a bit embarrassed and sheepish as she was pulled to her feet. "I'm fine," she said. "I wasn't watching where I was standing." The coat was nice but she really wasn't cold. The water was warm and at the moment she still had adrenaline running through her veins. Despite the fact her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair plastered behind her. Her parents would have a conundrum if they saw her now. Her uncle made up for that. "I'm fine," she repeated a bit unsettled with all the concern and attention. As her rescuer introduced herself, Abigail turned and looked at her, the smile growing wide. The smile vanished at the accusation from the redcoats. Drawing herself up to all the authority she was accustomed to, she glared at them. "She saved my life." Her tone held rebuke at the insinuation that her rescuer would be anything but good. The woman saved her. Pulled her out of the water when she would have drowned. That alone had to indicate the woman had a virtuous heart. That she was good. Therefore, Abigail was appalled that anyone would even dare suggest the woman was capable of evil. There was undoubtedly a good explanation to the whole thing. Moving away from Elizabeth, her chin lifted, she stepped almost in front of Vivienne. Her chin lifted as she turned her attention toward the Commodore and her uncle. "She saved my life," she repeated again. "An individual risking their own for a complete stranger cannot be someone with ill intent." She looked at the redcoats, her tone, body language, and facial expression indicating her status as the daughter of a lord with all the authority within. "Return her things to her." She looked at Vivienne. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." There was not a hint of her annoyance with the soldiers on her face as she turned to look at her rescuer. "You saved my life. I am in your debt." She might have the bearing of someone in the court but her eyes gave away just how young she was. Not to mention the very fact she presumed Vivienne's innocence based on her actions showed a bit of a naivety on the girl's part. "I'm Abigail Ashe, daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy." She stepped aside slightly. "This is my uncle and my cousin - Governor Swann and Elizabeth. And her fiance, Commodore Norrington." With the pride of a hostess, she stepped aside so they could properly great each other, not fully understanding the slight distrust that the Commodore and her uncle showed. A hint of concern flickered on her face as she glanced at Elizabeth hoping her cousin would shed some light on the poor response they were showing.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Honestly, Vivienne wasn't sure on what to do in such a predicament: being surrounded by thousands of "red coats", plus their commander. Hearing the girl, now "Abigail", protest against the roguish woman's fate, the brunette couldn't help but feel slightly amused at the attempt. "Pleased to make your acquaintance", the brunette responded politely; although there was a slight mockery to it, she made it sound genuine, with that same smile from before. Commodore Norrington raised an eyebrow, and then smiled at Vivienne, really because of Abigail's introduction. He then bowed slightly and took her hand, as if to kiss it, in greeting, like a proper gentleman. However, that rising feeling of distrust got wrapped around his head, only making him pull her forward, and slide the shoulder-sleeve of her dress down. There it was, and that lingering suspicion rant true: Pirate tattoo. "Pirate", he declared, smirking as the brand became visible on her shoulder. Vivienne thought this situation would become bright, and that she would be able to slide away on good terms. However, that was before the reveal of her true status. She knew she was in trouble. Pirate. The word made her bite her bottom lip in defeat. "Guards, escort this woman to the jail. She'll hang in the morning", in response to the order, a few soldiers came forward and took Vivienne, by the upper arms, and guided her to the other side of the pier. The said-woman stayed quiet and listened. Listening, and scanned her surroundings; it was perfect.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "No!" Abigail quickly moved to follow them, trying to push herself between the guards and Vivienne. She ignored the protest the others made and lifted her chin. "She saved my life. Is this how we repay her?" She demanded using every ounce of authority her mother had drilled into her. The power of being the daughter of a lord. The ramifications that came with it. "We can't execute her. She could have escaped while the guards were distracted when I fell. But instead, she risked her life for mine. I won't allow it." Of course, her stubbornness was just waved aside. Her uncle, though seeming to like her, didn't really agree. "Move aside, Abigail." He ordered. "She's a criminal. She might have saved your life but it doesn't justify her actions." Abigail frowned, not understanding why the Commodore and her uncle seemed intent on punishing someone who rescued her. Her gaze glanced over at Vivienne. She didn't look like a pirate. Was there even such a thing as female pirates? It was doubtful. Seemed odd to her. Pirates were these old men with missing limbs or teeth. Foul and seeming the worst of society. Not a woman who, though dressed in a mannerism not really fitting everyday wear, risked jumping into the water to save her. "Abigail, if you won't move, I'll have the guards remove you. You don't understand. And frankly you are probably disillusioned at the moment. That was a long fall. We need to get you to a doctor to make sure you are alright." The governor waved a hand for a couple guards to move her out of the way.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the outside world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!? They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift and evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck. With a devious smile, the pirate looked at Norrington and everyone else before her and captive. "I must thank you for warming up to me, Commodore", she recalled in a respectful albeit taunting tone. However, there was no threat in her words. She didn't wish to harm the girl, but to just prove a point. Vivienne, however, did recall something interesting about Abigail: she cared about the pirate woman's fate. Interesting... She was sparing her from the hangman's noose, but, who wouldn't? Everyone against piracy. That's who. But this one? How interesting... "Commodore Norrington, now if you would, please? My effects?", the brunette called back in that same tone between taunting and respecting. She needed her things, and this girl was her ticket out of a tight spot. As they were starting to pass them her things, Vivienne, now holding the girl hostage, whispered to her, so she could only hear. "Your name's Abigail, isn't it?", she asked her in curiosity.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne listened to the young girl's response, and a look of sympathy appeared on her beautiful, coy-looking face. The pirate is more surprised at this girl's courage, and the last thing she wanted, was to make tensions go higher. So she was quite impressed with her wit. Speaking of this said-wit, Abigail willingly turned around to face the woman, and Vivienne allowed the girl to do so, but still kept the silver blade at her neck. "Once again, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Abigail", she lowly, and softly responded in confirmation. The pirate had to admit that she felt a slight bit of fondness for the girl before her, and she did feel a tad bit regretful to put her in such a position. But she was her ticket to get out of the hands of authority right now, so she kept up the act in this very dangerous game. Abigail was only at least five-foot five or so, and the task at hand wasn't hard. The pirate perked her eyes up in a challenging way with a coy smirk towards the English, before turning her attention back to the girl before her. "It's been a pleasure. A young woman, who has a whole life ahead of her, does not deserve such an early fate", she simply said, with that grin again. "I appreciate your concern, but I've come prepared", she added with a wink, before carefully turning her back around. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have some business to attend to!", the brunette announced as she walked backwards slowly, with Abigail still in her grip. Suddenly, she let her go, pushing her back to them, before grabbing a rope behind her that was tied to a tall gantry. Kicking a belaying pin nearby, and allowing a counterweight to fall, she was being lifted up to the top of the structure.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Facing her uncle and the others, Abigail kept her chin up. She could make out Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Her cousin looked extremely worried. It was touching a bit but honestly, she didn't feel like there was any danger. Feeling Vivienne slowly pull her along, moving backwards, she did her best not to trip as that would work against Vivienne. If she was trying to escape, that would have been ideal. A slight trip backward, use her weight to push back against the woman behind her. She might get nicked but all in all, she'd probably come out alright. But Abigail couldn't - wouldn't - do that. If the woman was captured again, she'd be hanged and that was something Abigail couldn't stomach. She had seen a few hangings in her time. The daughter of a lord and governor of a province, she had been required to go to a few public executions. Thankfully for her, most of her time was spent in London or here at Port Royal. The former - justice was carried out by others and thus she didn't have to go. The latter, she was spared due to the fact her uncle was a bit more tender toward her and Elizabeth and tried to shield them. Still, the few that she had seen had left her a bit sick. The snapping of the neck, or worse - the death from suffication, where the body twisted and turned trying to get air - even now the thought of it made her have to swallow. She would not let her rescuer get that fate. So when she was surprisingly pushed forward and released, Abigail quickly thought on her feet and took the off-balance push and letting it fall into a more clumsy fall that put her in the pash of the soldiers. It wasn't obvious as it happened quickly and no one but her and Vivienne had known how much force had been in that push. As she was grabbed and handed out of the way, Abigail felt her cousin's arms engulf her in a hug, even as she watched the woman flee.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Now will you shoot her?!", the governor demanded of the Commodore, and the order was made by the man himself, as the muskets began to blaze. "Open fire!" They were shooting at her now, and a shot grazed one of her bare legs, as she used her strength to jump from the tall structure, and on top of another. Wasting no time, Vivienne snapped the manacle chain over a line before her, and zip-lined herself down from the structure, eventually landing on her feet upon the ground of dirt, a few yards away from the dock, and running. Running as her organza bustle gently waved behind her in the wind, keeping herself low from the bullets of the muskets. A few women screamed in terror as a few of the men's shots ricocheted, and came perilously close to them as they whizzed by. Vivienne ran through the gunfire, sprinting across the bridge and passed the terrified ladies. Clearly, she had no idea where she was going. Vivienne may have been to many ports, but Port Royal wasn't one of them. Not to mention that the British now use it as a non-pirate port. For that, she had no direction on where she was going; only ending up at the port's market. Trying hard to steer clear, it was now becoming difficult on where to go. Coming out of her hiding spot behind the smithy's statue. So far, there was no where beyond the smithy for her to go; 'red coats' were everywhere, looking and searching. Slipping herself into the working smithy, Vivienne figured that there would be something in there that could get the stubborn manacles off of her. Not to mention that she had an injury to tend on her leg. Seeing the fire nearby, she placed her wrists inside the fire pit, so the blazing heat will allow her to break the iron. Wincing a bit in pain, she gave her wrists a mighty tug, until it snapped, making the chain break. With that out of the way, and placing her pistol nearby on the work bench, she ripped off a parchment of her dress to wrap it around the spot where one of the British soldiers grazed her. It was bleeding, and the bullet had to be removed, but with time being an ass, Vivienne couldn't. Not until proper treatment. For now, she just wrapped it around her right thigh.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail watched as the woman made her escape. It was amazing. Brilliant. Still, she bit her lip slightly as the muskets went off. Thankfully nothing hit the other woman. She didn't get to watch much more as Elizabeth pulled her away from it. "I'm fine." Her insistence was ignored, as had been her earlier pleas to let the woman go. That was one disadvantage for being young and female. Nobody seemed to take her seriously. After Elizabeth ensured she was fine, then her uncle, and finally the Commodore - Abigail found herself whisked off with a safe escort back to the governor's mansion. She glanced over at Elizabeth. "Sorry I fell off during the wedding. Had you said the vows yet?" She asked. She figured it probably wouldn't be good idea to bring up that they just let Vivienne go. Especially with her uncle across from her. Still, her mind was slightly distracted as she wondered if the woman made it. ~ ~ ~ He should have been back to the blacksmith shop by now. But honestly, Will hadn't been overly eager to head back. His master was probably drunk and the streets had been fairly deserted what with everyone up at the wedding. It gave him some time to think. Time, he probably shouldn't have used as it had just made the whole situation more depressing. The girl he loved was marrying another. It would have never worked but that didn't make the pain any easier. He felt like someone had punched him hard in the gut and then jabbed a knife or two into his heart before leaving him. And the solitary walk hadn't helped any. Entering the shop, he glanced over toward the corner. He made a disgusted noise in his throat and shook his head. Sure enough, his master had been drinking and was out drunk. "Right where I left you." He shook his head. He moved forward and then stopped. Looking down at a tool he frowned. "Not where I left you." He looked up. That's when he saw her. She was very attractive and in her current position, a bit immodest. But that quickly slipped his mind as he saw the shackles, the weapons and realized who she was. Lightning fast he drew a sword and held it out toward her. "You're the one everyone's talking about," he said. "The one that kidnapped the Governor's niece." He had picked up the news on his final leg back. He would have gone to check on if Elizabeth and her cousin was ok but he figured they were now. No doubt heavily guarded and his going over there would not be appreciated. Especially as he'd then have to explain why. But it worked out. Because right here was the woman who had threatened the life of Elizabeth's cousin. And that meant she brought grief and stress to Elizabeth. Something he would not tolerate.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Elizabeth could only feel glad that her young cousin was out of the hands of that pirate woman. As much as she and Abigail daydreamed about the whole pirate image, the elder now knew that neither of them could be fully prepared, if they were ever to get caught up, in a bad situation. Quite literally. Having to follow with Abigail back to the manor, she had to really go back and think about her cousin getting caught in such a bad spot. Not only that, but back to the vows that she had made. "We did", she simply responded, to hitch sounded like a mix of worry, and almost regret. Commodore Norrington was not the man she had wanted to marry, but another of whom she couldn't have. ———————————————— Tying the last knot with the loose parchment, Vivienne gave a few winces once the bandage was in place on the wound of her thigh. Damn those sentries and their guns. She thought to her inner self as the pain hit her, the randomized bullet rubbing against the flesh of her leg once she tightened it. The brunette tried her best to stand up, but it was proven difficult once again with her wound, making her lean against the workbench near the pit of fire. Taking a few breaths, she didn't hear the latch being fiddled with. From the outside! The brunette didn't move from her spot and she froze, once she heard what seemed to be one of Port Royal's blacksmiths. She didn't need to get herself caught by the public, but honestly, this new arrival sounded interesting, and a hint of curiosity hit her. Despite this curiosity, Vivienne kept herself in a collected fashion once again, as if she was expecting a visitor; the same way she expected one of her crewman to enter her quarters back on the ship. She didn't look at him, though, just kept her head down, while keeping herself leaning against the bench. The only thought she had was: Really? Really? But this thought was on a pause once she heard him take a few steps towards her. Smoothly, by sucking up the pain, Vivienne stepped away from her leaning position, and looked upon him with her youthful visage; her expression cold, but soft while examining him up and down with her blue eyes, only keening a little. She stalked a few steps towards him, even as he pointed a recently-sheathed sword in front of her. "You're an interesting specimen", the pirate observed, as her eyes scanned him a little more. "Yet almost familiar", she curiously asked him. Keening her blue eyes a little, she felt this action to be pathetic: challenging/threatening a pirate with said weapon. "You sure you want to cross blades with a pirate?", Vivienne half-teased with curiosity, before sheathing her own sword, allowing it to grind against the steel of his own to tease him a bit, while slowly putting herself into a defensive stand, her eyes boring into his own. "A woman?", she added. Kidnapped? It wasn't exactly as such. But rather an action performed to make an easy escape. "I think you mistaken me for someone else, love. I'm just passing through."</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne's eyes bored into his own, and gave a half-coy smile at his statements. She remained silent as he went on and on about facing a pirate. "You wouldn't hurt a lady; I can see it in those eyes. They tell a story", that was when she let her sword be swiped in his direction; starting high, then low. High, then low. Low to high. The patten went on: parries, dodges, blows, then repeat. In the beginning, the pirate advanced on the male with her strikes. But when she noticed him advancing in retaliation, Vivienne had to reconsider that he was, most definitely, not an amateur. Backing up, while dodging and parrying with his strikes, she made a hiss of pain with a grit of her teeth; the injury upon her high-leg flared. It was enough to make her lose her balance a little, until she knocked her lower back into the workbench next to her. Maybe if she played around with this man, Vivienne could easily decide whether or not he would potentially be trusting, and even worth sparing. So, with that, she waited for his next move. With the table behind her, it could get fun. Obviously in a spot that had no easy route, she decided to take a detour; as he strikes, practically aiming for a part of her body, the Vivienne slid down to the floor, forming a split with her legs, allowing herself to duck, while letting his sword hit the wood of the workbench. He was pushing it, she thought while letting herself roll away from him, and towards the huge forging mechanism nearby, which seemed to be holding all of the newly-forged weaponry upon its belt. Standing just a few feet away from him, Vivienne gazed at him. "I can see you know what you're doing. Fantastic footwork", she complimented him, before looking at him challengingly, mainly to intimidate him. "But once again, love: you are between me, and my way out", it was true, he was in the way. She keened her blue eyes, and put herself in a defensive stance, smirking mischievously. "Shall we dance?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will raised an eyebrow and parried another shot. "A lady? You're right, I wouldn't. But you and I both know you probably don't fall under that, now do you?" He met every strike she did. He realized she was probably baiting him - trying anyway. She wasn't succeeding but at the same time he did get the feeling she was testing him out. Striking out at her, he jammed the sword hard into the wood. He pulled but it was fairly stuck. He attempted to pull it out but only for a moment before seeing that she was going to leave. Quickly leaving it, he moved forward, yanked a weapon out of the massive forging platform, he quickly moved to block her. He held up the sword and pointed it at her. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he said refusing to let her go. "And honestly, you're not my dance partner type." He lunged at her intent to get her off balance. He didn't go too fast. That would be risky and have higher chance of making a mistake. Yet at the same time, he had caught her wince from earlier. He had seen how she slightly favored her one side. She was injured and undoubtedly in pain. The harder he pushed her, the better chance he can capture her alive. For despite everything, all he said, she was still a woman. And though he did plan to kill pirates one day, killing a woman - pirate or not - was not something he really had the stomach for. So instead he'd need to capture her. That in turn required skill, wit, and using her injury against her. All of which he was more than capable of doing. "I not only make swords," he told her as he continued to press, "but I practice five hours a day with them. That way, when I do meet a pirate I would be able to kill or capture him. Or in your case, her." He smiled.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Sparks flew as she hit high and low, while he strikes back in equal measure. All in all, it was the same pattern...although the pirate grabbed one of the small forged blades nearby. Vivienne threw it at him with force, but missing, with him being able to dodge the incoming projectile. "You made all these?", she curiously asked him, somewhat amazed, while keeping up with his strikes. Five hours a day?, the brunette thought, internally groaning. "You really need to find yourself a girl, love", she remarked with that grin again, playful. However, internally, Vivienne was slightly getting frustrated to not lay a mark upon him, but in admittance, his skill was cutting. Vivienne knew that the more she pushed it, the more she could get inside his head, and find out what makes him tick. That last comment she made probably went a little too far in the young man's boundary. The pirate almost got herself struck, once she dodged a rather powerful swing. Vivienne's blade unexpectedly locked with his own, surprisingly feeling his strength from the performed action. Her hand suddenly snatched itself onto the tied-collar of his shirt, to make her face closer to his own, while their blades were in an x-formation between them. "Or, maybe because you already found one, but can't woo her?", Vivienne was practically taunting him again, although it was meant to be a curious question. Who was the girl?</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe She was a bit desperate. Or so he figured as she tried to throw a few things at him to distract him. Will moved quickly and effectively, avoiding the knives thrown at him. Knives he had made. "Yes," he said as she threw out the question. He had spent years mastering the craft. Making each one better than before. The sword he completed for the Commodore was his crowning achievement to date. It was the apex of all the swords he had created, each one better than the last. That said, the other swords weren't bad and were well designed and balanced. The ones that were completely off or useless he had destroyed. There was no point keeping something that was worthless around. You really need to find yourself a girl, love. Little did the pirate woman know how much that stung. Striking hard, Will had to catch himself from letting his anger show. Thoughts of Elizabeth and how she'd never be his filled his mind. Fueling him. Pushing him. He stiffened slightly as she locked blades and grabbed his shirt. The taunt was too much. With increased vigor he pushed her hard, striking out, blocking every blow. Using a technique he learned, he managed to de-sword her. Of course, it didn't help she had a pistol. "That's cheating," he said lifting his head glaring at her, despite having a pistol pointed toward his head.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne knew he would be angry, so she let the question go, and let go of him, practically allowing herself to be pushed back by his strength. However, her injury didn't help, and the brunette stumbled a little, but she stubbornly ignored it, keeping herself composed once the male advanced upon her again, following her in this uneasy acquaintance of a game. Time and time again, the pirate was using her body language to taunt, or distract him: winks and smiles, toying with him in this scuffle of a dance. Her smile was still there as Vivienne advanced on him with swings of her sword, jumping away to dodge his strikes, and block them every time he came close. Swiping, the pirate tried to aim for any part of his body, but every time she made a strike, she grew annoyed by his uncanny skill, even after he managed to knock the sword out of her hand, causing her blade to hit the wall, piercing itself there. Vivienne's confident grin faltered, almost dumbstruck when he flashed the same expression back to her. Damn me and my arrogance She clearly underestimated this young man; he wasn't lying. Looking from her propelled sword, and back to him, the pirate needed to think outside the box. Before he could advance, she quickly threw loose dirt in his face, temporarily blinding him. If he had his vision back, there would be a gun cocked to his face. "Sometimes cheating helps when there are no rules", the brunette stated, until she heard banging coming from the front door. They found her! She needed to leave. Now! Getting up quickly with the pain of her wound still there, she kept the gun aimed at him. Noticing that he was blocking the path to the backdoor, the brunette was getting impatient. "Move away", she told him, almost desperate. Vivienne was putting her finger on the trigger, and she figured that she would just shoot the young man anyway. But like before, the brunette didn't seem to have it in her to kill an innocent person. It only reminded her of the girl she just spared. She hardened her gaze towards him, and flicked the switch. "This shot is not for you", she confessed to him. "You don't deserve it", she added with sympathy showing on her beautiful features. What she didn't notice was someone hitting the back of her head. She did feel herself getting a bit ditzy, before falling forward at the blacksmith's feet; the pistol falling out of her hand.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will blinked quickly, rubbing at his eyes to get the dirt clear. It was a dirty trick but one he should have expected from a pirate. Not that it mattered. The gun leveled at his head practically ended the duel. Which, though unfair and completely cheating, was something he would expect from someone without honor. His jaw clenched slightly as he stared at the woman waiting for her to fire. "No." If his refusal shortened the amount of time she could escape than it would be worth it. She'd get caught and justice would prevail. True, he'd be dead but did it matter? Elizabeth had married someone else. There was no one waiting for him. No one who would truly miss him. His master wouldn't. The town might miss a decent blacksmith but who cared about that? If his life brought the end of a pirate, bringing justice to Elizabeth and her cousin, then he would die willingly. And with dignity. He lifted his chin, straightening slightly as he waited for the gun to fire. Nothing. He was a bit surprised as the woman seemed to decide not to kill him. Was she crazy? She was about to be captured and she had sympathy for him. For him? That made no sense. Still, if she felt like that would change anything she was wrong. But before he could do anything, the glass bottle hit the pirate on the head and she crumbled just as the soldiers broke in. Will frowned staring down at her and then looking up. His master stood there with a broken rum bottle, a bit dazed, a bit happy with himself. Of course, the soldiers congratulated the man for his 'quick thinking' and capturing the criminal. Both of which disgusted Will. If it hadn't been for him the woman would have been long gone. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, his master would probably be dead or thrown out of the blacksmith shop for his terrible work. Will watched as they dragged the woman away. Then with a shake of his head he turned. Ignoring his master he pushed out the front door and away from the blacksmith shop, the soldiers, and in the opposite direction of the prison.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne was out cold; up to the point where she found herself waking up within one of the cells of Port Royal's brigs. She growled in frustration, even after finding that her effects were removed from her figure; searched her throughly it would seem, if she was ever gonna slip a tiny blade from her boot. Looking at the window that was above her, Vivienne slumped down upon the floor, leaning against the cell door, and registered that the young man she fought was uncanny, and the brunette did admit that he even had such skill to fend her off. Was he absolutely sure that he didn't have any familiarity with pirates? The brunette chuckled in amusement at the thought, eventually letting herself stare at the window before her. She just wished that one of these days, she would let herself go mad on such thoughts. The brunette didn't have much else to do, but she was leaning against the bars of her cell. Not that there was even much else; just a sitting place made of rock, and dirt covering the wooden floor. No doubt about the cell size. Not too big, not too small. It was probably large enough for a one-on-one fight, or perhaps hold a capacity of five, maybe six prisoners. For Vivienne, it was big enough, nonetheless; lying on her back, in the middle of the floor with her hair fanned out, and the light of the moon shining upon her youthful face. One of her legs crossing over the other.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black A few sighs of boredom, and somewhat tiredness, came from her as the brunette just stared at either the moonlight or the ceiling. However, her time of loneliness didn't last for long. With a small voice coming from the brig entrance, the pirate's attention was caught as she turned her head to the side, and frowning to see the girl she just held captive a few hours ago. "Have you come to say 'thanks' and 'goodbye'?", the pirate asked, almost amusingly, before sighing miserably yet amusingly, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to the ceiling. In all honesty, she did wonder what Abigail's intention was. Is she starstruck? Was she attracted to her?, it would be amusing if it was the last one.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail wasn't sure exactly what she'd find here. What Vivienne would say. She hadn't expected the prison to be this bad. She had never been down here before and even know was a bit afraid of getting caught. But that didn't stop her from remaining. At the woman's question, Abigail winced slightly. Another reminder that the person who saved her life would end up dead because of her. If she hadn't fallen in the woman probably wouldn't have been noticed by the Commodore and in turn wouldn't have had to run. Abigail wondered how she did manage to get captured. She had a head start and had seemed clever enough to get away. She also hadn't appeared worried when Abigail had given her a spot to hide too. Which meant, she had a plan. Or had. Somehow it backfired. Unless this was part of it. If it was, Abigail couldn't see how it was helpful. "I'm sorry you're hear." Her voice was quiet and she moved a lot closer to the bars so Vivienne could hear her without giving away her own presence to the guards. "I wish I could do something but my uncle won't stand to hear of it. He thinks you're a pirate. It doesn't matter if you saved my life." There was a bit of anger in her tone at the injustice of it all. It was unfair and injustice. Pirate or not, a life for a life. The woman had saved her life - the niece of the governor. That had to have counted for something - right? But no, when she had attempted to explain it, her uncle shut her down. Even Elizabeth - who had listened patiently - told her that there wasn't much that could be done. And that, yes - the woman had saved her - but undoubtedly for ill intent. She had used her as a hostage. And that move right there had made Elizabeth immediately dislike Vivienne. Abigail could tell, even though her cousin tried to hide it, that Elizabeth did not feel bad that Vivienne was going to hang. In a way, she was almost glad. She too seemed to overlook the fact that Abigail would have drowned. Something that the young girl could not forget. "Why did you save me?" She asked curiously. "You could have left me alone and never been accused of being a pirate. You would be free right now." The woman couldn't be a pirate. They were ruthless. Not kind. And definitely not one to risk their neck for another.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne overheard the girl as she revealed her inner thoughts and feelings on the scenario. She couldn't agree, although she took it a lot more calmly. "Can't expect more than that, love", the woman simply responded with a frown, before sitting up, and gazing at her from where she sat. "As much as you want to disagree, your uncle is not too far from that assumption", she clarified before revealing the pirate tattoo on her shoulder; the moonlight making it easier for Abigail to see. She also arched an eyebrow at the girl's question of why she would risk her life for her own. "Come now, Miss Abigail", she said, before a smile appeared on her beautiful features. "Just because I am a wanted-buccaneer, doesn't mean I don't have it in me to let someone die so young. A life is ahead of you. It would have been unfair if fate met you that early. Wouldn't you want to have an adventure before letting the light fade out?", she asked, more in casual curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned slightly. Her gaze went down to the mark on the woman's wrist. Wait, she was a pirate? That made no sense though. The woman wasn't like any pirate she had read or heard about. They were all men, evil, vile, and would have thought nothing twice about killing her or leaving her to die. Her questioning gaze looked up. Vivienne must have read her mind or was referring to her previous question because she came back about not letting someone as young as her die. Adventure? She was going to be married off and enter the stage where her main purpose was to bear an heir and support her husband. There was no major adventure in that. Still, she was glad to be alive. For despite what her family had planned for her, she still wouldn't want to miss out. There was undoubtedly some good ahead, right? She moved closer to the bars and sat. Absentmindedly she adjusted her dress covering her ankles. She had been lectured enough that it was almost ingrained. Though not fully. She shrugged. "I'm grateful, yes. I just don't know about the whole adventure aspect." She looked up. "My parents are arranging my marriage. I guess that is an adventure. Marrying a man I've never met." She smiled weakly. The smile quickly faded as guilt hit. Here she was talking about marriage and her future when the woman was going to be executed. She looked at the bars briefly before back to Vivienne. "I wish there was a way I could save you," she said grieved. "It's the least I can do." Ironically though, the very thought of stealing the keys and letting Vivienne out briefly crossed her mind. It wasn't something she ever did before. The most she did that was 'wrong' was sneak out, wade in the ocean - minor things. Nothing major. Breaking someone out of prison - now that was serious. No, there had to be another way. A way that was law-abiding yet still provided justice. Justice for saving her life. There was no justice in executing someone who had just saved another. "Maybe I can ask them to give you a lighter sentence?" She straightened up a bit, hopeful.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The pirate had her eyebrow raised, once she heard Abigail whisper to her about what seems to be her future. She kept eye contact with her, slightly frowning at what seems to be distress. Although Vivienne wasn't sure whether if the young lass was glad about it, or if she was pretending to be. It made the woman looked the girl over, before giving her a small smile. "Not probable, sweet-cheeks. And I get it: Privilege never stroke me fancy, either. You feel restricted; limited. If you ask me, those chains should come off, and they should give you freedom. Isn't that what you want? To be free?", she asked, again, in curiosity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Deep within the night, a dark ship loomed over the calm sea, like the spirit of death, as it glided ever so closely to Port Royale and its unsuspecting inhabitants. On another ship, that was hidden behind the two rocks, a few yards away from the dock, the lights upon it were doused to make it appear dark. An eyeglass unfolded, just in time to see this other ship drift in. The ship's quartermaster watched with a good eye as this other ship moved past them, towards the dock. Come on, Vivienne... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "INCOMING!" The brunette heard the yell outside of the brig, just until the thundering sound of a cannonball hit the room, blowing a giant hole in Vivienne's cell, and creating a disturbance on the stone walls. Vivienne made a yell of surprise as the dust brushed over her and her saloon-like dress; however, the noise of stone crashing down didn't go unnoticed outside of her cell: the debris of rock that the cannonball hit near the girl, propelled an explosion of its debris to go flying. With much effort, Vivienne managed to push herself up, and take notice of the girl on the other side of the bars, laying nearby; either unconscious or dead, the pirate wasn't sure. Just by looking at her, Vivienne's sympathy came back, showing pity...and a little confusion. She didn't tell her ship to fire, nor to advance in any way. Plus, the ship was concealed behind the rocks, so the current blast range way out of its depth. Was it another ship? Using all the strength she had to stand, Vivienne looked out of the hole to peek outside the prison, which was clearly not big enough for her to go through, though took notice upon a sight she didn't expect to see: The nightly view of the harbor...with a ship blowing projectiles upon the town.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked up. First off - sweet cheeks? The name seemed...strange. Very weird, making her feel a bit uncomfortable not really knowing if Vivienne was mocking her or not. What did that even mean? The daughter of an aristocrat, she didn't have a lot of knowledge of lay terms. And this one was one she had never heard before. She bit her lip at the question. "Freedom?" She shook her head, a slight scoffing sound escaping her lips. "One can't leave." She glanced up. "You have the family honor and name to support. Besides, it's not my call. My father decides my fate. It's the way of life - at least for someone of my status." She winced as that seemed to come off haughty though she hadn't meant it too. She quickly amended: "I mean, the daughter of a lord, the niece of a governor," she shook her head. "My fate was sealed the moment I was born a girl." She held up her arms, looking at her wrists. In her mind's eye she could see the chains Vivienne spoke of. "Would I like to be truly unrestrained?" She shrugged, letting her arms drop. "What does that even mean? What is true freedom?" She looked a bit lost, unsure. "If I'm not who I am, do what is expected of me, then what?" She rose. "Social requirements might not be ideal and the thought of marrying a stranger terrifies me, but....there is a reason we have rules and guidelines and societal norms. I can't function on my own. And the very idea of a woman attempting to do so is... unimaginable." She paused as she realized that the woman there before her probably had. Her brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer to the cell. "But...but you have. How?" There was a bit of curiosity mixed with a hint of desperation. "How did you do it without being ostracized?" She paled as if she realized she was speaking of things she probably shouldn't have - on her end. Things that she might have thought of but hadn't dared to voice. It was crazy and not her. "I'm...I'm sorry. No. I don't. I'm fine with who I am. I might not be happy but there are reasons why life goes the way it does." She turned and moved slightly away. "I'll...I'll try to do what I can to save you." Her moving away was what saved her life. The canon ball blasted into the cell causing damage. Because she had moved, Abigail was spared the worst of it though she was knocked out as a chunk of wood hit her alongside the head. Her body slumped to the ground.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The town was under chaos and destruction. Screams, explosions, pirates running amok, and...the blacksmith fighting back? "Say goodbye!", the pirate he was fighting said. Quickly, and out in great speed, a projecting cannonball snapped a chain to a sign, making it fall upon the offender, making him fall through a window. The invaders went as far as to make it all the way to the Governor's mansion, where Swann sat at his desk, anxiously worrying about his niece, and silently praying for his daughter to depart Port Royale safely. The fort was caught unaware, but they quickly fought back, as several soldiers poured onto the streets, and cannon-fire was returned at the ship, where the lieutenant walked alongside the men, giving them orders, along with courage to fight back. The prison was rather a strange place for a couple of pirates to wander into, but nonetheless, two of them did. They thought the prison to be the armory, but they instead found the place to be a brig. "'ey, Twig, look what we 'ave 'ere", one of them said, taking in the sight of the girl, who was slowly trying to regain consciousness. With not the best intent, they moved forward, and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her to her feet. One of them saw the thin band around the girl's neck, before freezing it place, as the moonlight reflected on the rare pirate coin, dangling there. Vivienne was already feeling a bit overwhelmed at the noises of blasts coming from outside the fort. She did, however, regret that she told her crew to keep the ship hidden. They could really use the aid right now. But an counterattack upon the fort would be a waste of their artillery. She didn't need another lecture coming from Silver. Or better yet, she didn't need to be told on what not to do. From her cell, the woman had her attention on the two intruders, almost amused that they didn't seem to notice her yet. However, with them beginning to manhandle Abigail, it wasn't long until she got their attention. "Quite valuable, isn't it?", she spoke up, as she crossed over to the bars of her cell. "May I ask you to release the girl? Please?", she feigned politeness with that smirk of hers.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black At first, both of her captors ignored her; one of them letting go of her, and walking towards the prison cell. "Well, well, well", he mused, having to chuckle at the irony. "Look at what we have here. If it isn't Vivienne Black. Excuse me, Captain Vivienne Black", it was as if he was mocking, or being skeptical of her, finding her position in life to be rather pitiful; pathetic. If only he knew about the about of success the said-woman had achieved. "What's ye interest in the lass?", he, once again, mocked; the other pirate chuckling with him, though his grip on Abigail's arm did not loosen. Just as the girl was about to reach for the medallion, he tightened his grip, before stopping her with a backhand to her face, and yanking the chain off her neck. It dug into her skin slightly, before giving in, breaking. The other pirate, who approached the imprisoned woman, had his smile fade. "Want the gold piece for ye' self?" Vivienne's own smile faded, as soon as intruder did. Just a frown, once she noticed, and heard, the sound of a slap coming from behind him. Did the girl's new captor just hit her? The pirate lass' gaze only stared at the tall, masculine, and nearly beefy visitor before her; the bars of her cell separating herself and them, the faint smile making itself known again. "My interest?", the brunette asked him rhetorically. "That girl?", she gestured to the direction where Abigail was held. "The gold?", she narrowed her eyes at him. It was like a up-close encounter with this guy. She then suddenly snatched the front of his shirt, and pulled; so fast and strong, his face hit the steel bars between them. "Watch yourself. You tell Captain Low we'll see him soon", she warned him menacingly before finally letting her grip fall from his shirt. The pirate scowled and brushed himself off. "Yeah", he laughed, but there was also a slight hint of intimidation. Not for the crew, but for him personally. His Captain was one of the best around. But, that didn't mean, personally, he was free. A pirate made many stops, and if someone was out to get you, they could do it away from your crew. He brushed it aside, trying to convince himself that the woman was just in that state of madness, like any other captain, who would sail for too long. "You ain't goin' anywhere but the gallows", he replied, pretending to tip a hat. "Pleasant dreams. Give me regards to Davy Jones", he laughed and turned away. "We got ourselves quite a lady here. Should be interesting. You'll enjoy our Cap'n. He's always been wantin' a bit of sport", that wicked smirk was back, before they pulled Abigail towards the stairs, along with the gold coin. Vivienne narrowed her eyes once again, before that smile of hers made itself known. But once she made a final glance at Abigail, it made her lose the act of carelessness. Captain Ned Low now had the New World's most expensive of riches; not to mention a person of an even higher class upon his vessel. She needed to get to that coin before Low attempts to sell it for something twice as valuable. But first things first, she needed to find a way out of this bloody cell. It was going to be nearly dawn, and the longer she sat in there, Vivienne was up to the point of passing out in sleep upon the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The slap was hard and nothing held back. Cheek burning, Abigail blinked back tears. He slapped her. Without thought, without so much of a reply. Her confidence wavered a bit. Now, this was what a pirate was. Not the romanticized version she and Elizabeth had fantasized about. No, this was the dark, dangerous kind that she had been warned about. The type that had no issues hitting a woman, let alone hurting her. Her heart rate picked up slightly and Abigail felt fear. She had never felt the intensity before. But then again, she never had the need to. Even when she had almost died she hadn't felt this kind of fear. But then again, that had happened quickly. And there was something about the fear of drowning - which was intense - and the terror knowing that you were held by men who would do unspeakable things to you and then kill you. And if they didn't kill you, the horrors done might as well be death. Still, she did her best to at least look strong. Face slightly pale, her neck hurt where the necklace had been ripped off, she kept her posture. She didn't speak but she did her best to mentally put as much anger and fire into her eyes as possible. She would not show fear. Not give them the satisfaction that she was terrified. If she was going to be taken, she would do so with dignity and fire. Her chin lifted again, even as the stinging of her cheek was still evident. "My father will personally ensure your deaths," she said calmly, coldly. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant." Even as they half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, she did her best to remain confident. Despite every step they took was one closer to possible death. The likelihood of getting out of this was slim. Her gaze drifted over to Vivianne. She couldn't read the expression on the woman's face due to the distance and lighting. Interesting really. She still felt a bit sad for the woman. She was still a prisoner and to be executed. Despite, her own possible future, Abigail still wished she had been able to do something for Vivienne. Though, she couldn't now. And honestly, she really had more to worry about. But...it did help. Thinking of Vivienne saving her life just made her more determined to survive this.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The two pirates forcibly put Abigail into a rowboat, and began to row out towards the attacking pirate vessel, sitting out in the open. Explosions continued to sound all around them. And for one moment, a shell nearly hit them, as it screamed overhead. One of her captors kept a tight grip upon her arm the entire trip, while his other hand held the pirate coin, also gripped tightly. Amid the thunder of cannon fire that surrounded the Fancy, stood an imposing, silhouetted figure by the wheel, too far from where Abigail was firstly deployed, but watched the scene nonetheless. A nonchalant, emotionless stare was all he gave, as he just stood there with a sword at his waist. At the mention of his title, this figure strode in a cool-minded manner towards the stairs, his boots thumping against the wood. A cloud of cannon smoke obscured him for a moment, but as soon as he made it to the deck, his full presence became known: wearing the darkest of colors, but nothing imposing; just a simple dark t-shirt, a dark jacket, and a pair of dark pants, along with the heavy boots that left an echo in the wood at every step, his hair was short, medium-brown, wavy, and just above his shoulders, with a stubble that perfectly angled his lower jaw. The real element was his scarred, pale right-eye; he was possibly half-blind, with the other appearing perfectly in a normal blue, but he did give off a good penetrating stare with both on his person. He wasn't that tall, being at five-foot eight, nor too strong with an evident slim, athletic physique, which gave off that quality of being easily deceiving. That showed that he was a man you'd fear in a dark alley. The darkness and shadow surrounding the deck proved that right. The right hand resting upon the sword at his waist, armed with a pistol and a dagger, he was before his crew, standing only a few feet away from the newcomer. This was Captain Edward Low, the man behind this nightly massacre. "Cap'n. Look what we found. She also had this", the pirate finally released her...by pushing her forward, and making her land in a heap at the man's feet, shortly before handing over the coin to him. Low didn't speak a word, he just listened. Listening, and observing the situation; his unconcerned gaze never leaving, even as he was passed the trinket by one of his men. He still didn't speak, just fiddled with the object in his hand, his attention now resting on the girl, who just got deposed of at his feet. It was like he was in a moment of processing the information being passed down to him, while still fiddling with the metal, almost outlining its design. In just short notice, the captain finally stopped this action, now having his full attention on the girl, to the point of kneeling down to one knee, towering over her. "My apologies, miss", he finally said after a long while, sounding Irish by his accent. The tone wasn't exactly sympathetic, but rather shallow. Casual with monotone. "I confess, they lack manners. Especially with a damsel", it didn't sound deep, but in the normal range of lacking emotion.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The explosions rocked the town, even as Abigail found herself dragged to a rowboat. She glared at her captors as she did her best to retain her dignity and pride. In the boat she held her head high, keeping the fear of what was to come as well as the fear of getting killed in the raging fight, from her face. She was surprised that the fight was still going on. The pirates must have come fairly prepared though even with the surprise attack they had to be stupid. One didn't attack a British fort with just one ship. Especially one this. Even with the surprise attack, Port Royale was a pretty strong defensive place and as the garrison quickly responded, they would push the pirates out. Part of this was evident in the town. From where she could see, Abigail noted that the other rowboats were pulling away from the town even as British regulars came down from the garrison slowly regaining control. Shame it had taken them too long. If she survived this, she'd probably have to give them some points on how improving their response time. IF she survived. The thought brought a chill down her spine. Her best bet was to hope they would ransom her. She was a high valued target and that might convince them to try and ransom her back to her father. Of course, he, in turn, would undoubtedly pay but then hunt them down, wiping every last one of them out. Abigail was no fool. She loved her father and knew he loved her, but her love wasn't completely deaf to the knowledge that he was very strict and one didn't oppose him. She could get away with a few things because she was his only child. And despite being a girl - which usually was a paux for an only child - she knew she just had to smile at him, maybe bat her lashes a little and he'd usually give in. Not that she played that card well. It didn't always work - just once in a while. Being pulled onto the ship and then tossed at the feet of what was evident to be the captain, Abigail quickly pulled herself up to at least a seated position. Her chin lifted as she stared up coldly at the man. She couldn't hide her surprise at his politeness though it quickly became evident that there was really no emotion behind it. Which in turn made him far more dangerous in some regards. "I concur, their manners do need to be checked. But I can easily dismiss this," she paused and looked around her before looking back at the captain, "misunderstanding if you kindly provide me a rowboat back to town." She doubted it would work but if he was going to pretend to be honorable she was going to push him on it.</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The crew chuckled at the girl's audacity. The captain was in control here. No doubt, he'd refuse her, using some political language or such to deny her request. The only response received from the man, being a silent nod to his quartermaster, Meeks, before turning around to walk into his cabin. Mister Meeks didn't say anything, and approached the girl. The face he made wasn't threatening, but rather pity. In other ways, he was impressed by her courage, and only a few have believed that Meeks was actually one of the more sympathetic on the crew. Unlike most, he was also one of the few recruits who felt that they were being driven by a madman. He's seen what the captain can do, and in truth, he may be a cowardly quartermaster, but he continued to follow him nonetheless. The last time someone tried to depose Captain Low, didn't end very well, and the last thing he wanted to do, was an attempt to cross him. Even though he had good judgement, he was reluctant to even use it, due to the fact that Ned had a few loyal men at his disposal. Gripping her upper arm, and gesturing her to stand, he non-forcibly led her towards the captain's cabin; the stares, and a few light chuckles from the fellow crew lingering behind them. Opening the door, the quarters of Low were decent; not as rich. But by the lack of maps and books, shows that this man is almost seemingly an amateur to this life, or had just recently stole the ship an amount of time before arriving in Port Royal. The captain himself was sitting in that wooden chair, a few feet from the door, in front of a decent-size desk that almost looked more like a wooden table...along with an all-too-familiar Commodore hat sitting on it, along with an all-too-familiar dress in one of the chairs. Ned just happened to notice the entrance of Mister Meeks and his prize; blue eyes neutrally watching her, his quartermaster sat the girl in a wooden chair, that was at a good distance across from Ned. "For a lovely lady, I'm impressed", his nonchalant Irish-English voice responded, having no emotion in it, as usual. "For you, to be found as treasure, you're the ticket for trade", he raised the hand that was sitting on the desk, and the golden medallion hung on the chain, showing it on display for Abigail.</s>
<\|description\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Age: Twenties Short Bio: Originally born somewhere in Haiti as "Tallulah Black", Vivienne was born to a poor English mother, before she was abducted by slave traders, and forced into servitude under a retired-pirate named Albinus. After countless suffering, Vivienne finally shot him in self-defense, and escaped to New Providence, where she became a very intelligent con-artist, posing as a tavern prostitute, and stealing high-valued items from its customers. Eventually becoming a full-time buccaneer, hiring a crew that consisted John Silver as quartermaster, Vivienne went on many conquests and cunning crusades on her ship "Red Rose" to collect many different treasures and artifacts, becoming the first notorious female pirate to ever arise in the Caribbean. Since the discovery of Salazar's treasure, her personality started to change for the worst. ~ ~ ~ Name: John Silver Age: Late Twenties Short Bio: Also known as 'Long' John Silver, due to his claim of having a "long memory", charming con-man John is a walking-mystery to all. With a past most-unknown, and skills rivaling that of Vivienne Black, he originally insinuated himself into the crew of Captain James Flint, after their attack on a merchant ship John was upon. While visiting the brothel, John receives an offer he just couldn't refuse, after he found himself seduced by the 'beauty-of-the-sea': He willingly dived into opportunities, after becoming quartermaster to the crew of Vivienne's Black 'Red Rose'. Some speculate that it's just about looking out for number one, but others speculate that bonds and ties may have made him a bit too staunch...especially when it involves the Lord's daughter.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ned Low didn't smile -- no, he rarely smiled; only making those crooked smirks upon distant, blank facial expressions. He almost seemed to be impaired in both his emotions and thoughts. 'Succinct' would be a better term to describe such behavior for such a maniacal captain like himself. In these waters, Captain Low was, quoted by both his own crew and other bucaneers, "savage and desperate", "peculiarly cruel", and "a man of amazing, grotesque brutality". These were true to the witnesses, and whether he cared or not, Edward didn't have qualms or morals; he was charismatically claimed to be "an honest man of great strength". The medallion he held by the black string, lightly swayed in the dim candlelight; the skull seemingly laughing in the center. "Your father is Lord Peter Ashe, governor of the Carolina colony", the captain stated in that apathetic voice of his, while both of his "eyes" remained on her. His voice wasn't deep, more like on the baritone scale; not too deep, not too high. "We know him. By 'we', I meant all", he added. "Every pirate who's sailed under a flag knows him", that one blue eye is looking at her now, his tone grim. "I will be sending a message to him; delivered by one of my men, with the following: 'You are a prisoner of the pirate Captain Ned Low. Your ransom, if he ever wishes to see you alive again, is £250,000 ($323,190). Whether or not he applies to these terms, a new contact will arrive in Charlestown harbor with you in my possession. If I sense a trap, or if the demands are unmet, I'll kill you, and throw your body into the bay'", and he said it all in those words. Ned watched her look at the medallion in his hand, evident by her constant, flicking glances. "I have no gift for politics; navigation is foreign to me", he shook his head lightly, the medallion still in his hand. This time, looking it over, before standing up from the wooden chair he sat in. "So, 'what am I good at?', you might ask", Ned would guess, before slowly striding to the girl's side, looking down at her, before bending over, so one of his hands laid on the desk, while the other on the head of the chair she sat in. "This is going to sound absurd but", he paused, his apathetic voice slightly softening, making the conversation be between the two of them. "I make the men feel better about themselves. You see, they can spot a lie when a captain is sickened by his own actions; they feel affected. With me, when they see me slaughter the crew of the Good Fortune, when they see me cut out a man's tongue for lying, when they see me burn a boy alive in front of his father's eyes, they know", it sounded a bit rushed, but it was clear. "They can see it in my eyes", emphasizing to the emotionless appendages. "There's no lie there. There's no secret remorse there. I simply don't have it in me", there was that grim undertone again. He then followed her gaze towards the two recent trinkets on the table. "Like them", he referred to the objects that formerly belonged to a certain someone. "A couple on a British vessel. Sweet thing; the woman, until her man decided to act first. She would have made me an excellent trophy, but then I learn she's married. I pay my respects; I gave her a favor: To join her man", his voice would send chills up someone's spine, until he pulled away from the girl. "At any rate, I hope that clarifies things, and that it illustrates why it is only fair for me to fully compensate with my men to not touch you, as we reach our destination", the captain stood back up to his full height, continuing to look at the trinket that's in his hand. He then nodded back to Mister Meeks, who reluctantly acknowledged him, by approaching Abigail, and taking her by the upper arm, leading her out of the cabin, and to the brig.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s>	<\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Before I answer that, answer this: Why so desperate to retrieve that girl?", she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Who is she to you?", it was a curious question, and all she needed was a reason. Plus, she needed to know. "What's your name?", she then asked, finding herself staring. After hearing the name, it slowly came to her, and somehow, she felt as if she had heard it from somewhere. The brunette found herself making a half-smirk. "Short for William, is it not?", she asked, becoming a little impressed. "A good, strong name for a young man", she nodded at the thought before making a frown. He will take that as a compliment, no doubt. But she will most definitely wonder on why he came so persistent on rescuing this damsel. However, upon hearing his offer, she continued to narrow, almost to see if he was being true to his word. "Well, Mister Turner, my name is Vivienne Black...and my mind's been made up. Just how do you plan on getting me out?", Vivienne then wondered if he had a plan, giving herself leverage on standing, though she made the same wince to the injury from yesterday. If she considered, this young man would be useful on the contrary, and he might even be worth sparing. "The task of rescuing Miss Abigail will not be easy, and therefore, if you ever wish to see her alive, you will listen to me at all times. In return, if this deal runs smoothly, you, and her, will walk away, safely. Do we have an accord?", the brunette reached out her hand through the bars, waiting patiently for him to seal it.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe There was a sense of pride, accomplishment that Will felt when the governor complimented the sword. Of course, he didn't show it. From the governor's point of view, it wasn't Will who had done it but his master. And that was fine. He kept the charade. "I will, Sir." He gave a slight bow. He lingered slightly hoping he might see Elizabeth but he doubted he'd see her. It was her wedding day and she probably had so much to do. Besides, it was probably for the best. She was getting married. It never really would have worked for him. He was a blacksmith and she the daughter of a governor. He was an orphan washed upon the beach, she was a princess, raised like royalty. "Congratulations on your daughter's wedding," he said not really feeling it but being polite. With another slight bow he left. Again, it was probably for the best. As much as he'd love to see Elizabeth, talk to her, he knew there was a level of propriety expected. She could never know he has feelings for her. That he cared for her. And now that she would marry, he had to ensure she'd never know. He left the governor's mansion and started the long walk back to the village below. ~ ~ ~ Abigail bit her lip. Her gaze turned seaward again. It was strange seeing her cousin, someone who always was a bit of a rock in her life, be nervous. But at the same time, it was probably expected. Every bride to be was nervous. She wasn't even betrothed to someone yet and already her nerves were on edge. What would he be like? Would he be kind? Gentle? Loving? Or would he be harsh? Stern? Would he be old and unattractive or young and gorgeously handsome? That was one thing Abigail knew Elizabeth had going for her. The Commodore was attractive. He was also a lot older than her but that wasn't uncommon. Though she knew her cousin's heart was really more set on someone else, though neither discussed it and the older girl would probably deny it if confronted. Still.... She sighed as Elizabeth stood and told her they should go. Going over she found her shoes though she didn't put them on yet. Her feet and ankles had sand on them and she would need to clean them off before putting her shoes on. The fact they were wet didn't help any. Not that she was complaining. In fact, she would do it again if she could. As they headed off the beach and up toward the house Abigail saw Will. A smile formed on her face, not so much for her but for Elizabeth. She personally didn't know Will too much. They interacted while she was in Port Royal but they didn't have the friendship he and Elizabeth had. She nudged her cousin and inclined her head. "Look who came to visit." Her eyes danced as she knew he was the someone her cousin liked.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Taking the case in hand, Weatherby Swann was just about to consider looking for his daughter, until she and his niece just happened to enter the family home...at the right time. He knew that Abigail and Elizabeth had a habit to sneak off, but when it comes to rather important occassion, he would want them to stay put, until everything was in order. But no...they would rather go out and pass the time. He would only have a heart attack if he saw a smudge or stain on his daughter's wedding dress. Thankfully, it would appear that she was being very careful this time. Highly unlike all of her other dresses... "Oh, would you girls just stay in one place? Here, in the mansion, please?", he asked them, almost exasperated and relieved at the same time. It was like he had an extra child, who would be too much for a single father. "Well, no other. You look absolutely stunning, Elizabeth", the governor complimented to the woman with her brown-blonde hair tied up, and in her wedding dress. On the other hand, Elizabeth almost didn't hear her father, since she happened to look over at her childhood friend, who appeared to just be leaving. "Will, it's good to see you", she smiled while putting her shoes back on, almost clumsily, probably due to her excitement of seeing her dear friend.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail put a polite apologetic look on her face at her uncle's lecture. She was glad her skirt covered her ankles otherwise, the sight of her sandy feet and ankles would undoubtedly cause even more concern and possible lecturing. As it was, he seemed exasperated with them. Then he turned, getting a bit sidetracked and complimented Elizabeth on her dress. Abigail kept the smile from appearing on her face. Good. They weren't going to get into any more trouble or have a punishment. The fact Elizabeth was getting married today - something the dress obviously reminded the governor of - would probably wave any annoyance with their escapades. Keeping her shoes behind her back, she watched the slight exchange and then almost grinned again at Elizabeth's response - not to her father but to seeing Will. As well as her fumbled attempt to put on her shoes right there in his presence. Will, ever the gentleman, kept his gaze on Elizabeth's face, keenly aware that her father was right there as was her cousin. Having been notified of his station before, he kept his expression polite and gave a slight nod to both ladies. "Miss Swan. Miss Ashe." He had been like this for the past few months - longer in public - whenever he saw one or the other. His feelings for Elizabeth hidden from view as he tried to maintain the cultural requirements of their respected stations. The fact that she was also about to marry also tied into it. The days of calling her by her Christian name was gone. Abigail, the apex of grace and social mannerism, inclined her head politely back, addressing him just as formerly. "Mr. Turner." Though they had interacted a bit when she was younger (he and Elizabeth had hung out a lot whenever she came and visited - at least the earlier years), the two of them hadn't really grown close or anything. They had a mutual friend and did things together through her but at the same time, neither really interacted on their own. If it wasn't for Elizabeth, Abigail highly doubted Will would have much to do with her. Not that he didn't like her. No, he was polite, friendly - or had been - and easy going. But there really wasn't much there. Not like what she and Elizabeth shared or what Elizabeth and Will shared. So it was no difficulty for her to fall into the polite social structure. Well that and the fact, she had been raised extensively in it all her life. London was a lot more sophisticated and had higher expectations than Port Royal. Still, she watched her cousin, hiding the slight amusement as the 'country' girl didn't seem to care for social structure OR her father being right there and engaged Will as if they were equals and good friends. Also ignoring the fact that both were now adults with that whole set of rigorous societal expectations.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Will, how many times do I have to say for you to call me 'Elizabeth'?", the blonde young woman asked him, until her father walked off to get the necessary money to pay for the sword. The governor's only daughter, Elizabeth Swann, had the physical appearance of a fine young woman; a young goddess in human form. For her, she didn't mind talking to those of low-status. She was just too kind when talking to them, not really wishing them harm, but only to wish them the best of luck, despite what her father thinks on such behavior. It only took them a few moments to look at each other in the face, before the governor cut back in, giving Will the payment. "Well, we don't want to be late now, do we?", he took the presentation case in hand, and gestured the girls to follow him out to the carriage that was waiting outside. "Come now, Elizabeth. Abigail", his daughter just kept her kind smile on. "Good day, Mister Turner", she softly said, sounding slightly disappointed to not talk to him a little longer, before following the elderly man out of the mansion. "Oh, Abigail. Do something about your hair, would you?", Weatherby asked the younger girl, as soon as he noticed her hair to be in such disarray, as they walked towards the carriage. ~ ~ ~ Both the harbor and the town were bustling with activity; markets selling and buying, and animals communicating with each other, either on the streets or their stables/pens. Leaning in the shade, against one of the barns sat a womanly figure, who appears to be wearing suggestive clothing that seems to resemble a Western saloon girl; a lace-trimmed, ivory-colored tank-corset with an addition of tight, long-sleeves, and a matching short mini-skirt stopping at her upper thighs. Attached to her back-waist, was a matching ivory organza bustle pooling down to her feet, and revealing her front bare legs. She also appears to be wearing black, lace-trimmed, thigh-high stockings, a black choker, and black calf-high heeled boots. Her chest-lengthed, wavy-curled dark brown hair was covered by a hood-like piece, that also seems to cover some places of her youthful face. However, despite the coverage of some parts of her face, she seems to be able to gaze out into the market with keen, blue eyes. Stepping out of the shadows, and revealing more color, the mystery woman strolled casually right past a fruit stand, and snuck an apple from the cart. However, this didn't go unnoticeable. "What-? Hold up there, you", the seller called to her in a patronizing manner, making the young woman halt in her steps and turn back around to walk back towards him. "It's a shilling for one piece of me fruit", he told her, before she casted a dubious glance back towards the cart. Sighing before smiling coyly, she took three shillings from her pouch, and placed them on the cart. "What do you say to three shillings, and we forget this even happened?", she spoke to him in a cool, innocent-like tone in her English-accented voice. The seller seems to consider this as he stepped away. "Welcome to Port Royal, miss", he welcomed her before moving off. She acknowledged the welcome with a nod and a cool smile, before moving past another cart, spotting a small money bag sitting on top of it. She picked up the bag to shake it. Pleased to hear the rattle of coins, she pocketed it and moved on. Thank god, she told Mr. Silver to keep the ship in one of the hidden arches, a few yards away from the dock. 'Do not, under any circumstances, engage', she remembered telling him. With the vessel hidden between too rock formations, it would be increasingly difficult to spot, even to the eyes of the patrolling British. However, she knows that the ship can't stay camouflaged forever. Ninja</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "Just once more." Will's polite smile never faded as he looked back at Elizabeth. He knew his answer didn't please her. Nor had his more recently distancing of himself from her. She wanted to be friends and though he wouldn't mind spending time with her, propriety demanded something different. Not only looking at the cultural aspect of an unmarried man and woman but also the financial class difference, which would guarantee that he'd never be able to marry her even if she was interested. He stared at her for a moment before the governor's voice kicked in. Giving a nod back, he wished them a good day as well before leaving. Abigail made her way into the carriage, her hands moving up to her hair at her uncle's remark. It wasn't that bad, was it? She had done it first thing that morning but then again, that was before she went out onto the beach and enjoyed the wind her hair and face. Hanging back a moment, she quickly brushed the sand off her feet and ankles so she could put her shoes back on. Accepting help into the carriage she quickly fixed her hair best she could. The carriage ride down the little mountain wasn't that long. They passed the walking Mr. Turner as they wound their way further down. Abigail watched him for a brief moment before her eyes shifted over to her cousin. She knew there was something there, had been for some time, and was a bit more than even her cousin realized. However, she also knew that life rarely went that way. Raised in London society, the concept of love was a romantic aspect that was played with but no one ever took seriously. One did not marry for love - ever. Love might come after the fact but it was never the deciding factor in an arrangement. At least not in the upper classes. In a way, she figured Elizabeth knew this. She was marrying the Commodore. Though, how much was it she was following tradition and how much was it she didn't realize how much she loved Will? It was a bit amusing and sad almost to see something her own cousin didn't fully accept or notice herself. Abigail wondered if there was anyone she actually loved but was too blind to see it. Not that it mattered. The carriage arrived at its destination. The wedding was going to take place at the top of the fort battlements, looking out over the bay. A beautiful location.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Weddings were always wonderous occasions though Abigail always had a bit of mixed feelings about them. In some aspects, she loved the whole concept - thinking it was romantic and beautiful, and wonderous - but she also didn't like the stifling dress, the polite conversations, the foreboding that reminded her that one day it would be she who was to be the pride. Which, when she was younger was a romantic concept. She fantasized who would it be, how handsome he was, how would he act, how she'd act - all the stuff that most young girls romanticized about. But as she grew older and realized how many marriages were more conveniences and matches than true love, the more weddings made her feel nervous as the thought of marrying a stranger just didn't sit well with her. Elizabeth's wedding was even more so. Not only did Abigail know that even now her parents were looking for a suitable match for her but she also knew that Elizabeth was not really in love with Commodore Norrington. In fact, her love was someone that she'd never be able to have due to status. And that made her sad. Still, being the daughter of a wealthy British lord, long accustomed to putting on a societal mask, she smiled, was courteous and acted like everyone else. The location was amazing, breathtaking even, but in tight corsets and with the warm tropical sun beating down, it was a bit warm and as the ceremony dragged on, it got warmer and harder for her to breath. The crowd pushing in around her made her a bit claustrophobic and didn't help. Sighing as she watched the priest yawn on and on. Apparently, he forgot a bit that this was a wedding, not a sermon. Moving slightly back, she made her way through the crowd to the edge of the battlements. Not only to get a bit of fresh air but to maybe help her restlessness but getting a view of the sea again. She loved the sea. Always had and hopefully always will. She didn't know what about it called to her but she'd rather be on the sand with the waves lapping over her feet and ankles than be in town. She'd rather stand on the deck of a ship inhaling the sea air than any societies balls and galas. Her mother would be so disappointed. Spotting movement on the ship below, she frowned, attention diverted. She couldn't really tell what was going on but her curiosity was peaked. She moved slightly forward, forgetting where she was, when she slipped. Startled, she didn't even have time to scream before she plunged off the battlement and toward the ocean below. Those who had been around her, screamed on her behalf even as she hit the water, the heavy skirts pulling her down even as the contact with the water from such a height disoriented her a bit.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Trying to register what fell in, the sentries looked at each other, before a gust of wind comes up, forcing them to hold their hats. Abigail's unmoving form hit the bottom of the shallow ocean, and the brunette-haired woman swam down to her as fast as she could, eventually wrapping an arm around her. The girl's weight was light, which helped her rescuer get a better advantage. Making for the surface, she struggled, making slow progress. The dress this girl was wearing was too heavy, and the water was weighing them down. Forced to be submerged, she forced it open, and skinned Abigail out of it, kicking it away, leaving her in her elbow-sleeved underdress. As she surfaced, the brunette was exhausted, and the sentries helped her haul Abigail out of the water. Laying the girl carefully on her back, the sentries tried to check if she was breathing. "She's not breathing!", one of them called out. "Move!", pushing them aside, the brunette slipped one her knives out from its sheath. Kneeling over the unconscious girl, she slit the corset down the middle with it, and forcefully yanked it open to allow Abigail to gain air for her crushed lungs. Just by seeing the young girl cough up the water, the mystery woman now knew for a fact that the damn corsets made for the English women, were not suitable in a place like Port Royal. Many times, she had worn fancy corsets, but that didn't mean she would proudly wear one now, or ever, for that reason. The brunette tossed the torn corset aside. For some, she was one of a few on her ship that would even express any sympathy to colonists who were not buccaneers. She usually stole from the wealthy, but didn't really expect an opportunity in rescuing one from distress. More likely, a damsel. By the looks of this girl, she was rather young. So, why not? Impressed and dumbfounded, the sentries didn't speak for a moment. "Never would have thought of that", one of them admitted. "Clearly, you've never been to Singapore. Impressed?", she rolled her eyes before looking back at the young girl laying before her. But before she thought of anything else, something gold, with a skull, was right before her, exposed. Taking a good look at the round medallion, a question rose out of her. "Where did you get that?", she softly demanded.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Fighting, Abigail tried to get back to the surface but the disorientation and her heavy skirts made it nigh impossible. As she clawed at the water, sinking deeper, she thought it strange that she would die by the one thing she loved the most. She started to see spots even as her lungs burned from needing air. Her hands fell limp, resistance slipping out of her even as the spots grew larger. Just before she lost consciousness, she thought she felt something grabbing her arm but the thought barely registered before she blacked out. Her next conscious thought was coughing. Sitting upright, she coughed out the water she swallowed as she oriented herself. She was on a pier. Stripped down to her underdress with two soldiers standing above her and a woman leaning over her. Her eyes went to the cut corset beside them and the knife in the woman's hands. It didn't take a genius to realize that the woman had just saved her life. Before she could even express any gratitude, the question came at her. She frowned glancing down. Hanging there, catching the rays of the sun was the skull gold piece. Embarrassed and a bit worried, she stuffed it under her undershirt having not wanted others to know she wore it. Elizabeth knew - but then again, what did Elizabeth NOT know about her? Well, minus the marriage proposal. But no one else knew she carried a piece of pirate gold around her neck. She didn't know fully why she did but at the same time she didn't like to leave it around. Though, in London, she usually had to hide it if she went to a formal event. The intimacy of some of the dances would have someone spot the chain. But in most cases, she wore it. Hidden. Close to her heart. "It's nothing," she said quickly sitting up. She regretted her harsh outburst, especially as the woman just saved her life. "It's...not something I'd like to discuss," she said quietly. Then she turned her head to look at the woman before her. The woman was just as wet but it was the attire that surprised Abigail. It wasn't something that normal, everyday woman wear. But then again, she was in her underclothes here as well. Throwing her arms around the woman, she hugged her. "Thank you for saving me," she said pulling away, even as a commotion could be heard as those above were finally making their way to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black It must have been a very long time in her life to ever receive such physical contact that would fit in the category of genuine affection. The young lass was...hugging her. As soon as she felt those arms wrapped around her, Vivienne wasn't exactly sure if she should respond, but the only response she could give was a slight stiffening in her body. "You're welcome", she responded, not exactly expressing any true sympathy in her words, as if she was forced to be nice. The mystery woman was expecting an answer from this young girl, but she didn't expect to see some British troops approaching them. By the looks of it, they've come to fetch the young lady. "Abigail!", a voice called in the distance. Elizabeth was running towards them, with Commodore Norrington, the Governor, and a few British troops, in tow. Concerned, the newly-wedded bride quickly approached her young cousin, who seemed to be hugging an older woman she had never seen before, and carefully pulled Abigail to her feet, and away from the mystery woman. "Are you alright?", Governor Swann asked, quickly draping his niece with his coat, in order to cover up her modesty. He gazed at the woman distastefully. Not surprisingly, Commodore Norrington had the same expression, only colder. "Who are you?", he wanted to know who this woman was. Vivienne watched this other young woman help the girl to her feet; she seemed to be older, and quite the beauty with her blonde hair tied up. Not to say that neither of them were, but in general, she was another one of those wealthy young ladies, sentenced to be married, and so on. Maybe a sister? A cousin? Or a dear friend? Looking from her, to the middle-aged Englishman, who appears to be the commander, the brunette gave a silent sigh of exasperation. More to block her path? Or was this about that pocket of money she stole from a food cart earlier? It could be that they happen to see her with an individual of high-class; that would be considered offensive and, come to think about it, tyrannical. The girl's rescuer calmly raised both of her hands halfway in surrender, and stepped away from the girl, standing at her full height of five-foot, seven. Once the man demanded for her identity, she finally let her hands elegantly descend. At least I don't have to say my real name, she thought before making her response. "Black. Vivienne Black, sir", she forced herself to say in a respectable manner, although she kept her charming smile on her youthful visage. The two red coats brought forth Vivienne's effects, more specifically, her weapons. "She had these, sir", one of them informed. "Said somethin' about stealing a ship."</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked over as the guards and Elizabeth came running up. A smile formed on her lips at the sight of her cousin. Though it turned a bit embarrassed and sheepish as she was pulled to her feet. "I'm fine," she said. "I wasn't watching where I was standing." The coat was nice but she really wasn't cold. The water was warm and at the moment she still had adrenaline running through her veins. Despite the fact her clothes were soaked to her skin, her hair plastered behind her. Her parents would have a conundrum if they saw her now. Her uncle made up for that. "I'm fine," she repeated a bit unsettled with all the concern and attention. As her rescuer introduced herself, Abigail turned and looked at her, the smile growing wide. The smile vanished at the accusation from the redcoats. Drawing herself up to all the authority she was accustomed to, she glared at them. "She saved my life." Her tone held rebuke at the insinuation that her rescuer would be anything but good. The woman saved her. Pulled her out of the water when she would have drowned. That alone had to indicate the woman had a virtuous heart. That she was good. Therefore, Abigail was appalled that anyone would even dare suggest the woman was capable of evil. There was undoubtedly a good explanation to the whole thing. Moving away from Elizabeth, her chin lifted, she stepped almost in front of Vivienne. Her chin lifted as she turned her attention toward the Commodore and her uncle. "She saved my life," she repeated again. "An individual risking their own for a complete stranger cannot be someone with ill intent." She looked at the redcoats, her tone, body language, and facial expression indicating her status as the daughter of a lord with all the authority within. "Return her things to her." She looked at Vivienne. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." There was not a hint of her annoyance with the soldiers on her face as she turned to look at her rescuer. "You saved my life. I am in your debt." She might have the bearing of someone in the court but her eyes gave away just how young she was. Not to mention the very fact she presumed Vivienne's innocence based on her actions showed a bit of a naivety on the girl's part. "I'm Abigail Ashe, daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy." She stepped aside slightly. "This is my uncle and my cousin - Governor Swann and Elizabeth. And her fiance, Commodore Norrington." With the pride of a hostess, she stepped aside so they could properly great each other, not fully understanding the slight distrust that the Commodore and her uncle showed. A hint of concern flickered on her face as she glanced at Elizabeth hoping her cousin would shed some light on the poor response they were showing.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe "No!" Abigail quickly moved to follow them, trying to push herself between the guards and Vivienne. She ignored the protest the others made and lifted her chin. "She saved my life. Is this how we repay her?" She demanded using every ounce of authority her mother had drilled into her. The power of being the daughter of a lord. The ramifications that came with it. "We can't execute her. She could have escaped while the guards were distracted when I fell. But instead, she risked her life for mine. I won't allow it." Of course, her stubbornness was just waved aside. Her uncle, though seeming to like her, didn't really agree. "Move aside, Abigail." He ordered. "She's a criminal. She might have saved your life but it doesn't justify her actions." Abigail frowned, not understanding why the Commodore and her uncle seemed intent on punishing someone who rescued her. Her gaze glanced over at Vivienne. She didn't look like a pirate. Was there even such a thing as female pirates? It was doubtful. Seemed odd to her. Pirates were these old men with missing limbs or teeth. Foul and seeming the worst of society. Not a woman who, though dressed in a mannerism not really fitting everyday wear, risked jumping into the water to save her. "Abigail, if you won't move, I'll have the guards remove you. You don't understand. And frankly you are probably disillusioned at the moment. That was a long fall. We need to get you to a doctor to make sure you are alright." The governor waved a hand for a couple guards to move her out of the way.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Don't worry, I'm pretty swift when it comes to death", Vivienne assured Abigail with a wink, while she was being restrained with iron cuffs. It confused her a little that this someone, coming from the outside world of piracy, would even care about her wellbeing. Someone of a higher class!? They just forgot to check one spot on her body. "Swift and evasive", the brunette recalled before smoothly revealing a small blade that was hidden in her bosum, and quickly grabbing Abigail before her, holding her at knifepoint with the blade resting on the side of the girl's neck. With a devious smile, the pirate looked at Norrington and everyone else before her and captive. "I must thank you for warming up to me, Commodore", she recalled in a respectful albeit taunting tone. However, there was no threat in her words. She didn't wish to harm the girl, but to just prove a point. Vivienne, however, did recall something interesting about Abigail: she cared about the pirate woman's fate. Interesting... She was sparing her from the hangman's noose, but, who wouldn't? Everyone against piracy. That's who. But this one? How interesting... "Commodore Norrington, now if you would, please? My effects?", the brunette called back in that same tone between taunting and respecting. She needed her things, and this girl was her ticket out of a tight spot. As they were starting to pass them her things, Vivienne, now holding the girl hostage, whispered to her, so she could only hear. "Your name's Abigail, isn't it?", she asked her in curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned not at all liking this. The heavy cuffs were placed on her rescuer, her own protests completely ignored. She turned once more to lecture her uncle and the Commodore before she found herself quickly pulled up against Vivienne, a knife placed against her neck. It was strange. One would think she should be terrified or even furious that the person she was trying to help would take her captive. But she felt neither. In fact, she was a bit impressed and almost glad that the woman had done this. Even if she was the one that was hostage. She had no fear that she would get killed or even hurt but she knew from the looks of the others, they didn't completely know that either. Which meant, she was foolish or that they just didn't understand. She didn't think it was the former. The woman risked her life to save hers. Why then would she attempt to hurt her? No. She might be foolish - and undoubtedly will get a lecture from her cousin, uncle, the Commodore and eventually down the line, her parents - but she was glad. Standing rigid, with the dignity of her class, she made no move, her breathing calm as the woman spoke. The woman was intelligent. She figured out how to make the best of a bad situation. A hostage - especially someone like her - would be key in helping her escape. Abigail was a bit proud of that. She accepted the things from the Commodore and turned slightly, the blade still at a dangerous level, as she put them back. "Yes it is." There was no fear in her tone or anger. So she was a pirate. It still seemed strange and Abigail wasn't sure she completely believed it. Whoever the woman was though, she was amazing. Skilled, intelligent, nice. Even pretty in her own way. And - she didn't seem to have the shackles of class holding her down. Abigail felt a bit envious. Her back to her friends, family, and 'rescuers', Abigail met the woman's gaze calmly. "Thank you for saving me," she said quietly. "I sincerely hope you escape. If you make it that far, there's a small cave on the north side of the island. The entrance is usually blocked by the tide but it's dry inside." She spoke quickly and very quietly as she placed the gun and sword into the woman's belt. Taking her time in order to get the words out. Finishing, she gave a slight nod before turning back around.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne listened to the young girl's response, and a look of sympathy appeared on her beautiful, coy-looking face. The pirate is more surprised at this girl's courage, and the last thing she wanted, was to make tensions go higher. So she was quite impressed with her wit. Speaking of this said-wit, Abigail willingly turned around to face the woman, and Vivienne allowed the girl to do so, but still kept the silver blade at her neck. "Once again, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Abigail", she lowly, and softly responded in confirmation. The pirate had to admit that she felt a slight bit of fondness for the girl before her, and she did feel a tad bit regretful to put her in such a position. But she was her ticket to get out of the hands of authority right now, so she kept up the act in this very dangerous game. Abigail was only at least five-foot five or so, and the task at hand wasn't hard. The pirate perked her eyes up in a challenging way with a coy smirk towards the English, before turning her attention back to the girl before her. "It's been a pleasure. A young woman, who has a whole life ahead of her, does not deserve such an early fate", she simply said, with that grin again. "I appreciate your concern, but I've come prepared", she added with a wink, before carefully turning her back around. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I have some business to attend to!", the brunette announced as she walked backwards slowly, with Abigail still in her grip. Suddenly, she let her go, pushing her back to them, before grabbing a rope behind her that was tied to a tall gantry. Kicking a belaying pin nearby, and allowing a counterweight to fall, she was being lifted up to the top of the structure.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Facing her uncle and the others, Abigail kept her chin up. She could make out Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Her cousin looked extremely worried. It was touching a bit but honestly, she didn't feel like there was any danger. Feeling Vivienne slowly pull her along, moving backwards, she did her best not to trip as that would work against Vivienne. If she was trying to escape, that would have been ideal. A slight trip backward, use her weight to push back against the woman behind her. She might get nicked but all in all, she'd probably come out alright. But Abigail couldn't - wouldn't - do that. If the woman was captured again, she'd be hanged and that was something Abigail couldn't stomach. She had seen a few hangings in her time. The daughter of a lord and governor of a province, she had been required to go to a few public executions. Thankfully for her, most of her time was spent in London or here at Port Royal. The former - justice was carried out by others and thus she didn't have to go. The latter, she was spared due to the fact her uncle was a bit more tender toward her and Elizabeth and tried to shield them. Still, the few that she had seen had left her a bit sick. The snapping of the neck, or worse - the death from suffication, where the body twisted and turned trying to get air - even now the thought of it made her have to swallow. She would not let her rescuer get that fate. So when she was surprisingly pushed forward and released, Abigail quickly thought on her feet and took the off-balance push and letting it fall into a more clumsy fall that put her in the pash of the soldiers. It wasn't obvious as it happened quickly and no one but her and Vivienne had known how much force had been in that push. As she was grabbed and handed out of the way, Abigail felt her cousin's arms engulf her in a hug, even as she watched the woman flee.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Now will you shoot her?!", the governor demanded of the Commodore, and the order was made by the man himself, as the muskets began to blaze. "Open fire!" They were shooting at her now, and a shot grazed one of her bare legs, as she used her strength to jump from the tall structure, and on top of another. Wasting no time, Vivienne snapped the manacle chain over a line before her, and zip-lined herself down from the structure, eventually landing on her feet upon the ground of dirt, a few yards away from the dock, and running. Running as her organza bustle gently waved behind her in the wind, keeping herself low from the bullets of the muskets. A few women screamed in terror as a few of the men's shots ricocheted, and came perilously close to them as they whizzed by. Vivienne ran through the gunfire, sprinting across the bridge and passed the terrified ladies. Clearly, she had no idea where she was going. Vivienne may have been to many ports, but Port Royal wasn't one of them. Not to mention that the British now use it as a non-pirate port. For that, she had no direction on where she was going; only ending up at the port's market. Trying hard to steer clear, it was now becoming difficult on where to go. Coming out of her hiding spot behind the smithy's statue. So far, there was no where beyond the smithy for her to go; 'red coats' were everywhere, looking and searching. Slipping herself into the working smithy, Vivienne figured that there would be something in there that could get the stubborn manacles off of her. Not to mention that she had an injury to tend on her leg. Seeing the fire nearby, she placed her wrists inside the fire pit, so the blazing heat will allow her to break the iron. Wincing a bit in pain, she gave her wrists a mighty tug, until it snapped, making the chain break. With that out of the way, and placing her pistol nearby on the work bench, she ripped off a parchment of her dress to wrap it around the spot where one of the British soldiers grazed her. It was bleeding, and the bullet had to be removed, but with time being an ass, Vivienne couldn't. Not until proper treatment. For now, she just wrapped it around her right thigh.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail watched as the woman made her escape. It was amazing. Brilliant. Still, she bit her lip slightly as the muskets went off. Thankfully nothing hit the other woman. She didn't get to watch much more as Elizabeth pulled her away from it. "I'm fine." Her insistence was ignored, as had been her earlier pleas to let the woman go. That was one disadvantage for being young and female. Nobody seemed to take her seriously. After Elizabeth ensured she was fine, then her uncle, and finally the Commodore - Abigail found herself whisked off with a safe escort back to the governor's mansion. She glanced over at Elizabeth. "Sorry I fell off during the wedding. Had you said the vows yet?" She asked. She figured it probably wouldn't be good idea to bring up that they just let Vivienne go. Especially with her uncle across from her. Still, her mind was slightly distracted as she wondered if the woman made it. ~ ~ ~ He should have been back to the blacksmith shop by now. But honestly, Will hadn't been overly eager to head back. His master was probably drunk and the streets had been fairly deserted what with everyone up at the wedding. It gave him some time to think. Time, he probably shouldn't have used as it had just made the whole situation more depressing. The girl he loved was marrying another. It would have never worked but that didn't make the pain any easier. He felt like someone had punched him hard in the gut and then jabbed a knife or two into his heart before leaving him. And the solitary walk hadn't helped any. Entering the shop, he glanced over toward the corner. He made a disgusted noise in his throat and shook his head. Sure enough, his master had been drinking and was out drunk. "Right where I left you." He shook his head. He moved forward and then stopped. Looking down at a tool he frowned. "Not where I left you." He looked up. That's when he saw her. She was very attractive and in her current position, a bit immodest. But that quickly slipped his mind as he saw the shackles, the weapons and realized who she was. Lightning fast he drew a sword and held it out toward her. "You're the one everyone's talking about," he said. "The one that kidnapped the Governor's niece." He had picked up the news on his final leg back. He would have gone to check on if Elizabeth and her cousin was ok but he figured they were now. No doubt heavily guarded and his going over there would not be appreciated. Especially as he'd then have to explain why. But it worked out. Because right here was the woman who had threatened the life of Elizabeth's cousin. And that meant she brought grief and stress to Elizabeth. Something he would not tolerate.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will watched as the woman rose. There was just a slight hesitation, a shift from one leg to the other. She was slightly injured. Though seeing any woman injured wasn't something he usually was glad for, she was a criminal and that meant the guards had been able to graze her. Which in turn would make her capture all the more easy - or easier. "I've never met a pirate before," he said in response to her comment about familiarity. "So there really shouldn't be any familiarity." He moved slightly to the left, his gaze never leaving her. All those years of studying, all that practice - all of it coming down to his first fight with a real pirate. Woman or not. It was a bit odd but Will wasn't going to dwell on it too long. She was a pirate. She had the look. The manacles indicated she was the same person the guards were looking for and even now her own admission indicated as such. "I'm a firm believer that a woman should be defended but seeing how you accosted a young woman yourself and seem more than capable of handling yourself, I'll make an exception. You're a pirate and woman or not - you'll face justice for that." His blade hit hers, the sound of metal hitting metal filling the room. He pressed against her. She was skilled. Undoubtedly she had been in more than one fight and that was in her favor. However, she was also injured. That combined with his strength and his own training would give him the edge. "I should thank you," he hit her sword again. "I've been eager to take out pirates."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne's eyes bored into his own, and gave a half-coy smile at his statements. She remained silent as he went on and on about facing a pirate. "You wouldn't hurt a lady; I can see it in those eyes. They tell a story", that was when she let her sword be swiped in his direction; starting high, then low. High, then low. Low to high. The patten went on: parries, dodges, blows, then repeat. In the beginning, the pirate advanced on the male with her strikes. But when she noticed him advancing in retaliation, Vivienne had to reconsider that he was, most definitely, not an amateur. Backing up, while dodging and parrying with his strikes, she made a hiss of pain with a grit of her teeth; the injury upon her high-leg flared. It was enough to make her lose her balance a little, until she knocked her lower back into the workbench next to her. Maybe if she played around with this man, Vivienne could easily decide whether or not he would potentially be trusting, and even worth sparing. So, with that, she waited for his next move. With the table behind her, it could get fun. Obviously in a spot that had no easy route, she decided to take a detour; as he strikes, practically aiming for a part of her body, the Vivienne slid down to the floor, forming a split with her legs, allowing herself to duck, while letting his sword hit the wood of the workbench. He was pushing it, she thought while letting herself roll away from him, and towards the huge forging mechanism nearby, which seemed to be holding all of the newly-forged weaponry upon its belt. Standing just a few feet away from him, Vivienne gazed at him. "I can see you know what you're doing. Fantastic footwork", she complimented him, before looking at him challengingly, mainly to intimidate him. "But once again, love: you are between me, and my way out", it was true, he was in the way. She keened her blue eyes, and put herself in a defensive stance, smirking mischievously. "Shall we dance?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will raised an eyebrow and parried another shot. "A lady? You're right, I wouldn't. But you and I both know you probably don't fall under that, now do you?" He met every strike she did. He realized she was probably baiting him - trying anyway. She wasn't succeeding but at the same time he did get the feeling she was testing him out. Striking out at her, he jammed the sword hard into the wood. He pulled but it was fairly stuck. He attempted to pull it out but only for a moment before seeing that she was going to leave. Quickly leaving it, he moved forward, yanked a weapon out of the massive forging platform, he quickly moved to block her. He held up the sword and pointed it at her. "You'll find I'm full of surprises," he said refusing to let her go. "And honestly, you're not my dance partner type." He lunged at her intent to get her off balance. He didn't go too fast. That would be risky and have higher chance of making a mistake. Yet at the same time, he had caught her wince from earlier. He had seen how she slightly favored her one side. She was injured and undoubtedly in pain. The harder he pushed her, the better chance he can capture her alive. For despite everything, all he said, she was still a woman. And though he did plan to kill pirates one day, killing a woman - pirate or not - was not something he really had the stomach for. So instead he'd need to capture her. That in turn required skill, wit, and using her injury against her. All of which he was more than capable of doing. "I not only make swords," he told her as he continued to press, "but I practice five hours a day with them. That way, when I do meet a pirate I would be able to kill or capture him. Or in your case, her." He smiled.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Sparks flew as she hit high and low, while he strikes back in equal measure. All in all, it was the same pattern...although the pirate grabbed one of the small forged blades nearby. Vivienne threw it at him with force, but missing, with him being able to dodge the incoming projectile. "You made all these?", she curiously asked him, somewhat amazed, while keeping up with his strikes. Five hours a day?, the brunette thought, internally groaning. "You really need to find yourself a girl, love", she remarked with that grin again, playful. However, internally, Vivienne was slightly getting frustrated to not lay a mark upon him, but in admittance, his skill was cutting. Vivienne knew that the more she pushed it, the more she could get inside his head, and find out what makes him tick. That last comment she made probably went a little too far in the young man's boundary. The pirate almost got herself struck, once she dodged a rather powerful swing. Vivienne's blade unexpectedly locked with his own, surprisingly feeling his strength from the performed action. Her hand suddenly snatched itself onto the tied-collar of his shirt, to make her face closer to his own, while their blades were in an x-formation between them. "Or, maybe because you already found one, but can't woo her?", Vivienne was practically taunting him again, although it was meant to be a curious question. Who was the girl?</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe She was a bit desperate. Or so he figured as she tried to throw a few things at him to distract him. Will moved quickly and effectively, avoiding the knives thrown at him. Knives he had made. "Yes," he said as she threw out the question. He had spent years mastering the craft. Making each one better than before. The sword he completed for the Commodore was his crowning achievement to date. It was the apex of all the swords he had created, each one better than the last. That said, the other swords weren't bad and were well designed and balanced. The ones that were completely off or useless he had destroyed. There was no point keeping something that was worthless around. You really need to find yourself a girl, love. Little did the pirate woman know how much that stung. Striking hard, Will had to catch himself from letting his anger show. Thoughts of Elizabeth and how she'd never be his filled his mind. Fueling him. Pushing him. He stiffened slightly as she locked blades and grabbed his shirt. The taunt was too much. With increased vigor he pushed her hard, striking out, blocking every blow. Using a technique he learned, he managed to de-sword her. Of course, it didn't help she had a pistol. "That's cheating," he said lifting his head glaring at her, despite having a pistol pointed toward his head.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne knew he would be angry, so she let the question go, and let go of him, practically allowing herself to be pushed back by his strength. However, her injury didn't help, and the brunette stumbled a little, but she stubbornly ignored it, keeping herself composed once the male advanced upon her again, following her in this uneasy acquaintance of a game. Time and time again, the pirate was using her body language to taunt, or distract him: winks and smiles, toying with him in this scuffle of a dance. Her smile was still there as Vivienne advanced on him with swings of her sword, jumping away to dodge his strikes, and block them every time he came close. Swiping, the pirate tried to aim for any part of his body, but every time she made a strike, she grew annoyed by his uncanny skill, even after he managed to knock the sword out of her hand, causing her blade to hit the wall, piercing itself there. Vivienne's confident grin faltered, almost dumbstruck when he flashed the same expression back to her. Damn me and my arrogance She clearly underestimated this young man; he wasn't lying. Looking from her propelled sword, and back to him, the pirate needed to think outside the box. Before he could advance, she quickly threw loose dirt in his face, temporarily blinding him. If he had his vision back, there would be a gun cocked to his face. "Sometimes cheating helps when there are no rules", the brunette stated, until she heard banging coming from the front door. They found her! She needed to leave. Now! Getting up quickly with the pain of her wound still there, she kept the gun aimed at him. Noticing that he was blocking the path to the backdoor, the brunette was getting impatient. "Move away", she told him, almost desperate. Vivienne was putting her finger on the trigger, and she figured that she would just shoot the young man anyway. But like before, the brunette didn't seem to have it in her to kill an innocent person. It only reminded her of the girl she just spared. She hardened her gaze towards him, and flicked the switch. "This shot is not for you", she confessed to him. "You don't deserve it", she added with sympathy showing on her beautiful features. What she didn't notice was someone hitting the back of her head. She did feel herself getting a bit ditzy, before falling forward at the blacksmith's feet; the pistol falling out of her hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will blinked quickly, rubbing at his eyes to get the dirt clear. It was a dirty trick but one he should have expected from a pirate. Not that it mattered. The gun leveled at his head practically ended the duel. Which, though unfair and completely cheating, was something he would expect from someone without honor. His jaw clenched slightly as he stared at the woman waiting for her to fire. "No." If his refusal shortened the amount of time she could escape than it would be worth it. She'd get caught and justice would prevail. True, he'd be dead but did it matter? Elizabeth had married someone else. There was no one waiting for him. No one who would truly miss him. His master wouldn't. The town might miss a decent blacksmith but who cared about that? If his life brought the end of a pirate, bringing justice to Elizabeth and her cousin, then he would die willingly. And with dignity. He lifted his chin, straightening slightly as he waited for the gun to fire. Nothing. He was a bit surprised as the woman seemed to decide not to kill him. Was she crazy? She was about to be captured and she had sympathy for him. For him? That made no sense. Still, if she felt like that would change anything she was wrong. But before he could do anything, the glass bottle hit the pirate on the head and she crumbled just as the soldiers broke in. Will frowned staring down at her and then looking up. His master stood there with a broken rum bottle, a bit dazed, a bit happy with himself. Of course, the soldiers congratulated the man for his 'quick thinking' and capturing the criminal. Both of which disgusted Will. If it hadn't been for him the woman would have been long gone. In fact, if it hadn't been for him, his master would probably be dead or thrown out of the blacksmith shop for his terrible work. Will watched as they dragged the woman away. Then with a shake of his head he turned. Ignoring his master he pushed out the front door and away from the blacksmith shop, the soldiers, and in the opposite direction of the prison.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail felt like she was smothered the remainder of the day. She was fine but her family didn't think so. Of course, the guilt of taking Elizabeth away from the Commodore was also there. This was Elizabeth's wedding day. She shouldn't have spent a portion of it freaking out for her younger cousin. But the older woman, kindly, had stayed with Abigail for a bit ensuring she was safe before very reluctantly leaving with the Commodore. Which was alright with Abigail. She loved her cousin and was grateful for the concern but she was fine. And it didn't help that the governor hovered slightly as well. No doubt he was already planning on telling her parents. Which begged the question - with Elizabeth married now, was she going to stay here in Port Royal or head back? Though Elizabeth probably would have no issues with her staying, the Commodore might not be overly pleased to have his honeymoon cut into by her. Her uncle might let her stay but with Elizabeth tied up it wouldn't be the same. He might just send her back. Especially with a near death experience. She was not going to like that. Her thoughts turned to the woman that had saved her. She had managed to hear from one of the servants that they had captured the pirate and locked her away. Abigail had winced at that. She had hoped the woman would have managed to escape. The Commodore was not going to show leniency, in fact, there was a rumor that the woman would be hung first light as an example of swift justice. Justice. Right. Where was the justice in executing someone who saved her life? For despite whatever markings the woman had or whatever crimes she may have committed, she had saved Abigail's life. And for that the young girl was indebted to her. Deciding she couldn't stay in her room without at least seeing the woman, Abigail snuck out her window, grateful that the governor never realized that the tree there was a great way to get up and down. OF course, he probably never figured them to sneak out as the dresses they usually wore would have made it impossible. And it probably was except Abigail was stubborn and she and Elizabeth had figured out how to do it. OF course, it helped not wearing the exuberant outfit. What she slipped into was modest - a servant's dress really. Without the full trappings. Sneaking into town was the easy part. The jail was a bit more difficult but the guard on duty was not really paying attention (something undoubtedly would get him in big trouble if/when the Commodore found out). Entering she made her way down into the cells. Her eyes had to get accustomed to the room. For despite it being night outside, there was a full moon and that had helped. Here, there wasn't as much. Spotting the pirate, Abigail hesitated suddenly questioning why she was here. What was she supposed to say? Guilt gnawed at her slightly as part of the reason the woman had even been captured was because she had stopped and saved Abigail. That was enough to give her the courage to move forward. Stepping into the light, she spoke softly - almost afraid the guards above would hear her. "Hello." She twisted her hands in front of her a bit nervous.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black A few sighs of boredom, and somewhat tiredness, came from her as the brunette just stared at either the moonlight or the ceiling. However, her time of loneliness didn't last for long. With a small voice coming from the brig entrance, the pirate's attention was caught as she turned her head to the side, and frowning to see the girl she just held captive a few hours ago. "Have you come to say 'thanks' and 'goodbye'?", the pirate asked, almost amusingly, before sighing miserably yet amusingly, closing her eyes for a moment, then looking back to the ceiling. In all honesty, she did wonder what Abigail's intention was. Is she starstruck? Was she attracted to her?, it would be amusing if it was the last one.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail wasn't sure exactly what she'd find here. What Vivienne would say. She hadn't expected the prison to be this bad. She had never been down here before and even know was a bit afraid of getting caught. But that didn't stop her from remaining. At the woman's question, Abigail winced slightly. Another reminder that the person who saved her life would end up dead because of her. If she hadn't fallen in the woman probably wouldn't have been noticed by the Commodore and in turn wouldn't have had to run. Abigail wondered how she did manage to get captured. She had a head start and had seemed clever enough to get away. She also hadn't appeared worried when Abigail had given her a spot to hide too. Which meant, she had a plan. Or had. Somehow it backfired. Unless this was part of it. If it was, Abigail couldn't see how it was helpful. "I'm sorry you're hear." Her voice was quiet and she moved a lot closer to the bars so Vivienne could hear her without giving away her own presence to the guards. "I wish I could do something but my uncle won't stand to hear of it. He thinks you're a pirate. It doesn't matter if you saved my life." There was a bit of anger in her tone at the injustice of it all. It was unfair and injustice. Pirate or not, a life for a life. The woman had saved her life - the niece of the governor. That had to have counted for something - right? But no, when she had attempted to explain it, her uncle shut her down. Even Elizabeth - who had listened patiently - told her that there wasn't much that could be done. And that, yes - the woman had saved her - but undoubtedly for ill intent. She had used her as a hostage. And that move right there had made Elizabeth immediately dislike Vivienne. Abigail could tell, even though her cousin tried to hide it, that Elizabeth did not feel bad that Vivienne was going to hang. In a way, she was almost glad. She too seemed to overlook the fact that Abigail would have drowned. Something that the young girl could not forget. "Why did you save me?" She asked curiously. "You could have left me alone and never been accused of being a pirate. You would be free right now." The woman couldn't be a pirate. They were ruthless. Not kind. And definitely not one to risk their neck for another.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Vivienne overheard the girl as she revealed her inner thoughts and feelings on the scenario. She couldn't agree, although she took it a lot more calmly. "Can't expect more than that, love", the woman simply responded with a frown, before sitting up, and gazing at her from where she sat. "As much as you want to disagree, your uncle is not too far from that assumption", she clarified before revealing the pirate tattoo on her shoulder; the moonlight making it easier for Abigail to see. She also arched an eyebrow at the girl's question of why she would risk her life for her own. "Come now, Miss Abigail", she said, before a smile appeared on her beautiful features. "Just because I am a wanted-buccaneer, doesn't mean I don't have it in me to let someone die so young. A life is ahead of you. It would have been unfair if fate met you that early. Wouldn't you want to have an adventure before letting the light fade out?", she asked, more in casual curiosity.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail frowned slightly. Her gaze went down to the mark on the woman's wrist. Wait, she was a pirate? That made no sense though. The woman wasn't like any pirate she had read or heard about. They were all men, evil, vile, and would have thought nothing twice about killing her or leaving her to die. Her questioning gaze looked up. Vivienne must have read her mind or was referring to her previous question because she came back about not letting someone as young as her die. Adventure? She was going to be married off and enter the stage where her main purpose was to bear an heir and support her husband. There was no major adventure in that. Still, she was glad to be alive. For despite what her family had planned for her, she still wouldn't want to miss out. There was undoubtedly some good ahead, right? She moved closer to the bars and sat. Absentmindedly she adjusted her dress covering her ankles. She had been lectured enough that it was almost ingrained. Though not fully. She shrugged. "I'm grateful, yes. I just don't know about the whole adventure aspect." She looked up. "My parents are arranging my marriage. I guess that is an adventure. Marrying a man I've never met." She smiled weakly. The smile quickly faded as guilt hit. Here she was talking about marriage and her future when the woman was going to be executed. She looked at the bars briefly before back to Vivienne. "I wish there was a way I could save you," she said grieved. "It's the least I can do." Ironically though, the very thought of stealing the keys and letting Vivienne out briefly crossed her mind. It wasn't something she ever did before. The most she did that was 'wrong' was sneak out, wade in the ocean - minor things. Nothing major. Breaking someone out of prison - now that was serious. No, there had to be another way. A way that was law-abiding yet still provided justice. Justice for saving her life. There was no justice in executing someone who had just saved another. "Maybe I can ask them to give you a lighter sentence?" She straightened up a bit, hopeful.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The pirate had her eyebrow raised, once she heard Abigail whisper to her about what seems to be her future. She kept eye contact with her, slightly frowning at what seems to be distress. Although Vivienne wasn't sure whether if the young lass was glad about it, or if she was pretending to be. It made the woman looked the girl over, before giving her a small smile. "Not probable, sweet-cheeks. And I get it: Privilege never stroke me fancy, either. You feel restricted; limited. If you ask me, those chains should come off, and they should give you freedom. Isn't that what you want? To be free?", she asked, again, in curiosity. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Deep within the night, a dark ship loomed over the calm sea, like the spirit of death, as it glided ever so closely to Port Royale and its unsuspecting inhabitants. On another ship, that was hidden behind the two rocks, a few yards away from the dock, the lights upon it were doused to make it appear dark. An eyeglass unfolded, just in time to see this other ship drift in. The ship's quartermaster watched with a good eye as this other ship moved past them, towards the dock. Come on, Vivienne... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "INCOMING!" The brunette heard the yell outside of the brig, just until the thundering sound of a cannonball hit the room, blowing a giant hole in Vivienne's cell, and creating a disturbance on the stone walls. Vivienne made a yell of surprise as the dust brushed over her and her saloon-like dress; however, the noise of stone crashing down didn't go unnoticed outside of her cell: the debris of rock that the cannonball hit near the girl, propelled an explosion of its debris to go flying. With much effort, Vivienne managed to push herself up, and take notice of the girl on the other side of the bars, laying nearby; either unconscious or dead, the pirate wasn't sure. Just by looking at her, Vivienne's sympathy came back, showing pity...and a little confusion. She didn't tell her ship to fire, nor to advance in any way. Plus, the ship was concealed behind the rocks, so the current blast range way out of its depth. Was it another ship? Using all the strength she had to stand, Vivienne looked out of the hole to peek outside the prison, which was clearly not big enough for her to go through, though took notice upon a sight she didn't expect to see: The nightly view of the harbor...with a ship blowing projectiles upon the town.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail looked up. First off - sweet cheeks? The name seemed...strange. Very weird, making her feel a bit uncomfortable not really knowing if Vivienne was mocking her or not. What did that even mean? The daughter of an aristocrat, she didn't have a lot of knowledge of lay terms. And this one was one she had never heard before. She bit her lip at the question. "Freedom?" She shook her head, a slight scoffing sound escaping her lips. "One can't leave." She glanced up. "You have the family honor and name to support. Besides, it's not my call. My father decides my fate. It's the way of life - at least for someone of my status." She winced as that seemed to come off haughty though she hadn't meant it too. She quickly amended: "I mean, the daughter of a lord, the niece of a governor," she shook her head. "My fate was sealed the moment I was born a girl." She held up her arms, looking at her wrists. In her mind's eye she could see the chains Vivienne spoke of. "Would I like to be truly unrestrained?" She shrugged, letting her arms drop. "What does that even mean? What is true freedom?" She looked a bit lost, unsure. "If I'm not who I am, do what is expected of me, then what?" She rose. "Social requirements might not be ideal and the thought of marrying a stranger terrifies me, but....there is a reason we have rules and guidelines and societal norms. I can't function on my own. And the very idea of a woman attempting to do so is... unimaginable." She paused as she realized that the woman there before her probably had. Her brow furrowed slightly as she moved closer to the cell. "But...but you have. How?" There was a bit of curiosity mixed with a hint of desperation. "How did you do it without being ostracized?" She paled as if she realized she was speaking of things she probably shouldn't have - on her end. Things that she might have thought of but hadn't dared to voice. It was crazy and not her. "I'm...I'm sorry. No. I don't. I'm fine with who I am. I might not be happy but there are reasons why life goes the way it does." She turned and moved slightly away. "I'll...I'll try to do what I can to save you." Her moving away was what saved her life. The canon ball blasted into the cell causing damage. Because she had moved, Abigail was spared the worst of it though she was knocked out as a chunk of wood hit her alongside the head. Her body slumped to the ground.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the tight grip on her shoulders, the roughness of the hands that caused her to wake up. Her mind a bit foggy, Abigail wondered what had happened. Trying to place where she was, what had gone on, and who was touching her. Her eyes snapped wide open as she realized she was being held by two male pirates. Both of which were a bit more into her than she was comfortable with. She didn't scream. Didn't even fight hard but drew herself up, drawing on years of ballroom experience, pulling her social status in. She was going to say something but Vivianne beat her to it. Her gaze turned to the woman in the cell. That was when she noticed the massive part missing. That must have been where the cannonball came through. So that was what knocked her out. She was lucky not to be dead. As was the female pirate imprisoned. If it had come in slightly over, they both would probably be dead. Abigail frowned as she listened to them talk. Her gaze dropped to the necklace and the pirate piece around her neck. It must have fallen out from under her shirt when she got thrown by the blast. She moved to tuck it back in, an automatic response really. She didn't like to show it to others. It was almost an...intimate piece of her. Her hand jerked to a stop as she realized she was still being held. Of course, her sharp movement brought the attention back to her. Seeing as it was too late to undo that and the focus was back on her, she lifted her chin. "I highly recommend you unhand me," she told them coldly. "Unless of course, you'd prefer to hang from the highest yard line. My uncle is the governor here, my cousin is married to the Commodore, and my own father is Lord Ashe, in charge of the 3rd fleet as well as governor of the Virginia colony. None of which would be particularly pleased that you are touching me and will haunt you down to the ends of the earth if you don't release me."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black At first, both of her captors ignored her; one of them letting go of her, and walking towards the prison cell. "Well, well, well", he mused, having to chuckle at the irony. "Look at what we have here. If it isn't Vivienne Black. Excuse me, Captain Vivienne Black", it was as if he was mocking, or being skeptical of her, finding her position in life to be rather pitiful; pathetic. If only he knew about the about of success the said-woman had achieved. "What's ye interest in the lass?", he, once again, mocked; the other pirate chuckling with him, though his grip on Abigail's arm did not loosen. Just as the girl was about to reach for the medallion, he tightened his grip, before stopping her with a backhand to her face, and yanking the chain off her neck. It dug into her skin slightly, before giving in, breaking. The other pirate, who approached the imprisoned woman, had his smile fade. "Want the gold piece for ye' self?" Vivienne's own smile faded, as soon as intruder did. Just a frown, once she noticed, and heard, the sound of a slap coming from behind him. Did the girl's new captor just hit her? The pirate lass' gaze only stared at the tall, masculine, and nearly beefy visitor before her; the bars of her cell separating herself and them, the faint smile making itself known again. "My interest?", the brunette asked him rhetorically. "That girl?", she gestured to the direction where Abigail was held. "The gold?", she narrowed her eyes at him. It was like a up-close encounter with this guy. She then suddenly snatched the front of his shirt, and pulled; so fast and strong, his face hit the steel bars between them. "Watch yourself. You tell Captain Low we'll see him soon", she warned him menacingly before finally letting her grip fall from his shirt. The pirate scowled and brushed himself off. "Yeah", he laughed, but there was also a slight hint of intimidation. Not for the crew, but for him personally. His Captain was one of the best around. But, that didn't mean, personally, he was free. A pirate made many stops, and if someone was out to get you, they could do it away from your crew. He brushed it aside, trying to convince himself that the woman was just in that state of madness, like any other captain, who would sail for too long. "You ain't goin' anywhere but the gallows", he replied, pretending to tip a hat. "Pleasant dreams. Give me regards to Davy Jones", he laughed and turned away. "We got ourselves quite a lady here. Should be interesting. You'll enjoy our Cap'n. He's always been wantin' a bit of sport", that wicked smirk was back, before they pulled Abigail towards the stairs, along with the gold coin. Vivienne narrowed her eyes once again, before that smile of hers made itself known. But once she made a final glance at Abigail, it made her lose the act of carelessness. Captain Ned Low now had the New World's most expensive of riches; not to mention a person of an even higher class upon his vessel. She needed to get to that coin before Low attempts to sell it for something twice as valuable. But first things first, she needed to find a way out of this bloody cell. It was going to be nearly dawn, and the longer she sat in there, Vivienne was up to the point of passing out in sleep upon the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The slap was hard and nothing held back. Cheek burning, Abigail blinked back tears. He slapped her. Without thought, without so much of a reply. Her confidence wavered a bit. Now, this was what a pirate was. Not the romanticized version she and Elizabeth had fantasized about. No, this was the dark, dangerous kind that she had been warned about. The type that had no issues hitting a woman, let alone hurting her. Her heart rate picked up slightly and Abigail felt fear. She had never felt the intensity before. But then again, she never had the need to. Even when she had almost died she hadn't felt this kind of fear. But then again, that had happened quickly. And there was something about the fear of drowning - which was intense - and the terror knowing that you were held by men who would do unspeakable things to you and then kill you. And if they didn't kill you, the horrors done might as well be death. Still, she did her best to at least look strong. Face slightly pale, her neck hurt where the necklace had been ripped off, she kept her posture. She didn't speak but she did her best to mentally put as much anger and fire into her eyes as possible. She would not show fear. Not give them the satisfaction that she was terrified. If she was going to be taken, she would do so with dignity and fire. Her chin lifted again, even as the stinging of her cheek was still evident. "My father will personally ensure your deaths," she said calmly, coldly. "And believe me, it won't be pleasant." Even as they half carried, half dragged her up the stairs, she did her best to remain confident. Despite every step they took was one closer to possible death. The likelihood of getting out of this was slim. Her gaze drifted over to Vivianne. She couldn't read the expression on the woman's face due to the distance and lighting. Interesting really. She still felt a bit sad for the woman. She was still a prisoner and to be executed. Despite, her own possible future, Abigail still wished she had been able to do something for Vivienne. Though, she couldn't now. And honestly, she really had more to worry about. But...it did help. Thinking of Vivienne saving her life just made her more determined to survive this.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black The two pirates forcibly put Abigail into a rowboat, and began to row out towards the attacking pirate vessel, sitting out in the open. Explosions continued to sound all around them. And for one moment, a shell nearly hit them, as it screamed overhead. One of her captors kept a tight grip upon her arm the entire trip, while his other hand held the pirate coin, also gripped tightly. Amid the thunder of cannon fire that surrounded the Fancy, stood an imposing, silhouetted figure by the wheel, too far from where Abigail was firstly deployed, but watched the scene nonetheless. A nonchalant, emotionless stare was all he gave, as he just stood there with a sword at his waist. At the mention of his title, this figure strode in a cool-minded manner towards the stairs, his boots thumping against the wood. A cloud of cannon smoke obscured him for a moment, but as soon as he made it to the deck, his full presence became known: wearing the darkest of colors, but nothing imposing; just a simple dark t-shirt, a dark jacket, and a pair of dark pants, along with the heavy boots that left an echo in the wood at every step, his hair was short, medium-brown, wavy, and just above his shoulders, with a stubble that perfectly angled his lower jaw. The real element was his scarred, pale right-eye; he was possibly half-blind, with the other appearing perfectly in a normal blue, but he did give off a good penetrating stare with both on his person. He wasn't that tall, being at five-foot eight, nor too strong with an evident slim, athletic physique, which gave off that quality of being easily deceiving. That showed that he was a man you'd fear in a dark alley. The darkness and shadow surrounding the deck proved that right. The right hand resting upon the sword at his waist, armed with a pistol and a dagger, he was before his crew, standing only a few feet away from the newcomer. This was Captain Edward Low, the man behind this nightly massacre. "Cap'n. Look what we found. She also had this", the pirate finally released her...by pushing her forward, and making her land in a heap at the man's feet, shortly before handing over the coin to him. Low didn't speak a word, he just listened. Listening, and observing the situation; his unconcerned gaze never leaving, even as he was passed the trinket by one of his men. He still didn't speak, just fiddled with the object in his hand, his attention now resting on the girl, who just got deposed of at his feet. It was like he was in a moment of processing the information being passed down to him, while still fiddling with the metal, almost outlining its design. In just short notice, the captain finally stopped this action, now having his full attention on the girl, to the point of kneeling down to one knee, towering over her. "My apologies, miss", he finally said after a long while, sounding Irish by his accent. The tone wasn't exactly sympathetic, but rather shallow. Casual with monotone. "I confess, they lack manners. Especially with a damsel", it didn't sound deep, but in the normal range of lacking emotion.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe The explosions rocked the town, even as Abigail found herself dragged to a rowboat. She glared at her captors as she did her best to retain her dignity and pride. In the boat she held her head high, keeping the fear of what was to come as well as the fear of getting killed in the raging fight, from her face. She was surprised that the fight was still going on. The pirates must have come fairly prepared though even with the surprise attack they had to be stupid. One didn't attack a British fort with just one ship. Especially one this. Even with the surprise attack, Port Royale was a pretty strong defensive place and as the garrison quickly responded, they would push the pirates out. Part of this was evident in the town. From where she could see, Abigail noted that the other rowboats were pulling away from the town even as British regulars came down from the garrison slowly regaining control. Shame it had taken them too long. If she survived this, she'd probably have to give them some points on how improving their response time. IF she survived. The thought brought a chill down her spine. Her best bet was to hope they would ransom her. She was a high valued target and that might convince them to try and ransom her back to her father. Of course, he, in turn, would undoubtedly pay but then hunt them down, wiping every last one of them out. Abigail was no fool. She loved her father and knew he loved her, but her love wasn't completely deaf to the knowledge that he was very strict and one didn't oppose him. She could get away with a few things because she was his only child. And despite being a girl - which usually was a paux for an only child - she knew she just had to smile at him, maybe bat her lashes a little and he'd usually give in. Not that she played that card well. It didn't always work - just once in a while. Being pulled onto the ship and then tossed at the feet of what was evident to be the captain, Abigail quickly pulled herself up to at least a seated position. Her chin lifted as she stared up coldly at the man. She couldn't hide her surprise at his politeness though it quickly became evident that there was really no emotion behind it. Which in turn made him far more dangerous in some regards. "I concur, their manners do need to be checked. But I can easily dismiss this," she paused and looked around her before looking back at the captain, "misunderstanding if you kindly provide me a rowboat back to town." She doubted it would work but if he was going to pretend to be honorable she was going to push him on it.</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Abigail honestly didn't anticipate the captain letting her go. She wasn't THAT naive. Still, it didn't hurt to toss it out there. She wasn't going to give him the opportunity to pretend to be a good person if he wasn't going to follow through with it. She met his eyes doing her best to appear brave half expecting him to say or do something, refusing her. But he didn't even reply, just gave a nod. She frowned a moment wondering if she had misjudged and he was actually going to let her go. That was when she saw the look on the quartermaster. Her heart sank a bit. She should have figured. She kept her chin up even as she was made to follow. She wasn't surprised when the captain finally did announce what he was going to do to her. She was worth a lot. Thankfully, that meant she wasn't going to be killed - or worse. Still, it meant she was stuck here until it happened. Her jaw tightened as she gave the captain a dark look but it was slightly distracted as she noticed what he was playing with. Her heart lurched into her throat and she did her best to hide the surprise and desire to snatch it from him. He couldn't know how much it was worth to her. It would be something else he'd use against her. She had to hide it. Especially as she doubted he'd just give it back. Turning her attention back to the captain, she raised an eyebrow. "It would behoove you to let me go now. Though my father would pay the ransom there is no doubt you'll regret taking me prisoner." She had to be careful what she said. She didn't want him to think her worthless. He'd probably just kill her for spite. But at the same time, he would regret it. Her father would not rest until the man was hung. "Though I understand that you might be too foolhardy to do so." It was amazing how brave she appeared. She was terrified. The fact her knees weren't knocking, her body wasn't trembling, and her voice wasn't betraying her was amazing. Years of hiding behind a mask at the society balls had helped her hide her emotions and feelings. She eyed the captain calmly. Her gaze shifted slightly away from him, past him to the table. Her brow furrowed slightly as she saw a couple things that... her face paled. How did...? She quickly tried to control her emotion but it was hard. What was the Commodore's hat and Elizabeth's dress doing here? It had to be coincidental. A copy. She forced her face to show no emotion even as her own mind was trying to understand what was going on.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Ned Low didn't smile -- no, he rarely smiled; only making those crooked smirks upon distant, blank facial expressions. He almost seemed to be impaired in both his emotions and thoughts. 'Succinct' would be a better term to describe such behavior for such a maniacal captain like himself. In these waters, Captain Low was, quoted by both his own crew and other bucaneers, "savage and desperate", "peculiarly cruel", and "a man of amazing, grotesque brutality". These were true to the witnesses, and whether he cared or not, Edward didn't have qualms or morals; he was charismatically claimed to be "an honest man of great strength". The medallion he held by the black string, lightly swayed in the dim candlelight; the skull seemingly laughing in the center. "Your father is Lord Peter Ashe, governor of the Carolina colony", the captain stated in that apathetic voice of his, while both of his "eyes" remained on her. His voice wasn't deep, more like on the baritone scale; not too deep, not too high. "We know him. By 'we', I meant all", he added. "Every pirate who's sailed under a flag knows him", that one blue eye is looking at her now, his tone grim. "I will be sending a message to him; delivered by one of my men, with the following: 'You are a prisoner of the pirate Captain Ned Low. Your ransom, if he ever wishes to see you alive again, is £250,000 ($323,190). Whether or not he applies to these terms, a new contact will arrive in Charlestown harbor with you in my possession. If I sense a trap, or if the demands are unmet, I'll kill you, and throw your body into the bay'", and he said it all in those words. Ned watched her look at the medallion in his hand, evident by her constant, flicking glances. "I have no gift for politics; navigation is foreign to me", he shook his head lightly, the medallion still in his hand. This time, looking it over, before standing up from the wooden chair he sat in. "So, 'what am I good at?', you might ask", Ned would guess, before slowly striding to the girl's side, looking down at her, before bending over, so one of his hands laid on the desk, while the other on the head of the chair she sat in. "This is going to sound absurd but", he paused, his apathetic voice slightly softening, making the conversation be between the two of them. "I make the men feel better about themselves. You see, they can spot a lie when a captain is sickened by his own actions; they feel affected. With me, when they see me slaughter the crew of the Good Fortune, when they see me cut out a man's tongue for lying, when they see me burn a boy alive in front of his father's eyes, they know", it sounded a bit rushed, but it was clear. "They can see it in my eyes", emphasizing to the emotionless appendages. "There's no lie there. There's no secret remorse there. I simply don't have it in me", there was that grim undertone again. He then followed her gaze towards the two recent trinkets on the table. "Like them", he referred to the objects that formerly belonged to a certain someone. "A couple on a British vessel. Sweet thing; the woman, until her man decided to act first. She would have made me an excellent trophy, but then I learn she's married. I pay my respects; I gave her a favor: To join her man", his voice would send chills up someone's spine, until he pulled away from the girl. "At any rate, I hope that clarifies things, and that it illustrates why it is only fair for me to fully compensate with my men to not touch you, as we reach our destination", the captain stood back up to his full height, continuing to look at the trinket that's in his hand. He then nodded back to Mister Meeks, who reluctantly acknowledged him, by approaching Abigail, and taking her by the upper arm, leading her out of the cabin, and to the brig.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s>
<\|description\|>Abigail Ashe Age: 18 Short Bio: The daughter of Lord Henry Ashe, Governor of the Carolinas and overseer of the Royal Navy in the new world - Abigail has been raised basically in a life of privilege. Despite the fact her father is a governor in the Americas, Abigail has spent a good portion of her life in England or visiting her cousin in Port Royal. She is pledged to marry an English Lord in the very near future. Her trip to the Caribbean would undoubtedly be her last as a single woman. ~ ~ ~ Name: Will Turner Age: Twenties Short Bio: Washed ashore at a very young age, his family presumably killed by the sea, Will Turner works as a blacksmith apprentice, fences in his free time and pines after the governor's daughter: Elizabeth.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe It was the pirate woman - had to be. His life wasn't perfect. In fact with Elizabeth getting married - had married - Will wasn't sure about the future. Then you had the pirate woman show up. His first pirate engagement ever. One that was ruined by his drunken master who, like always, received all the credit despite the fact it was Will who had kept the woman occupied until the soldiers arrived. And now, there were more pirates. It was as if the woman showing up had brought the rest along. Which was a good possibility. Dodging a sword, Will ran a pirate through before moving along. His skills were impressive and he found that though some pirates were skilled, not all of them were on the level of the woman he had fought. Thus, it made it fairly easy to defeat them. Will jumped aside as a massive ball at the end of a chain nearly hit him. The pirate, a massive bloke, grinned and started to swing it again, gaining momentum. Will watched carefully as he knew one blow from that could break a rib or even kill him, pending where it landed. Thankfully, a weapon like that was cumbersome. Not the easiest to manage. Dodging another blow he let the pirate 'push' him, using the terrain against the man. Even as the man knocked down the sign over his own head, the pirate didn't realize what had happened. Though most likely as the man lost consciousness he'd have realized he had been doped. Will shook his head. Pirates. Such foolish individuals. A glass hit the bag of his head at the moment, and as he hit the ground, his vision going black, he found it ironic. ~ ~ ~ By time he came to, the pirates were gone and it was almost dusk. The town was silent on the aspect of gunfire and canons but there was still a lot of activity as soldiers moved through the streets checking to make sure there were no living pirates, a baby cried in the distance, and the people of Port Royal moved around, taking stock of the damage. Walking back toward the blacksmith, hoping the pain from the back of his head would fade, Will listened to the chatter. The pirates had gone as far the governor's mansion. There were some rumors that Abigail was missing. Others dismissed it saying that the Governor and his niece had been moved to the safety of the garrison fairly early on. It wasn't until he passed a couple soldiers talking quietly did he find out the truth: only the Governor had been safe. Abigail had been seen taken to the ship. Though he didn't really have a connection with the girl that much, she was Elizabeth's cousin and therefore someone worth going after. Turning, he headed toward the garrison to see what the governor had planned. As well as hoping to hear any news regarding Elizabeth's safety. [[sorry. Probably not the best of posts. I hope you'll be able to do something off this. If not, let me know and I'll add more.]]</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Right when the sun purged through the window, Vivienne was up and about; scanning her surroundings to come up with a plan to escape, and be on her way. The hole in the wall was one option -- but she was way too big to even fit (being the size of a cannonball would suffice). Then, she looked upon the cell door, realizing that these things had a lock on each of them in this bloody hell of a brig. Reaching around in her hair, she found one of those spare hair clips that she used as a backup to pick locks during times of raiding. Hey, she had to have a "spare key" for every locked item. Attempting to pick the lock of her cell, the pirate just heard the door from the entrance, at the top of the stairs. Reacting fast, she was on the floor, upon her back; like how she was last night, acting unconcerned and bored.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will stormed away from the garrison, furious. The governor was not going to help. He didn't care. They had repairs to make, wounded to care for - who cared that an eighteen-year-old girl was gone, kidnapped. It was sickening. He couldn't let it just stand. For Elizabeth's sake he would go after the girl. Actually no, he'd go after her because no female should be a prisoner of pirates. The unspeakable horrors that would await was not something he'd willingly allow to fall on anyone. Besides, Elizabeth was married. That was the end of that. But how to proceed? He didn't really have a ship or sailing experience. He didn't even know where to go. Where did pirates go after they did a raid? Was there a meeting place? He scoffed. It would be unlikely that an honest person would know. It would take a pirate to find a pirate. He stopped in his tracks. A pirate. Turning he quickly made his way back toward the prison. He wondered if the woman was still there or if she had been executed. Or perhaps even rescued, though he doubted that. Pirates had no sense of loyalty. Finding no guards at the door, he was a bit more worried as he made his way down to the cells. Relief hit him as he spotted the woman still there, despite the hole in her cell. "Where do pirates hang out?" He asked to an abrupt halt outside her cell.</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black Laying on the ground, Vivienne listened, until the newcomer made his presence known: The blacksmith from the day before. That male voice wasn't unheard of, making her turn her gaze towards him from below. However, after just having to hear his question, she didn't answer him right away, but rather watched him with narrowed eyes, as if scanning it, wondering what prompted him to ask such a question. It only took her a moment or two to process what she heard. 'Guess his hatred for pirates extends to the point of hunting them down, personally' The thought made her think: 'Why?' Was it that general dislike that the public had for these criminals? Or was it something else entirely? If the blacksmith was blaming her for what happened last night, then he was in over his head. She gazed back up towards the ceiling. "If you think I did this, love, I swear upon the pain of death, I never held such intentions", she reassured in a casual fashion. For his hatred for pirates, she needed him to understand that this was a misunderstanding. "Why ask me?"</s> <\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will was not really in the mood for a lot of games. And every minute wasted her was a minute Abigail was left in the hands of the decadent pirates. Still, he couldn't rush this woman. If she knew how desperate he was, she could use it against him. Well, technically, she would know he was desperate when he asked but at the same time, he hoped to reach some part of her conscious. Despite kidnapping and holding the girl hostage, she hadn't killed Abigail. That counted for something. Though, more likely so she could get away really. Either way... He had to rely on her. Despite his instincts saying otherwise. "The pirates have captured Abigail. With the Commodore gone, I can't convince the governor to send someone out after her. His own niece." He shook his head furiously. "They could be doing who knows what awful things to her. She's only 18!" He looked back at Vivienne. "I need help to find her and rescuer her. I don't have the knowledge of pirate lairs nor have the means to run a vessel on my own." Right. How was he going to get a ship? Pay for one? He didn't have enough money for that. He sighed. "If you help, I will get you out of here. After I get Abigail and we return, you have my word that we can part ways and I won't try to bring you in as a prisoner again - at that time."</s> <\|message\|>Tallulah "Vivienne" Black "Before I answer that, answer this: Why so desperate to retrieve that girl?", she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Who is she to you?", it was a curious question, and all she needed was a reason. Plus, she needed to know. "What's your name?", she then asked, finding herself staring. After hearing the name, it slowly came to her, and somehow, she felt as if she had heard it from somewhere. The brunette found herself making a half-smirk. "Short for William, is it not?", she asked, becoming a little impressed. "A good, strong name for a young man", she nodded at the thought before making a frown. He will take that as a compliment, no doubt. But she will most definitely wonder on why he came so persistent on rescuing this damsel. However, upon hearing his offer, she continued to narrow, almost to see if he was being true to his word. "Well, Mister Turner, my name is Vivienne Black...and my mind's been made up. Just how do you plan on getting me out?", Vivienne then wondered if he had a plan, giving herself leverage on standing, though she made the same wince to the injury from yesterday. If she considered, this young man would be useful on the contrary, and he might even be worth sparing. "The task of rescuing Miss Abigail will not be easy, and therefore, if you ever wish to see her alive, you will listen to me at all times. In return, if this deal runs smoothly, you, and her, will walk away, safely. Do we have an accord?", the brunette reached out her hand through the bars, waiting patiently for him to seal it.</s>	<\|message\|>Abigail Ashe Will paused at the question. It was a fair one. If she was going to help she needed to know some. Probably not everything. But at the same time, he wasn't going to completely spurn her. He did need her. "Will," he said in response to her question about his name. "And the girl is the cousin of someone I know." Someone he loved. Someone he would never be able to love again. He looked away a moment, gathering himself. "Let's just say, I don't think anyone should be held by pirates as a prisoner - especially as they might just use her. But at the same time, it's a bit personal because her safety would mean a lot to the person I know." He shrugged and turned his attention back to her. At the comment about his name, he didn't reply just gave a partial incline of his head. Part of him honestly didn't care what her name was but at the same time, that was a bit rude. So he pushed the thoughts aside. He did notice the slight wince as she rose. The injury still there. He listened as she made her demands. "Within reason, I will listen. But I want to be kept appraised. I don't like to be kept in the dark on something - especially as honestly I have no choice but to trust you but it doesn't mean I like that. If what you tell me to do makes sense or can be explained then I can work with you. But I can't make a promise to obey a hundred percent of what you command when neither of us know each that well and don't fully see eye to eye. If that's fine with you, than we do have an accord." He held out his hand for her to take it. He didn't take hers as he had ammended the deal and now wanted to see what she was going to say.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? 'Well.. She understands instruction.' Darsby grins to himself, knowing the value of someone who can understand commands far exceeds that of a needlessly rebellious free-thinker. His eyes, imbued with complex magics, steer from left to right for observation of a fading barrier. Blouth alpha's trap their prey in invisible cages few can detect. Luckily, escaping the barrier is always as easy as eliminating the nearest alpha. Darsby spins on his heel to turn into following Anora. He feels his sealed body quake in protest to the sudden movement, tremors surging upwards from either trembling knee. "Crap.." He mumbles to himself whilst taking a moment to deliberate over his present situation. Circumstance dictates healing is less essential than escape, using whatever magic stores remain to achieve this goal is paramount. Blouth aren't our pair's only worry; there will undoubtedly be influential earth-based organizations coming to investigate this magic-filled event. "Lestiess-Lestuary" Grey smoke permeates the air surrounding Darsby as ethereal words pass into conscious space near him via supernatural speech. His body merges with the smoke, splitting into several surging tendrils of cool mist. These flowing masses rend the air in passing through the window Anora shattered. Said grey mass reassembles itself into Darsby's familiar form once having emerged from the hospital. "We're taking one of these metal wagons. You're piloting." Darsby speaks quickly, weakly gesturing with his gun towards the nearest parking lot. He begins to hobble in that ordered direction, his bare feet softly pattering against pavement and grass.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. For a heart-wrenching moment, Darsby did not follow Anora. The inside of the hospital became a black hole lurking beyond the window in comparison to the sunlight blaring all around her. Sparks igniting over her tense fingers. She took a step toward the window, preparing to jump back inside to see what kept him, multiple grim causes for his delay running through her head in an instant. She shouted in surprise and stumbled away from the window when tendrils of misty gray smoke rushed through the broken glass. Her sparks turned into glowing masses encompassing her hands, licks of sparkling purple, gold, black curling up her outspread arms in anticipation. A solid figure quickly began to form out of the mist just beyond the spray of glass shards. Not knowing what to expect—the Blouth? An Alpha? Darsby?—the glow in both her powers and gaze intensified with the pounding of her heart. "Darsby!" she breathed through a heavy sigh of relief. Her powers extinguished and she hurried to his side. It took her a heartbeat to realize what he meant by 'metal wagons.' She blinked at him when it set in. "You want to steal a car?" She asked as he began hobbling away. She glanced back at the hospital as the first hint of police sirens whispered through the air as they raced to the aid of their comrades. Comrades who had quickly fallen. None of them had any idea what they were up against. None of them stood a chance. With herself no longer in immediate danger, her conscious finally got a word in: What about everyone else? "Darsby, wait!" She reached a hand out toward her backpack as she ran toward Darsby. In the blink of an eye, purple mist surrounded her pack and it shot into her open hand, Anora catching it by a strap. She quickly caught up to him before he reached the nearest parking lot. She reached out to his non-weapon wielding arm with her free hand. She expected him to evade her touch as he had before. To her surprise, her hand closed on his upper arm, her grip gentle, yet firm. She stepped around him to stand in front of him, hoping to make him face her. "I'm not going anywhere. We weren't the only people in there." Releasing him, she gestured to the hospital, unwavering determination in her gaze. "They have no clue what's in there, let alone how to stop them! We have to help. Or…" She paused, taking in his weak, tired form. He had definitely reached his limits. She took a deep breath. "Or tell me how to stop them, and I'll help." Though the idea of facing those things alone made fear churn in her stomach, she refused to let it sway her decision. Her powers may not have worked on Darsby, but they had worked on the Blouth, which was enough for her. There was no telling how many people were in the hospital, how many potential victims those monsters had at their disposal to eat or take as hosts, or whatever else they did.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Darsby had become distant the moment he'd stepped from the hospital. Goal-oriented drive enveloped his mind in swathes of deliberate planning he felt he'd likely need to make. Anora appeared kind and dependable to him so long as she wasn't given a scenario which contradicted good morals. This had its uses and downfalls in their present circumstance. From his perspective, she'd be invaluable upon finally leaving the hospital premises; contrasting this, she would become a hindrance should she see this predicament as her responsibility. An inexperienced native magic user against the possible beasts to be faced here would require excruciating guidance Darsby is far from presently being able to provide without extreme action. Then, he felt her hand. What she'd first perceive is cold, porcelain skin; its surface is smooth to the touch yet as unyielding as stone. Darsby would likely be a marvel if he weren't notably trembling, those labored lurches one might call a stride full of an exhausted malaise. Her grasp had pulled him from his deliberation to face the very thing he was deliberating over. She was more present in this event than he likely had been from the beginning. Her fresh, young eyes held many wonders he'd somehow misplaced some time ago. "You do your people an injustice." Darsby would firmly state, wrenching his hand from Anora's grasp with whatever physical strength he could muster. Despite all weakness, something about this man was undoubtedly resolute. One could think they'd be able to peel away every bit of his body before his mind and speech would give in to any demand but his own. "Do you honestly believe humanity has no defense for this?-" An unknown plagued Darsby's features, something Anora hadn't yet seen. Genuine distaste split the air between them, his features wrinkling into mildly angered disgust for the first time. His emotions had a disarming purity to them as if each separate feeling had been worn into place by vast breadths of time. "-The very forces prepared for these threats are about to make our lives a lot harder the second they arrive." He didn't appear to have any reason for lies here. In fact, one could say there were hints of unease over these spoken truths. Our once more callous hospital patient immediately continued his sickly limp to the nearest car after initially speaking. Upon reaching a black family van, and likely taking little heed to whatever retort Anora may have had, Darsby goes to work. He snaps several times, thin bands of electricity arcing from his finger to collide with the car. The van's two front doors open as if by some powerful magnetic force, it's engine roaring to life by a vigorous howl. Darsby then moves as if to step into the passenger seat, yet, he stops halfway there. Gently, one hand is placed on the hood of the car to support him as he half-turns towards Anora. "Look, it makes sense. You can help, so you want to. But, is it your job? Or are the people who do this for a living nothing more than an after-thought?-" Darsby's typically exhausted nature has once more overtaken him as he finishes turning towards his young companion to address her fully. "-Right now you have somewhere you need to go. I intend to get you there." Truthfully, Darsby was betting more than he'd be likely to share on those last words. He wasn't entirely sure she was his first lead, but she'd caused him a hell of a lot of inconveniences, and he'd be damned if she didn't owe him for that. Regardless as to all these events, the initial emergency personnel are closing fast. They'd likely be overwhelmed in less than a minute, police and other such institutions have been on their way for quite some time before Darsby and Anora's exit from the hospital. Escape from this parking lot itself was far less unlikely than one should count on. Leaving in a car, let alone on foot, was more of a fantasy by each passing second. You couldp ractically see flashing lights entering our respective parking lot already. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Yea... Yeah, we're on our way. Don't worry about clean-up. You know I don't mind paperwork." Thin, leathery fingers pull a cellular device from its familiar position near an enamored expression. Drake didn't mind his job; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Communicating with his superiors over small incidents like this were hardly ever a hassle. Yet, he had a bad feeling in his gut that the current case he's following is going to be anything but simple. After just now getting off the phone with local HQ he'd at least make a simple task of covering this blouth event. Red and blue lights screamed alongside their companion sirens up ahead, several law enforcement vehicles peeling through a four-way intersection on their way to what's being presently reported as a terrorist shooting. Drake's leather-coated foot presses ever-harder into the gas of his jet-black vehicle, it's sport engine booming into the ambiance of this small city. He and his partner were close behind the cops on this. "I've finished the shroud. Don't expect anything else out of me today." Rippling muscles throb in contrast to powerful effeminate features next to drake in the passenger seat of his Camaro. His dominant wizard partner had spoken, her callous voice caked in its constantly conceited overtones. "I would never." Drake responds after passing her a sidelong glance. 'She'd be beautiful if she didn't think the world was beneath her' He thinks to himself after shortly resuming his focus on the road ahead. He never minded small events like this, they were easy to cover-up with memory-magic and minor conflict. Regrettably, the one these two are genuinely tracking is anything but a small-time target.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby had retreated into his bodily shell as unwitnessed energy. His powers sought refuge to amass another bought of feigned weakness. Being stuck at a level only just above that of humanities best physical specimens is likened to being deeply poisoned into a near-comatose state for him. Spending moon after moon in this vehicle had taxed Darsby into treating his body and mind as if they had both been depleted, his tendency towards dramatics only working to further these unhealthy habits. Recent events had dealt at least some form of a successful blow into changing him back into his usual self. He'd been through much before transcending to his current status; he'd do well to remember said days. "They've really done a number on you... Or, perhaps, you did a number on yourself?" A gentle voice radiates throughout Darsby's submerged consciousness. Strands of magic connect him to a distant space where his familiar dwells, busy at work. "Have I always been so difficult?" Bubbles float from Darsby's ethereal lips in this space of tangible thought, each one slowly disintegrating, allowing words to echo into the open void. "Certainly. I often find myself looking after you." Our earlier voice responded in kind; it's soft syllables brush gently against Darsby's mind. "...Will you be checking on me here as well?" He says after a long silence. "Yes, in two days. I'll bring snacks, your favorite." The voice states in motherly tones. Darsby sighs at such a kind offer, seeing it as perhaps a pinch overbearing. Then, with the accuracy of an atomic clock, the time limit to Darsby's rest is reached. Silently, our troubled traveler opens his luminous eyes. His mortal shell takes several seconds to account for all of its separate parts as dust is witnessed to dance gently in the waning sun of a dying day just above his revitalized features. He takes a few moments just to lay there, returning his mind to places it's long left in the archaic sands of time — days of walking beneath purple sky's, hours of drills and meals with long perished companions. His present body may not require food or air, even so, these thoughts brought a faint grin and distant hunger to his typically soured psyche. Darsby eventually sits up over the edge of his mattress in one smooth motion, lithe legs spilling over lumpy bedding. He examines his surroundings with what most humans would perceive as extremely heightened perception. He can hear it, the sound of wood and wind a floor above and beneath him. He can smell them, the grass and trees surrounding Grandpa Jacks Estate. Even without eyes, the world would be full of plain detail for a fair amount of surrounding meters. Long years spent honing abilities to perceive greater constructs than Earth have paid their dues in some small way here. Darsby blinks at the nearby outfit put together by Anora two minutes into re-aligning himself. This country's plethora of simple raiments have always been uncomfortable. Too many separate articles to arrive at one outfit, it all seemed unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. Regardless, he knows it may be needed to appear somewhat normal looking when peering into his plans for the immediate future. Also, he realizes he should be kicking himself to accept the hospitality of the simple people populating this world. Once getting dressed he places his revolver into the left side jean pocket, its leather-bound handle protruding enough to be observed. Further minutes passed. Darsby eventually found his way on to the roof. He'd had trouble understanding the window presented to him; he couldn't accurately read the alien language on some small piece of paper that was left for him. After several grunts and a nearly shattered glass pane, he'd found himself on the roof whilst whispering apologies to Anora's relatives. His pronounced posture carries him in long steps towards the chimney Anora is propped against. He'd look vastly different than he had at the hospital. His shoulders are squared, his balance is steady, his hips facing directly towards whatever it is he finds himself focusing on. Darsby could be more easily related to a marine in dress uniform than the shambling figure that had been nearly dismembered by a passing car earlier today. His skin may still be of a porcelain tone, yet something about it appeared more vibrant and full of entirely necessary moisture. The only thing immediately off about him would be his shirt; it is much too large for him. Baggy jeans and worn boots can near-always attribute to someone's upstanding, working character. Regrettably, a shirt of this size typically can't. What stands before Anora now looks like a middle-schooler wearing his large fathers flannel, entirely intent on remaining proud of himself despite its untucked edges reaching very close to the knees. Darsby didn't appear to understand how he presently looked, resigning himself to gingerly approach the chimney Anora was inhabiting. Something of mild, childish anxiety had overcome those exasperated features and broad chest. He moved in a near stumbling motion to rest against the bricks himself, as if feeling he may not have permission to do this. Darsby was tired, as always, yet this exhaustion was evidently of an emotional sort. His body had renewed itself; somehow, his mind had barely followed. "Are you... Okay?" Darsby didn't look to understand how to ask this question entirely, yet, he did, nonetheless. His words weren't full of the warmth most people expect from their fellow man, though, it may be surprising he decided to show any concern in the first place. ------ (Pursuer update in next post, had a huge migraine.)</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora startled at every small sound that floated to her, and her attention snapped to every wave of the leaves or grass as a gentle wind blew through it. Anxiety made her muscles tense and put her senses on high alert, expecting to see some horrific creature or flashing blue and red lights emerge from the road. Not exactly conducive to sorting out thoughts, but she did her best. Though she knew she should keep her attention on her surroundings, she pulled her sketching materials from her backpack. Drawing was one of the few things that could always calm her nerves and settle a racing mind. Which was exactly what she needed. She flipped to the first blank page, the page she had torn the corner from. Taking a deep breath, she removed a pencil from its case. She closed her eyes for just a moment, trying to focus on her desired scene. She put pencil to paper and began. Though she often glanced up from her work, soon, a rough sketch of the scene from that morning's lucid dream took on monochromatic form. Massive pillars surrounded by bones, grinning skulls peaking out in places. A giant's hand, fingers curled, readying to grasp the terrain around it, a few bones soaring through the air from its sudden emergence. The faint outlines of mouths covering the hand's skin, blood dripping from their parted lips. She had begun to add solid details to the hand when a rattling noise made her jump and nearly tumble over the rooftop. She dropped her book and pencil as she hurried into a half-crouch, careful to not lose her footing. The book, laying open to her most recent artwork, slid down the slant of the roof before catching on a warped shingle. The pencil rolled further, stopping where one of the flat portions met the roof's slope. Black-speckled-purple teased her hands. Its golden sparks buzzd in preparation to go on the offensive as it sounded like someone was trying to break one of the windows. With the windows themselves mostly blocked by the roofing plateaus above them, she did her best to guess which one. Deciding on the one she had come through, she focused on it. She heard the window slide violently open. She held her breath, waiting. Her electrified mist increased, swirling around her hands and spiraling over her arms. Darsby's hushed voice reached her from the window she had chosen. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as his head poked into view. Relief because it was Darsby, not a headhunter, and that, contrary to what his body had indicated, he was very much alive. Her magic dissipated and her muscles relaxed as she returned to her place against the chimney, her backpack leaning against the side next to her. She looked from him to her sketchbook, but then had to do a double take. He stepped easily over the rooftop, his form much stronger than she had yet to see it. The sunlight shone through part of his short hair, igniting its pink strands. If she had not known better, she would have said the man walking toward her was an entirely different person. A smile quirked at her lips at the almost comical looseness of the plaid shirt. She cocked her head, her brows furrowing as his stride turned almost uncertain when he neared. Realizing what caused the change, she hesitated. Part of her didn't like the idea of him being so near her without knowing if she should be worried about him killing her or not. But something about him seemed… different, and not just because of his recovered body and hand-me-down clothes. She couldn't see the Darsby from the hospital deigning to sit next to her on the rooftop. She took a breath and scooted over to share the chimney's space. She reached for her sketchbook as he sat, its corner just barely in her reach. She leaned back against the chimney as Darsby spoke. She snorted a laugh at his question, unfazed by his tone. "Seriously?" She rested her book on her knees and raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm peachy, thanks," she answered, her voice thick with the sarcastic lie. "Nothing like being left with a corpse, news that something wants your head, and no explanation. Always a highlight of the day." She sighed, looking him over. "But I should be asking you that. Looking alive suits you better than looking dead." She couldn't help glancing to the gun shoved in the pocket near her. Reminding herself it wasn't loaded, she looked instead to her newest drawing without really seeing it, keeping a peripheral watch on him. She let the tingle of her powers race just out of physical existence, ready to be called upon should he decide to turn on her. She absently used her thumb to smudge the shadowing where the graphite wrist met bone gravel. "If you're well enough, does our deal still stand? I swear," she looked to him and jabbed a finger toward his chest, "if you count that as one of the questions, I'll push you off the roof." The attempted menacing look she gave him only accentuated the emptiness of the threat.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Darsby, now unclouded by deadly fatigue, gives new life to emotions he earlier expressed via physicality and tone. His previous habits of tiredness and exasperation appear to be rooted at least partially aside from his bodily state. He had the air of an intellectual on the verge of discovering some foreboding, all-encompassing truth. To speak and interact with this being was to talk with someone who lacked humor due to his mind being somewhere far removed from present circumstance. "You're unlike most humans. I'd suspect you to be in relative distress after dealing with today's happenings. It's strange you find it good." Her sarcasm had flown in the exact opposite direction of Darsby whilst he shrugged apathetically, caring not for whatever undertones Anora may be trying to establish. The remainder of her words passed over him as fluid across a stone, doing little to move or mold him in their short-lived disparity. Darsby gazed into the afternoon sky through jaded slits of radiant pinkish dye. Bags the size of suitcases could have hooked into the underside of either eye and they'd be wholly at home. His back hunched forward so both arms could rest atop denim-coated kneecaps. Gentle wafts of air play cheerfully with his hair in contradiction to an overly saturated figure of grim sanctity. You'd suspect him to be the detective of an H.P. Lovecraft story, facing his final demise with solemn repose. Once Anora finished speaking and pointing, Darsby would turn his head toward her. His eyes again bled emotion and spirit in profound yet somehow subtle ways as they did before he collapsed by the road two hours earlier. A mother having a regrettable, but, necessary conversation with her dearly loved child. Someone driving by the body of an animal laying dead on the side of the road, feeling regret over its untimely demise. All of this shifting suddenly towards the feeling of watching a grown cat shelter it's infant from the rain in a dark corner of urban jungles. Steep roads where a parent drives safely to avoid swerving out of control with their family asleep in the car on a long journey home. These would all wrap themselves into one dense emotional amalgam that slips as wind through the heart. However brief it was, it still got the entirety of its point across in some cold, distant manner. "Our deal stands. You deserve two answers still. Ask away whenever you want." He'd state simply, his expression unchanged as those words end his glancing in her direction. Darsby now stares back out into the endless horizon before him, something alien yet human collide together in the visual of him sitting there. He is motionless, more so than most any person could truthfully accomplish. He is also full of some longing natural to most any deep-thinking individual, that face searching the earth galloping before it as if some faintly world-revealing poetry were being actively written beneath it. His concern and hostility are far from Anora if they even debatably live at all inside that callously softened aesthetic. His revolver looks more as a piece to some nonchalant artistic statement than it does anything to be used for violence. In truth, darsby danced mentally between old memories and the task at hand. He'd need to carefully sort his immediate goals before taking any action involving Anora. He'd also need to crawl from whatever dark place he'd been falling into over the course of this past month as a human. Being away from his home and duties had done much more than expected to sabotage the outlook he'd usually hold in all matters at hand.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby offered no reply to Anora's initial verbalities describing how she'd had explaining to do and the importance of honesty in his promised responses. These things mattered little to him, his mind still making unwitnessed attempts to dive back into the variables of mortal life. He'd had more than a few years since the last moment where death was an available circumstance, something most humans feel in at least some slight way every day. "Well-..." Darsby began, his body reacting before his mind to offer an answer. He'd stopped at that first word for what would likely feel like ages, his figure giving into motionless existence for many measurable moments before continuing. Cold rooms slurped their jumbled importance into his train of thought. One message received from his close mentor, the fight to gain a task from the hands of other competitors. His desire to run from his home, to run as far as he could readily go. The notion of using an offered duty to utilize his fears and revitalized mourning as vehicles to undertake callings of discovery. Sitting before councils and briefs and further councils inside frigid stone chambers. The truth of him still being emotionally weak despite his hidden strength causes his body to visibly shiver before he begins speaking again to escape the honest valleys his mind may start to wander otherwise. "..- I elected to undertake an emissary task. My superiors wish to find and communicate with an entity known as Pan, of Olympus, having detected a vestige of his magic as presently active. After scouring this world, I'd discovered an ancient contract this creature made. You are the only living human where that contract can be found, deeply ingrained in your blood. I plan on using you to assist me in finding this contracts creator; it should still be attached to him in some small way. I'd understand if you refuse, though, I didn't travel all this way to hear a 'no' to any of the questions I retain." Darsby spoke in a clear, level tone. He relinquished the simpler side of an explanation to Anora without further hesitation. He didn't pause for breath. He spoke with callous speech and unflinching emotion. His ending statement sounded no different than anything else he's ever said thus far. This man is used to dealing in blatant facts and not much else. After perhaps two or three seconds of pause, Darsby relinquishes a sigh and reaches to scratch the back of his neck. This action would look to be sudden despite its slowness due to his recent states of motionlessness. "Y-you're necessary. I'll need to show you the ropes.. b-but you could act as more than a compass if you sso desired." An odd thing happened to Darsby's voice. Something of emotion had infected it whilst it appealed to Anora in suddenly sheepish undertones. He slurred his words in the jumble of ill-portrayed sensations which came across as a likely insensitive ordeal. His hand grasped the back of his head purely in an attempt to hide his eyes for a few brief seconds. Perhaps he didn't wish for his soul to be peered into as typically seems to occur when locking eyes. ----------------------------------------------------- Cold air licked the edges of our dapper gentlemen's cigarette. His dry lips touched the filter of another cancer stick made heavy by the worries of a stressed employee. He took in several long drags before pulling the rod away between thin, leathery fingers. "No, John. I already spoke to Hernandez, and he told me to call you....-" The man wrestled verbally with yet another superior on the phone. Paperwork and hoops are typical obstacles to jump through with any government agency. "- No, you won't be a scapegoat for anything.... Yes, I'll be the active hand with three steps of permission. She won't be making any brash actions.... No, I haven't heard anything from them, this all seems to be some free-hand stuff..... I know it's gotta be an off-worlder, my gut says the same thing... But-... No, I did-... Ok, ok I get it. Thanks, John. I'll call you back after contact." One pale, work-hardened thumb taps an android phone screen to end it's present phone call. With a sigh of relief, the man drinks in another musty grey cloud. "Finally! Let's go!" Thick, curling lips toss speech as slabs of granite against their nearby peer. The one to whom these feminine lips belonged had spent more than two-long hours awaiting her partner to obtain necessary permissions over the case of a potential off-worlder in their local vicinity being accompanied by a female, native magic-user. Thunk! The glove box in the old car they both presently resided inside of jostled loudly, our huntress opened it feverishly to find a freshly transported case file within. Bare bones paperwork and a few blank lines requiring signatures cold found between manilla walls. Our gentlemen went to work quietly labeling its contents, patiently ignoring his partner. "Are we lea-!?" The woman is cut short by a sharp, pointing gesture made on the tip of a smoldering cigarette towards her. "I'm in charge, active hand permissions here. Only after three steps can you intervene, or else. You know the deal." He spoke by patient, unwavering callousness. She sits back, holding the ferocity of one-hundred lions in aggressive heat at bay lest her partner be rent into literal pieces. "...Fine." She'd finally say, looking forward through a polished windshield. She would give him time to address their present circumstance. If anything, she respected him as capable among humans upon witnessing him in combat for many moons straight. At least they had the case. She'd fought hard for this one, something about that second smell was familiar... A familiarity she somehow detested on a deep level. Our gentlemen gently tapped the steering with his wrist after several minutes of filling in the dotted line. Their 1969 mustang transport roared magically to life, beginning to drive itself hands-free towards the new location impatiently given just before all permissions to continue were given — some farmhouse owned by a local family. There was an internal debate soon to be resolved as to whether or not they'd take the faster route there. It was looking as if impatience would get the better of them, a simple teleportation incantation being its result.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora held her breath when Darsby began speaking. Her heart pounded in anticipation in the suspenseful silence that followed. Though he did not meet her gaze, she kept hers on him. For a moment, as one second spanned into another, she feared he wouldn't answer. That he had changed his mind. Then, with a shiver despite the summer's warmth, he dissolved those fears by answering. Her eyes narrowed at the prospect of Darsby working for someone, but that thought was pushed to the side. "Olympus?" she repeated, but Darsby continued despite her shocked interruption. By the time another pause fell, Anora's brain was still stuck on Olympus, trying to figure out if that was a code name, or if he meant Zeus' Olympus, let alone even beginning to wrap around the rest. She inhaled at his last sentence, about not traveling just to hear 'no.' It sounded vaguely like a threat to her ears, though his tone gave nothing of his intent away. She glanced from him, trying to make her mind stop spinning, his answers only spawning more questions. She groaned inwardly before his voice again regained her attention. She blinked in surprise at his new tone, at the sudden switch from cold and uncaring to saturated with inexplicable emotions. She stared at him in the silence that followed his words, but still, he refused to meet her eyes, even hiding them from her. But his final offer made her heart flutter. She exhaled heavily, glad, nonetheless, for the moment to try untangling her thoughts. He was willing to 'show her the ropes' so she could be more than his guide. Which meant it was unlikely she would end up in a ditch in the side of the road with one of his bullets in her head if he decided she was no longer useful to him. No one put effort into something they planned on discarding. But then, if he was working for someone, who were they, and what did they want with this Pan guy? And how the freak did she even have a 'contract' with the guy when she had never even met him? It was nigh impossible to narrow down her questions to just the one that remained. "Limiting me to two questions is borderline barbaric!" she grumbled irritably. She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers smudged with graphite. A gentle breeze blew about the rooftop, bringing with it the sweet scent of trees and earth. She stared ahead of her at the expanse of roof spanning in front of her, her gaze at where the rooftop dropped away. She took a deep breath, hating having to think so hard on what to ask. She had many questions, and a choice. It took great restraint to keep from immediately agreeing; if it meant learning more about her magic, about others' magic, she was in. But a small, dusty voice at the back of her skull reminded her she needed to think first, act later. At least just this once. At last, she took a breath and looked back to Darsby. "What would I have to do? To find this Pan and be 'more than just your compass,'" she elaborated, hoping he wouldn't count the double information request as two separate questions.</s>	<\|message\|>??? While Anora grappled with Darsby's words, and immediately upon her looking away from him, he'd have lowered his arm back to its previous position upon denim-coated knee. He now resumed facing the Earth in its entirety from that ramshackle rooftop, less afraid of its shadows than he was of his own. That personal darkness crawled as a now living prison to insights awaiting rediscovery. An ancient sensation was brewing within him, something youthful and simplistic. 'Innocence' had been one of the first words to come to mind, but it didn't belong to Anora by its origin, so from where had it come? Something colorful, perhaps even childlike had brewed it's unwholesome brew within him. Though, he somehow thought that he was wrong in aiming to be afraid or disgusted. These conflicts spawned further cascades of troubled self-reflection. Had Anora looked back into Darsby's eyes before he began responding she'd, for a moment, be tossed back into that drowning current of emotions which consumes the soul on it's most profound levels. Images and sensations poured as plentiful, raging rivers of violent waters over her innermost facet. A parent, lovingly gazing at their child among others before picking them up at daycare, finding themselves suddenly troubled that this infantile human may take after one or more of their parents worse habits. A child staring into a marble, genuinely captivated by its spherical shape and inner-artwork, not letting a single detail escape his sharp young eyes. Someone not above the age of eight, innocent in their desire to leap into the smallest pond reflecting warm rays of morning sunlight before them. An old man troubled to discover he's lived his entire life without being so young as he could have been in spirit all along. A niece sick with the flu, vomiting into a bucket near you whilst you gently rub their shuddering back. Darsby's eyes become a spiritual and near-physical location where all of these things are made simultaneously true yet not at the same time. It's as if the human mind were grappling with some form of communication ardent in it's comparison to typical speech. In his contemplation, Darsby had noted, but overlooked, the double-wide question presented. Anora is young; her heated heart must be troubled at the moment; despite her earlier words. He could smell it in her sweat, he could hear it in her heartbeat, he could taste it in the breeze surrounding them. She was stressed, and he kicked himself mentally for not noticing all the way up until this moment. 'How tired have I actually gotten..?' He questioned internally. "I'm..-" He started, his mouth wrestling with itself to not immediately apologize as it had somehow intended to do. He quickly regained composure, though his words were still mildly painted in sprays of apologetic verbality and anxiously hurried speech. "-Well, you'd be-" Darsby paused again, his hands wrapping around the back of his head lacing fingers into wild tufts of hair to wrestle these sentiments from existence with no victory in sight. "-You would occasionally have to undergo a mapping spell that relies on small sums of blood to point us in their direction. Aside from that, I'll take some time to talk to you about that energy you so freely toss about. You're a bit off in how you're using it." It wouldn't, by tone, sound as if the mapping spell was what he felt apologetic or anxious about. Perhaps his outward conflict is outside of Anora herself. Darsby sighed, without breath or air, into space before him. The engines fueling his lungs lay their calculated uses aside to express a troubled heart. Those hands remained, gently holding an organic head whilst it's inner-workings fold harshly upon one another. ---------------------- Half a mile away from Anora and Darsby an old car warped its polished exterior into existence. This teleportation was soundless and unnoticeable, shiny outer surfaces having been delicately hidden beneath a tree. "Remember, don't set one foot outside this car without 'all three steps'." Hoarse, masculine vocals split the air between two stressed employees. "I wouldn't dare." Came the overly-accentuated feminine response, sass, and disrespect blatantly clear by all accounts. The man sighed as he stepped from an ebony vehicle, his body fading from sight under the guise of an invisibility spell. He knew better than to give into that vile woman's banter.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? What happened next would have happened fast, extremely fast. There's a realm which dwells outside of humanities visual capacities. This is the realm where the next four seconds transpire. Darsby, still entirely unarmed by his standards, was caught off guard by the feminine huntress closing in on our farmhouse. He couldn't have heard, seen, or smelled this woman underneath the veil of her magic. Crash! Through the window came an invisible mass. Reacting on instinct, Darsby turns left to face whatever hidden foe may have reared its fangs here. Bang!Bang!-Crash! Two rounds exit a worn revolver's chamber just before Darsby is thrown into the wall at his left with such force that he nearly breaks through it entirely. With a faint shimmer, our new opponent is revealed, one of her hands has wholly passed through the center of Darsby's chest. Rippling muscles cascade down the exterior of heavily tanned arms sprouting from a grey tank-top. Loose fitting cargo shorts rest just above sandals — crimson hair jutts in many directions atop veined features contorted by beauty and habitual rage. Fierce orange eyes glow near Darsby's chest as she withdraws her arm from the gaping hole she's created to quickly strike both of his shoulders with a blur of punches. Crack!-popop! Bones snap under the weight of her near-invisible strikes. The man and his grey suit stand just as this woman finishes her assault, her right arm drenched in chunks of bone and strips of flesh. "Ahllasta! I told you to stay in the car!" He barks, though somehow still sounding unenthused by present circumstance. "He's a Baron." She'd quietly say in a mist of rage while staring down at the sputtering form of her victim. Darsby is again rendered as a mass of broken form. He's crumpled into the ground and left to sputter in effort to speak, both arms limp at his sides after having slid to the Earth below. Bang! With one movement, so fast it escaped sight, the grey man had drawn a pistol and fired a round into Darsby's twitching head. With that, Anora's companion went silent. "Then he's stuck in bureaucracy until his body's fixed. I'm making the call." He then pulls a cell-phone to his ear, sighing while stepping from the room to mumble silently at some unnamed superior. The Huntress is all that's left in the room. Her lips are curled int a snear as she stares down upon what looks to be a corpse. She's openly furious, having been robbed of the ability to speak her mind to the figure at her feet.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora shouted and spun in surprise when the window at the end of the hall practically exploded, shards of glass trailing behind the invisible force that smashed it. She stumbled back as that something rushed past her and slammed into Darsby. She tumbled to the floor just inside the living room. Whether she suddenly began to move in slow motion or everyone else was darting about at supernatural speed, Anora couldn't say. But before she had hit the floor, before even the clatter of the scattered shards of glass could finish raining down, a gunshot rang out. Or perhaps multiple. She would never be sure. She could only stare, horror-struck, at the blurred attack taking place before her. The sickening crack of breaking bones fought to be heard over the echo of gunfire still ringing through the farmhouse. Heart hammering in her throat and eyes wide, her gaze settled on Darsby's now sputtering, bloody form. "No!" she breathed, scrambling to her knees. Her powers sparkled to life in the air in front of her, reacting to her terror and panic rather than conscious orders. Before her powers could so much as solidify into something helpful, another gunshot rang out. She had not even realized the man in gray had stood, let alone drawn a gun. The bang of the gun momentarily deafened her. But she didn't care. All her focus was on the target of the bullet. Just like that. He was dead… again. In only a matter of seconds. Her hands fell limp to her sides. Her powers sputtered out. Dead and broken. Anora swallowed, hard. The sound of the man's voice reached her through the ringing in her ears. She shook herself from her stupor in time to catch only the last sentence. She glanced to him as he left the room, neither of the murderous monsters paying her any mind. With fear-shortened breaths, her gaze flicked between where the man had walked off to, to Darsby, to the woman. Crimson dripped from the woman's fingers, splattering the floor in blood. The same crimson soaked Darsby's shirt and streaked his face. She was beginning to loath that color. Her hands clenched into fists. She let her fear fuel her anger. Anger at the intrusion when she was so close to getting answers, to learning more about a side of the world most humans never saw. Hatred at what they had done to Darsby. At herself for being capable of doing nothing to stop it. She could be afraid later. Right now, she needed to act. She glared up at the woman, her eyes glowing as mist cascaded from her hands. Indignant rage twisted Anora's face as she slowly stood, trying to mask the trembling of her legs and pounding of her heart. The mist quickly created a pool at her feet, golden lightning and specks of black flowing through its vivid violet. She needed a distraction. Something to keep them preoccupied long enough for her to get Darsby to the van out front and escape. She knew it was risky, knew she could be overdoing it or even fail and end up just like Darsby—only without the regeneration part—but there was no way she was going to let that stop her. Darsby had tried to protect her, watched out for her upstairs. Now it was her turn to return the favor. I've got this. "I don't know who you crackpots think you are," she growled, proud and shocked she managed to keep a tremor from her voice. She took a cautious step closer to Darsby and his attacker, her puddle of magic following her, "but you've overstayed your welcome." In the span of a thought, her mist rose into three swirling masses. They molded and solidified into the form of hellhounds about waist high to the intruder. Ebony and gold flashed over their matted fur and through their translucent purple bodies. Each one bore its fangs, their growls coming out in a crepitating hiss through their gnarled snouts. Their pupilless eyes glowed a swirling black and gold. Though she had no clue whether or not the woman could see her powers, or was as blind to it as everyone else she knew, all that mattered was that she kept them solid enough to do damage and keep the duo busy. All the better if the murderers couldn't see them. As soon as they fully formed, the monstrous dogs readied to leapt at the woman, snarling and snapping their jagged fangs.</s> <\|message\|>??? Darsby feels his spirit slip from space and time alongside the sound of gently running rapids. He was here only moments ago during his bodies previous recuperation. Ebony and ivory collide as shadows strike surrounding lights with force against his unsubstantial form. Thoughts and relevant information struggle to formulate inside this flowing dimension just beyond the haze of our supposedly solid reality. Conflict over what it is that has just occurred fights for supremacy of importance. Darsby wrestles to regain proper sentience after having been forcefully tossed into this other realm while Anora resolves to stand for whatever semblance of life she may yet hold. -------------------------------------------------------------- This huntress tenses further, proving that this action isn't impossible despite her visibly flexed muscles. Ahllasta had taken notice of Anora and kept her reaction at bay. The creature before her had been subdued entirely without a struggle despite her previous wishes. She knew this man; she had a score with him. Ahllasta had wished to perch herself atop Darsby's body, waiting for him to recover so she may derive the satisfaction of genuinely striking him down. The man in grey, Vince, had taken said luxury away. She cared for little else than prey and grudges; in our present scenario, he had stolen both. Slowly, Ahllasta turns towards Anora. Though she reeks of aggression and ill-kept notions of hate, she didn't appear to be directing any of it towards our young human. "Girl, you know this man?" Her words slip with the anger of a military instructor struggling to keep their louder vocalities at bay. Ahllasta's posture would then change upon Anora mustering the strength to fabricate veritable hell-hounds. This alien huntress has one small but thick brown horn protruding its sharp surface from the center of her forehead, glittering by the faint specks of blood that splattered over its surface from the previous attack. Just below said feature dwells a newly revived outward mode of emotion. All at once this woman shifts from predator to aggressive negotiator. Her arms casually lace themselves beneath her breasts, her hips sway slightly to the left, her feet turn somewhat outwards. All that still held on to vicious dismay were her eyes, those heinous, beating eyes. "He needs you for something, doesn't he? What if I said I'd help you get him out of here?" Her lips curled once more to release those leering words. She spoke like a beast turning to address some lesser animal impassionately. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Darsby begins to recollect his fragmented self from within the spatial void he now occupies. The outside world comes to him in muffled waves of prismatic light and slurred sounds. Cognition begins to spin it's whirring gears again as method transcend logic, feelings collide to transcend expression, and finally, words arrive to make sense of the pieces at play. "I'm... I've been put here?" He musters to say to himself, still many moments from making sense of current circumstance. He attempts to align an out-of-order sequence of memories. Gunfire, cars, smoke, a girl, conversation, a residence. He feels he's getting close, but this likely won't produce any externally visible results in an amount of time that Anora should reasonably bargain for.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora's hounds hesitated when the woman—the monster, alien, demon, whatever she was—did not immediately try to defend or attack. Anora had had no idea what to expect from the… thing, but talking had not been among her considered possibilities. She squared her jaw at the woman's question about Darsby's need for her. "No," she lied, a tinge of her surprise at chatting instead of fighting marring the harshness in her tone. "I was just convenient." Her hounds pawed at the ground with Anora's uncertainty at the situation. She snorted at Ahllasta's hypothetical question of helping to get Darsby out of there. She glanced to Darsby's bloodied, lifeless form. A chunk of plaster fell from the dent the woman had put in the wall from slamming him into it. "I'd call you a liar," she spat. The hounds snapped their teeth in unison at her last word. She dared a glance to where the first intruder had gone. He could be calling for backup, or cleanup. Or worse, depending on what 'the Call' was. She didn't have time for this. She could feel the draw on her energy from keeping the hounds solid, but she didn't dare let them fade. Not yet. But if there was even a slight chance of making escaping alive easier, she had to take it. "Why would you help me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She suppressed a shudder as she met Ahllasta's gaze. She didn't trust those eyes.</s>	<\|message\|>??? A leathery tongue struts slowly over the lower, then the upper lip of Ahllasta's vicious mouth. Sharp canines are seen for a brief moment behind meaty lips. Feral eyes pace Anora's figure for roughly five seconds straight before speech again enters this encounter. Her vascular arms split from one another to place hands on burly hips. "All I'll say is, I'd like to defeat Darsby. Before I could witness anything other than this reproachful form-" Ahllasta kicks at Darsby's limp leg, a light crack being heard from beneath his flesh as she does so. "-my partner shot him down. I'll help you, so long as you don't get in the way when I see fit to make good on my grudge." Each sentence passes quickly into the growls and sneers that follow her words. She sounds like an animal accustomed to speech only enough for it to look relatively natural, words being a tool she only employs when needed. She speaks just silently enough for her partner not to hear of any bargaining happening in the living room. The grey-suited man can be heard from the living room. Sighs, "yes, I know" and "I get it, but this is big, I'm sure" can be heard on several occasions past the thin living room walls. One finger is lightly tapping against Ahllasta's hip to express urgency over time. The rest of her is motionless aside from animalistic facial features, making that one fidgeting appendage stand out. --------------------------------------------------------- Darsby swims in a sea of dislocated words. He's taken to sorting out the sentences he's spoken to others after deciding he is physically somewhere entirely foreign. Words collide to form coherent statements about him; statements align to express when everything was said. Perhaps by understanding his own need to say what he said he can understand what pushed him into this state. Perhaps he'd be better off sticking to what he's most recently witnessed, either way, it's better to start somewhere specific than nowhere in particular. At least, he hopes he's taking a correct course of action.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta shifts posture again, one hand falling to its respective side. This free hand poises itself as if it were ready to chop and jab at the drop of a hat. Her carnivorous eyes dance for less than three seconds this time around, dashing from the hallway and then back to Anora after deciding their time is better spent in a damaged living room. She's thinking, turning some despicable thought on its other side via firey metaphorical utensils. "How about this?-" Ahllasta, being more a woman of action than debate and bargaining, had made up her mind to follow a new, unspoken course of action. She lived from the hip and enacts all her decisions to reflect said truth. A small shimmering thread, only visible by its super-thin reflective surface, is withdrawn from Ahlassta's pocket. One small metallic sphere is held, dangling at the end of said string. Ahllasta twirls the sphere in circles until suddenly it glows a bright red alongside emitting a low hum. She eventually tosses the sphere through a nearby wall into the hallway where her partner is, a light Crack and spray of dust being the only indication that it's moved through two layers of plaster. Crash! Through the earlier mentioned plaster comes Ahllasta's alleged partner via a faint twitch of her wrist, dazed and completely wrapped in that thin threading. "Wha-?" He'd sputter amidst clouds of dust before a simple flick to his temple sends a sharp Crack! through the room, disabling the poor man as he slumps into being entirely supported by a faint twinkling twine. Not even a second later he is dropped, still bound, to the floor below. In Ahllasta's hand is a pair of jingling keys. "My rides faster." She'd say whilst mischief paints her features in prideful swathes. She lets go of the yarn in her hand and gently kicks at Darsby's shattered leg in such a way that he's pulled across the floor towards Ahllasta, underneath Anora's hellhound. Another seemingly gentle kick and Darsby is likely tossed over Ahllasta's shoulder should there be no interference. Throughout this entire affair which transpired as if it were some pre-ordained course of perfected action occurring in no more than seven seconds flat, Ahllasta never broke eye-contact with Anora. "You're coming with, dear." She'd casually remark with a sneer before turning towards the way out, intending to walk to the black 1974 Mustang she'd arrived in. A cell-phone, somewhere on the floor in the hallway continues to emit faint sounds. "Hello...? Vince...? Respond now, or I'll assume the worst," would come a stern voice. ---------------------------------------------------------- "So, I'm on Earth?" Darsby would mutter to himself inside a swirling vortex of jumbled conversations. His mind is still far from present circumstance.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora tensed, holding her breath as she waited for Ahllasta's answer. Though the woman didn't take long, it was long enough to make Anora shift her weight uneasily and her hound to let out a low, impatient growl. Anora raised her chin slightly when the woman spoke, expecting a counter proposal, but this time, Ahllasta didn't bother further speaking. Instead, the woman reached into one of the pockets in her cargo pants. Anora's hound growled warningly, its body hunching, ready to attack. Golden electricity swirled more frequently within its translucent form. The mist from one of the hounds she had released gathered in front of her feet, ready to spring up into a shield as a second defense. But the precautions proved unnecessary. Her gaze darted between the beastly woman's and the sphere she had pulled from her pocket. The thread it dangled from hardly looked like it should be capable of holding the object up as Ahllasta began to spin it. Anora suppressed a shudder as she noticed the woman's gaze did not once flick from her. "What—?" she began, but didn't get to finish her question. She gasped and stepped back when Ahllasta tossed the spinning sphere through the wall. Before Anora could reform her question or her hound react to her thoughts and emotions, the small puff of plaster dust the top-like item left became a storm with a loud, cracking thud. Anora stumbled back, blinking quickly to keep the dust from her eyes. Her hound let out a shocked, angered yelp, its form wavering for a fraction of a second. Before the dust had time to think about settling, she heard the man's surprised voice, his clouded form suspended not far from her. With little more than a flick of her wrist, Ahllasta had the man down for the count. Anora blinked down at the unconscious form of the man bound by the impossible thread. "That's one way to keep him busy," she muttered. Her face contorted as she tried not to sneeze. Her attention quickly snapped back to Ahllasta, for a moment wondering if the statement meant she was going to loan them her car. But her heart sank as the woman slid Darsby to her, Anora's magic swelling around him too late to stop her, and shouldered him. She intended on going with them. "What?" She gawked after the woman, horrified, Ahllasta's gaze still unnervingly on her. Her hound mimicked the question with a growling snap of its jaws. Anora's eyes narrowed at the order as the woman turned and headed to the front door. Her hands clenched at her sides. Ahllasta and Darsby had one thing in common, it seemed: they both expected her follow orders unquestioningly. Like a lost pup with no mind of its own. But at least Darsby had answered her questions. What's with these people? she thought, scowling. She hurried after the woman as Ahllasta made it to the front porch. Anora sent her hound ahead of her, the rest of her mist dissipating. The hound slipped out the door just behind Ahllasta. On quick, silent feet, it jumped the railing of the porch, turned mid-air, and slid to a stop just below the steps to block the woman's path. It bore its fangs at her, daring her to try to pass it. "I'm coming," Anora growled, stepping outside onto the porch, "but like heck I'm letting you come with. You're the reason we're in this mess!" More mist swirled over her now open and ready hands, tendrils wrapping up her forearms. The power usage nagged at her. She wasn't accustomed to using her powers as much as she had in a single day. It pulled at her energy as if she was in the middle of a workout rather than summoning magic, reminding her she needed to be careful. She still needed to save enough strength to drive Darsby and herself out of there. The adrenaline pumping through her and the energy bars in her pack would help, but neither would get her very far. That much she knew from experience. Doing her best to not give away how using her powers affected her, she took a cautious step to the side to flank Ahllasta and put a bit of extra distance between them. "I doubt we have time to argue," she began, her words coming out in a nervous rush, "so put Darsby down and the two of us will be on our way." Her hound growled in agreement, the crackling sound low and feral.</s>	<\|message\|>??? Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Ring-ring-ring! Click-... A small box-like structure is flipped open, one ball-joint allows it to split in half to expand its rectangular shape. Pale fingers hold said shape to a cold face creased by concerned features. One word shimmers atop our devices outline, "Earth." "Yeah?" A gentle voice grates through damaged vocal cords. "This is senior agent Hernandez of the CMA. Your number is in our records regarding-" A brass-tax, effeminate voice warbles through an alien translator into the ear of the one who holds our communications box. "Ahllasta?" He'd say, sighing all the while. Several fingers begin to pace his temples anxiously. "-Y-yeah..." Hernandez would say, having been thrown off by an interruption. "-You see, she's been displaying a consistent lack of respect for authority. You're listed as her Papers shuffle... uhm, retainer?" "Yes, yes. I'm-... on my way." Soft-spoken sorrow paints an anguished demeanor in shades of brief hesitance. "W-well you don't need to come here. I'm citing embassador's rights to expedite her removal from our Earth-Space jurisdiction! Under regulatory-" Hernandez is cut off once more just as her voice climbs into throngs of judicial anger. "Senior agent Hernandez. You can't claim ambassador privileges as a tertiary power. You 'can' claim assistance from a transfer retainer. Don't worry; we aren't all like her." Our man's bristly words float with a light-hearted authority. "Look here! I'm the supervisor to your 'Councils' little transfer program, what I say-!" Click! Hernandez is cut short by a closing of the communications box. The box is eventually stored inside a pseudo-hoodies front pocket. One spidery hand withdraws a small notebook from the same pocket. Once-opened, the first page of this pamphlet displays only a giant question mark. "Outer-lands, Earth." Hoarse words bounce against crumpled pages. Once the words mentioned above are spoken the notebook begins to alight with various throngs of written information for several pages to come. Several moments are spent flipping through salvaged history and statistics pertaining to the local political climate. For several minutes this continues until that communications box is pulled back into open space. Click! "EFC" With that spoken command the cube vibrates and rings, sending some strange signal into deep space. "This is the EFC. Central line." Metallic chords ring against an ivory ear. "C-K-SB. Requesting full ambassador and temporary governance rights for an outer world, Earth. Secondary requests: same surrounding sol rights, a class five regulator, and, uhm...-" The man stops for a moment to rub at tightening neck-muscles with his free hand. "- Actually, make that three class six regulators, and an all-silent transport. Sage S-backing." Roughly twenty seconds are spent in silence after this request; anxious fingers continue to rub against a tense nape. "All permissions granted. Transport and supplies to arrive at your present locale." Automated syllables persevere until finally ending with a Click!. The communications box shuts again. Our man looks out across his surrounding landscape. A greenish sunset collides with a crimson sky in the distance. He sighs at the burden of monitoring an impulsive huntress such as Ahllasta. Regardless, what truly troubles this wizard residing countless light-years from Earth isn't a ferocious woman, it's what was referred to as a 'Standing Ambassador's Contract' for Earth. This contract spoke of an ancient myth even this man had heard of on his far-removed homeworld — the tale of Pahn. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Ahllasta finds herself to be suddenly plagued by an inexplicable feeling of dread. Her gut is better than she'd bargain for it to be. "You're right, we don't have time to argue!" Her voice shoots through grating teeth, each canine sounding more like a tumbling boulder than anything a human can audibly produce. With these words, her body begins to radiate an overwhelming presence. Thoughts and ideas pour from her feral figure like an ocean being spilled out of a cup. Gnashing teeth, searing steam, roaring bonfires in the distance, dark shadows looming in every direction; all of these things cascade into Anora's psyche without resistance as Ahllasta begins to look even more intimidating as if she'd somehow gained twelve feet in size. Though she hasn't actually increased in height, it wouldn't stop Anora from possibly perceiving her feet to be big enough to squish her completely. "Want to bet your exhausted magic supply on a fight with me?!" Ahllasta would say, her words followed by deep and thunderous vibratto. You'd sooner call her words thunder than thinking them to be anything like speech. Each syllable spills like a landslide into the open air. Perhaps she's bluffing about knowing Anora's current state, either way, it'd be hard to make a bet against that body which now literally permeates a predators presence. The aforementioned ambiguous force would be just weak enough as to not totally overwhelm Anora nor cause her to lose consciousness. -------------------------------------------------------- Sweltering heat spills as a searing mist into Darsby's conscious space. Somehow, Ahllasta's unregulated presence is affecting him inside his invisible realm. This sensation begins to reawaken memories both old and recent in his mind. He can hear a woman shouting something about revenge while his chest slowly starts to burn. His mind begins to home into its present circumstance at a higher pace than before.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta withdrew her presence immediately after Anora backed down. She may be hostile and filled with an endless rage, yet it doesn't seem to mean she's not in control of it all. She continued forward towards her vehicle, Adjusting Darsby atop her shoulder as his congealed blood seeps down her back and chest. Ahllasta stopped as Anora spoke, straightening up as her features warp into a shape which seems entirely unexpected to those who've known her for the slightest of moments. She smiled a broad humorous smile. Laughter eventually followed her grin as if all of this were some great tide of joy to gather up into a boisterous wave before inevitably fading. Her guffaw was as the tumbling of great machinery striking against shattered pavement. "You're quite the woman!-" Ahllasta would muster to say whilst tossing Darsby's body into the back seat. "-To speak so easily to me after all of that.-" Ahllasta moves to the front seat to take her place and rev the car to life. She'd wait for Anora to enter wherever she pleases before speaking again. "-You hardly know the way of things, I don't hold it against you. That body is hardly one one-hundredth of Darsby's actually strength. I need him to be at his peak to derive satisfaction." The inside of the car is as black as it's polished exterior. Worn leather and luxury pace the walls and seats of this transports cabin, a small pallet of various unmarked buttons rest in the center console between sports vehicle seating. Ahllasta presses a button near the front as she spins the car's wheels into an aggressive howl against the dirt beneath them. The vehicle, along with everyone in it, becomes mildly translucent as our Mustang charges violently forward. Trees and fences and tall grass pass through the car as if it were a specter. The only thing holding steady seems to be the earth below as bumps and divets rock the cabin violently. Eventually, we find ourselves on a highway, heading in no particular direction but indeed leaving the state. "Ohio, Exit 95" licks the edge of Ahllasta's vision as the car solidifies. She rolls down her window, letting wind throw her hair about. She closes her eyes, piloting the car easily without sight. Her other senses are more than enough for this. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Darsby now understands that whatever happened to toss him into this state was recent and shockingly violent. What's holding him is whether or not he was alone... If he was, then staying here to contact his superiors for permission to obtain a stronger body would be the best course of action. He can't help but observe a name he once said since arriving at Earth, the first human name he's taken time to speak. "Anora." Was he with her? Perhaps, the strange crackling thing he'd briefly sensed while in this state had told him that she can use magic. If she can, then she likely isn't human or from Earth. The question as to how he would have only known of her recently is the kicker. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ring-ring-ring! Click!... Our distant character receives another call as the portal to his destination begins tearing into existence before him. "Yea?" He'd casually begin. "One of mine is already on Earth. He's following up on a 'Pahn' lead." A familiar voice travels with profound vibratto from our small speaker. "How does that involve me?" A response is given after several moments wait. "Well, with your permissions, you'll need to be ready as an initial means of contact if Pahn's discovered while you're there." The voice is asserting yet faintly gentle in its speech. "Yeah, I understand. I'll hang around if I end up meeting your guy. I just need a name." After an initial sigh, he came around to continuing the conversation. "Darsby. His assignment is unique and confidential. I know I shouldn't have to worry about you, but, be gentle with him." The voice took on a parental tone for a moment. "I understand." Click! With that, a tear in space had finished forming nearby, a gateway leading to sunlight and roads embellished by grass and populated with speeding cars. After several moments of collecting the circular devices at the gates foot, he'd step through.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora nearly bumped into Ahllasta when the beastly woman stopped. She looked up from the ground for the first time during their walk, for a moment fearing speaking had been a worse idea than trying to attack. She blinked, surprised, and took a step away from the woman as Ahllasta instead broke into a short, grinding bout of laughter. Another thing Ahllasta and Darsby seemed to have in common, if for different reasons: both were borderline insane. The blood soaking into the woman's shirt only enhanced the crazed effect. More like desperate, she thought bitterly, swallowing and looking back to the ground. Her heart sunk. The woman hadn't taken the bait. Her attention returned to Ahllasta as she walked around a car, making Anora notice it for the first time. Her brows rose as she took in the sight of the two-door Mustang. Definitely nicer than that mini-van. From the opposite side of the car, she watched through the window as Ahllasta shoved Darsby into the backseat like little more than luggage. She cringed in empathy. Lifeless or not, it couldn't be good to be treated roughly in his current state. Once Darsby's attacker had settled inside, she reached for the door handle with a shaking hand. The thought of a road trip sitting scarcely a foot from Ahllasta made her stomach churn. But even if she thought she could get away, she wouldn't leave Darsby behind. She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding and opened the door. Dwelling in a tense silence, she shrugged from her backpack then ducked inside the car. Her gaze lingered on the buttons on the center console. Just don't push the red one, she thought. Despite the situation, she couldn't help but smirk as she dropped her backpack on the floor then reached for her seat belt. It was a small and uncertain expression, but there nonetheless. Looks like the aliens won after all. Rest in peace, Agent J. Ahllasta's voice drew Anora's glance. She tried with minimal success to keep both her fear and enmity from showing. Wouldn't want to disappoint you with less, would we? she grumbled silently. Her mouth pulled down in a frown, but she kept her comments to herself. Door still open, she paused in buckling to glance back to Darsby. She bit her bottom lip uncertainly. "Should we… stop his bleeding?" she asked quietly, her voice cautious as she closed the door. She kept Ahllasta in her peripheral view, watching for even the slightest sign of aggression. Anora's attention snapped forward with a gasp when Ahllasta started the car and the wheels drifted for a moment. Her eyes widened when they turned translucent, but she didn't have time to think on that little detail; Ahllasta headed straight for the trees lining the road. In the short instant it took for them to go from the road to the trees, barreling toward the trunks, she shouted, the sound echoing in her ears, and threw her hands in front of her in an X. A barrier sprung instantly to life as she turned her head and scrunched her eyes, bracing for impact. An impact that never came. Wondering if her heart was going to make it through the next few minutes or give up on life entirely, she tentatively opened one eye. She gasped, as a tree passed straight between her and Ahllasta. She flinched as another went through her and her barrier. She swallowed and let her barrier dissolve. As the realization she wasn't going to be tied up in the middle of a car-and-tree bowtie, she melted back into the passenger seat. She cast Ahllasta a discrete glare for her lack of warning. To avoid the eerie sight of trees and other obstacles floating through their ghostly forms, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her frayed nerves. When her heart at last slowed by a couple beats, she dared to open her eyes again. She breathed a sigh of relief; they had reached an expanse of barren farmland, the road a winding ribbon ahead of them. Though not smooth-going for the car, it was at least less bumpy than back between the trees. She ran a hand through her hair. Her stomach grumbled softly, making her frown at it and scold herself for having only a single can of soup. She sighed. There wasn't much she could do about it now. Anora adjusted her backpack, debating on pulling out one of the energy bars inside. She felt tired, a bit on the exhausted end, but there was no way she would let herself rest now. With the road drawing closer at an alarming speed, she tried to not focus on the surrounding land. She glanced back at Darsby's broken form again, worry in her eyes. Before, he had had some aid from the hospital. This time, he had no such luck. This time. She wondered what it must be like to come back to life just to die again. Brutally, no less. Did he feel pain like everyone else? She had seen him struggle, but had he actually felt the hurt? Was he in pain now, wherever he was, or was he resting in blissful obliviousness? She forced her gaze away from him with a shudder. She needed to think of something else. As they reached the highway, her mind wandered to the farm and the minivan. So much for returning the van to its owners… and then there was going to be explaining the damage to the house. Sorry, Grandpa Jack, she thought with a sheepish, apologetic look out the window. Her list of 'Illegal/Damaged Things to Deal with Later' was growing at an alarming rate. With a heavy, shaky sigh, she looked to Ahllasta when the woman opened the window, her own hair billowing about her face. Then she did a double take. Though they had solidified, the woman was driving with her eyes closed. Anora inhaled through her teeth and reached toward the wheel. With a glance out the windshield, she paused, hand hovering between them. They were staying perfectly between the lines. Breath held, she glanced between Ahllasta and the road. Swallowing, she slowly returned her hand to her side of the car. She barely managed to resist the urge to shout at the woman to keep her eyes on the road. "S-so," she began, in part to break the thick silence, but mostly hoping conversation would make the woman open her eyes again. Without potentially angering her. "Are you some sort of Winchester-style bounty hunters or something?" She spoke just loud enough to be heard over the whooshing whump of the wind in the car.</s>	<\|message\|>??? "Anora....Anora...Anora!" Darsby would come upon his visual memories and the secrets they held seemingly all at once. He was shocked to find that he'd likely left the poor girl alone with a violent huntress for quite some time now. He sailed back towards the goal of reforming his body; a new one would have to wait. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmph!" Would be Ahllasta's first response, a pretentious sort of huff. She apparently felt she was far above whatever it is that Anora had just compared her to. "I hunt celestial beasts. These 'Winchesters' you speak of are far below me. They struggle merely to fend off creatures which hardly threaten just one world. I have reigned in beasts that have devoured stars.-" Her chest puffed with this statement, her eyes flaring open to display how much pride she felt in her work. "-You could say I have myself quite hidden, much like that carcass in the back seat." Ahllasta would continue to inflate her ego via grins and contemplative sneers for several moments to come. Whilst this was occurring, something else would take place around Darsby's body. His contorted limbs and broken shell would simmer for a brief moment. After the faint broiling, things would happen rather quickly. Darsby would spring to life, twirling about in the back seat like a gymnast/contortionist who's practiced their routine in purely enclosed places. The result of his quick movements would be him bracing himself against Ahllasta's seat, a revolver's barrel pressed against its luxurious materials. Somehow, Ahllasta had already pulled out that thin thread she'd used before and laced it around Darsby behind her, it's small surface visibly compressing against his skin. "How many more of those instant renewals do you have left Darsby? My skin can take more than a few of your bullets." Ahllasta would chuckle whilst continuing to drive the car with her one free hand. Just after Ahllasta had spoken, a cellular ringing would fill the cabin of the car. This ringing would be coming from Anora's left pocket. Somehow, a phone had found its way into her jeans without anyone present noticing. Even Darsby and Ahllasta turned towards Anora, their sharp gazes waiting for her to answer the call. Should Anora answer it, a somewhat relaxed frequent smoker would be the image this mans understanding voice would lend. "Hey, how's your day?" Would be his unconcerned words, likely unawares of the events presently at play. Ahllasta's skin shifted into that of a lighter shade as the voice spoke. She may have heard him and may also be displaying signs of fear for the first time yet. Darsby doesn't pay the voice mind, but he certainly would be intrigued by the black flip phone now in Anora's possession. The caller I.D. would say "Dan."</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? "Anora....Anora...Anora!" Darsby would come upon his visual memories and the secrets they held seemingly all at once. He was shocked to find that he'd likely left the poor girl alone with a violent huntress for quite some time now. He sailed back towards the goal of reforming his body; a new one would have to wait. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hmph!" Would be Ahllasta's first response, a pretentious sort of huff. She apparently felt she was far above whatever it is that Anora had just compared her to. "I hunt celestial beasts. These 'Winchesters' you speak of are far below me. They struggle merely to fend off creatures which hardly threaten just one world. I have reigned in beasts that have devoured stars.-" Her chest puffed with this statement, her eyes flaring open to display how much pride she felt in her work. "-You could say I have myself quite hidden, much like that carcass in the back seat." Ahllasta would continue to inflate her ego via grins and contemplative sneers for several moments to come. Whilst this was occurring, something else would take place around Darsby's body. His contorted limbs and broken shell would simmer for a brief moment. After the faint broiling, things would happen rather quickly. Darsby would spring to life, twirling about in the back seat like a gymnast/contortionist who's practiced their routine in purely enclosed places. The result of his quick movements would be him bracing himself against Ahllasta's seat, a revolver's barrel pressed against its luxurious materials. Somehow, Ahllasta had already pulled out that thin thread she'd used before and laced it around Darsby behind her, it's small surface visibly compressing against his skin. "How many more of those instant renewals do you have left Darsby? My skin can take more than a few of your bullets." Ahllasta would chuckle whilst continuing to drive the car with her one free hand. Just after Ahllasta had spoken, a cellular ringing would fill the cabin of the car. This ringing would be coming from Anora's left pocket. Somehow, a phone had found its way into her jeans without anyone present noticing. Even Darsby and Ahllasta turned towards Anora, their sharp gazes waiting for her to answer the call. Should Anora answer it, a somewhat relaxed frequent smoker would be the image this mans understanding voice would lend. "Hey, how's your day?" Would be his unconcerned words, likely unawares of the events presently at play. Ahllasta's skin shifted into that of a lighter shade as the voice spoke. She may have heard him and may also be displaying signs of fear for the first time yet. Darsby doesn't pay the voice mind, but he certainly would be intrigued by the black flip phone now in Anora's possession. The caller I.D. would say "Dan."</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Surprise flashed over Anora's face when Ahllasta caught her reference—that, or there really were people like the Winchester brothers out there. Which wouldn't have surprised her. Ahllasta's pride shone through unnervingly in both voice and expression. A shudder ran down Anora's spine. After the woman's earlier show of power, she could believe it. But at least Ahllasta's eyes were open. She cringed and glanced to the backseat when Ahllasta referred to Darsby. "Great," she breathed beneath the woman's egotistical grin. "Noted." Maybe that's what that was. Some release of a true form? She shifted uncomfortably, part of her not wanting to look away from Ahllasta and the other begging her to. An unusual shift in light caught Anora's attention, making her decision for her. Before she could focus and figure out what had caused the shift, Darsby sprung to life. She shouted and turned toward the driver's seat as well as the confined car let her. "Don't!" Whether the statement was intended more for Darsby or Ahllasta, she wasn't sure. She glanced to the steering wheel as the two readied to dispose of each other. Thankfully, Ahllasta managed to keep the car steady. She couldn't decide which she feared more: for Darsby's life—especially if his Get Out of Death Free card had a limit to it—or of winding up in a ditch wheels-up. She nearly jumped high enough to hit her head on the car's ceiling when an unfamiliar ringtone burst from her pocket. She had shoved her smartphone into her backpack while on the roof of the farmhouse, its charge depleted. She glanced toward the mysterious bulge now in her pocket. She looked quickly back to the fighting duo, planning on solving the mystery of the phone later. But both Darsby and Ahllasta's attention had turned fully to her, their fight put on hold. Waiting for her to answer. Okay, she drew out the mental word. At least she wouldn't have to witness Darsby getting slaughtered again… yet, anyway. As much as she trusted Darsby, her money was on Ahllasta in a fight between them. She pulled the phone from her pocket. She took barely a moment to examine the flip phone, not wanting to risk it going to voicemail. She couldn't remember the last time she had used a flip phone. She opened it and placed it to her ear. "Uh… yeah?" she answered uncertainly. She looked between Darsby and Ahllasta, expecting them to go at it again any moment. Anora blinked and her brows rose when the raspy voice on the other end replied with a simple, normal question. She almost broke out in a fit of hysterical laughter. For a second, she wondered if she had picked up a cellphone from the minivan and just not realized it. But she noticed Ahllasta had paled. Actually paled. No, this was no ordinary call. But at least Darsby showed no sign she should be cautious. 'An enemy of my enemy' and all that. "You really don't want me to answer that," she replied to the man collar ID called Dan. Her voice came out strained and tense. She kept a careful eye on Ahllasta in case the woman tried grabbing the phone from her. "Who is this? How'd you—?" She stopped herself from asking the reflexive, 'How'd you get this number.' "Just… how?" she settled for instead.</s> <\|message\|>??? Ahllasta and Darsby had both stopped as they'd sensed an event so minor it would have easily gone over Anora's untrained head. At that moment, something put itself in play to plant a phone in Anora's pocket. Ahllasta wanted nothing to do with the person on the other end of the line. Our previously viral huntress withdrew her thread and placed both hands tentatively in front of her. Darsby was now in a place for questions. While a warrior faces front, tightly clenching the steering wheel, an again-revived stranger looks as though he'd sooner reach for the phone and take it from Anora before going back at it with the driver. Somehow, Darsby knows the situation is diffused. "Well, uh, that's a good question.-" The voice casually perks up, as if a point it hadn't thought of was brought to the table. "I, ah... I needed to get a hold of someone in the car. Those two are a little... uhm... eccentric, y'know?" You could picture this stranger to be lounging about at a barbecue, speaking to a favorable acquaintance. Darsby lurches forward, placing his revolver in a blood-caked pocket whilst adjusting his seating. He's now sitting up straight, leaning in close to Anora. He looks starved for answers. Ahllasta on the other end is likened to a cornered animal that's halfway given up on its current means for life. "So like, maybe-... Actually, give me a second.-" Faint muffling comes through the phone as if it'd been placed in a pocket, the crumpling of paper can be heard before another barrage of mic-against-fabric echoes clumsily across the line. "-Yeah, so, I have a question. Uhm, could I drop in on your group, there? It might get a little crowded so I just wanted to ask. I mean, it's rude to just 'show up', right?" Like any-old-someone clumsily requesting a carpool, the unseen man finished speaking. His lack of severe emotion and relative display of manners are jarring against the backdrop of a blood-soaked interior occupying two ferocious wizards.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora glanced to Darsby as the two released each other of their weapons. Her brows furrowed when she noticed Darsby looked like the more likely of the two to go after the phone. Her gaze alternated between Darsby and Ahllasta as 'Dan' replied. His informal speech was a bit off-putting after spending most of the day around authority figures. She blinked and her expression hardened; he knew they were in a car. And either he was one good guesser, or even knew how many people were in it. "'Eccentric's' an understatement," she muttered. She leaned away slightly when Darsby moved closer. She kicked her backpack to the corner of the floor beneath the dash, trying to give herself a bit more room. As shuffling came from the phone with 'Dan's' pause, she looked to Darsby, her own gaze questing. But he looked like he had as many questions as she did. The rustle of a phone being brought back to an ear burst through the speaker. She tilted the flip phone a bit from her to let Darsby hear better. "Wait… what?" she asked when 'Dan' fell silent. "You're joking, right?" Anora swore the universe was bored and had decided to see how much weird she could handle in one day. She was pretty sure it was close to finding out. Though she trusted her senses, that everything happening was really happening, it was all just so strange. So off-the-wall, certifiably crazy, a part of her felt like the entire day couldn't possibly be happening. More accurately, it feared she had gone completely nuts. The day was an unusual flavor of ice cream topped with a magically-appearing talking black cherry that threatened to make the satisfying icy tower collapse. No matter how much she welcomed the break from the mundane world. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It took more effort than she would have liked to admit to keep herself even remotely composed. She looked again between Darsby and Ahllasta, then let their reactions decide her response. "Know what? Sure," she said exasperatedly. She sunk back into the seat with a gentle flop, her free hand gesticulating into the air with her answer. "Why not. As long as you don't plan on killing or maiming anyone, what's one more passenger on the Homicidal Crazy Train? Got a teleporter, Scotty, or do we have to pick you up somewhere between Gotham City and Mordor?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? "I didn't quite, uhm, catch that last part...? Either way, here I-" Halfway through his last remark, Dan would appear in the backseat behind Anora and next to Darsby. "-have my own means of moving from here to there." Dan had appeared inside their vehicle with no more than a slight gust of wind to accompany him. He sat in contrast to those around him with an air one might expect when having already heard his casual tone. He looked, by most accounts, rather average. Our newest passenger exuded no unique presence, no sinister glow, no flashy exposition. If he hadn't popped soundlessly into view, you'd likely have thought him to have always been quietly occupying his leathery seat. Big rectangular spectacles sit atop an angular nose. Thin features and large ears embellish openly ragged eyes. Suitcases lie beneath either half-shut gateway to an overly exhausted soul. Bedraggled locks of knotted hair shoot in ramshackle arches of confused direction. By all accounts, Dan, a vapid soul, held no particular traits aside from two unusual sights. His hair was of a pure-white with greyish streaks finding means to surface amidst many split-ends, and his eyes would either be mildly off-putting or eerily comforting. An inconspicuous grey fills either iris as they sit sharply upon whatever may lay before them; should it be a person, they'd narrow like a suspicious father who's first concern is whether or not a babysitter can honestly keep track of his child. On the other hand, you could say the gaze was that of a teacher accurately analyzing his younger student to determine how harsh or how gentle he should be with his next words and actions. Either way, he exuded no immediate magical presence, unless you count looking vaguely responsible as being magical when paired with our driver and wizard passenger. Ahllasta defies her muscular physique and previously displayed confidence to pull her shoulders inward as if to brace for some harsh impact upon Dan's arrival. Her eyes squint, and her teeth grind whilst awaiting the worst. Darsby looks to be relatively speechless, his mouth agape for several moments before slowly closing. He isn't afraid; he'd be sooner observed as surprised. He sits back in his seat as if waiting in patient awe for Dan to make some action or command. Dan shows no signs of understanding what the other two mentioned here feel aside from the brief glares of tired dismay he bounces against them. After a short pause he leans forward in slight as if to speak generally to Anora in open view should she turn back to see him in his brown Vans, grey joggers, and loose black sweater. What a normal man he is in contrast to our magical ebon four-door rocketing down the freeway with two superhuman individuals. "Hey, so, uh, did you like, get pulled into a really weird day with this guy or the chick who's driving?" He gestures loosely to them both, though he doesn't seem to speak in a way that demands an immediate answer. He looks to be perhaps the easiest one to merely talk to or initially ignore should something more pressing need to be said or presented.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? Dan nodded inconsistently with Anora for most of her statements with a twinge of guilt overcoming his exhaustedly anxious composure. His lower lip obtains a few reddish marks after some intensive nibbling whilst his hands knot themselves atop thin knees. His head tilts downwards with a sigh as if he were bowing to an apology. Our "monster's" head moves back into what he displays as 'awkward eye-contact' range shortly after the young woman finishes speaking. "Monster Mash?" Dan would squeak, sounding more as a mouse than a man whilst Anora listed many references which only pushed him further into confusion. He took several seconds to blink in blank disparity before visibly shaking the confusion from himself with a few squints and bodily tremors. "I-I-I, I think I misspoke.. Your aggressive mindset is sort of, at least, like, a bit my own fault here. I used the word, uhm, conquer? It's more like an 'indoctrination'..-" His open palms gesture with honesty and gentle dismay whilst he speaks. An inept description of things is left to this small, confused, individual as opposed to the other strange and distant creatures riding in our reinforced car down the open freeway. "We, uhm, I mean, The Council, takes in planets full of sentient life with the capacity to produce what we call 'regal wizards', who are, like, really rare from this worlds standpoint... Roughly, I think, one for every billion people? You aren't one! I mean, not at present... Well, anyways, uh...-" Dan gets lost in thought, tapping his chin with a pause in open-handed gestures before sparking to life with further elaboration. "-uh... Right! So with these, uhm, these worlds, we perform free trade of resources and information, but, your issue is, uhm, we end up giving things up equally to everyone. Most of the, uh, the-uh.. like, political groups? Yeah, political groups on your planet don't like the idea of someone much bigger looking over them. Or that bigger person being their main source of information which is as available to them as it is to their enemy... if that makes sense? I've noticed that humans don't become friends overnight unless the one feeding them turns out to be their mutual enemy... Which we aren't worried about! Because, like, there aren't that many of you? But, even so, we don't like, want anyone to die for dopey reasons." Dan takes a moment to rub his temples, eyes closed, mumbling something like a list. He seems to be making sure he's not forgetting anything major. "Oh! Pahn! Right, so we don't know that much about Pahn. They seem to be one person, but, we aren't sure? All we know is that they're capable enough to vaporize this world if something doesn't go their way. Wich is an issue, when we, like, don't want anyone dying because of us? So we're trying to find him before we throw wide-range magics on this planet that are standard for every world under our jurisdiction. We don't know if he'll react in a bad way, which could, y'know, like, kill off everyone you know?" Dan kind of shrugs and makes a weird squeaking sound as his shoulders slide quickly upward to perform the overt gesture of, 'who knows?'. Dan slides back into his seat a bit before hunching over, using one finger to pick at the other one's nail. The man sits like this for a few seconds before looking up again. "Oh yeah! Darsby was supposed to handle things quietly, but, uh, we got some new information that kind of demanded someone, uhm, someone like me?" One hand loosely pulls at his collar as if he were in danger of sweating when speaking of himself or Darsby in any context. If the subject matter of their conversation were different, you'd easily take him for some neurotic passerby living a simple life of many anxieties and a general lack-of-sleep. Darsby appeared relatively unaffected until the end where he bowed a bit as if out of embarrassment towards Anora. His eyes gazed at her with level emotions of serious disposition as he typically seemed to do. Those eyes glimmer with the faint essence of some otherworldly thought, yet, before it could pull her in, Darsby would look away. Ahllasta, in contrast, seemed to shift from afraid and distressed to deeply annoyed. Any talk of politics or equality seemed to claw at her patience immensely. Someone as ferocious as she could be expected to care very little for general bureaucracy. Yet, perhaps, she was pestered for other reasons?</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora couldn't hide a smirk at Dan's reaction to her nickname for him. Something about none of them understanding her references was somehow both irritating and satisfying: with all the confusion they'd caused her, the least she could do was return it, even if in a way that didn't much matter. She almost snorted when Dan tried to amend his choice of wording. Because that'd go over so much better. Fully facing front again, she slowly broke off a piece of the open energy bar. She listened to him carefully. Her head turned slightly toward him to interrupt him with a quick, surprised, "'At present?'" She shook her head, refocusing on Dan's explanations. She popped the bit of almond-dotted, chocolate-laced granola into her mouth. She hardly tasted it as she chewed. Dan's words did nothing to help his cause of convincing Anora their intentions were solely good. She'd seen one too many movies where people sugar-coated their missions, and knew all to well from experience that words often prove sweeter than practice. As her dad always said, 'If your gut says there's something off, listen to it. It's probably right.' And hers was telling her just that. It all sounded too… cultish. Too vague, with too many ways their true intentions could be interpreted. Too close to sounding more like they wanted to use the planet to kidnap these 'regal wizards' for their own personal use. She prickled at his statement about their numbers vs. Earth's in the event of an uprising. So Pahn, it seemed, was really the only thing standing in their way, the only thing whoever Dan, Darsby, and Ahllasta worked for feared. She inhaled slowly, struggling to maintain an outward calm. She glanced back at Dan when he switched to mumbling to himself, his words too low for her to make out. Dan, it seemed, was observant, but not explicitly familiar with how humanity worked. Whether he picked up on her thoughts because of mind reading, some sort of empathic ability, or good ol' intuition, she couldn't say. Regardless of the how, he was quicker at it than Darsby. And the high possibility of the former two was unnerving. An incredulous look crossed her face at how nonchalantly the man mentioned the potential outcome of Pahn killing off everyone she knew. Her grip on the energy bar tightened slightly. For someone who claimed he and his organization didn't want to see anyone hurt, he didn't exactly show any emotion over the prospect of lost lives. So, basically, they could die either at the hands of Pahn, or in the ensuing mass chaos of beings from outer space popping up around the world and trying to force their ways on everyone. Not to mention the world having whatever these 'wide-range magics' were put over it. Whatever he meant, she didn't like the sound of it. And it wouldn't be just her loved ones who suffered. That Pahn hadn't already vaporized the planet was a good sign, though. At least enough to possibly mean he—they—whichever didn't necessarily want Earth destroyed. Just that the power was there. When Dan stopped speaking, her gaze stayed on the energy bar. She spared Darsby's actions scarcely half a glance in acknowledgement. Yet, Ahllasta's reactions beside her caught her attention. Rather, the exact topics that warranted them. If Anora didn't know any better, she'd say Ahllasta didn't much care for the way Dan and his superiors did things. Curiosity about what, exactly, Ahllasta had done to warrant being sent to Earth as a punishment itched on her tongue. "What 'new information' came up to get you involved, then?" She picked off another piece of the energy bar. "And how is it I have a 'contract' with Pahn, anyway? I've never even met him... er, them." She mushed the bit of granola into a roundish shape. "And you didn't actually answer my other questions," she added irately. "Who is it, exactly, you're working for," she looked up through the windshield at the street rushing by, "and where are we going?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan shirked away as he consistently did with Anora's abrasive state, he didn't appear to entirely understand or appreciate her current mindset as something he could grow accustomed to. He sputtered into speaking with anxiety against the waves of ever-angered questions. "Th-th-they, uhm, well, like, the people I do jobs for, they said that Pahn was creating some sort of super-weapon here. They needed to send someone who could, y'know, like, actually neutralize it if he turns out to be hostile...-" He scratches at the back of his head before jamming his thumbs inside white-knuckled palms that pace with force against his thighs. "-I mean, the people who asked me to come here, not, like, my bosses necessarily, but, uhm, the ones who thought I could benefit from a trip here, they, uh, they call themselves 'The Council'. They're a sort of, uh, a network of wizards set up to guarantee all forms of non-hostile trade in the universe at large... W-we also, like-! Y'know, we come together if there's some sort of big threat, or whatever..." Dan shivers visibly due to whatever combination of exhaustion and stress may be coiling its vicious body around his maladjusted mind. Cough-cough, Whe-heeze! Dan coughs and wheezes for a few short moments, his shoulders rattling like the legs of a chair getting ready to give under too much weight. Quickly, he finished coughing and came back to slouching as he tends to with both hands either anxiously pacing his thighs or gesticulating gently towards Anora. "W-well Darsby, here, he will be helping with direction. I mean, you didn't exactly, interact with Pahn, but, uhm, we believe a distant ancestor of yours was one of his creations, err, associates?" Dan scratches at his head with the ending of that last statement/question. During the aforementioned fit of coughing, Darsby performed a fast and nearly undetectable action. The man leaned towards Anora at incredibly fast speeds, and, without permission, tapped his finger against the small wound on her arm. There was a miniscule drop of blood atop Darsby's finger as he leaned back into his seat, having finished that entire movement in under a second. Somehow, her arm wouldn't hurt any more than it already had, and no bandage or scab had been opened. Darsby breaths a small cloud of greyish smoke into his lap, this cloud evaporates once it had reached about the size of a small jewelry box. What is left in its wake is a small black cube. Darsby touches the blood against its top surface, the box then morphs and shifts its shape into that of a sphere with very small, rough looking details tapering its surface. Eventually, blues and greens and greys fill this orb with creamy hues. After about three or four seconds, it was clear that this globe was turning into a small replica of Earth with Darsby keeping his finger locked against its upper side. He eventually retracted his finger from the top, the strange object shrinking all at once with a thin silver chord attached to it to form what looks to be a necklace. "Wear this please." Darsby would say to Anora without flinching as if everything that had just happened was what everyone should have expected. His consistently deadpan features would do nothing to alight our young woman of what it is that had just specifically occurred. "Yes, uhm, this Quenz-Box should, uh, it should let you know, sort of, empathically, which way we need to be going." Dan blushes at Darsby while he gestures towards the small necklace with Earth as it's jewel. The clouds and oceans appeared to be moving in real-time atop its faintly reflective surface. Ahllasta continued to display annoyance at the puttering descriptions of Dan. Perhaps it was just this man that rubbed her raw; perhaps it was the subject matter. Regardless, her lower lip wasn't likely to survive the gnawing of those ferociously sharp canines. Should Anora touch the necklace, she'd hear a strange breeze. Winds and cawing birds would fill her ears, drops of water gently touching upon leaves and the scent of grass accompanied by thoughts of fruit would fill her mind. These thoughts and images wouldn't occupy her entire mind; it's as if her consciousness were a house and someone had flipped on the TV in a room near the one she was occupying. This TV would display distant images of what looked to be some rainforest with vast plains and tall mountains. Strangely, these images blurrily collided with the thoughts of some Chinese or perhaps Japanese city, in all of its concrete wonder shooting as towers into the sky. She would feel some compulsion to continue down this road they were driving on with an eventual inkling to turn right at some point.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>??? "W-well, all we have are fragments..-" Dan scratched at the back of his head, squinting his eyes before releasing a sigh to indicate his joy at Anora not focusing solely on him anymore. "-We b-believe that Pahn bound the original elements of this planet to separate, human forms some-... uh, l-like six or seven billion of your, uh, 'years' ago? That would be your ancestor." Dan pointed this way and that to indicate time and figures, his eyes wandering as easily as his mind all the while. "Anyways!-" Dan continued as if his first point was hardly anything to think about once spoken. "That quenz-er-necklace, uhm, I mean, pendant? Yeah, yeah that. That should feed you some sensory information for your mind to translate. I guess, 'Ahshia' it is?" Dan clearly didn't understand the word 'Asia,' nor did he know how to speak it. Regrettably, it was the only word he had yet spoken with confidence. He gestured towards his two companions and then to Anora with bright eyes saying things like, 'yes, onward friends!' in quiet bodily directives. By this time, it may be possible that Anora would find the protein bar she'd left on her lap to be gone. Should she look for it, she may eventually find that someone who wasn't previously eating next to her now has herself quite the aggressive snack. Ahllasta had grabbed the food as if it were second nature to her with such slight that only Darsby had noticed the action, and, thought it better to say nothing of it. Ahllasta was upset and mumbling between bites. Shortly after Dan had clumsily said the word 'Ahshia,' Ahllasta would only grow more annoyed. She seemed to hate something about this man; perhaps it was the organization he worked for, perhaps it was all his own doing. Regardless, she'd vent her frustration into the buttons of the center console with food-stained fingers, mashing this and denting that while muttering something about her being the only actual wizard here. Eventually, the car sputtered and shifted its shape whilst Anora clearly said "Ahshia, I'll take you to bloody ahshia. All you clueless, inbred, good-for-nothing-" And her voice would again trail off into quiet curses whilst both hands turned white-knuckled atop the steering wheel. The black car they'd first found themselves in had begun to shift and mold along it's exterior into something of a flighty creature. The inner cabin retained it's shape and feeling whilst two, massive wings of the feathery sort sprouted their long figures from either side of the car. Two flaps later and they were sailing above the freeway, another two and they were in the clouds. Their velocity was supernatural; what else is to be expected of current affairs. No momentum or g-force could be felt within, only the faint whistling of the wind. Darsby had calmed himself quite a bit since being in the presence of Dan. He was now gazing longingly into the outer world, clouds and long hilly landscapes birthed some sense of romantic poetry into his face and shoulders. He looked like he was either getting ready to burst into song or settle back into his seat with some profound statement about the size of everything. Dan, feeling the rather 'cool' sort after pushing Ahllasta into her raging action to transform their transport, settled back into his seat. He eventually made a not so profound observation about the size of everything. "I guess we're the big four, knocking on Pahn's door, eh?" Dan gently slapped the seat near Darsby instead of hitting the man's shoulder, deciding that entering someone else's personal space was still only too much for him in his moment of sudden confidence. He let out a few strangled sounds from the abyss of his semi-smiling open mouth before looking frantically for affirmation, tightly crossing his arms, and looking out the window in a way meant to mirror Darsby's eccentric habit of gazing upon creation. Ahllasta and Darsby gave the man no more room than he asked for, attending to their own emotions as previously prescribed. Dan seemed to be the only one jittery and anxious enough to respond to anything Anora might say. He must not be the sort who has many friends.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora's mouth dropped open at being a descendant of someone with an element bound to them. Unlike Dan who switched topics as if he had just told her that her great-great-grandfather was an ice cream man, she only half heard his next words, consumed with the first thought. "Asia," she corrected him absently. She held a hand in front of her, summoning a couple minuscule clouds of her mist around her fingers. The glittering substance swirled with an almost eager playfulness, ever ready to do her bidding. Her brows furrowed as she tried to think of what element could possibly look like her powers. As far as she could tell, it wasn't exactly an element, per say, she controlled, but some sort of energy. But then, that's exactly what some elements were, wasn't it? Energy? Her eyes widened and she inhaled as a thought struck her. There were more than your four classic base elements, after all. Especially depending on what culture you asked. She quickly turned back in her seat, heart beating quicker with the anticipation of at long last knowing what, exactly, she could do. The typical gentle glow of her eyes faded as she released her powers and opened her mouth to confirm her suspicion. But Ahllasta reaching to press the buttons on the center console gave her pause and made her heart jump for an entirely different reason. Worry at what Ahllasta had done pushed her excitement aside. Noticing the woman had taken her energy bar, Anora glanced quickly between the wrapped food and where she had sat it. She frowned and opened her mouth to give an annoyed, yet surprised "Hey!" but the woman's irate mutterings made her shut her mouth. The last thing she needed was to further irritate Ahllasta. Her eyes narrowed, wondering what, exactly, made Ahllasta hate Dan—or his organization—and Darsby so ardently. And not for the first time. But she didn't have time to dwell on that, or the minor theft. Anora gasped and turned fully forward when the car began to sputter and change, its exterior stretching in a way no normal, human-made car could stretch. Her breath caught in her throat. She tightly gripped the edge of her seat near her legs as the car began to rise into the air with a couple downward strokes from the feathered—feathered!—wings that had sprouted from the car. "Holy Valkeries!" Anora breathed Once the initial shock wore off, she quickly pulled part of the seatbelt over her head for more maneuverability and practically pressed her nose against the window. She had her hand on the crank for the window, but thought better of opening it; what of the world she could still make out below blew by with impossible speed. And she rather liked her head and hands where they were. She exhaled heavily as a grin spread over her face. They were flying. In a car. With wings. "This thing would make the Weasley's jealous!" She ran her fingers through her bangs. The desire to lean out the window and touch the inky feathers made her fingers itch. "This is amazing! What'd you do, turn a Pegasus into a car, or vice versa?" Dan's voice reminded her of his presence. "Huh?" she turned again to look at the back seat. Her gaze paused on Darsby, the easier of the two within her sight. He looked the most comfortable with the situation than he had since she met him. This… is normal to them, she reminded herself. Flying cars, spidery monsters, magic—all of it was just another day for them. On the other hand, adrenaline and the thrill of adventure and meeting the bizarre buzzed through her, only adding more emotions to her already over-clogged brain. Her stomach did a few excited flips. The whole situation was crazy—completely insane—but she couldn't help but enjoy it. Some of it, at least. She eyed Dan worriedly at the noises he made. Her brows furrowed as she tried to figure out if he was trying to laugh, clear his throat, or if was about to burst into flames or something else to add to her ever-growing List of Weird. "Okay," she breathed as he mimicked Darsby and looked out his window. She turned fully to get as good a look at him as she could. "Backing up, here. My powers. They're… am I controlling aether? Or is there another element I'm missing?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan perked up, his dim features being set alight at Anora offering him time to ask a question. He was skittish, small, noted as a monster, yet he looked honestly overjoyed when another person noticed him enough to ask anything. He contained his excitement like any school child might: clenched hands, a gingerly chewed lower lip, and upwardly shrugging shoulders to surround ember eyes. Those eyes, inhumanely grey yet entirely rife with some profound joy at the aspect of socialization. That aspect, at least that, was vibrantly human about our alien man, Dan. "Ah! Y-yes! You-you have quite the power to you!-" He watched the static in her hand with quizzical fascination, marveling at whatever traits he'd observed there. "-W-well, you s-see, by our records, at the start of The Olympus-s Era, there were about six individuals made b-by Pan. Th-they procreat-ted to make a sort of, s-sort of blend of elements in their many ch-children." Dan nodded with an anxious shake or two. Whatever lay outside the window was nothing like the talk he was having with Anora here, the knowledge and speech are flagrantly stimulating to him. He didn't seem to favor Anora in any light most grown men would, with distance and hesitant measurement. Dan jumped at the opportunity to speak like a tired child alone in the corner of a kindergarten classroom, too scared to talk first but undoubtedly happy to learn and teach as any young human would be. Do all 'monsters' not have any friends to talk to? What kind of Embassy Rep is this? Darsby continued to look out the window, his traveled eyes absorbing more than most humans do in a lifetime. Whatever it was he looked at had drawn him into some distant land of thought. He was a man in another world by the remote air to him. Ahllasta continued to grumble and munch vigorously at the food between her fingers. Heated air rasps from her lungs in small spurts of protest. She appears to be relaxing into the seat, both shoulders sitting square on the leather above a faintly slouching waist. Her complaints only continued as Dan carried on in his usual way, his presence and manner keeping her aggravated. She didn't look unused to this state of pestered being. ------------------------------------------------ Far, far away in a damaged farmstead there lay an incapacitated agent and a continuously ringing phone. On the other ened waits a directore of sorts who'll likely only spend another ring or two of his time before finding solutions to problems far bigger than his widest estimations.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora watched Dan with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. She couldn't tell if he was just etremely eager to answer and possibly get her fully on his side, or had had too few people to talk to in his lifetime. Or perhaps both, with how he spoke. She inhaled, her expressive features shifting slightly with each bit of information Dan gave. At least he seemed a tad bit less skittish now Darsby had contented himself with the outside and Ahllasta was too busy in her world-hating corner of self-pity. "I'm going to take that as yes, I control aether," she interrupted, unsure if his 'Yes' was in answer to that question, or something else with how easily he said it. She listened to the rest of his response with a look of awed disbelief. "So, I'm not completely human, then?" she asked, her voice giddy. "But… then why am I the only one in my family who can control aether? Shouldn't my siblings or parents have the same abilities? And Darsby mentioned Olympus before," she continued on, eager for the answers he seemed willing to give. But she gave Dan scarcely enough time to breathe between questions, let alone respond. "We talking Zeus' and Hades' Olympus here, or in some sort of code? And is their 'era' something like a dynasty, then? Like, a period of rule? Or popularity?" She reached to fidget with the Earth pendant. A bubble of panic worked into her chest when she realizing she had dropped it on the floor when the car took flight. She quickly adjusted to search for it. She found it beside her backpack. With a relieved sigh, she grabbed it and straightened. Sitting awkwardly in her seat, she draped its cord around her neck. The small Earth thumped lightly against her chest. On the bright side, she hadn't noticed any catastrophic earthquakes when she dropped it. "And… I won't crush anyone in Australia by handling this thing, will I?" she asked with a slight, concerned smile. She carefully indicated the pendant, holding it from her by the cord. She didn't think Darsby would give her something she could cause mass destruction with. Not without a warning, anyway. But it was better safe than sorry.</s> <\|message\|>??? Words flowed like water into an already occupied mouth, gagging Dan with strange sputtering sounds as Anora bombarded him with question after question. The neurotic soul was overjoyed to witness an actual display of interest developing. His limbs wrenched forward with his palms upward in a show of openness to whatever it is Anora may be questioning. Just before Dan could begin speaking, Ahllasta made some obscure quip about machinery and Anora being confused about what's going on. "No, uhm n-no, you're actually more human than m-m-most humans. The original humans were, in fact, those elementals I spoke of..-" Dan scratched the back of his head before setting his innocent gaze upon Anora. There wasn't any struggle aside from that of the self here. His anxiety and joy looked appallingly human, yet, something about Dan was still alien. He was like a kindly classmate you meet at university who must've come from an entirely different walk of life, his smaller mannerisms denoting something of a different upbringing. "You should b-be fine with the pendant, I mean, I-I didn't make it, so there really wasn't a whole lot of p-power invested in i-t-t-" HACK!-HACK!-COUGH! Dan broke out into another fit of openly painful coughing. His shoulders heaved, and body trembled at the receding of his episode. Oddly, no one in the car gave that physical distress any mind. You could say they might have even ignored Dan's moment out of reverence or respect for something. By the time he was done, he had looked back up towards Anora and continued responding after a little adjusting of his glasses. His cheeks were red, eyes gilded by moisture, perhaps the first sign of common weakness displayed from any of our three wizards. "S-so you're a sign to Pahn being active again, with your p-powers awakening and all. His m-mind and body are tied deeply to your Earth-th and it's populace, likely from some old contract-ish magics used to m-mold them, you being here in your above average form shows Pahn being in n-need of something, likely subconsciously. I m-mean that whole pantheon of people you call gods, Z-Zeus and Hades are all part of, uhm... Y-y-you said dynasty? Uhm, things didn't exactly go like how they do with most humans. I m-mean, l-like, it's not like a bunch of people flocked together to survive and called it 'history'. I mean, th-there's no need for a code or rank of popularity when the ruling being here could end all of what you c-call, uhm, like, life on Earth? Yeah, that. When he could end all of that with a proverbial snap-" Dan snapped his fingers to that last word as if he were putting on some fascinating lecture. "-of the fingers." Dan was bright and spoke quickly of these subjects. He was not surprised to say that gods existed or that some even higher power ruled them. Dan became more and more comfortable as they spoke, enjoying the act of conversating with someone, anyone. His legs had folded into his seat by this point, that smallish figure fitting comfortably into a hunched posture of gesticulating amidst further relaxed expressions. Our group's vehicle was well over the ocean by this point, faint scents and smells growing stronger in Anoras mind the more they traveled. Blue fields of aetherial mist spread out beneath them while clouds slid over an invisible table. They were high in the sky, very high; one could say they may even be reaching some atmospheric limit. The heavens hadn't quite grown dark or shown signs of being exited, yet, they must be close with how distant the Earth has become.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora shot Ahllasta a glare at the woman's comment. She bit back a retort; further aggravating the driver—especially while in a car flying over the ocean—was never a good idea. 'More human than most humans,' Anora repeated mentally, returning Dan's stare as she waited for him to catch up with her questions. "So… humans without powers have more non-human blood in them?" Her brows rose. She made a light, chuckling snort, still fidgeting carefully with the mini-Earth's cord. The implication that, once, humans were magic beings themselves was a mind-blowing thought. She stared at Dan for a short moment when he answered regarding the pendant. Either he was the most chill type of arrogant, or he really did have powers beyond what his appearance let on. Dan's second coughing fit interrupted her thoughts. "Are you okay?" she asked slowly when the violent cough subsided. That couldn't be normal. Yet, a quick glance at the others in the car showed their lack of reaction. Whether because of some unknown respectful custom or it being a normal occurrence, she couldn't say. She cringed inwardly in sympathy when Dan looked back to her. For a self-stated monster, his lack of monster-like characteristic was shocking. Anora chewed the inside of her cheek as Dan continued. She listened, gaze never straying from him as she tried to follow the rest of the man's explanations. Something about him made her think of her old high school history teacher. Only if he was an inexperienced substitute with stage fright and a stutter. She sighed, and reminded herself to use different terms. Terms possibly more common so Dan wouldn't have to guess so much about what she'd meant. Maybe that would help him make more sense to her. Or maybe not. She glanced down when Dan finished speaking, letting his words sink in. Her fidgeting with the pendant increased. "So… whatever it is Pahn needs, some type of magic somewhere thinks I'm the one who can solve whatever problem he has?" She shook her head. "What happened to him, anyway? Why'd he vanish—go dormant—whatever, in the first place? And wouldn't it be smarter to activate that contract in more people if someone that powerful needs help? I mean, I've had my powers for years now. But Mad—" she caught herself before she said her siblings' names. She didn't want to risk getting them involved. "But like I said," she corrected herself, "I'm the only one in my family who has them, and Darsby said I'm the only living human with that contract. Is that something that should run in families? A bloodline type deal? Or is it all determined by chance?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan chuckles at Anora's questions, the innocent laugh of someone excited to shed truth on subject those nearby may be unclear on. He was joyful to spread knowledge, or perhaps he was simply in the mirth of being close to someone curious about anything at all. Dan wiped his somewhat runny nose while his cheeks cleared of their rosy complexion. Grey eyes bounced before focusing in on Anora in a way most humans don't, clean of any dirtied thoughts or wishes. "I could be wrong, b-but, uhm, I'm being misunderstood. We aren't speaking about a human, or a-anyone who lives and dies or thinks l-like you do. Pahn is s-someone who's passing thoughts bring things into existence here. P-perhaps he anticipated d-danger of some kind, like in p-passing, and your particular existence r-resonated just right with uhm, w-with his possible suggestions of a future solution. L-like, if you g-got old and decided to take a year or two off j-just to recover your, uhm, y-your thoughts, or perhaps-s uhm, like, work on a project in secret, that wouldn't b-be unheard of-f. Pahn is suggested to b-be billions of your Earth-years in age. Maybe he took a c-couple hundred m-million years off or to do, uhm, to do something in s-secret?" Dan shrugged, taking a shaky breath through a hoarse throat before continuing. His lips pursed as if he had been holding something back. He was excited to tell all but limited by the avenue of words and habits. "That would line up with The Seers Guild's divination of a great danger here. Your celestial reverence, respectfully, may ask about something?" Darsby chimed in, having turned from his view of the outside with a slow and sanguine air. Those dark eyes loomed with faint connotations of fearful respect over Dan. "Y-yes, sure! Go right ahead!" Dan squeaked back, not having expected Darsby to interrupt. "Your celestial reverence, I have wanted to ask this since meeting you, does the situation truly demand a presence like yours? Has The Council's formal analysis of the 'Comet Omen' in this sector revealed greater peril than I can handle?" Darsby was focused intently on the smallish man beside him, the suitcases underneath his eyes still keeping him from looking entirely awake. "W-well, uhm...-" Dan leaned forward an arm running slowly over the back of his neck while the other rests in his lap. Ahllasta had white-knuckled the steering wheel again with audible groans of leather after Darsby had called Dan 'your celestial reverence'. Strangely, she quickly calmed herself and grew tense with a faint air of survival-driven fear when the question of dangers magnitude came to the table. "-...I-I mean you're all in my charge s-so, anyways, this has to do with another d-development. I p-plead that you do not worry about it." Dan acted like he spoke of some solemn affair, Darsby mirroring the emotion as he turned to look out the window again. This time, Darsby was in thought over something different, something more immediate, his tightened jawline showed it. Ahllasta invoked a similar change in herself, her eyes looking far away for the first time since she'd met Anora. Dan had withdrawn himself inward for several moments before looking back up at Anora via youthful exuberance. He was ready to continue with her questions; these talks of danger doing nothing to dim his spirits in the moment.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Anora sighed and frowned when Dan began his newest round of answers again with 'being misunderstood.' Not my fault you're more confusing than one of Maddy's boy rants, she thought, still fidgeting with the Earth pendant. She concentrated on the rest of his answer, doing her best to put it all together. Her brows rose as he shone more light on Pahn's strength. "So, from the sound of it, he's some god-level being who vanished to either possibly make a weapon of mass destruction, or sip martinis on a remote beach in Japan?" She smirked at the thought of some mighty being sunbathing on a beach. Hey. Everyone needs a vacation now and again. She had scarcely finished her question when Darsby spoke up. Anora blinked at him. She had momentarily forgotten the pink-haired man was still there. "Seers Guild?" she muttered to herself. She cast Dan a sideways glance at how Darsby addressed him. Not knowing who Dan was, what he could do or had done to be addressed as 'celestial reverence,' threatened to drive her nuts. Her eyes narrowed as she listened to their exchange, most of it going over her head. But from what little she could tell between the men's exchange and Ahllasta's reactions, there was something she was missing. Something big. She tried to stifle a humorless laugh at Dan's plea to 'not worry about it,' but failed, the sound escaping in a snorted rush through her nose. She glanced between Ahllasta and Darsby at Dan's pause, wondering if either of them would bother to question his painfully vague reply. But neither of them did. Silence fell for a moment before she realized Dan was looking expectantly back at her. "That's it?" she asked, taking charge where the other two in the car wouldn't. "Just, 'I'm your babysitter, so I'll deal with it?' C'mon." She glanced between the other two. "I didn't understand half of that, but it can't seriously pacify you." She sighed heavily. These two seemed like blind followers, happy to accept any orders given them. Well, perhaps not happy in Ahllasta's case, but she still followed them. And she didn't like the sudden tension that radiated from them. She turned her attention back to Dan. "I don't know how you guys work, but if I'm going to be apart of this team here, Monster Mash, I want to know what I'm facing. We've already got a guy who sounds like he could turn me to dust like that," she snapped her fingers. Though she said it with a fair lightness, the weight of the concept hung heavily on her even once the words faded from the air. If things went wrong, there was the good chance she'd never get to see home again. "But apparently," she continued, doing her best to shove the thought aside for now, "that wasn't what made you come here to help. So what's the deal? Did Hades decide to release the Titans again and send them our way, or what?" She shuddered. Though simply another movie reference, the thought drew that morning's dream back to her mind. She glanced toward her backpack with her sketchbook and the sketch of the screaming hand bursting through the ground. She shook her head slightly and refocused on Dan.</s> <\|message\|>??? Anora's words "-I didn't understand half of that, but it can't seriously pacify you." caused a reaction of some kind. Ahllasta flexes against the steering wheel, it's circular shape contorting alongside the vapid grunts of actively warping metal. Her shoulders swell with circulation as her features go red. Her body quivers inside its fleshy suit of bulging veins. For a moment, one could say she appeared to be rather upset. "If you need to vent your frustrations...-?" Dahn focused on our driver. His words were kindly as they typically found themselves to be, yet, they carried a new burden here. Was it a threat? His body didn't look ready for combat, aside from the fact that for the first time since sitting down he'd stopped fidgeting entirely. "BLEAGH!!" Ahllasta would spit a guttural sound from her throat just before smashing the center console with her fist right over a button labeled 'Auto-pilot' that now looked more like 'A--Upu-z' when read through it's shattered body. "I need some air!!" She'd howl violently before opening a window which relinquishes a surprisingly calm breeze upon our current crew's cabin. Ahllasta would then climb out of the window and on to the roof. Violent winds slam against her clothing but pass across her overtly rigid form as if it were no more than severe sunlight before she slips from view via several odd slithering motions. Dan and Darsby didn't pay said tantrum any more than a sigh each. Earth's populated horizon could be seen approaching below. They were still many countless miles from the surface, but, with this vehicles speed, there's no way of telling how quickly those miles might be distanced. Ahllasta has made herself at home atop the car, out of sight and earshot of their conversations. "Our Celestial Reverence is a highly distinguished combat specialist. He-" Darsby was interrupted mid-explanation to Anora by Dan himself. "D-D-Darsby! J-just call me Dan, for the remainder of the mission." "That's hardly your full nam-" "P-please!" "Understood...-" Darsby eventually gives in. His propensity for following core-rules and formalities appears to run deep. "Yes! Why am I here?-" Dan would ask, attempting to focus back in on Anora in his typically fidgety way. "-W-well, it's simple. The worst possible scenario is a sizable p-possibility. So, I'm here." Dan shrugs as if this reply should completely answer any questions to be had here. "I-I mean it would st-stink if half the galaxy got vaporized or something." He'd then chuckle aloud, and adjust his glassed.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. The protesting screech of the steering wheel drew Anora's attention back to Ahllasta. Anora inhaled at the sight of the woman. Apparently, she'd hit one heck of a nerve. Oh, crap! Violate eyes wide, she held her breath and pressed herself as close to the passenger door as she could. Misty particles fizzled into existence around her, in part from a conscious desire for a ready defense, and in part of their own accord. She glanced worriedly out the windshield. If Ahllasta went off the deep end this far up… Dan's voice interrupted her worrying. She glanced to him incredulously She'd felt only a shadow of Ahllasta's power. Watched her ruthlessly kill Darsby in the blink of an eye. Seen her turn brutally on her earlier companion on a whim. Yet Dan, who looked like even Anora had a chance at beating him in a weight-lifting contest, was more than enough to keep the beastly female in check, even now. And his countenance had shifted, as if the prospect of a fight was more in his comfort zone than making conversation. It made for an unnerving reminder that she knew practically nothing about who she traveled with. What kind of strength they each held. To top it off, she still wasn't sure if she should actually call them the good guys or not. 'You… wait!" Panic settled in her when Ahllasta reached for the window. She wasn't an expert, but she knew what happened if you opened a door in plane. She cringed, expecting the worst when the window rolled down. But instead of a devastating catastrophe, only a fresh, salty breeze filled the car. She gawked at Ahllasta as she crawled out the window easier than Anora would have thought possible. "Well… That just happened." She glanced up at the ceiling as the sounds of Ahllasta's movements settled. Who needs physics when you're in a flying car? She looked to Darsby, eager hope lighting her eyes as it seemed she was finally going to get some sort of full answer about Dan. When the other man interrupted, it took most of her willpower to not yell at him in frustration. She faced forward as the two spoke in the backseat. She glanced at the broken auto pilot button. Neither of the men seemed to be worried about it, but then, she had the feeling they could be on fire while bombs went off around them and still just shrug it off. She blinked and turned her head when Dan answered her last question. If you could even call it answering. She groaned and ran a hand down her face. His vague, roundabout responses threatened to give her a headache. Getting information from him was worse than asking her siblings how school went. If she was going to get any straight-forward answers, she had the feeling Ahllasta was her best bet. She seemed more… rebellious than the men. Which could prove useful. If she could manage to get the woman alone to talk to her without getting herself twisted into a pretzel in the process. She turned again in her seat to meet Dan's gaze. "I'm getting tired of you beating around the bush with all your half answers," she snapped, gesturing about in emphasis as she spoke. "If you're doing that because I'm new here, I'm not some terrified child who needs things sugar-coated. So out with it!" She slapped her hand down on the side of the driver's seat, using it to help turn her better to eye Dan. "What am I—what are we," she corrected, her voice and gaze firm, "going up against? Besides some god-like… whatever."</s>	<\|message\|>??? An odd reaction occurs when the formula of Dan and Anora combines with noise and frustration; Dan calms down. The man's lips relax, his shoulders square and place their weight against the leather behind him, his eyes level against Anora's with an innocent peace typically found only in the ignorant. "Hmmm.-" He'd mutter, his lips pursing for a moment whilst his fingers cease to twiddle, curl, and writhe. "-Sure." "There's a force in the universe most closely related to what your people call 'magic'. Humanity has recently been adopting this energy on a larger scale despite general skepticism. This is mostly due to some of our reality's larger-scale threats manifesting here on Earth, resulting in a greater need for general policing and protection. I can smell one such threat on you, they're called 'bluth' I believe?" Dan relaxes further, grey eyes glazing over whilst his voice deepens in the confidence of fluid-speech. Somehow, being yelled-at or presented with hostility has a placation effect on his anxiety. Should Anora be observant, she'd notice her hand slamming on the console caused his eyes to briefly widen, then shortly after, narrow and relax along with the rest of his body. "I belong to a union of intergalactic guilds balanced by several government bodies. I'm contracted as a 'safety inspector' of sorts. I was told to investigate the appearance of what is predicted to be the emergence of a 'singularity-level' wizard: A single sentient entity with an affinity to wield magic on a scale of manipulating several solar systems simultaneously.-" Dan continues to speak in a rhythmic and semi-passionate fashion, the way a strange celebrity may speak on TV when tired and reciting a rehearsed monologue to advertise their latest film. "My second job is to make sure no less than thirty percent of all sentient life remains alive by the end of 'emergence'. I personally prefer most all of life remains the same for those involved, but, if I determine my strength to be inadequate, my methods won't matter since someone stronger will have to be called in. Who we're looking for is someone by the name of 'Pahn'. They've apparently been trapped on Earth for quite some time and have spent the past two billion years forging some kind of 'instrument'. The details after this get hazy as the specifics of events and their motives arent the specialty of our Seer's Guild and their predictions. Though, when it comes to an event actually occurring, their accuracy is infallible. Besides, you were pretty key in the predictions. Your face and name came up quite a bit, especially in the war." Dan would then release a deep sigh and lean further back against his seat to stare out the window. For the entirety of that monologue he may have been looking 'towards' Anora, but, you could hardly say he was looking 'at' her. Some part of him had closed off and become oddly mechanical, despite the presence of emotion. He was made cold in his ease of communication, sparing an equal amount of semi-passioned talk about colors and magic as he would about life and it's required 'percentage' of survival. His anxious self was confusing and harmless, his calmer side looked nearly-empty in its readiness to do anything necessary. The Earth below was now a bit closer. A skyline of man-made towers could be seen growing along a curvacious coast. Darsby continued to observe Anora and Dan as they spoke, he looked to be consumed by some rather severe thoughts throughout their talking. Thankfully, he had also thought to be quiet while others were talking.</s>
<\|description\|>??? ALIAS('s): Darsby STATUS: Living SPECIES: Human? GENDER: Male? AGE: ??? HEIGHT: 5' 10" WEIGHT: ??? BUILD: Lean-Lanky-Thin RANK: ??? OCCUPATION: ??? BASIC PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: He's attenuated, pale, entirely covered in various ebony tribal tattoos up to and including the neck, numerous lengthy blade-born scars, and holds lean muscle in quantity's just thick enough to not look emaciated. His hair and eyes are generally a somewhat luminescent rose pink, the X scar just above his right eye is of the same color. Said scar is the only piece of tissue with such an oddity. Darsby's scars cut through his numerous tattoos as if having occurred after getting ink-work done. BASIC PERSONALITY DESCRIPTION: He's most easily related to an apathetic college student during finals week who's will to live was lost after discovering their GPA is ruined due to failed exams. BASIC ABILITY DESCRIPTION: He can hide his presence with alien cigarettes and teleport objects from one place to another, I guess? Maybe he can sense strange magics? BASIC HISTORY DESCRIPTION: Unidscovered PICTURE:</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. The protesting screech of the steering wheel drew Anora's attention back to Ahllasta. Anora inhaled at the sight of the woman. Apparently, she'd hit one heck of a nerve. Oh, crap! Violate eyes wide, she held her breath and pressed herself as close to the passenger door as she could. Misty particles fizzled into existence around her, in part from a conscious desire for a ready defense, and in part of their own accord. She glanced worriedly out the windshield. If Ahllasta went off the deep end this far up… Dan's voice interrupted her worrying. She glanced to him incredulously She'd felt only a shadow of Ahllasta's power. Watched her ruthlessly kill Darsby in the blink of an eye. Seen her turn brutally on her earlier companion on a whim. Yet Dan, who looked like even Anora had a chance at beating him in a weight-lifting contest, was more than enough to keep the beastly female in check, even now. And his countenance had shifted, as if the prospect of a fight was more in his comfort zone than making conversation. It made for an unnerving reminder that she knew practically nothing about who she traveled with. What kind of strength they each held. To top it off, she still wasn't sure if she should actually call them the good guys or not. 'You… wait!" Panic settled in her when Ahllasta reached for the window. She wasn't an expert, but she knew what happened if you opened a door in plane. She cringed, expecting the worst when the window rolled down. But instead of a devastating catastrophe, only a fresh, salty breeze filled the car. She gawked at Ahllasta as she crawled out the window easier than Anora would have thought possible. "Well… That just happened." She glanced up at the ceiling as the sounds of Ahllasta's movements settled. Who needs physics when you're in a flying car? She looked to Darsby, eager hope lighting her eyes as it seemed she was finally going to get some sort of full answer about Dan. When the other man interrupted, it took most of her willpower to not yell at him in frustration. She faced forward as the two spoke in the backseat. She glanced at the broken auto pilot button. Neither of the men seemed to be worried about it, but then, she had the feeling they could be on fire while bombs went off around them and still just shrug it off. She blinked and turned her head when Dan answered her last question. If you could even call it answering. She groaned and ran a hand down her face. His vague, roundabout responses threatened to give her a headache. Getting information from him was worse than asking her siblings how school went. If she was going to get any straight-forward answers, she had the feeling Ahllasta was her best bet. She seemed more… rebellious than the men. Which could prove useful. If she could manage to get the woman alone to talk to her without getting herself twisted into a pretzel in the process. She turned again in her seat to meet Dan's gaze. "I'm getting tired of you beating around the bush with all your half answers," she snapped, gesturing about in emphasis as she spoke. "If you're doing that because I'm new here, I'm not some terrified child who needs things sugar-coated. So out with it!" She slapped her hand down on the side of the driver's seat, using it to help turn her better to eye Dan. "What am I—what are we," she corrected, her voice and gaze firm, "going up against? Besides some god-like… whatever."</s> <\|message\|>??? An odd reaction occurs when the formula of Dan and Anora combines with noise and frustration; Dan calms down. The man's lips relax, his shoulders square and place their weight against the leather behind him, his eyes level against Anora's with an innocent peace typically found only in the ignorant. "Hmmm.-" He'd mutter, his lips pursing for a moment whilst his fingers cease to twiddle, curl, and writhe. "-Sure." "There's a force in the universe most closely related to what your people call 'magic'. Humanity has recently been adopting this energy on a larger scale despite general skepticism. This is mostly due to some of our reality's larger-scale threats manifesting here on Earth, resulting in a greater need for general policing and protection. I can smell one such threat on you, they're called 'bluth' I believe?" Dan relaxes further, grey eyes glazing over whilst his voice deepens in the confidence of fluid-speech. Somehow, being yelled-at or presented with hostility has a placation effect on his anxiety. Should Anora be observant, she'd notice her hand slamming on the console caused his eyes to briefly widen, then shortly after, narrow and relax along with the rest of his body. "I belong to a union of intergalactic guilds balanced by several government bodies. I'm contracted as a 'safety inspector' of sorts. I was told to investigate the appearance of what is predicted to be the emergence of a 'singularity-level' wizard: A single sentient entity with an affinity to wield magic on a scale of manipulating several solar systems simultaneously.-" Dan continues to speak in a rhythmic and semi-passionate fashion, the way a strange celebrity may speak on TV when tired and reciting a rehearsed monologue to advertise their latest film. "My second job is to make sure no less than thirty percent of all sentient life remains alive by the end of 'emergence'. I personally prefer most all of life remains the same for those involved, but, if I determine my strength to be inadequate, my methods won't matter since someone stronger will have to be called in. Who we're looking for is someone by the name of 'Pahn'. They've apparently been trapped on Earth for quite some time and have spent the past two billion years forging some kind of 'instrument'. The details after this get hazy as the specifics of events and their motives arent the specialty of our Seer's Guild and their predictions. Though, when it comes to an event actually occurring, their accuracy is infallible. Besides, you were pretty key in the predictions. Your face and name came up quite a bit, especially in the war." Dan would then release a deep sigh and lean further back against his seat to stare out the window. For the entirety of that monologue he may have been looking 'towards' Anora, but, you could hardly say he was looking 'at' her. Some part of him had closed off and become oddly mechanical, despite the presence of emotion. He was made cold in his ease of communication, sparing an equal amount of semi-passioned talk about colors and magic as he would about life and it's required 'percentage' of survival. His anxious self was confusing and harmless, his calmer side looked nearly-empty in its readiness to do anything necessary. The Earth below was now a bit closer. A skyline of man-made towers could be seen growing along a curvacious coast. Darsby continued to observe Anora and Dan as they spoke, he looked to be consumed by some rather severe thoughts throughout their talking. Thankfully, he had also thought to be quiet while others were talking.</s> <\|message\|>Anora Rose Feldington. She's told it's a name that's been in her family for as long as anyone can remember. Catching Dan's eyes widen at the show of her frustrations, Anora groaned inwardly. If he'd been nervous before, she feared her outburst would only make it worse. Her head had already begun to throb, deciding full-heartedly that now was a great time for a headache. Her stomach gnawed at her, demanding she feed it. She was in no mood to keep dealing with Dan's near indecipherable answers. She blinked, surprised, when the man instead relaxed, sinking back into his seat. Even his ever-wringing hands fell still. She eyed him, trying to figure him out. Did he actually prefer hostility? As if her action had been just the right prompt, for the first time, Dan responded in a way she understood without having to sift through his verbal fillers. For a moment, Anora could only stare, shocked at the drastic change in his tone and speech patterns. She grimaced at the reminder of the spidery blouth from the hospital. And, like Darsby, Dan apparently had a heightened sense of smell. She hadn't even touched the things, and he could smell them on her. Curious, she pulled the collar of her shirt up, making the chains clipped to the side jingle lightly, and sniffed at it. The only scent she picked up on was the faint hint of laundry detergent that had somehow survived this crazed day. Her attention snapped back to Dan as he continued. Her eyes narrowed at his practiced, mechanical tone. She met his gaze, and a shiver ran down her spine. It was almost like he'd been programmed, reverting to his default state with the right trigger. Before she could think much deeper on it, his words called for her full attention. Her violet eyes widened at the apparent strength of the being they were up against. "Several solar systems?" she hissed, but the gentle rush of the briny wind through Ahllasta's open window and Dan continuing drowned out her voice. She let out a quick, disbelieving breath at his 'second job.' Despite his words, there was a sickening brusqueness to it, like someone stating they'd prefer to have the whole cake, but would happily settle for just a slice. Only it was people he was talking about. Billions of them. But to him, it sounded like it was nothing but business. Her hand fisted against the seat. Sparks of purple and gold puffed to involuntary life around her fingers for a second as angry heat rose to her cheeks at Dan's relative indifference. It took her a moment to force herself to refocus on the man's words. "I what now?" Incredulous surprise pushed her anger aside for a moment. "In a [i]war?[i]" She huffed out a breath, turned around, and leaned heavily back into her seat. She looked down, gaze and jaw tense. "A war you expect to kill billions of people!" There was no way she would let that happen. Somehow, there had to be a way to avoid losing over half the people of the world. To avoid a war between an intergalactic invasion party and overpowered god-level wizard. A war she apparently had enough of a part in to get the attention of a bunch of psychics. Prophets. Whatever his blasted 'Seers Guild' was. She let out a dark, hysterical chortle at the thought as she reached for her open backpack at her feet. This whole thing had thrown 'insane' out the window long ago. She didn't think there even was an English adjective strong enough that would work for the situation. She pulled out another of dwindling supply of granola bars and started to open it. She glanced out the windshield just long enough to realize they were already approaching a coastline. She paused, staring out at the approaching civilization, the wrapper of her snack partially torn. Until now, she hadn't even noticed the shift in lighting, the subtle—and not so subtle—indications of entering a completely different time zone. The now morning sun glittered off of windows in the distance, turning the city into a spectral to behold. She shook her head lightly and ripped the granola bar open. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised they had made a fifteen-hour flight in a matter of maybe half an hour, give or take. "So what is it you plan on doing about Pahn, Monster Mash?" she snapped, returning to the issue at hand. She tossed the wrapper into her bag. "Figure out where he is, then call in an armada? Confront him yourself?"</s>	<\|message\|>??? Dan sighs, his eyes turning away from Anora to gaze out the window. He'd take a brief moment with himself despite others being around, allowing all questions to linger for a moment before snapping at them. He is relaxed, relaxed in the same way a bear may be as it lingers over a fish-populated river. "I'll observe and draw conclusions after I've put my eye on them. We're both trying to answer the same questions. I know that Earth is small compared to space, but, so is The Council. We get scared out there in the dark too..." Dan offers a sidelong glance before some unspoken thought trips him up and he begins to tense. His fingers pace slowly into themselves, gradually lacing into one another. His knees shrivel inwards. He spirals into anxiety as he did on arrival. Darsby, who'd been slowly relaxing more as the conversation carried on, began to inspect the tears in his baggy clothing. The tips of his fingers would glow a faint pink as he traces them over various scars and wounds, healing them instantly upon first touch. Something about Dan had frightened him, he'd worked past this after observing the man for some time. "My apologies for earlier.-" Darsby would suddenly say aloud whilst attentively working on his deformities. "-You never know what you're getting with these 'Celestial Wizards', the power and age make a dangerous combination at times. It's better to be polite." His last sentence would be said towards Anora as he finishes his work and slumps back into his seat. "You did good calming him down like that." Darsby looks towards Dan, who'd only half-heard the things spoken about him. The jittery man would nod and chuckle a bit before looking back out the window whilst gnawing at his nails. Darsby, the alien she'd arrived here with, looked markedly overwhelmed. He'd smile at Anora in a way that said they were both somehow on the same boat at this point. The horizon grew closer, Beijing's skyline quickly closing in. They were just about at whatever destination they'd been attempting to get to.</s>
<\|description\|>The German Squad Hans Bauer - Sergeant Hans Bauer is the 35 year old sergeant of the German squad. He is of average size, with short black hair and blue eyes. He is a strong-willed soldier and a proud supporter of the Third Reich. His leadership and camaraderie makes him the ideal commander for this operation. Hans carries an MP40 sub-machine gun and a Luger pistol. Franz Ziegler - Private (Machine Gunner) 38 year old Franz is a stout men with an even temper - a 'gentle giant'. He is tall and imposing, yet calm and passive. He values his friends, and would do anything to protect them. Franz carries an MG32 machine gun and a Luger pistol. Gerhard Brant - Private (Machine Gunner) Gerhard is the most hot-tempered of the group. Tall, strong, and mean - this bull-of-a-man represents the extremes of bravery and courage. Or perhaps it is arrogance and anger - after all, Brandt served in the Great War and harbors a particular grudge against the Allies. Gerhard carries an MG32 machine gun and a Luger pistol. Claus Jager - Private (Assistant Gunner) A young man, from the same village as Otto Kraus. Claus was born and raised on a farm, and like his father he is loyal to the Fatherland. He is an assistant for the squad's machine gunners. Claus carries a Luger pistol and spare ammo. Otto Kraus - Private (Assistant Gunner) Otto was born and raised in the same village as Claus, and the two grew up as friends. Like Jager, he is an assistant for the machine gunners. He carries a Luger pistol and spare ammo. Karl Moltke - Private (Grenadier/Rifleman) Karl is a personal friend of the sergant, Hans Bauer, and also acts as his second-in-command. Karl displays excellent leadership skills as well. He is a strong and stout ally, and acts as the squad's primary grenadier. He carries a Karabiner 98k, a Luger pistol, and 3 grenades. Helmut Seidel - Private (Grenadier/Rifleman) Helmut is a humble man who has quick adapted to the shock of warfare. Helmut can maintain his composure in the face of enemy fire, and never backs down from a fight. As a former meat cutter and cook, he is also the squad's primary cooker. He carries a Karabiner 98k, a Luger pistol, a frag grenade, and 2 smoke grenades. Wessel Winter - Private (Rifleman) The oldest member of the group, and a veteran of the Great War. Wessel fights for Germany with a determined heart. He carries a Karabiner 98k and a Luger pistol. Franz Schmidt - Private (Rifleman) The second-to-youngest member of the group and one of the freshest recruits. Franz attended a university before the outbreak of the Second World War. He is an educated young man, willing to prove himself in the service of his country. He carries a Karabiner 98k and Luger pistol. Kristoph Kramer - Private (Rifleman) The youngest and freshest recruit of the squad. Kristoph's father served in the Great War, and like him he wants to prove himself. He is loyal to the Third Reich, and often argues with Franz on various subjects. He carries a Karabiner 98k and a Luger pistol.</s> <\|message\|>The German Squad May 11th, 1940. The German invasion of Belgium was in full swing. The German airborne forces were tasked with taking Fort Eben-Emael, which was integral to the success of the army. A series of battles were being fought along the border, usually aimed to secure important bridges and crossings. German Panzer divisions were ready to move into central Belgium and bring the invasion to a swift end. First, however, Belgian garrisons protecting the bridges and crossings needed to be eliminated. And this was a task that fell to Hans Bauer. Surveying the field ahead, Hans deduced that the coast was clear and signaled for the rest of his squad to approach. They had advanced this far under the cover of a forest. Across the ways was a dirt road which ran north, passing by Hagen's Farm and crossing over a river. The bridge which crossed over that river was a vital crossing that the German Panzer Divisions sought to utilize. But thus far the Belgian garrisons threatened this move. By the time the squad had assembled on the edge of the wood, Hans began to relay orders. "Ziegler, Brant," he referred to the two Machine Gunners, "cover our advance. Moltke, Kramer, you're with me. Winter, you take Seidel and Schmidt. We'll split up and advance on the road in two teams. Schnell!" The disciplined soldiers exited the forest and proceeded towards the road in two teams; Hans had tasked Winter with leading the second team because he was the oldest and most experienced, having served in the Great War. Meanwhile, Ziegler and Brant, with the help of Claus and Otto - the two machine gun assistants - covered the advance. Once they made it to the road and found no resistance, Hans signaled for the MG teams to regroup. Now it was only a matter of advancing north, along the road, towards Hagen's Farm, where the Belgians were expected to be. The darkness would cover their approach, and they remained on the eastern side of the road so they could cover themselves in the ditch.</s> <\|message\|>The Belgians Worthy children of Low Countries Whom a fine passion has aroused, To your patriotic fervour Great successes lie in store. Remain under arms, so that naught shall change! Let us keep to the same will, And we shall see Orange bloom anew Upon the tree of Liberty. -The original Brabanconne Marching bands, girls waving handkerchiefs and blowing kisses, all of this accompanied the squad of Sergeant van der Koopften. But unlike most of his men he knew better than to smile and be glad of what he was about to see. He was marching off to what had a reasonable chance of being his last day alive. As he saw in the distance the farmstead with the bridge he'd be defending he grunted; the scale was quite different in real life than upon the map. The damned krauts had already ruined the livelihood of this innocent worker, not particularly caring for the ambitions of the Germans. The bastards didn't want to fight war honestly and attack France through it's proper borders so they invaded Belgium to get around the French defences. Well, if a scrap was what the nazis wanted then they'd get one. They'd see what the sons of Flanders and Wallonia could bring forth, and they'd taste cold steel on their filthy lips. As they got closer, Leopold started to bark orders. "Nicolet, Albrecht you old bastard, get over to the far side of the road right before the bridge, go in the ditch and cover yourselves with mud. I know, I know, your beautiful uniforms will get dirty but I don't care. You'll use the ditches as cover as you lie down. You won't show your faces until the enemy is right and close where you can throw your grenades and get off some fast shots, you hear me?" As the grumbled confirmations came the Sergeant said "Good, on to the next order of business. Private Janssen, you'll go to the barn, stand at the door and look through the lines of the forest, you'll be one of our little reserves. Heavy gunner team, you'll set up at the right window of the farmhouse. Robert, Heinrich, you two will be at the window and doorways of the farmhouse... now!" At last, the Sergeant inhaled, and massaged his eyebrows as only two remained without orders. Corporal Voors and Private Jacobs, you'll come with me to the windmill, we're the aegis, you hear? The others will be relying on us for support. Enemies our comrades don't see, we take them down. If all else fails, we are here. Understood? Good. Let's go, I think I hear the Germans in the distance." With that, they were deployed. Some men smoke, whilst the gunnery team quietly played a game of cards to settle their nerves before the invader arrived....</s>	<\|message\|>The German Squad Despite the blanket of darkness which covered the land, the German squad could make out Hagen's Farm in the distance. Their commander, Hans, held up one hand to order the party to halt and they all knelt on their knees. "It's up ahead, we'll be there shortly. Expect hostiles. Stay on the right side of the road; we'll use the ditch as cover on our approach." Hans intended goal was to hug the right side of the road heading north, that way the Belgians - who he expected to be on the left side - would not their approach. Little did he know that Nicolet and Albrecht were hiding in the mud. And so when the Germans approached, the entire 10 man squad came to a rest just within range of the two mud-covered Belgians. They had checked their weapons and ammunition while also peeking over the ditch to see the composition of the battlefield.</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Journey "Good." The Emperor stated to Kean, "I have faith in your words my man." He then paused to look at the cat, "An odd choice, but I think it will suit you." The Emperor looked about as his assembled adventurers began to pick his heirlooms. He felt loss for a moment, but it quickly faded away. What good were heirlooms if they weren't used in time of crisis. He was sure Dramoria would agree. His eyes finally landed on Sue, who had just broken a vase or container of some sort. The one which housed her weapon, an odd thing really. But her words made him respond. "Susan, there is no need to buy things. I have everything and more that you will require in the North courtyard. The horses are prepared, and items in bags. Food and water are also included. I know that your journey before the arriving in enemy territory, will take you through a couple of settlements, where you can also buy anything needed." He said. The Emperor then clapped his hands together, quieting the room. "I'm afraid there will be no celebratory feast here this night, no ceremonies for you all. No matter how much I would have liked to give one, there is little time. Your journey must begin at once, before we are overrun." The Emperor paused once more and looked at them, "I thank you all on behalf of the Empire. I wish you the best of luck, and upon your return we shall throw a feast to revival Dramoria's coronation. Goodbye, and may we see one another again." The Emperor then looked at Val, nodded and began to walk away. He was tired, but there was work still to do, planning for the defense of an Empire was no easy task. ----- So caught up in the beauty of Sanctity, Val paid no attention to Kean or his remarks. Slowly he lowered the blade and watched others pick and choose their weapons and boons. An attendant came and took his own sword, allowing Val to place sanctity in a sheath around his waist. The soothing warmth of the blade vanished from, and he shivered slightly before pressing himself to attention when the beggar man walked towards the Emperor. Then the man knelt and Val relaxed. Kean's thanks was needed, he had been given a great gift. One seldom such as he would ever have even dreamed of seeing the throne room, yet here he was. Soon his thoughts drifted to other things and he saw watched the others for any shifty moves but like before, he found nothing. Then the Emperor addressed them all, his farewell was a somber tone. When bowed slightly as the Emperor began to walk away, his shoulders heavy and his movement slow. Val swore he would do his Emperor right, he would see this through. Not for himself, but for the Empire itself. He prayed to Solus to watch over the Emperor and his family, then he straightened himself out. He surveyed the group, then in a commanding tone he stated, "No time to waste, follow me. We need to be in the town of Havel by tomorrow night." Val then began to walk in the opposite direction of the Emperor, towards a door that would take them to the North Courtyard. Where his destiny awaited. @Zetsuko@Sola@Sofaking Fancy@Rithy@Leotamer@AdvancedJ3lly@Ghost Shadow@Burger@jdh97@DinoNuts</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- The Emperor's acknowledgement reminded her of the loss she knew. He'd apparently sent for Gathran for obvious reasons. While he seemed content to have someone there, she knew that she was not the one he expected. Adra had never been a part of the orc's legend. All the stories that floated about had to do with him and him alone. She was a side note. Not that she hated that, but it was hard to explain to people her involvement with the warrior. It also hurt. She pulled herself from her bow and looked around. While she'd felt extremely humbled and incapable, those around her were varied in appearance and background. She was the only orc. Honestly, she expected that. Her kind wasn't so quick to throw themselves in front of the humans. Adra knew she needed to honor the summons. So, here she was. Her eyes danced across each of the members. Humans, there were a few but they were varied. There was the fully armored man that watched silently over them. There was the thief. There were a couple of noble looking fellows. Also, an entirely covered person that hid their background. An older woman stomped in and flashed about her importance. Adra looked on. There was an elvkiin, or so she assumed. And then there were two fae. One was massive with green skin and over-interest in everything happening around her. The other stood silently and powerfully. It was then that emperor announced that they take their artifact from the display. She approached. There were numerous ones missing, and yet her eyes landed on a gauntlet. She picked it up. Immediately, she felt a power run through her veins, unlike anything she'd felt before. An inhale escaped her lips before she pulled away from the table. She knew this artifact almost immediately. Strength. She would possess it. The emperor excused them in a solemn way. She was used to such biddings. The orcs weren't a kind for unnecessary fanfare. They knew when missions were hopeless and when they were not. She nodded at his words. She watched him leave and then turned to their new leader. She bristled at the fact that she was probably taking orders from a plain human. Weak. Soft. They were not born from knowledge and iron. She tilted her head upwards and watched the man. The man belted out an order and began walking. "I do enjoy reacting to orders given by a stranger. Especially a human clad entirely in armor. So afraid to show his face. Yes, please, tell me more about what I should do. I enjoy being led around by a faceless puppet of the emperor."</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>Brennen, Pyromancer of the Swamp Present-Day Reflections Brennen waited but a moment longer to ensure Kean sprang into action. The younger man looked as tired by the road as any of them had, but his quickness on the uptake impressed Brennen. The horses were disciplined, dauntless, but the Scorned seemed to wield a power more terrible than fang or poison: fear. Terror strong enough to send some men quivering to their knees. Perhaps it was the utter unholiness of their appearance; their untamed, feral savageness as the Blight, its vines, tore at them. As the attack began, almost immediately, the tall Fae and pallid boy-priest performed some sort-of dark spell or ritual. Shadows gathered about the priest, dispersing like forks to seize the other adventurers. Brennen cursed under his breath, stepping away as if to avoid the tendrils of darkness seeping towards him. This darkness, this 'magic' as it were; no good words were spoken of it in the Bog, though its practice remained infamous. Divination by fire was common among the tribes' wise-men-and-women, reading flame to discern divine messages, predict the future. But even amongst them, superstitious fanatics began associating pyromancy with the shadows their fires cast on the ground, and pursued darker arts; communing with spirits, summoning shadows, manipulating another's Inner Flame to return them from death. Those pagans' reign of terror was short-lived, snuffed out quickly by the other tribesmen, but their ill-fame-and-fortune left a black stain on the tribes' history, like a weeping wound refusing to heal. Suddenly, the light surrounding them vanished entirely, centered around a tiny bead that was floating in the tall Fae's palm. Brennen's earlier cautiousness became anger as a wave of cold washed over him. But before he could try and rebuke the currently-hovering Fae, the bead in her hand turned to a ray that disintegrated the Scorned monstrosity, along with a substantial part of the treeline. As if pleased with the result, the Fae asserted her proclamation as 'Greatest Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove', yet fell to the ground with a 'thud' before her sentence could be finished. As light returned, Brennen quickly resumed corralling the other horses with the ones he and Kean had already gathered, but not before saying to the Fae, with accusatory venom, "That is no sorcery." His voice did not raise, or possess any immediately notable anger, but it nevertheless seemed to speak volumes of his own displeasure, the suspicion surrounding the kind-of magic displayed before him. The break in battle was short-lived, wrought with fear, as five more wolves burst through the dark woods, three of them now driven hairless by the plague that contorted their bodies and decayed their minds. The Templar found himself waylaid by one of the wolves, while one of the hairless mongrels licked at non-existent lips dripping froth and venomous drool, sizing the Pyromancer up-and-down. Saying nothing, Brennen's mouth twisted to a scowl of rage, a low growl from deep in his throat seeming to answer the wolf in kind. Flexing his fingers in anticipation, a ball of fire materialized in his left hand, glowing and crackling brightly as it fed on his anger as he faced the monstrosity. With a sudden snarl, the wolf lunged at Brennen in a single bound, who in turn hurled the ball of fire from his hand, letting it collide mid-air with the wolf; who's guttural screech devolved into yelps and whimpers of pain as the flames gorged themselves on flesh and vegetation, leaving the beast to keep screaming that horrifyingly human-like scream. Brennen drew the hand-axe at his side with his right hand and, without a moment's hesitation, swung the blade down on the Scorned's skull with a sickening 'crunch', and the screaming stopped. In a moment of defiance, of challenge, maybe, Brennen used his foot to kick the still-burning corpse on its back; the shadows of night blending with the sickly-black smoke, obscuring most of his hooded face from view. Yet his reply burned in the firelight.</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Keenan didn't even flinch as the wolf was obliterated in front of him. He kept facing the woods until the rest of the corrupt pack showed itself and charged the party. rather than remain braced, however, Keenan charged for the silver wolf as it came towards him. As he charged he subtly tapped into the magic the Fae left behind in the wake of her spell, no one would be the wiser but as the two were about to meet the wolf's front legs were suddenly snared. The wolf was stopped for the split second needed for Keenan to drive his knee into the underside of it's jack, and with a wet crack the wolf's jaw was broken. The stunned beast was then subjected to a flurry from the Twin Fang's blades, ending it's miserable life. Standing over it's body Keenan roared a challenge at the other brown wolf and it came barreling into him in answer. He took the charge and the two entering a fierce grapple. --- As soon as the first wolf was gone Lothian aimed for the treeline and began shooting with his crossbow a moment before the wolves had come charging out of the woods. He continued aiming as he had before, taking every available shot to either weaken, maim, or kill. He slowly stepped backward to put himself behind the others as he did to avoid the melee so he could keep firing but he drew his shortsword in case it found him anyway.</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun Icy fingers traced along his spine, bringing a violent shudder. Magic. Odd magic, not exactly malign, but… dark? A dagger was in Kean's hand now, gripped tight with new resolve. No sooner had he turned from the horses when everything black, save for the dim light hovering in the air. Reflexively, a hand went to his face in panic, but nothing obscured his vision. Then, the world exploded back into light, accompanied but a purple front of destructive energy; it reaved the life from everything that crossed its path, tearing the ground asunder with frightening ease. Kean stood, stunned. He was at once inspired and demoralised by the display. The Fae fell to the ground, and Kean relaxed, the beast slain. More than slain, obliterated. With the last of the horses corralled, he offered a shaky hand to the Fae, assuming it over. He was going to make a snide comment about how the beast was lucky that he didn't get to deal with, but then the low-burning anger in Brennen's words surprised Kean into silence. Not that he had time to muse over it, as five more perverted wolves tore towards them, as the Templar warned. The night was filled with twisted-human screams. It was a sound that squirmed into your skull. Kean wanted to claw it out. Man and beast fell upon each other, blood spraying. The burning one was worst. Kean was glad it's skull was cleaved quickly, a mercy for them both. His face scrunched up at the smell. You would not imagine forgetting how frightening the Scorned were. You'd reckon one could steel their mind. Not Kean. The only thing keeping his frayed nerves together, cauterising the newfound dread, was that black candle burning in the back of his mind, that off-magic. Kean had fallen tighter behind the wall that was Adra now. Lacking the proficiency to attack with the same reckless abandon as Keenan, or the awesome magic that exalted Brennen and the Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove, he had to hope simple teamwork would suffice. His shifted uneasily. "I've got your back," He said firmly, trying to hide how he felt. A hairless horror bounded towards them. He could run. He should run. Turf was torn up in its wake. Focus. A deep breath in, then out. Calm. Kean launched his dagger at the monstrosity, his magic propelling the blade at speeds approaching that of a crossbow bolt. From the folds of his clothing a larger blade floated into his grasp, ready to support Adra when the melee broke out.</s>
<\|description\|>Kean Jossun Picture or Description- A pale, lithe figure that walks with an odd bounce, as if ready to break into a run at any moment. A strong nose juts from his face and his eyes are grey-blue slithers of slate. Hair and beard are scruffy and largely unwashed. Some blades he wears plainly visible, others less so. Age- 28 Gender- Male Race- Human Backstory- As early as Kean might recall, he had always been mystified with his mother's tales of her youth, and they instilled in him a lust for travel that would last him the rest of his life. She was, or rather, had been, a noblewoman, see? Daily, she was surrounded by exuberance and wonder, but her fondest memories always seemed to be of the Rose Gardens, her family's burial site, where huge rose bushes would grow from the graves. New life from death. It was as though they never truly left, as if part of them was preserved there to watch over those would come after. That had been until his father had charmed her away from the high life. Kean wasn't sure what his father did before, but he became a shepherd after his birth. Family life was good. Living near Eastgate, they were never truly poor; his mother had stolen some wealth before she left, and his father had money from somewhere, but it was skint enough that Kean did not get spoiled. Most nights they sat around the hearth and sang songs, often inviting neighbours over. His mother had the most beautiful singing voice he would ever hear, and his father's hands became a blur when he got at a fiddle. That's how Kean liked to remember them; smiling and surrounded by music and friends. Happy. On his tenth summer, curious changes began to take place, beyond those one might expect for a boy of his age. It seemed he had the innate ability to wield magic, and a disposition towards levitating things. Toys, pottery, chairs. Rumours began to spread but it was kept hush. People knew what happened otherwise. For a time, he went undiscovered. Until a nearby farm burned down. Another local boy was taken for this, but it also brought Academy's attention, and eventually they followed the thin trail of loose lips and bought words to find Kean too. A story you've likely heard before, since it's all too common. They make it appear like you have a choice, but everyone knew that was a lie. Only five years, but woe are the fools who don't give into the pressures applied to them by those with power to stay on for more. Fleeing from the Academy after just three years, Kean was hounded by people trying to bring him back, because he may have also broken some laws. He spent time homeless, until he was rescued by a travelling circus, where he became and unrivalled sword juggler thanks to his levitation magic. However, our pasts have a way of catching up with us and Kean was no exception. Chased through a dozen or more different occupations and names, he wound up spending his longest stint as a bounty hunter, learning to put his magic to more offensive use and honing his swordplay. But it wasn't always so black and white, and after a string of bad runs, he quit. Finally, he had enough money and time to return to his childhood home. It had changed much since he'd been there, and his parents had moved. They were now behind the church, resting in the graveyard. It is unknown what Kean did after that, but a year later he found himself involved in the war, as almost everyone did, but he found himself having to deal with more humans – deserters, bandits and other opportunists of ill repute – than he did actual Scorned. The families he helped often tried to pay him, but he always refused. Over time, he became something of a folk hero, a champion of the common man. Then he got wind of the Emperor's all and saw an opportunity. One way or another, it would end. Magical abilities- Levitation/telekinesis Since he left the Academy early, his powers are not as developed as they could have been. He can perform, localised feats of levitation on objects, not people, within a ten-foot radius. During his time as a juggler he developed an awareness of the area, forming an acute sixth sense, using his mind to feel outwards so that he is conscious of most things around him within this radius. Lifting takes stress on his body, and the heavier the object or faster he moves it, the faster he will be exhausted. He can lift a maximum of roughly twice what he is capable without magic. If his concentration falters, the effect is broken. Combat abilities- Singing Swords An expert swordsman in his own right, his natural abilities can be further augmented with his magic that he has developed into a unique fighting style. Acting like longer-but-invisible limbs, Kean can use his magic to wield additional swords that will float around him within the ten-foot radius and strike fast and hard when needed, becoming a whirling dervish of unforgiving steel. At his peak he could wield an additional six blades, but he seems somewhat out of practise right now, and can only wield two at most. This tactic is meant to overwhelm with sheer aggression, as it can be extremely draining to sustain. A slightly less impressive, but no less useful utilisation would be to strengthen a blow or guard, or keep a firm grip on his sword. Fitness Kean is physically fit and therefore has above average strength and endurance. He is also a modestly skilled acrobat, picking up a few odd bits from some other circus performers, though never dedicating himself to it. Artifact of Dramoria- Amulet of the Lying Cat A jade statuette in the likeness of a cat. It is fastened by a simple leather cord, and, when willed, summons forth a pale green, hairless cat the size of a large dog, with jet-black eyes, like shining lumps of coal that smoulder short trails of emerald smoke. It can tell when someone is lying and informs the wearer thusly. Its combat capabilities are nothing extraordinary, for now, and the other affects of the amulet, if there are any, are unknown. Motive- For crimes he committed out of necessity, his life had not been playing to his own tempo, and certain areas are much too risky to visit. A royal pardon though, would free the world up to him and let him explore as he desired. He also realises that the Scorned are a threat lacking any humanity, and even if though he despises what those who rule allow to happen, if they lose the war he knows it'll mean oblivion. Part of him, right at the back of his mind, knows it's a suicide mission, and hopes to find death, carrying guilt for deeds it feels impossible to repent for. And another, quieter hope, is that he can ask his parents be interred in the Rose Gardens his mother so fondly spoke of all those years ago, a request denied to him once before, but when the weight of the Emperor was behind the request, he doubted it would be refused again.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil lowered his shield, and as he did, the shadows snaked back to him and merged with his own shadow. He placed the gentle shield on his back careful, and began to walk forward. He did not even look at the pyromancer, but it was clear that was who he was addressing, his words clearly his own as his manner of speaking changed to be less formal than when he quoted holy verses, and it was much more barbed, "Then that is own foolishness. The glory of Luna is plainly visible, through the night sky, and through her priests. As I said, if you look for her, you will find her caring embrace. It is sad to see someone whose heart has been hardened by serving such a fickle master. There is a lot of power in fire, but that power is just as likely to consume your enemies as it to consume you. Be warned, if you burn up : You will burn alone."</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Lothian had been crossbow ready and sword out, ready to support any of his companions that needed it while taking potshots when he could. But it seemed few would need it against this foe, one by one the wolves fell to the party. Keenan, Brennen, Adra and Kean, and the Templar, until finally the only remaining wolf-monster was the one Keenan was currently grappling. Keenan lost his swords not long after the two met, and soon the melee devolved into something of a fist-on-claw fight. Keenan was growling and snarling in almost a similar fashion to the wolf and throwing hard punches when he could or grab the wolf to keep it from rending him with his claws or catching him with his fangs. The fight really was going nowhere slowly, with neither able to land a solid, debilitating hit simply due to their proximity. At least until Keenan made the mistake of headbutting the creature, his hands were on it's throat holding it's jaws away and arms blocking it's claws so he deciding to use the one unoccupied body part in reach: His head, though as his head was unarmored at the time the blow really did more to him than the wolf and in the moment he was stunned he was knocked to the ground, the wolf ready for a killing blow. Seeing the scene Lothian starting rushing over, taking his shortsword in a reverse grip and throwing his full weight into a stab. He caught the wolf as it was poised over Keenan, driving the blade into it's skull and using his momentum to carry it away unloading his crossbow into it's right eye at point-blank range as he did. In the short distance of perhaps one-to-two feet he fell on top of the monster's corpse. Panting as he rose back up, pulling his blade out as he did so, he turned to where Keenan was still on the ground. Keenan was not sitting up and seemed like he was trying to come down now that the last threat was dealt with, he was still breathing heavy in a way that could be described as angry. The elf held out his hand to help him up "are you alright friend?" which Keenan accepted after a sigh to steady his breathing "yes, thank you for that" He gave a short nod to Lothian before looking around for where his swords ended up. Meanwhile, Lothian started heading back towards the group "I think that is the last of them for now, we might want to move on quickly if we can"</s> <\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" "I think that is the last of them for now, we might want to move on quickly if we can" "SPIKE GRASS!" No sooner had Lothian said those words than Zana's spell had finally finished; the Fae focused on her spell-casting calling out the name of the spell. Within the blink of an eye; the party would find a veritable forests of thorny, rotted spikes shooting up from the very ground at their feet to surround them in a veritable forest of spikes rising as high as 10ft into the air! The violent growths would narrowly miss the group, skewering some of the remains of the wolves with enough force to lift a horse into the air! Rising from her crouched position, the Fae would look around; the violet hue retreating from her verdant skin and green eyes. "Oh... were they dead already?" She asked, tilting her head; looking at the rest of the party through the thicket of spiked roots that had the density of a tightly backed bamboo forest; causing the Fae to have to bob and weave her head slightly in order to be able to even see the other party members.</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Illuminations II As Val breathed ragged, he noticed Brennen walk over to him. The Pyromancer then beckoned to Val to get to his feet, his hand waiting. Val gladly took it, but it pained him. He held on to Brennen for a moment and said, "Ribs... broken. Have to keep going. Away from forest. Need to res-" But before he could finish Zana shouted out a spell, and all around them a thicket of spiked vegetation shot up, obscuring his view from other party members. Val looked at Brennen, "Horses. Then her and I will have a chat." Val then painfully lifted up Sanctity, and began to cut the thicket, lighting it up so they could get out. Val was dismayed and satisfied with how members of the party had preformed. Most, he hoped, had escaped serious injury other then himself. No one had died either, so that was a plus. But he could not ignore the Fae's antics in the battle. With little warning for what her spells would be doing, she had almost gotten Val killed and then recklessly firing her spells after the battle had one, left a sour taste in his mouth. For now, Val focused on getting to the horses, so they could escape to safer passages. @Zetsuko@Leotamer@Ghost Shadow</s>	<\|message\|>Kean Jossun A handful of moments slipped by before the tension spilled from Kean's body, his arms falling dead-straight at his sides. One blade dropped from his hands, but then seemed to catch itself mid-freefall, whilst the other drew itself from the lupine corpse, dripping red as it floated back towards him. Both entered the folds of Kean's clothing to find their hidden scabbards. "Is everyone-" Was as much as Kean managed before vegetation exploded around them. Ill pillars dotted with sickle blades shot up. Kean felt one cruel edge graze his back. Yet, he didn't move. Eventually, he let out a breath. The Fae seemed to be the cause. He was beginning to wonder if having such power was really a boon when it was wielded by someone of such immature disposition and questionable sanity. "They're dead alright, but we're not, and I'd like to keep it that way," He said, as he worked free from the maze. He snagged on a few spikes but was able to get out with only a few minor grazes. He brushed himself off and began making his way towards the horses. "Is everyone alright?" He managed to finish this time, looking around. The Templar seemed the most injured, and whilst Kean didn't over help, he bit his tongue to hold back any snide remarks. Recent events had afforded perhaps an iota of respect.</s>
<\|description\|>Neil Aurum Neil is a small, wiry man dressed in simple black robes. His hair is bleach white, and he keeps his hair short and neat. His eyes are light grey and often dart about. He is mostly devoid of scars or piercings, except for a gash wound on his stomach. He wears black gloves he seldom removes, and wears a round light blue pendent with a silver emblem of an owl. Age- 21 Gender- Male Race- Human Personality- Behind a reserved and quite demeanor, he is cunning and intelligent. He speaks little, but not out of fear or awkwardness, but because he says only what is needed, and nothing more. He is quite distant from his surroundings, he can watch a man a die and appear unaffected, not because he doesn't care about human life but because he knows that neither sorrow or anger will do anything in the moment, grieving can wait till a funeral, when there is work to be done, he lets nothing hinder him. Backstory- Physically weak, but strong of spirit, Neil was forged by adversity. Born of a noble house that has long been waning in power, he was born sickly. The noble house of Aurum valued strength, and instead he was intelligent. The house of Aurum valued honor, and instead he was cunning. The house of Aurum valued bravery, and Neil is fearless. In his early years, he hide away from the rest of the world as if his mere birth was a black stain on his family's honor. That was until he manifested his magic, it was unrefined at first but powerful. Suddenly, he was paraded around noble parties and other pointless activities despite his objections. One night, when he was fifteen, bandits broke into his estate. Everyone in the house was asleep except him, as he was in the library reading. The bandits sweep across the house, killing and looting as they went. Alarmed by the screams, he rushed out of the library and into the courtyard where he saw the bandits covered in the blood of his family and his servants loaded their ill-gotten gains on to a wagon. He called forth his magical energy, raw arcane energy, crackling and blue, and unleashed it yet it was not strong enough. He keep summoning bolts of arcane lightning against the attackers and yet he was not strong enough. They rushed towards him, blades in hand. The leader lunged forward and stabbed, causing him to fall down on his back. The robbers mocked him as he was on the ground, bleeding out. He tried to get up, but every time he did, someone kick him back down. They could of killed him, but instead choose to toy with him. That was a very bad decision. He stared up at the moon, and perhaps by divine providence or perhaps a delusion caused by blood loss, he heard a women's voice whisper into his ear. He could not understand the words themselves, but the meaning was clear. He reached out towards the moon, his hand sparking with arcane lightning and as his did, the lightning turned black and dissolved into shadow. The bandits tried to take their blades and finish the boy, and yet it was to late. Shadow poured out in an aura around him, and consumed the thieves who dared commit a crime while the eye of Luna watched them. His immediate family dead, and stories of his magical prowess spreading, distant family tried desperately to take them into their house for their own gain. Instead, he joined the church and became a priest of Luna, the one entity that had shown him kindness. Magical abilities- Shadow Magic, Illusion Magic, Divination Combat abilities- Resistance to poisons, diseases, and illusions Artifact of Dramoria- The Moon Shield, Serenity, is a round buckler shield, the rim, handle, and back-plating are made of silver. Embedded in the shield itself is a sapphire mirror. The full extant of its powers are unknown, but legend says that its reflection reveals deception and that it grows more powerful under the light of the moon. Motive- The corruption of the mountain threatens the balance, and Luna now calls him to her service. And as Luna had saved his life and gave him family in the church, he will gladly die in her service.</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Hate One of the more intricate processes of shaping a Templar, is the mental aspect of training. They are broken down and built up to be obedient, loyal, and unwavering in the face of danger. They have to be able to reign in their emotions, if they aren't swept away by the vigorous training they undergo. Valson was taught this, all of the Templar's were taught this but it was never greatly enforced. Some of the older instructors even said to use emotions in response to physical combat, and mental stimulus. Anger was a powerful tool in the face of adversity, but one had to balance that with the proper training and levelheadedness. Val stopped in his tracks at the voice of the Orc, swiftly followed by the man who had addressed the Emperor just a short time ago. So quick to voice concerns, so quick to make idiotic remarks. It was enough to make him angry. Of course, he hadn't expected much from the orcish woman, they tended to be hotheaded even more so then males. Val turned slowly to look at the both of them. He began to talk, his tone full of sarcastic venom, "Puppet you say? I'm sorry orc, I didn't realize that my status of being a faceless puppet would already be causing problems." He paused with a chuckle, "How about you save your sentiment for someone who actually gives a shit? If you couldn't tell, we're at war and we have much bigger problems to deal with then some orc with an ego. But by all means, if you wish to lead us go ahead," Val then gestured towards the door, "Surely you would be better suited at it over I. I'm sure you know exactly the path we must take to avoid the Scorned and the bulk of their forces. And not to mention the road to the mountain itself. Or would your leadership get us killed? We wouldn't want to end up like poor Garthan after all." Templar's are versed in an assortment of tactics to get inside an enemies head. They play dirty, any information that could weaken an opponents resolve, or push them over the edge, is welcome. It can go both ways however, the opponent might be so angry they make mistakes, or their rage sends them into a frenzy. Val was hoping for the latter, it was always more exciting to fight with the odds against you. Next Val removed his helmet, showing the full extent of his face. His grey eyes were sharp, and his hair was well kept. The most notable feature was the many faded scars that ran amok throughout his face. The largest of which, were three slashes on his right cheek that ran through his beard. The scorned were merciless opponents, he had learned that the hard way. "Satisfied?" He asked Kean before placing the helmet back on. Val then started walking towards the door once more. @Sofaking Fancy</s> <\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Zina had quietly walked up behind Adra and Kean as the two were talking to Val, the taller Fae watching the conversation between the three from above Adra and Kean's heads, until the Templar eventually removed his helmet for show. It struck the Fae that she had never actually thought of what the templars would look like under those helmets. Would it be a fair and beautiful angelic face resembling the mythical and beautiful creatures that were referred to as angels? Would it be a dead face, the mask worn by a corpse risen to fight? Or would it just be an empty void? In the end, it turned out to be none of that, yet Zina was quick to comment nonetheless! "Hey, your head actually looks pretty nice! No need to be so shy and hide it under that metal helmet all the time." Zina exclaimed with a cheerful as Val turned and walked away. Pausing, Zina turned her face as she fixed Adra with her poison green eyes and a smile; her long, emerald green ponytail swishing behind her head as she turned to look at the Orc. "I think he secretly likes you! He's just too shy to admit it..." She said to Adri with a coy smile in a hushed whisper!</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- Adra smiled when the roguish human announced that she had far larger testicles than most. It wasn't a compliment, but it was not an insult either. She was a blunt creature, and as much she favored truth over a sugaring of words. Still, she stood by her sentiment. The human, clad in armor, jerked around ready to fight her in verbal combat. Adra stood in silence, not stunned or angry, as he spoke his truth. Then he dragged her husband's name through his words without a thought. She wanted to balk, but she stilled her tongue. "My only concern was knowing who we would die by. I like being led by someone whose face I would know well upon the last gurgles of life." She paused. "I am not interested in leading a human group towards a human goal. I have no ego regarding such. You seem most prepared for that. My concern is knowing who I would be looking at when I died. A brave man shows his face and cowardly one leaves you to die without something familiar and warm." She shrugged. "So, lead. I just wanted to know the person I was dying under." He raised his helmet and gave a glimmer of his face. "That is fine," she said. "You're an instrument of the emperor but considering it—we all are. Sad finger puppets flitting about in a stupid human game. Though I would ask that one not drag Gathran's name about so idly. Just. Please." Adra drew her lips into a tight scowl, which made her tusks more obvious. The large, green, fae leaned down to her and whispered her thoughts. Adra snorted. "If he was interested in me, he'd stop trying to throw me atop every social pyre that existed." She smiled. "But thank you for such hope. I do enjoy it." Zee@Rithy@jdh97</s>	<\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil had heard tales of the shield Serenity before, however it was much more beautiful than he imaged. Its reflections had an ethereal quality to it. He could feel its power merely by wielding it. The only time he ever felt closer to his god was when she came down and blessed him, anointing him as one of her own. He was pulled out of his daydreaming when he saw the orc and Templar arguing. It was an ill-fortune, as a team that fights itself always loses. He thought that perhaps the argument could be resolved on the road, if not he would need to intervene or else their petty squabbling could kill not only the squad, but doom all of the known world.</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Elodia, Warden of the West Marches Elodia had never imagined she would step foot in the capital city of the Empire. She had heard of Dramon before in passing, from the occasional traveler or merchant, but never had been able to picture it in her mind. Cities were little more than a distant concept to her, a place strange people claim to be going to or coming from, and little else. Whatever she had thought it might be like was nothing like the reality. It was all so overwhelming, the labyrinth of stone buildings, paved roads, narrow alleys, colorful markets, endless crowds surging through it all. It was so different from the village she had been raised in or the silent, peaceful forests that she now called her home. Her escorts kept her from being swept away in the crowds or becoming lost. The had nearly turned her away at first, until she handed them the letter. That had changed their attitudes almost as quickly as it had the street vendor she had asked for directions an hour earlier. Her eyes wandered as they walked, taking in the new sights, the people. There were so many, more than she had ever seen in one place before, perhaps more than she had ever seen in any place at all. Many of them were refugees, like herself, shuffling about with somber, defeated expressions. She felt a pang of sadness at that realization and looked away, focusing on the path ahead. The trip through the city did little to prepare her for the palace itself. It reminded her of the old stone temple she had visited once as a child with her mother, though only in the most rudimentary way. While that small church had been constructed of rough grey bricks and dark stained glass, this place was crafted of perfectly smooth marble and brilliant colors, with enough space that it might have been built for giants to roam its halls. She smiled at the fantasy for a moment, picturing how someone the height of two men might be around the next corner or through the next massive doorway, going about his normal business. What might a giant's normal business be, running an Empire? Then she passed through another portal and found herself in a chamber greater than the others. A handful of others stood around her now, people like herself that didn't belong, standing before a man that Elodia assumed was the Emperor or someone of equal importance, based on his throne and attire. He was speaking, but her attention was immediately drawn elsewhere. Her eyes settled on the green-skinned woman that stood a full two heads above all else in attendance and she froze in surprise for a moment. Maybe giants ruling this place wasn't such a ridiculous idea... "Coin will also be provided for you and a horse each. Now are there any questions?" The man said, pulling her out of her imagination again. She looked over all of the others, lingering on the tall woman for a moment longer than the rest, and waited for someone to speak up.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil stepped forward once the emperor was finished with his speech, and while he stood in front of him, he did not stand directly in front of him. The more observant persons would see that he positioned himself so his shadow was cast away from the ruler. He once again bowed, and offered the prayer, "May the tower's shadow be lifted from your house." Shadows are very prominent in the lore of the moon, and hold many different meanings depending on array of different factors which most people outside of the Lunan church would be clueless of, however most people would recognize the tower's shadow from old wives tales or ghost stories as an ill-omen, though most would belief it to either be metaphorical or superstitious. He stood before the king, and paused carefully picking out the words he wished to use, however it is was likely the king already knew what he was going to say. The Church of Luna made it no secret that they believed the moon shield Serenity was by all rights the property of the church, and that it was a most sacred relic. "I have no need for wealth for this task. The signs have shown me I am unlikely to survive this ordeal, and even if I did, I have given up the gold of the nobility and it is not something I miss. I ask that when my task is complete, the holy relic Serenity will be returned to the Church of the Moon."</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" As the Emperor spoke, Zina found her gaze trailing off to the various sights and scenery all around them; the Fae still struggling to take in all the details of the great hall and lavish decorations of the imperial palace, as her head was in constant movement and causing the long, green leaf ponytail behind her head to swish back and forth. Yet the fellow adventurers in the hall gained no small amount of curiosity from the tall Fae as well, as Zina's green eyes scanned over them; taking in every detail! First there were those who had already been present in the room when Zina had entered. One was a scruffy looking human who looked like he had been dragged out from under a bridge somewhere and not slept straight for half a year. He struck Zina as a rather shy individual. Maybe he was just embarrassed of his appearance! The other person, Brennan, looked little better than Kean; with singed clothes and robes that made it look like he had barely escaped a house fire earlier that day. This puzzled Zina. There was a big contrast between the two humans in their rags and the ornamental flamboyance and opulence of the rest of the people in the imperial keep. Was this how dress-code worked for humans? The third person to grab Zina's attention was a very Fae looking human,- no wait, it actually was a Fae! Zina had to correct herself as she watched Mynx. This Fae looked remarkably human-like in both attire and appearance, making Zina assume she came from some of the groves that lived deeper in the Empire lands. That said, Mynx was for all Zina could tell just as aloof and distant looking as some of the elders from her own grove, so there was that in common! Yet more were to arrive after Zina however. First there was an Elvkiin, Lothian. Compared to her knowledge of Elvkiin, Zina's knowledge of humans was immense. And that was saying a lot given how little she knew about the latter! As far as she had been able to figure, Elvkiin were like humans, except smaller and prettier. Zina briefly entertained the prospect of reaching forward to try to try to pat Lothian's hair as he was giving his introduction, but her attention would soon be taken by a rather flamboyantly dressed figure that entered the hall. Despite its odd behavior, Zina found her attention more taken to Pale's outrageous outfit; the bright red shirt and blue cloak, all crowned by a giant hat many times wider than Pale herself! This immediately spawned a million questions in Zina's mind, most of which revolved around how she could acquire a hat like that as well! It kept Zina distracted for long enough that she barely even noticed the lingering look of a small human, Elodia. Upon finally noticing, Zina immediately did not hesitate to make eye contact and smile as she waved at the smaller being! This did not last long however, when suddenly Neil stepped forward, and Zina suddenly realized she had not even noticed the small wiry figure; assuming him to have been part of the background dressing until the moment he had stepped forward to speak to the Emperor to reject the promise of coin. "He's rejecting free coin? Obviously he has never seen some of the menu prices in some of the Inns along the way to this place!" Zina thought. It was probably a long way to their destination, so she figured having a few coins could come in handy along the way! Finally, Zina's attention was drawn from the details of the room and the people to focus on the events that were actually going on. Westgate had fallen, and they were apparently to destroy the corruption in the Ebony Mountains. She didn't know much about Westgate, she had never been there, but given how seriously everyone seemed to be talking about it Zina assumed it was important somehow and went with it. Of another question was the corruption... "What does the source of this corruption look like?" Zina went on to ask, turning a curious face directly towards the Emperor. "Do we have to destroy the entire mountain?"</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- The Emperor's acknowledgement reminded her of the loss she knew. He'd apparently sent for Gathran for obvious reasons. While he seemed content to have someone there, she knew that she was not the one he expected. Adra had never been a part of the orc's legend. All the stories that floated about had to do with him and him alone. She was a side note. Not that she hated that, but it was hard to explain to people her involvement with the warrior. It also hurt. She pulled herself from her bow and looked around. While she'd felt extremely humbled and incapable, those around her were varied in appearance and background. She was the only orc. Honestly, she expected that. Her kind wasn't so quick to throw themselves in front of the humans. Adra knew she needed to honor the summons. So, here she was. Her eyes danced across each of the members. Humans, there were a few but they were varied. There was the fully armored man that watched silently over them. There was the thief. There were a couple of noble looking fellows. Also, an entirely covered person that hid their background. An older woman stomped in and flashed about her importance. Adra looked on. There was an elvkiin, or so she assumed. And then there were two fae. One was massive with green skin and over-interest in everything happening around her. The other stood silently and powerfully. It was then that emperor announced that they take their artifact from the display. She approached. There were numerous ones missing, and yet her eyes landed on a gauntlet. She picked it up. Immediately, she felt a power run through her veins, unlike anything she'd felt before. An inhale escaped her lips before she pulled away from the table. She knew this artifact almost immediately. Strength. She would possess it. The emperor excused them in a solemn way. She was used to such biddings. The orcs weren't a kind for unnecessary fanfare. They knew when missions were hopeless and when they were not. She nodded at his words. She watched him leave and then turned to their new leader. She bristled at the fact that she was probably taking orders from a plain human. Weak. Soft. They were not born from knowledge and iron. She tilted her head upwards and watched the man. The man belted out an order and began walking. "I do enjoy reacting to orders given by a stranger. Especially a human clad entirely in armor. So afraid to show his face. Yes, please, tell me more about what I should do. I enjoy being led around by a faceless puppet of the emperor."</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Kean had felt eyes on him, yet it wasn't until Susan spoke that he became conscious of how he must look. They weren't loud words, but to Kean they were a whip-crack; it reminded him of a tired mother and wits' end. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, mumbling under his breath something akin to, "just wanted to make sure it worked." But he had known it would work, he had felt the connection. It had simply been him giving into the temptation to pull on the power of the artefact. At the time it was not something Kean even thought about resisting. He looked down at his feet, twisting the toes of one into the ground. Return. The cat collapsed into that same billowing green, losing all form in an instant. It trailed back into the amulet, as if sucked by some great pair of invisible bellows. The emerald hues returned to the charm as it hung about Kean's neck. He clutched the amulet and shut his eyes, swaying gently. What he was thinking was a mystery. Glass smashed, rousing him. The vision of Sue and her blue-steel staff met his rapidly calming gaze. It was not that he hadn't heard of the Hounds of Eon – some families he'd helped had even asked if he was one of their number – but he'd never seen any of them, and the disparity between the Lady Diamenthia he envisioned and the haggard woman who stood before him were enough to keep him from connecting the parallels. Everyone seemed to have selected an artefact now, since they'd stopped perusing, though some were more visible than others and – Wait a moment. Had their numbers grown yet again? It seemed so. Kean rubbed his eyes and yawned. Rest could not come soon enough. According to the Emperor, however, it would have to wait. After he left, Kean stretched his arms towards the heavens, arching his body backwards to yield satisfying cracking sounds. He sighed, wiped a hand across his grimy face, and turned to the others. Immediately the frayed seams of their patchwork group began to show. Despite the imposing nature of the Templar, Kean couldn't help but chuckle at the Orc's words. "You have bigger balls than I ever will!" he went to slap her on the shoulder, thought better of it, and ended up frowning at his own outstretched arm for a few seconds, before slowly reigning it in to scratch the scruff that passed for his beard. When he spoke next, it was more measured, "She raises a point though. I wonder if you're still flesh and blood under all that armour, or did they take that away too?"</s> <\|message\|>The Fateful Few Hate One of the more intricate processes of shaping a Templar, is the mental aspect of training. They are broken down and built up to be obedient, loyal, and unwavering in the face of danger. They have to be able to reign in their emotions, if they aren't swept away by the vigorous training they undergo. Valson was taught this, all of the Templar's were taught this but it was never greatly enforced. Some of the older instructors even said to use emotions in response to physical combat, and mental stimulus. Anger was a powerful tool in the face of adversity, but one had to balance that with the proper training and levelheadedness. Val stopped in his tracks at the voice of the Orc, swiftly followed by the man who had addressed the Emperor just a short time ago. So quick to voice concerns, so quick to make idiotic remarks. It was enough to make him angry. Of course, he hadn't expected much from the orcish woman, they tended to be hotheaded even more so then males. Val turned slowly to look at the both of them. He began to talk, his tone full of sarcastic venom, "Puppet you say? I'm sorry orc, I didn't realize that my status of being a faceless puppet would already be causing problems." He paused with a chuckle, "How about you save your sentiment for someone who actually gives a shit? If you couldn't tell, we're at war and we have much bigger problems to deal with then some orc with an ego. But by all means, if you wish to lead us go ahead," Val then gestured towards the door, "Surely you would be better suited at it over I. I'm sure you know exactly the path we must take to avoid the Scorned and the bulk of their forces. And not to mention the road to the mountain itself. Or would your leadership get us killed? We wouldn't want to end up like poor Garthan after all." Templar's are versed in an assortment of tactics to get inside an enemies head. They play dirty, any information that could weaken an opponents resolve, or push them over the edge, is welcome. It can go both ways however, the opponent might be so angry they make mistakes, or their rage sends them into a frenzy. Val was hoping for the latter, it was always more exciting to fight with the odds against you. Next Val removed his helmet, showing the full extent of his face. His grey eyes were sharp, and his hair was well kept. The most notable feature was the many faded scars that ran amok throughout his face. The largest of which, were three slashes on his right cheek that ran through his beard. The scorned were merciless opponents, he had learned that the hard way. "Satisfied?" He asked Kean before placing the helmet back on. Val then started walking towards the door once more. @Sofaking Fancy</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Zina had quietly walked up behind Adra and Kean as the two were talking to Val, the taller Fae watching the conversation between the three from above Adra and Kean's heads, until the Templar eventually removed his helmet for show. It struck the Fae that she had never actually thought of what the templars would look like under those helmets. Would it be a fair and beautiful angelic face resembling the mythical and beautiful creatures that were referred to as angels? Would it be a dead face, the mask worn by a corpse risen to fight? Or would it just be an empty void? In the end, it turned out to be none of that, yet Zina was quick to comment nonetheless! "Hey, your head actually looks pretty nice! No need to be so shy and hide it under that metal helmet all the time." Zina exclaimed with a cheerful as Val turned and walked away. Pausing, Zina turned her face as she fixed Adra with her poison green eyes and a smile; her long, emerald green ponytail swishing behind her head as she turned to look at the Orc. "I think he secretly likes you! He's just too shy to admit it..." She said to Adri with a coy smile in a hushed whisper!</s>
<\|description\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" Age --- Two Gender --- Female Race --- Semper Fae Appearance --- Picture: TO BE ADDED Description: Zina is quite tall of her specie, standing at 7,3ft tall and sporting a fuller frame. Her skin is a poison green hue, with burning yellow and pink veins visible on areas of her skin. Her irises are of a glowing green color and her hair is a collection of long, thick dark green leaves tied together in a long ponytail that runs down her spine. In terms of attire, Zina is clad in an elaborate collection of leaves and wines grown together with sections of hard oak, and her back and shoulders are adorned with a long, flayed cloak of nestle and thorns that flow behind her. In her hands she wields a long, withered and hardened vine in the crude resemblance of a staff, its tip wrapped and coiled around an ivy crystal ball. Personality --- Personality: Bubbly, curious, reckless, naive... though her mood can switch drastically when she channels her magic. Backstory --- Two years ago, as the corruption was born and spread within the womb of the Ebony Mountains far away, Zina would blossom into the world beneath the Mother Tree during a night come to be remembered as 'The Black Veil' by her people; a night said to be so dark that the stars and moons vanished from the sky, to cast the lands beneath in such a complete darkness it left the people blind until the coming of dawn. Semper Fae are often affected by the time of their blooming; whether it happens during winter or summer, day, twilight or night; which can be reflected in their appearance, traits and personality to wildly different degrees. So it would also be for Zina, who seemed to have been marked the night she was spawned. There was an unsettling darkness that resided within her, a subtle thing, though could nonetheless be felt by the other Fae around her. Although they remained friendly and cordial, Zina nonetheless found herself drifting apart from the rest of her kin, as they avoided her, and she in turn found herself drawn to the darker groves of her home forest, spending much of her time away from her kin and even coming dangerously close to the scorned on many occasions. Discomforted by the presence of Zina among them, the Fae grove leaders decided it would be best for their community to send her away. And so when the Emperor demanded tithes or soldiers, the grove-leaders instead offered up Zina, marketing her as their greatest sorceress, full of knowledge, power and ability to be given to the Emperor. Of course the truth of these claims were debatable, but the Emperor's messengers took it as such, and so "The Great Sorceress" Zina went with them. Zina herself, being only 2 years old and full of curiosity, saw it all as nothing more than a great adventure and went along with it all. Magic Abilities --- • Dark Magic, 3x Points ➤ Zina is inexperieced, but her very being is steeped in negative energies, and has been ever since she was spawned. Its manifestations range from the subtle to the obvious. At its calm, it is an aura of darkness, an invisible sense of foreboding that dims candles and frightens animals. At its most direct; especially when she casts her magic; the air will become thick and oppressive, sources of light will choke and the very ground will erode, plants and life withering at her mere presence. Despite her great magical strength, Zina's actual control and understanding over her own powers is still limited, wherein it is still more of an act of instinct and intuition that she lacks full control over. Combat Abilities --- • Health/Resilience, 3x Points ➤ Although Fae are commonly considered weak and flimsy, this is a not a stereotype that can be applied to Zina. Whether due to the dark magic inside of her or the unique nature and time of her spawning, Zina's body is resilient; like a garden of weeds that refuse to die. She is larger and taller than most of her kin, and even in her short and reckless life has suffered injuries that would have laid even members of their warrior caste low; yet simply walked them off and returned to her meandering. Artifact of Dramoria --- Artifact of Dramoria: The Book of Harow, "The Dark Apostle". Pulled from the Emperor's deepest vaults is an eldritch tome filled with secrets, made long ago by the magical genius and religious madman Harow Archendale. Filled with pages upon pages of arcane scripts and diagrams that seem to shift and change on their own, the book is said to hold a library's worth of secrets, from the mundane to the legendary. It is even believed that it holds the mad soul of Harow himself; magically bound into its eternally changing pages; who screams his secrets at anyone with a mind to listen and not be driven insane. Motive --- Zina has little knowledge of the world. This is something that she knows, and a major reason for why she is willing to travel onto adventures and quests despite them not necessarily having any direct reward. She journeys the world of experience. The world is great, yet Zina's curiosity is greater Yet there is also a hidden part of her that drives her, an indescribible sense of fate that arises from somewhere deep within her being ever, pushing Zina towards some unknown destination.</s> <\|message\|>Lothian Dimaethor Keenan didn't even flinch as the wolf was obliterated in front of him. He kept facing the woods until the rest of the corrupt pack showed itself and charged the party. rather than remain braced, however, Keenan charged for the silver wolf as it came towards him. As he charged he subtly tapped into the magic the Fae left behind in the wake of her spell, no one would be the wiser but as the two were about to meet the wolf's front legs were suddenly snared. The wolf was stopped for the split second needed for Keenan to drive his knee into the underside of it's jack, and with a wet crack the wolf's jaw was broken. The stunned beast was then subjected to a flurry from the Twin Fang's blades, ending it's miserable life. Standing over it's body Keenan roared a challenge at the other brown wolf and it came barreling into him in answer. He took the charge and the two entering a fierce grapple. --- As soon as the first wolf was gone Lothian aimed for the treeline and began shooting with his crossbow a moment before the wolves had come charging out of the woods. He continued aiming as he had before, taking every available shot to either weaken, maim, or kill. He slowly stepped backward to put himself behind the others as he did to avoid the melee so he could keep firing but he drew his shortsword in case it found him anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Kean Jossun Kean Jossun --- Icy fingers traced along his spine, bringing a violent shudder. Magic. Odd magic, not exactly malign, but… dark? A dagger was in Kean's hand now, gripped tight with new resolve. No sooner had he turned from the horses when everything black, save for the dim light hovering in the air. Reflexively, a hand went to his face in panic, but nothing obscured his vision. Then, the world exploded back into light, accompanied but a purple front of destructive energy; it reaved the life from everything that crossed its path, tearing the ground asunder with frightening ease. Kean stood, stunned. He was at once inspired and demoralised by the display. The Fae fell to the ground, and Kean relaxed, the beast slain. More than slain, obliterated. With the last of the horses corralled, he offered a shaky hand to the Fae, assuming it over. He was going to make a snide comment about how the beast was lucky that he didn't get to deal with, but then the low-burning anger in Brennen's words surprised Kean into silence. Not that he had time to muse over it, as five more perverted wolves tore towards them, as the Templar warned. The night was filled with twisted-human screams. It was a sound that squirmed into your skull. Kean wanted to claw it out. Man and beast fell upon each other, blood spraying. The burning one was worst. Kean was glad it's skull was cleaved quickly, a mercy for them both. His face scrunched up at the smell. You would not imagine forgetting how frightening the Scorned were. You'd reckon one could steel their mind. Not Kean. The only thing keeping his frayed nerves together, cauterising the newfound dread, was that black candle burning in the back of his mind, that off-magic. Kean had fallen tighter behind the wall that was Adra now. Lacking the proficiency to attack with the same reckless abandon as Keenan, or the awesome magic that exalted Brennen and the Sorceress of the Brightwood Grove, he had to hope simple teamwork would suffice. His shifted uneasily. "I've got your back," He said firmly, trying to hide how he felt. A hairless horror bounded towards them. He could run. He should run. Turf was torn up in its wake. Focus. A deep breath in, then out. Calm. Kean launched his dagger at the monstrosity, his magic propelling the blade at speeds approaching that of a crossbow bolt. From the folds of his clothing a larger blade floated into his grasp, ready to support Adra when the melee broke out.</s> <\|message\|>Neil Aurum Neil held his position, shield still angled towards the sky. He need to maintain focus to keep his protection spell in effect. He noticed how the pyromancer had rejected the protection of the night. He guessed it was only fitting that one who held the fire so closely would fear the dark. He looked over to the pyromancer, and recited a text from one of the many holy-books he had read, "While some may find themselves lost in darkness, those who cling to closely to the light will find themselves blind. The moon gives gentle guidance to any who are willing to look."</s> <\|message\|>Adra Son Sauhl Adra Son Sauhl --- Adra had never been fond of magic, and she became less so when a beam of power barely lanced over her head and towards the wolf being before her. She watched as the creature turned into nothing. There was a thud as the fae fell behind her. Adra moved towards her, making sure that the woman was fine. She slid her hand across the other's face and waited until the other seemed conscious. "Good job," Adra said with a smile. "I'll cover you while you recover." One of the humans tended to the fae's health, and so the orc didn't think it was necessary to stay with her. Standing, she faced the five wolves that poured from the forest. Adra pulled her shield closely into her form, staring at them as they clustered around. Their existence varied from something plausible in nature and something totally unnatural. The rogue tended to the fae and relied on her. And as such Adra stood at full guard. A hairless wolf ran towards them. Adra was the wall between the creature and their prey. She thrust her shield towards the beast. It bounced off of it, and she stood over it, pulling her warhammer into focus. Yet, a dagger peppered its skin. The creature pulled back. It was angry, and yet it tried to attack again. Pushed from her own drive and the drive of the gauntlets, Adra moved forwards. She dropped her shield and grabbed her warhammer with both hands and slung down on the beast's skull. It fell before her, easily. That being said, she tried to grab at her shield to try protect the fae and the other that tried to save her. Why had she dropped it so easily? @jdh97@Lord Zee</s>	<\|message\|>Zina Withervine "of the Fallen Grove" "I'm alright; I'm alright!" Zana called out to the Orc as the Fae scrambled to get out of the dirt and to rise back to her full height, before pausing for a moment to look up at Adra. " ... and thanks!" She would have said more to the Orc, but as the situation was at the moment; it wasn't exactly an ideal moment for chit-chat! Turning to look out across the battlefield, she saw a few things. Some good, some bad. On the bright side, there wasn't much left of her first target; which had been wholly disintegrated from this very plane. On the down side, there were now a lot more targets scampering and running all around them! "We are a bit too clustered for a Death Sphere or Holocaust spell, I need something with a bit more finesse!" Zana privately thought to herself, her mind racing through half a dozen different spells; most of which would be useless right now unless she wanted to destroy the party alongside the Scorned! But then; trudging through her memory; she found it, and she crouched down behind Adra! "Keep them off my butt! I got a solution!" Zana said to the Orc warrioress, before she pulled the sleeve off her right hand and reached down towards the grass at her feet. The tips of the Fae's fingers would twist and turn for a moment; before transforming into piercing roots that shot down into the ground! Zana closed her eyes and began to recite the names of the other party members to the best of her ability, or at least those she didn't want to possibly end up killing with the spell! Beneath her, the ground began to move and churn, before the disturbance began to move out to either side of her; snaking across the battleground as it sought out targets, moving between rocks and the feet of the combatants!</s>
<\|description\|>Ava Marie Gennings (Main Characters Posted Below) Age: 17½ Appearance: Of Irish heritage, it shows in her red hair, greenish-gray eyes, and fair skin. Though difficult to see, she does have a few light freckles on her cheeks, though she usually keeps them covered with makeup. She is also prone to using rather bright, unusual shades of lipstick. She stands at about 5'2" and is rather petite. Inspired by Lydia's single white stripe, she decided to pick a small bit of her hair in roughly the same place, bleached it, and keeps it dyed turquoise. Looking at her, you would never guess that she comes from a long line of hunters. While she does have a few scars from growing up being trained as a hunter, she usually covers them up with either makeup or clothes. She also always has an abundance of temporary tattoos on her, which she has a shocking stockpile of in a drawer at home. She also often wears extremely colorful clothes that are loosely comfortable, and has a thing for flipflops. Personality: Again, you would never guess she was a hunter. She is rather bubbly, and extremely energetic. Like Lydia, once she is old enough to legally make her own decisions, she plans on leaving hunting behind her, maybe become a makeup and costuming specalist. Or, at least, skip out on the fieldwork, and be more of a researcher. Maybe delve into and hunt down historical artifacts. She has not quite decided which yet, if not both, though she has gotten a good start in learning about each field, just in case. She is eccentric, and speaks her thoughts without thinking them through first. Really, she sees no point in putting on a filter. If someone can't handle the truth, then that's their fault. She is also a terrible liar on those rare occasions when she has to lie, but she usually avoids lying anyway. Again, what's the point? Hunter Society Connections: Ava comes from a fairly long line of Lion's Ridge members. Between that and her parents' high standing in the Society, they have had a home in Lion's Ridge Community for the past few generations. They have two houses on the board, one for Ava and her parents, and the other belonging to her grandmother. That Ava doesn't have the desire to continue that legacy—instead wanting to play one of the more supportive roles—has gotten her plenty of crap from other Society hunters, kids and adults alike. Especially when they make the connection between her surname and a few other historical reds. Mother: Brown/gold Father: Dark blue Grandfather (deceased): Red Grandmother (retired): Purple A couple of shady people who meet in the park. They conspire to do away with one "Hunter of Twilight," and referenced someone called "The Sovereign." One wore a gray duster coat. The other showed a power over shadows. Other than that, nothing else is currently known about them.</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Out of all the houses in Lion's Ridge, Ava's was one of the only two easily distinguishable from the rest. All thanks to Ava. Located in one of many roundabouts, her house stood out beside its plain. earth-toned neighbors. Flags hung from either side of the porch, one of the Irish flag and the other of a rainbow peace symbol. Various chimes hung on hooks from the porch's awning, each jingling with their own tunes in the light summer breeze. Colorful metal wind spinners stuck out from the lawn and lined the sidewalk, swirling lazily. Ava sat on a porch swing. Celtic knotwork she had painted decorated the wooden swing, forming various types of wildlife. It creaked as it swung, Ava keeping it moving with her bare feet. She hummed softly to herself, finishing up a level of Candy Crush on her phone as she waited for Lydia to arrive. She glanced up from her game, checking to see if her best friend was anywhere nearby. A couple houses from hers, Mr. Higgens—a balding man in his late sixties—irritably pulled up weeds from a garden filled with herbs Ava could scarcely begin to pronounce. Her gaze lingered on him for only a moment before her greenish gray eyes settled on movement further down the street. Even from the distance, she recognized Lydia making her way toward the house. A smile spread over her orange-painted lips. She offered a vigorous wave, then shoved her phone in a pocket of her tattered-looking jean shorts. Quickly slipping on a pair of flipflops near the swing, she hurried to the sidewalk. The mid-morning sun set her fiery hair ablaze as she strolled toward Lydia. Her flipflops clopped unhurriedly against the pavement, closing the distance between her and Lydia. "Lidy!" she called as she neared, ready to greet her friend with her customary 'hello hug.'</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott Encouraged by the weather and promise of seeing her best friend, Lydia quickened her pace into a brisk walk. She didn't have anything planned for the day, but plans weren't necessary with Ava. They always found something do to, even if their options were somewhat limited in the confinements of Lion's Ridge. Exactly ten minutes after she sent the text, Lydia arrived at Ava's spectacle of a house. She took a moment to admire the current setup. With a collection of lawn ornaments and decorations, the home was certainly unique, but a good kind of unique. Kind of like Ava. "Hey, Ava!" Lydia approached her friend, amused by how differently they dressed. With her hoodie and jeans, she was better suited for autumn, whereas Ava was fully embracing the heat of summer with her attire. "Okay, okay, lets get this over with," Lydia joked, spreading her arms to hug the redhead. She wasn't usually one for hugs, but she learned to make an exception for her best friend. After a quick embrace, Lydia stepped back. Fixing the bill of her baseball cap, she blew a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. She made a mental note to trim her bangs again. "So, what's on the agenda today?" Lydia would have been fine with hanging out at the house, but she had a feeling staying indoors wasn't an option. Not with Ava. "Want to head to the park or something?"</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava scrunched her nose playfully at Lidia's joke. "Oh, get over yourself, stuffy-pants." She pulled Lydia into a quick, friendly hug. As soon as she released her friend, Ava started moseying down the sidewalk. She glanced to Lidia, making sure the other girl followed. It was far too nice a day to stay indoors. The sun warmed Ava's arms, their fair skin left bare by her tie-dye tang top. A temporary tattoo wrapped her right forearm, creating the illusion of a shimmery tribal-patterned snake coiling down it. Its head rested on the back of her hand. A series of flowers rained down from her opposite shoulder, some more faded than others and in various stages of peeling off. She paused at Lydia's question. Placing a hand to her chin, she tapped her lips in mock contemplation. "Hmm. That's always an option." A sly grin pulled at her vibrant lips from behind her finger. She moved her hands and placed her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts. "Especially since it'll take us past Jason's house." She drew out the last two words, her shoulders bobbing theatrically with the tease.</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott Lydia's eyes narrowed. She knew that sky, mischievous grin of Ava's. "What are you up to?" At the mention of passing by Jason's house, her cheeks reddened. Ava was the only one who figured out her secret crush, and therefore the only one who got to tease her about it. "So?" Stooping, she pretended to inspect the lace of her boot and proceeded to retie it. "That doesn't mean he's there," she insisted, tying off the knot with more force than necessary. "He's probably out on that stupid motorcycle of his!" As if to answer the statement, the rev of an engine could be heard half a block away. Lydia's heart rate didn't return to normal until the sound grew steadily distant, indicating the rider was going in another direction. After a pause in which Lydia tried to decide if she was disappointed or relieved, she ran ahead a few paces and fell into step alongside her friend. "Just for the record? I'm one-hundred percent over him," she waved her hand across to emphasize the point. "I couldn't care less if his house is on the way or not. He's never home!"</s>	<\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava went ahead a couple steps before realizing Lydia had stopped. She put her fingers fully into her shallow pockets and turned back to her friend. Her grin only widened at Lydia's response. She watched the girl tie her shoe as if the distraction could hide her from the topic. Ava glanced down the street as the choking rev of a motorcycle answered the girl's statement. "And Grams says I'm supposed to be psychic!" Ava chortled at the timing of the sound during Lydia's short pause. She eagerly started back down the sidewalk when the other girl stood, apparently satisfied with the tightness of her shoelace. Ava glanced over as Lydia fell into step beside her and tacked on her statement "for the record." "Denial," Ava said through a feigned coughing sneeze. She sniffled and wiped at her nose to enhance the effect. Grinning, she shrugged lightly. "You're too good for him, anyway. Now c'mon, Hoodie Queen." Ava removed her fingers from her pockets, turned, and started jogging backwards. "I'll race you to Jason's block!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ava Marie Gennings (Main Characters Posted Below) Age: 17½ Appearance: Of Irish heritage, it shows in her red hair, greenish-gray eyes, and fair skin. Though difficult to see, she does have a few light freckles on her cheeks, though she usually keeps them covered with makeup. She is also prone to using rather bright, unusual shades of lipstick. She stands at about 5'2" and is rather petite. Inspired by Lydia's single white stripe, she decided to pick a small bit of her hair in roughly the same place, bleached it, and keeps it dyed turquoise. Looking at her, you would never guess that she comes from a long line of hunters. While she does have a few scars from growing up being trained as a hunter, she usually covers them up with either makeup or clothes. She also always has an abundance of temporary tattoos on her, which she has a shocking stockpile of in a drawer at home. She also often wears extremely colorful clothes that are loosely comfortable, and has a thing for flipflops. Personality: Again, you would never guess she was a hunter. She is rather bubbly, and extremely energetic. Like Lydia, once she is old enough to legally make her own decisions, she plans on leaving hunting behind her, maybe become a makeup and costuming specalist. Or, at least, skip out on the fieldwork, and be more of a researcher. Maybe delve into and hunt down historical artifacts. She has not quite decided which yet, if not both, though she has gotten a good start in learning about each field, just in case. She is eccentric, and speaks her thoughts without thinking them through first. Really, she sees no point in putting on a filter. If someone can't handle the truth, then that's their fault. She is also a terrible liar on those rare occasions when she has to lie, but she usually avoids lying anyway. Again, what's the point? Hunter Society Connections: Ava comes from a fairly long line of Lion's Ridge members. Between that and her parents' high standing in the Society, they have had a home in Lion's Ridge Community for the past few generations. They have two houses on the board, one for Ava and her parents, and the other belonging to her grandmother. That Ava doesn't have the desire to continue that legacy—instead wanting to play one of the more supportive roles—has gotten her plenty of crap from other Society hunters, kids and adults alike. Especially when they make the connection between her surname and a few other historical reds. Mother: Brown/gold Father: Dark blue Grandfather (deceased): Red Grandmother (retired): Purple A couple of shady people who meet in the park. They conspire to do away with one "Hunter of Twilight," and referenced someone called "The Sovereign." One wore a gray duster coat. The other showed a power over shadows. Other than that, nothing else is currently known about them.</s> <\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings "Excuses!" Ava called through a laugh. She looked over her shoulder, checking Lydia's distance from her. She slowed slightly, giving the other girl time to gain some speed and close a bit of distance. She turned down the streets, her legs working from a lifetime of memory. She spared the mailboxes quick glances, predicting the names and lion-head crests on each one before she passed. The crest of the hunter's Society, most of them blazed brown outlined in gold with a few greens, grays, and the rare purple spattered about. When they turned on Jason's street, orange crests became dominant among the smaller houses, some crests split into two different colors, often between orange and white. Some of the residents liked calling the block the Orange District, the couple handfuls of lesser-ranking colors in Lion's Ridge gathering around the smaller houses. Ava spared a small terrier a quick glance as the dog started barking at her with the bravado only a small dog could muster. "Hi Ponchy! Bye Ponchy!" she called as she ran past, making the dog bark more frantically as it struggled against the leash keeping it inside the yard. Ava slowed her pace slightly as she neared the end of Jason's house. She glanced behind her. Noticing Lydia had stopped, the colorful girl slid to a halt. One of her flipflops nearly flew off and the other's strap dug irritatingly between her toes. Ava turned around and crossed her arms, grinning. "Of course you do. Such perfect timing, dontchya think?" She trod back toward Lydia, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her brow and breaths heavier than normal. She slipped her thumbs back into the pockets of her jean shorts as she stepped in front of Lydia. She opened her mouth to say something, but the ungodly cry of unoiled machinery cut her off. She looked to the Bennett's garage as its whining plea for mercy stopped. Her light expression turned into a scowl as her gaze fell to a boy around their age standing inside the garage. His body and a bulging bag of garbage partially obscured a motorcycle parked carefully beside a convertible with its top down. Ava sighed quietly, then gave a light, one-shouldered shrug in a silent, 'Oh well.' Her face returned to a more casual expression as Jason Bennett addressed Lydia. Taller than the girls, he finished his duty and strode toward them with the leisurely stride of an overconfident moron. His worn leather jacket hugged him just right, showing off the muscles of a teen boy who had hit the gym too often. The look Lydia shot her only made the red-head's grin return. "How sweet of you to notice me, Bennett!" she answered him with an exaggerated, mocking excitement. Ava's brows rose when Jason leaned against the mailbox, making her wonder if he was the cause of its crookedness in the first place. "Sorry. Not a fan," she answered the boy, no hint of apology in her voice. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward. "But I bet Lidy would love to see it!" She cast Lydia a knowing smirk, a taunt in her voice that only a true friend could successfully pull off. "Wouldn't you?" She blinked up at her friend with the innocence of the guilty.</s> <\|message\|>Lydia Norah Prescott "Your loss, Gennings," Jason scoffed, irritated by her refusal. His gaze flicked to Lydia when Ava mentioned her being interested. He leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Lydia's face underneath her baseball cap, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Is that so?" Lydia's jaw went slack at Ava's betrayal, although she was quick to collect herself. "Er. Yes. I'd love to see it," she answered, stiffening when Jason went out of his way to make eye contact. She felt certain her face was on fire. Jason straightened, a glint of amusement in his steely blue eyes. "Follow me," he invited, pushing off of the mailbox. It stood more crooked than before. As the boy lead the way, Lydia shot Ava a wide-eyed, half crazed look. 'I'm going to kill you,' she mouthed. She turned her head before her friend could respond, her heart giving a panicked flip when Jason started talking. He never looked back at the girls, he was too busy going on about how expensive the motorcycle was and how fast it could go. "Wow," Lydia mumbled. She made the comment not about the machinery, but the state of the garage. A pile of large cardboard boxes nestled in the corner almost touched the ceiling, and there was a cluttered worktable with a blue tarp tossed over it. A dartboard hung on the wall with a few knives embedded into it. Most were dead center. Jason paved the way for them, pushing a box of tools over with his combat boot. Lydia was glad she wasn't the only one who wore boots in the summer. She kept her arms pressed against her sides so she wouldn't accidentally bump into anything. The door to the house had a calendar on the back of it, with a picture of a majestic looking panther. Lydia stared at it, jumping when it seemed to meow. Above them, a large Siamese cat glowered from the rafters. Lydia recognized the cat from Jason's profile picture. "Don't mind Hannah," Jason blew some of his dark hair out of his face. "The neighbor's stupid dog chased her earlier." "Ponchy?" Lydia guessed, pitying the cat. It mewed pathetically. "Yeah, that's the one." Jason moved around so he was on one side of the motorcycle, and the girls were on the other. "Hate that dog. He's always getting lose and sniffing around here." Lydia glanced to Ava. She wished the girl would say something, but she figured Ava was too busy taking in the sight of the garage. "Well? What do you think?" Jason gestured to the motorcycle with a wide wave of his hand. "Awesome, right?" Lydia didn't know how to respond. There was nothing special about it; it looked like every other motorcycle. She pretended to look it over, nodding to feign interest. "It's…" Lydia took a breath. "It's awesome," she finally agreed, using his word to describe the thing. She did her best to sound enthusiastic, but instead she sounded pained. She hated lying. "You bet it is." Jason didn't seem to notice her tone. He looked to Ava, waiting for her reaction. "C'mon, Gennings. Even you can't deny this is a sick ride."</s>	<\|message\|>Ava Marie Gennings Ava watched, amusement plastered on her face, as Jason and Lydia interacted. Though she could not see her friend's face, she could practically feel the embarrassed heat radiating from the other girl. That, or she was being cooked alive in her hoodie. One of the two. Ava's money was on the first. She only just managed to stifle a laugh when Jason pushed from the mailbox, leaving it a tad more bent than before. Her tongue rolled around in her mouth, forming an unspoken, I knew it! Ava would have gladly doubled-down on her bet with the murderous look Lydia cast her. Her lips pulled tight in an attempt at suppressing her grin. She shrugged lightly at Lydia's silent threat. Her expression unwavering, she returned her thumbs to her pockets and followed behind her friend into Jason's horrendously cluttered garage. The familiar smell of oil, gas, and metal hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of stale beer. While the calendar drew Lydia's attention, Ava paused to look at the abused dartboard. "Nice shot," she commented. She looked over her shoulder at Jason with a smirk. "Who'd you have over?" Before Jason could respond to her quip, a gentle meow sounded above them. Excitement about there being a cat nearby settling in her, she looked frantically for the source of the sound. Her gaze found it at about the same time as Lydia. "Well, hello there!" she greeted, Jason momentarily forgotten. The cat's tail swished irately behind it, dangling down from the opposite side of the rafter. Ava's head cocked toward Jason when he spoke. "Aww, poor thing." Hoping to coax the cat down from hiding, she reached fully into one of her front pockets. She pulled out a few of the cat treats she often kept with her. She held them up toward Hanna, hoping the smell would entice her down. "C'mon, pretty kitty!" she called in a soothing tone, Lydia's glance going unnoticed. "There's no mean ol' dog here." To Ava's delight, the cat slunk elegantly across the rafter and used a stack of boxes to return to the ground. The cat sauntered over to her with another meow and rubbed against her legs, looking up at her expectantly. Ava crouched down, careful of the worktable she was nearly crammed against. She placed the treats on the concrete floor, and Hanna chowed down happily. She ran a hand over the animal's soft fur as it ate. She looked up when Jason spoke from the opposite side of the motorcycle. She looked to the bike as if noticing it for the first time. Her brows rose, glad Lydia was the one in the spotlight for the question at the moment. The cat finished the treats and pawed at Ava for more. Instead, Ava took the now purring cat in her arms and stood. Hanna meowed in protest. "Even you can't deny this is a sick ride." "Why? Does it have a cold?" Her eyes widened and her voice sounded so sincerely concerned it could have fooled a human lie detector. At last, she fully took in the plain-looking bike. She shrugged, the cat squirming in her arms. "Bikes aren't really my area of expertise. It's a cruiser, right?" She let the cat jump free from her. Hanna glared at her, her tail swishing indignantly, before she rushed off to find a new hiding place.</s>
<\|description\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' AGE 25 (He randomly picked the number, not really sure how old he is himself) GENDER Male SPECIES Super Mutant HOMETOWN Jamortown, formerly Camden Arkansas. FACTION Current: N/A Formerly: Jamor's Warband- A Super Mutant group hellbent on eradicating all inferior races and conquering the southern half of Arkansas. Eradicated by the BoS years ago. --- Standing at a hulking 10ft 8in (3.25m) tall (straight backed), with muscles that would put the most dedicated of body builders to shame, and a face that scares small children, Frankie looks terrifying to all but the more seasoned adventurers and soldiers. It isn't until someone gets closer that they see how hunched over he keeps himself(bringing his height down to around seven feet), as if ashamed of himself, how his hands are constantly fiddling with something, and how he can't quite bring himself to meet your eyes (his own pale white ones darting away), as if he's afraid of what he might see in them. As if he needed more help being off-putting, he can often be found muttering to himself or into his personal recorder, talking about notes and theories. He puts effort into making himself look as non-threatening and quiet as possible, with his back hunched and shoulders slumped. His eyes are almost constantly darting around, studying one thing and the other. They light up like beacons when something interesting or exciting catches his attention. He moves with great care and gentleness, even when excitedly hurrying towards something, careful not to accidentally break or hurt something. His dark green skin usually has peach colored paint on it, carefully applied to cover as much of the characteristic green as possible, giving him an odd and distinctive appearance. On the rare occasion he is without his armor, he wears a kilt made from leather and nothing else. It is simply for everyone else's decency and propriety, and has little to no protection value. --- TYPE INTJ-A (Architect) SPECTATOR'S REACTION If he wasn't a super mutant, Frankie would be a perfect researcher. He certainly demonstrates all the traits of a stereotypical absentminded scientist or doctor. He gets lost in his thoughts, he seems completely oblivious of all social cues and norms, and will singlemindedly pursue his goals to an almost obsessive degree. Due to his condition, however, interesting quirks have appeared. In spite of, or perhaps because of, what he is Frankie genuinely seeks to make connections with everyone he meets. He seems to crave even the most basic of politeness, even from people who make it clear they'd rather kill him than understand him. On the subject of mental illness, the mere idea terrifies him. He's desperate to prevent himself from losing his mind like so many other super mutants, to a degree that he hinders himself excessively, restraining his natural urges and power. --- 8 4 10 1 9 3 5 --- --- --- TRAIT Wild Swampland You've somehow managed to summon the weird around you. Things will get odd quicker than they get normal. SKILLS Active Skill(s) First Aid General healing skill. Used to heal small cuts, abrasions and other minor ills. Can't handle surgery, bone fixing, or paralysis/coma. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I'm SPECIAL: Sacrifice a point or more of INTELLIGENCE for an equivalent boost of STRENGTH. This is permanent until the next day when it resets. STRENGTHS * Strong Like Bull: Due to his Super Mutant biology, Frankie is immensely strong, capable of feats of strength far beyond natural human capabilities. * Tough as Steel: Once again due to his biology, Frankie is ridiculously tough to take down. He's immune to the effects of radiation and diseases, his skin and bones can take an immense amount of punishment, and he possesses an enhanced regenerative factor that allows him to heal from wounds faster than normal. * Obsessive Learner: Frankie is obsessed with knowledge. He believes that learning and complex problems keep his mind sharp, keeping him from descending into the frothing madness his brothers live in. He regularly explores or breaks into libraries and read all of the information he can find, particularly on anatomy and the healing arts. He has become an excellent doctor and medic, provided you trust and allow him to work on you. Frankie has always possessed a talent for retaining and understanding information, and almost never has trouble remembering what he has learned. As such he's got a huge amount of information stored away, sorted and organized neatly in his mind. WEAKNESSES * Almost Pacifist: Frankie doesn't like to fight and kill. Mostly because it gets his blood up, and encourages him to act like his brothers. He's spent a long enough time on the Wasteland, however, to know that it is inevitable. If he absolutely must fight (when refusing to fight will result in either his death or the death of someone else), Frankie attempts to use his great strength and resilience to neutralize whatever is attacking, non-lethally if he can. He's also constantly holding himself back, keeping his urges and power in check. This results in him seemingly being weaker than he should be, and seems like he's unused to a fight the vast majority of the time. Should he ever be pushed to the (very far) point to give into his urges, Frankie is more than capable of demonstrating why his species is feared across the wastes. * Oblivious: Frankie isn't really the most aware person, of himself or his surroundings. Being a Super Mutant, he has never really needed to be concerned with or aware of dangers. He regularly just wanders into incredibly dangerous areas without a care in the world, and seems to be completely ignorant of the fact that his stature, appearance, and manner of speaking all make it all but impossible for him to convince anybody to do anything. * Nimble as A Falling Brick: Frankie isn't agile or nimble. If he dodges something its because he had way to much time too, or pure luck. --- WEAPONS None ARMOR Frankie's custom Armor: A conglomeration of thick pieces of metal, rubber tires, and bits and pieces of junk Frankie has attached to himself in a typical Super Mutant fashion. Metal beat into, surprisingly careful, shape covers his torso, arms, and legs. The shoulders are large pieces of tire, likely stripped from an old tractor or semi-truck. Chains serve to keep the armor on his body, and for a helmet Frankie has a piece of steel shaped like a welding mask without the glass. The helmet has a yellow smiley faced painted over it, and his armor has peach colored paint slathered all over it. CHEMICALS 3 Stimpaks (Not for himself) MISCELLANEOUS Frankie's Bag: A large travel bag that Frankie uses to store his various boxes and knickknacks. Frankie's Box of Mind Challengers: Frankie has a large box that is filled with puzzles and books of logic or math problems. The puzzles are typically small things that can be easily held in the hands, designed to distract and challenge the mind. Frankie's Recorder: A recorder that plays and copies onto holodisks, Frankie uses it for taking notes when studying something. First aid box: A box filled with medicine, poultices, bandages, alcohol, and other general first aid supplies. Mysterious Vial: A vial of grey liquid, carefully wrapped and hidden in Frankie's bag. He is extremely protective of it. --- "Excuse me, but I have heard that the Governor is looking for adventurers for a mission. Can you point me in the right direction to him?" Frankie spoke softly, or as softly as his massive frame and rough voice could, his hands held in the air. He had taken to doing that while approaching unknown humans, as it at the very least confused them long enough for him to explain himself so they didn't shoot him on sight. The man looked up at the rough voice and jumped back from the wall he had been leaning against with a shout of alarm, hand reaching for his pistol. Frankie took a step back, hands lifted higher. "I mean you no harm. My name is Frankie. I am looking to be in the Governor's employ." He hoped that what was coming across was soothing, rather than menacing. He had trouble sending across the proper messages at times. The man paused, looking over Frankie's peach colored armor and skin, squinting. "Are you that 'Friendly Super Mutant' wandering around trying to help people?" Frankie nodded eagerly, stopping himself from smiling. That scared people. "That's me. Could you please point me in the direction of the Governor? I'd like to offer my services to him." The man paused, clearly thinking over the wisdom of leading a super mutant to the Governor of the Northern Province, Friendly or no. Frankie didn't blame him. He wouldn't have trusted himself in the man's shoes either. "I suppose the Governor could use someone like yourself on his special job. Wait here. I'll bring the Governor's men. Frankie nodded, saying his thanks, and settled down to wait as the man walked off. He hoped that a posse wasn't being rounded up to kill him again. It would be bothersome to run away and walk back in later, and he might miss his chance to explore the rest of the state in relative safety. The man came back with a dozen of the Governor's men, all armed and wary. Frankie didn't blame them. A super mutant was dangerous, especially if it wanted to meet the Governor. What happened next was a tense interrogation. Well, tense on the part of the Governor's men. Frankie himself was rather relaxed, sure he could escape these men if they tried to kill him. It was all the usual questions. No, he wasn't interested in hurting the governor. Yes, he really was just interested in helping. Yes, he really did detest violence. Yes, he could actually help. No, he didn't have any super mutant friends waiting outside of the city. Yes, he would obey all commands. No, he didn't have any weapons. Finally, satisfied that Frankie at least didn't plan to murder them immediately, the leader waved a hand."At the very least you would be a good distraction in the event of an attack. Lets go, we'll see if the Governor even wants to see you." Frankie nodded eagerly again, passing his last cap to the man who had helped him "Thank you, friend. May the rest of your days be blessed." The man watched as the towering Super Mutant walked away, shaking his head in wonder and pocketing the cap. A strange incident. One that he hoped he never repeated.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Even in the dim moonlit clearing, Felix's eyes identified the sudden and swift movement of the mutated mongrel of a dog to be a wild dash to the group, surely an attempt by its radiation addled brain to gain a meal. As adrenaline pumped into his system, time seemed to slow down. A second felt like three. Synapses fired as muscle memory and mental processing was kicked into high gear. 'Distance. 5 meters.' Felix, in one fluid motion, draws his trusty laser rifle slung on his shoulder and takes a firm hold on the familiar rifle. 'Hungry. Desperate.' He rests the stock onto his shoulder as he levels the rifle and positions his finger beside the trigger guard, taking aim at the center of mass. 'Distance. 4.5 meters.' Felix squeezes the trigger and the rifle lets loose a magnetically focused beam of high intensity light at the mongrel's body.</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s>	<\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s>
<\|description\|>Sully AGE 30 GENDER Male SPECIES Human HOMETOWN Dump Town - A small settlement located in a former rubbish dump. The mountains of waste provide solid protection to the inhabitants with a large metal gate used as an entrace on one side. Located several miles from Shreve's Port in The Northern Province. FACTION The Hunters - A group of mercernaries who, as the name suggests, excel at hunting. Whether it is finding an individual or a creature in the post apocalyptic world, The Hunters are capable enough to hunt what they are paid to. --- While Sully wears a gas mask out in the wilds, when in a settlement he removes it. His resting face is aggressive and stern, accentuated by his sharp facial features. A long nose and pointed chin, coupled with a furrowed brow can make people around him nervous, often to his detriment. His hair is thick and black, often standing up due to the gas mask pushing it upward. His right eye is a deep blue and has an intensity amplified by his face. He has a scar running from his forehead down over his left eye, resting just above the corner of his mouth. The wound that resulted in the scar damaged his eye and it now has a pale, milky colouration to it. It is totally useless. He stands at 6'1" and walks with purpose and confidence, his back straight and shoulders wide. Beneath his clothing lies a scarred body, close encounters with humans and muntants alike leaving their mark. He has no shame in his scars and instead uses each as a reminder that any moment could be his last. His voice is gruff, as if waking up after a heavy night of alcohol and smoking. This combined with his appearance makes it difficult to get close to anyone who isn't a bandit or lowlife. As such Sully does play into the character that people assume him to be. For those who get close enough they can see that he truly is a good person at heart, but his profession often makes him do things that put him at the other end of the scale. --- TYPE ISTJ SPECTATOR'S REACTION Sully is a planner and uses whatever information he has available, avoiding making assumptions. When people assume they often make mistakes and that is why he makes sure he has all the facts that he can before going into a situation. He is someone who has no issue taking the lead if required and tries to give clear, concise instructions. Once decisions have been made he has a preference to get right into the action rather than continually debating a topic. His thought process tends to focus heavily on logic with very little room for fantastical ideas or dreams. --- 5 9 4 2 7 8 5 --- --- TRAIT Trigger Discipline: You're a sharpshooter of sorts. You know your way around a gun and you know how to make the shot count. That being said, you're slower to shoot than your friends, and you usually lean towards rifles. SKILLS Combat Skill Small Guns: The use, care and general knowledge of small firearms. Pistols, SMGs and rifles. Active Skill(s) Sneak: Quiet movement, and the ability to remain unnoticed. If successful, you will be much harder to locate. You cannot run and sneak at the same time. PERK Master Hunter: You have advantage against inhuman creatures. STRENGTHS * Pin Point Accurate: After years of practise, Sully could shoot the nose off a molerat at full speed. He actually did it. * Human Shadow: As a hunter of humans and all things scary, Sully excels in the art of sneaking and hiding. Why is there a tree in the middle of the road? * Blur: Sully is able to move quickly and has quick reflexes, making him rather difficult to hit. WEAKNESSES * Mr Angry: Sully's demeanour makes it almost impossible for him to charm the normal and functioning members of society. He never gets a discount. * God Damn Molerats!: Some people hate logical things, Sully hates molerats. He will actively try and kill any molerat on sight. He once killed a childs pet molerat and then returned two weeks later to kill the replacement. * One Good Eye: Sully's close call with a Yao Guai left him with a permanent scar over his left eye and the eye itself is now useless. The deep blue colouring of the eye has long since faded to leave a milky white, leaving him without vision out of his left eye. Good job he shoots using his right. --- WEAPONS Widowmaker: A custom built sniper rifle that fires a .50 calibre round. It features an extended magazine, bipod, long range scope and a silencer. The gun itself is wrapped in various coloured strips of cloth to help camouflage. Head Splitter: Another custom built weapon, Head Splitter is a revolver that fires .44 calibre rounds. It features glowing ironsights and a forward facing, curved blade that comes out of the grip. ARMOR Crafted Leather Armour: Leather armour crafted from the carcass of a Yao Guai Sully killed. It was fashioned into a coat and features a fur coating around the collar. In addition he has a gas mask that provides minor protection again toxic fumes. CHEMICALS * 2 Stimpaks * 3 Water * 2 Radaway MISCELLANEOUS Pre War Dollar Coin: A silver coin dating back to before the bombs fell. It is in pristine condition and was given to him by his father. Flint Striker: Nothing quite like a campfire under a starfilled sky. --- "I'll take a beer." The barman stared worringly at Sully, his eyes converying a strong sense of fear. In his experience bar staff of the wasteland tended to be hardy folk, but this yokel was basically pissing in his boots. Sully glared back at the barman with a look of total dissatisfaction, he liked his barstaff hardy and ready for trouble. "I'm not here to take your money. I just want a damn beer." The barman stumbled backwards towards the counter behind him, reaching under it with his long and gangly arms. He re-emerged with a brown bottle, the label long since faded leaving a stone white square. "See that wasn't so hard. Thanks alot." Sully did his best to smile as the barman handed him the bottle but it did nothing other than petrify him further. Turning away Sully rolled his eyes and made for a table in the corner of the room. A well used candle that had dripped wax all over the table top was the only source of lighting. Sully couldn't work out whether it was a mood thing or just a lack of electricity, either way it was relaxing and he needed to unwind. He had just finished a two week long hunt that had driven him to the edge of insanity. Who wouldn't go insane having to find a stolen albino brahmin. A farmer outside Shreve's Port claimed a gang of bandits had stolen it and were trying to sell it off. Unfortunately for Sully after tracking down the bandits and doing away with them, he returned to the farmer to find the albino brahmin back in the field. Suffice to say the farmer wouldn't be breathing through his nose for a while. It didn't matter though, Sully helped himself to the caps promised and that was when he headed for Shreve's Port. As Sully drank his beer he overhead a conversation on a table nearby. Two young men spoke about a job directly from the Governor of The Northern Province himself. That in itself didn't matter, it was when one of the men said the amount he was willing to pay...over 1000 caps. Sully gulped the rest of his beer and made for the door, pushing chairs and people alike aside. Outside his mind began kicking into overdrive, I can't miss out on that sort of money...where is the Governers residence? --- House of the Rising Sun ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Even in the dim moonlit clearing, Felix's eyes identified the sudden and swift movement of the mutated mongrel of a dog to be a wild dash to the group, surely an attempt by its radiation addled brain to gain a meal. As adrenaline pumped into his system, time seemed to slow down. A second felt like three. Synapses fired as muscle memory and mental processing was kicked into high gear. 'Distance. 5 meters.' Felix, in one fluid motion, draws his trusty laser rifle slung on his shoulder and takes a firm hold on the familiar rifle. 'Hungry. Desperate.' He rests the stock onto his shoulder as he levels the rifle and positions his finger beside the trigger guard, taking aim at the center of mass. 'Distance. 4.5 meters.' Felix squeezes the trigger and the rifle lets loose a magnetically focused beam of high intensity light at the mongrel's body.</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s> <\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer Joe watched on as Frankie and Shepherd began to dig the grave, minding their surroundings and keeping an eye out for danger. After a while, there was the clunk of metal upon metal, and Joe craned his head towards the sound to see Shepherd examining a chest. He approached the grave, eyeing the chest and the label on it. "Vault 76 Trinkets. Hrm." The old man, Franz, was very enthusiastic about opening it, and as was the supermutant Frankie. "Fellas, I ain't keen on dyin'. I may look like I'm dumb as a box of rocks but I know about Vault 76 and I know that it's no damn good. Whatever's in that chest, we should keep it locked up tight. And as for a gravemarker, I can fashion up a cross from some branches. That chest don't need to be opened." The mountain of a man was very adamant about keeping that damn thing shut, and why shouldn't he be? With his luck it was a bomb that'd go off as soon as the chest opened. They shouldn't risk it.</s> <\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" T's HUD picks up the dogs as soon as they come into view, outlining them in a bright green. 3 Dogs, one charging, one staying, one looking behind, all an obstacle between the group and Ms Cassom. That one in the back could be problematic if he lost interest and broke off. It was exposing an opening by looking away, and T decided to take it. T drew his pistol and fired at the unobservant wolf, as he slowly moved away from the group, in the direction of the hammer.</s>	<\|message\|>Sully With the dogs emerging from the darkness Sully let out a groan. He wasn't the sort to be concerned by a feral mutt or three, having dealt with much more serious threats. However, they were now in his and the groups way, blocking them from reaching the screams of the person they needed to save. The front dog made a straight run towards the group, its bare teeth exposed to the air by years of mutations. Sully flicked his rifle from his shoulder straight into his hands and took aim down the scope with his good eye. The fast approaching hound was in sight and closing fast. Sully took a knee to allow those behind him to take aim, he didn't want to find himself with a bullet in his back. He squeezed the trigger firmly, the muted and silenced sound of gunfire flittering throughout the nearby area. He then squeezed the trigger once more...it was always worth making sure.</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer The chat around the campfire was pleasant, and Joe found himself sleeping not long after it finished up. However, he was jolted out of his slumber when he heard the blood-curdling scream of their young charge. He looked around, noticing the head of a kid flying out of the trees and landing in the dirt. He rushed forward, noticing Shepherd had beaten him to the head and only then noticing it was Isaac's. The bulky man let out a depressed sigh, "... Poor kid." He watched as some of his comrades formulated a plan, Sully and Sylvia already planning on heading into the woods to find the creature who did it and rescue Soldier and Rocket, who were both missing. They were planning on dragging Felix, Vix, and T (who Joe had mentally dubbed the 'robot with the damn fine coat'). He watched as Frankie said that he was planning on staying with the wagon to help bury Isaac. "I'll stay with Shepherd and the super mutant," Joe began, "I should be able to keep watch and protect anybody from any bandits that come by. The rest of you, good luck with finding Rocket, Soldier, and that damn monster." As he spoke, he had slid on his knuckle dusters, throwing a punch or two to get back into the groove of things before scanning the darkness for any threats.</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon The campfire sharing was one of the most fun and interesting experiences Felix had experienced in a while, even if he did slightly embarrass himself and there were some rough patches during some of the introductions. But like all things, it must come to an end and admittedly, Felix felt disappointed when the campfire thing had to. He was to suggest that he be part of the watch guarding the wagons and the others but the Soldier fellow had beat him to the punch. So instead, he left the others to their own devices and opted to go sit beside a stump he had found among the dead trees a couple meters away from where the majority of the group were positioned. Once he had sat down near the stump, he looks deep into the sky at nothing in particular and lets out a tired sigh before looking down at the ground. 'Good a place as any to spend the night I suppose...' He thought as he got comfortable on his seat and did his damnedest to relax himself by placing his laser rifle on the stump and begin taking care and maintaining his loyal weapon. Though he kept his .45 pistol close to at hand if anything were to occur. With only the moon providing any significant light, it should have been a near impossible task for normal folk. Felix wasn't like normal folk. He had expertly handled the weapon countless times over and even in harsher environments. The low light would not hinder him in this task but even then, his sharp-eyes could see the weapons and parts in dim of moonlight with little problem. The ear-piercing scream easily roused him from his activity and caused him to draw his .45 pistol in a fraction of a second before leaving the stump and sprinting back to the caravan proper at breakneck speeds. The second wagon was in disarray and near it was the decapitated body of Isaac. Felix hears someone let out a broken scream and looks over to the source. He could feel his heart wrench at the scene as he saw Shepherd fall to his knees before his son and lament over his death. Some of his companions were beginning to formulate a plan of action on locating who was responsible for Isaac's death as well as locating both Rocket and her bodyguard while the others decided to stay and help bury the body or deciding whether or not to join. Felix had placed his free hand on his chest and offered the dead Isaac a silent prayer before he heard his name called by Sylvia and Sully asking if he was ready to go. He looks to the two and responds, "Yeah...just let me get my rifle and prepare it." Felix holsters his .45 pistol and goes back to the stump and begin reassembling his rifle. He reattaches the battery receiver back to the main capacitor "In darkness...I will be the light." Then the power cords to their proper sockets "In uncertainty...I will have have clarity." Felix opens the receiver and feeds the rifle a fresh micro-fusion cell "In struggle...I will gain victory." Finally, he closes the receiver and flips a switch that causes the rifle to come to life with a short high pitched electronic whine. "In evil...I will punish without pity." He slings the rifle over his shoulder and dons his hood before speaking the last verse to his credo, "In your name..." He grasps the crimson face mask around his neck and pulls it up to cover his face. "let none survive." Felix then heads back to the caravan proper to group up with the two leading the search party.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" Upon noticing the error message, T hit his right temple with his right palm several times, until it disappeared. Damned mission parameter programming... Need to calibrate again, T thought to himself. After the lovely campfire introductions/Data gathering session, T retreated to a private nook and took the opportunity to do some delicate maintenance to his synth body. T was in the middle of checking his power core, like a surgeon doing heart surgery on himself, when he heard Rocket's scream. Upon arriving to the scene, shotgun and pistol in tow, T witnessed the devastation. He switched his HUD on and inspected the area before joining the others. "I will accompany the search party. Finding Miss Cassom is priority. Finding the bodyguard, sadly, is less so. They can't have gone far."</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia was thinking about the Jet in the pouch that was resting on her right hip. She wasn't craving it yet, but she wasn't feeling the buzz, either. She might need it if she was going to stop the nervous feeling bubbling in her chest. What if it was some kind of crazy monster no one had ever seen before? Someone might die. It'd make a good story for her to tell, though. Sylvia's flashlight cut through the inky blackness with a white cone of light. Walking through a forest today, one would hear the buzzing of bugs, chirping of crickets, frogs and nocturnal birds. No such noise in the post-apocalypse. The small critters of today were wiped out, or mutated into horrific monstrosities that are much less common but much more dangerous then their tiny ancestors. So the forest was quiet as the five mercenaries looked for their quarry. Rocket's voice filled the air, as well as the terrible visage of several wild dogs. Felix had already got a shot off, and the bright red laser cast shadows behind the dogs and the group. Should be easy enough...looks like poor Isaac just got unlucky for getting mauled so quick by some mongrels. "Dogs! It's just dogs." She yelled between the bursts of gunfire. Her 10mm pistol was in her right hand, and her flashlight was crossed underneath her forearm by her left hand. She was towards the back of the group and didn't want friendly fire so she just flicked off the safety, pointed the flashlight at the dogs, and held her fire until the right moment.</s> <\|message\|>Frankie 'The Friendly Super Mutant' Frankie said nothing as he took the shovel from Shepard's hands and helped the man dig the grave of his son. There was nothing to be said that the man didn't already know, or doubtlessly cared little about. So, the massive super mutant merely took the shovel, looking much smaller in his hands, and started digging where the caravan driver started. He didn't know how far the man wanted to dig a grave or how long they had to dig, but he moved as quickly as he could. The boy deserved a proper burial at the very least. If they couldn't avenge his death they could at least ensure that he remained at rest for eternity, with no grave robbers or scavengers picking at his bones. Frankie slowed as he noticed the old man slowing down, his energy and will presumably running out. The super mutant's interest piqued as Shepard's shovel hit metal. It practically skyrocketed as the chest was revealed to be from Vault 76. The Silverfish! A chance to learn more about them, perhaps before they even became what they are today! He barely registered what Franz was saying, but nodded in agreement. This was too good of an opportunity to waste, even if they were motivated by two entirely different reasons for wanting to open the chest. "I agree with Franz. We can't let an opportunity like this go past. Think of what we could learn from this if it possesses the right things inside! I'll open it a distance away from the caravan. If it is trapped, poisoned, cursed, or whatever form of unpleasantness you can think of, I am the most likely to weather whatever storm it can release. I'll carry the contents with me at the back of the caravan. That way, if anything comes looking for whatever is inside, I'll be the ones they come to." The super mutant was visibly excited, talking quickly and hurriedly, eyes glued to the chest. "Worry not, merchant. If you wish to sell any of the contents to whoever happens to walk past, I can serve as a mobile store front." Frankie nodded in what he hoped was a respectful manner to Shepard, putting the shovel to the side of the grave. Reaching into the grave, Frankie grasped the chest and pulled it out, excitedly staring it over. He looked back over at Shepard, some of the excitement fading as he seemed to remember why they were here. "If you wish the grave to be deeper to deter robbers and scavengers as well, I have more than enough strength and energy to do so. Just give the word."</s> <\|message\|>Joseph 'Joe' Sawyer Joe watched on as Frankie and Shepherd began to dig the grave, minding their surroundings and keeping an eye out for danger. After a while, there was the clunk of metal upon metal, and Joe craned his head towards the sound to see Shepherd examining a chest. He approached the grave, eyeing the chest and the label on it. "Vault 76 Trinkets. Hrm." The old man, Franz, was very enthusiastic about opening it, and as was the supermutant Frankie. "Fellas, I ain't keen on dyin'. I may look like I'm dumb as a box of rocks but I know about Vault 76 and I know that it's no damn good. Whatever's in that chest, we should keep it locked up tight. And as for a gravemarker, I can fashion up a cross from some branches. That chest don't need to be opened." The mountain of a man was very adamant about keeping that damn thing shut, and why shouldn't he be? With his luck it was a bomb that'd go off as soon as the chest opened. They shouldn't risk it.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" T's HUD picks up the dogs as soon as they come into view, outlining them in a bright green. 3 Dogs, one charging, one staying, one looking behind, all an obstacle between the group and Ms Cassom. That one in the back could be problematic if he lost interest and broke off. It was exposing an opening by looking away, and T decided to take it. T drew his pistol and fired at the unobservant wolf, as he slowly moved away from the group, in the direction of the hammer.</s>
<\|description\|>Designation T-36, or "T" AGE "Mid 20's" GENDER Male SPECIES Synth HOMETOWN New York City FACTION N/A --- On first look, T appears to be an ordinary man. White, 6 feet tall, slightly above average build, with short, disheveled brown hair and hard, hazel eyes. On closer inspection, however, you'll notice some slight differences. His expression somewhere between serious and blank. He stands tall, without a hunch. No rising and falling of the chest, no sound of inhale or exhale. A few years ago, you'd have noticed that he didn't even blink at all. If you were to put your ear to his chest and listen close enough, you wouldn't hear a heartbeat: instead, a faint hum. If you were to go one step further and see his bare chest, you'd be met with a large, torn gash in his skin, revealing he's merely composed of many parts of a very elaborate machine... Nothing more than a hollow impersonation. When he moves, though loose and smooth like a normal man, it looks like he's already planned, counter-planned, and visualized what he'll do with every motion. His eyes, though hard and unwavering, will sometimes become vacant and soft. His average frame is deceptive, built to be extremely durable while appearing indifferent, so much so that the unenlightened man attempting to attack head-on will realize too late they're trying to harm a wall. --- TYPE ISTJ-A SPECTATOR'S REACTION If you were to approach T with the intent of starting a meaningful conversation, you'd be disappointed. He's not much for idle talk. Sure, he's not entirely "robotic" in the way he speaks, but he is fairly bland. He seems more interested in studying you than talking to you. Sure, he'll respond to you, but he seems to prefer to stick to facts as opposed to personal opinions. On some matters, though, he has powerful thoughts. So maybe he's not so bland after all... --- 6 7 9 3 8 4 3 --- --- TRAIT Built to Destroy You fire off your gun like there is no tomorrow. You'll hit your target more often, but you'll waste your gun in the process. SKILLS Active Skill(s) Repair The fixing of broken equipment, machinery and electronics and also the reprogramming of robots. Science Covers a variety of hi-technology skills, such as computers, biology, physics and geology. PERK I Can't Do that Dave: Despite being a synth, most people believe you to be a person. That being said, your affinity is with machines. You have advantage when dealing with robots and mechanics. STRENGTHS * Pain Inhibited: T cannot feel pain. He used to, but realized it wasn't a real feeling. He turned it off long ago, and hasn't reactivated it since. * Heads Up: T's normal vision is accompanied by a basic HUD, including a targeting reticle and a technical readout of already gathered information on a person (Name/Bio, likes, dislikes, possible weaknesses, etc.) or object (general information, blueprint, composition, etc.). * Self-Sufficient: T doesn't need to eat, sleep, breathe, or perform other normal human functions to survive. WEAKNESSES * Numb: On the same premise on pain, T understood that none of his sensations were real, just mere simulations. He can't feel anything. * Off-Putting: T's "uncanny valley" presence makes most people uncomfortable. He really needs to work on his normalcy subroutines... * Flashback: Certain triggers or subtle cues may cause T to remember, in vivid detail, a previous life long since past. This can happen at any time upon seeing a trigger, and the memory can take T away from the present. --- WEAPONS Sawed-Off Lever Action Shotgun: Shoot, Flip, Repeat. 5.56mm Pistol: Highly accurate, extremely deadly, and it looks pretty cool to boot . What's not to like? ARMOR T's outfit: Simple shirt, jeans, and boots, with the added protection of a hardened leather duster and kneepads, along with a red scarf. CHEMICALS * 3 Repair Kits. Synths can't use drugs! MISCELLANEOUS Photo of... Them: A picture of a happy family. Pocket Toolset: For routine maintenance on T himself, and other delicate works. --- It was a cold night in Shreve's Port. Well, not because T felt cold. He noticed the breath coming from others was visible. His HUD read it as 40 Degrees Fahrenheit. Being considerate, he pulled his scarf over his nose to hide the fact that he didn't need to breathe. People tend to freak out. He was running low on cash to continue living his lavish lifestyle of wandering the wasteland in search of knowledge. Problem is, The Brotherhood of Steel took a lot of it in their 'crusade', and the rest is either well hidden or somewhere dangerous. T mostly found the latter, and replacement parts for a Synth are hard to come by. Cost a fortune if in the hands of the right merchant. T entered the bar. Bars and Taverns tended to be a good place to find paying work. Judging from the fact he could still see breath from others, he decided to keep his scarf on. He approached the bar and took a seat, greeted by the bartender. "What can I get you, stranger?" the bartender said, cleaning a glass. T's HUD pulled up information on her: Obvious things, like hair color, approximate age, etc., but T noticed that she had a slight limp in her left leg, which his HUD highlighted as a possible weakpoint. He disabled his HUD for now. "I am looking for work." He said, plainly. "I was hoping you would know of any leads." She looked at him for a moment, and T knew he was being judged. She shook her head. "Can't say that I have." The bartender replied. "Now, are you going to order a drink, or-" She was interrupted by the sound of a man kicking in the door of her establishment. He was big, loud, and angry. The other patrons looked at him enter, and then went back to their business. He approached the bar. "Hey, buddy, you're in my seat." The man said to T. "Get lost." "Rand, I already told you that you ain't allowed back here." The bartender said. "You drink my beer, break my furniture, and scare away my customers. You're not welcome here." "I'm a paying man, aren't I? I always pay for my drink. Not my fault folks get me pissed when I'm thirsty, and I'm feeling mighty parched right about now." The man, Rand, replies. "Not gonna ask again, friend. Move outta my seat." T continued to sit. He'd already gathered enough data on Rand, and was pretty confident on what would happen next. "Are you deaf, boy? I've got half a mind to-" Rand started saying as he gripped T's shoulder. T got up as soon as he was touched, pulling down his scarf. "What? You have half a mind to what?" T replied, his stance unmoving. "Or do you just have half a mind in general?" Rand was surprised at first, but started grinning. "You just made my day, pal." He said, punching T in the face. But T didn't move. Rand, again surprised, punched again, with all his might, hitting T in the face. T didn't even flinch. "What in the hell...?" "Is that all you can give?" T said, his expression still unchanged. "I am honestly disappointed." Rand, frustrated, tries to punch T in the chest. He's shocked when his fist goes deeper than it should, wrist-deep in T's body, his shirt bending at an impossible angle. T takes the liberty of grabbing Rand by the shoulder with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, pressing hard into his skin with his thumbs. Rand screamed in pain, and every patron watches the show. "You had a broken arm fairly recently... I want to say maybe a month or so ago." T said, gripping the man. "Judging by your demeanor, either you do not accept help or nobody wants to help you. Either way, you used a stimpak or two on this arm to fix it, did you not?" T grips the man's joints deeper, and the man reacts with pain. T has a bittersweet relationship with the feeling. "Normally, the arm would have healed properly, almost back to normal. But let me guess: You didn't limit circulation to the rest of your body when you injected yourself, hm? A waste. Your arm's only half healed." T said, pressing hard on the man's joints, causing Rand to fall to a knee. "You will not return." He releases Rand, and the man quickly runs out of the bar. T returns to his seat, and the patrons return to what their own regards. The bartender is stunned for the moment, but smiles. "... You know... something just came to mind..." She said to T in a low voice, leaning in. "... There's Someone you'd ought to meet with." --- "I'll be the roundabout..." Just the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking of songs. ⚜️</s> <\|message\|>Sylvia Bailey Sylvia slid out the magazine of her pistol and looked at the friendly little cylinders inside- about 5 left. Should be enough in case any more dogs show up. She smiled and looked around at the group. "Hey, we did it! That wasn't so bad." Sylvia said optimistically, inserting the magazine back into 10mm with a satisfying click. She casually turned toward the sound of Rockette's voice and shined the light onto their hanging VIP and laughed. "Hang in there!" She said, chuckling. Her chuckle stopped when she made eye contact with a giant fucking bear. 'Oh, shit' she mouthed to herself, and with a quick and often practiced movement, reached into her pouch, pulled out a unit of jet and put it up to her lips, sucking in a lungful of Jet. Blinking from the sudden boost, her pupils dilated, her breathing quickened and she shuddered, tossing the canister aside. It fell to the ground, landing almost weightlessly on a bed of dried of leaves. A beetle scurried away from the disturbance. Time was not literally slowed down, of course, but that is close to what it feels like to inhale Jet. Sylvia could notice things quicker, easier. With this in mind, navigating became much easier as high roots and stumps became childs play to avoid. What was she supposed to do in these situations? Climb up a tree, play dead, make yourself big...why not just waste the fuckin' thing? Rockette should be safe, but she could use a handy distraction. And what better distractin then a shot to the fucking head? Sylvia did a gallop backwards, raising her pistol and fired off her five rounds. One, two, three, four, five, easy. One after the other, equally spaced in their pattern, but quick and hopefully accurate. The mercenary's plan was to keep something between herself and the bear at all times. Tree's were sturdy and plentiful, the bear would have to go around or knock it down. Other mercenaries would also be a suitable object to place between herself and the bear. Trees first, of course, but things happen. After all, she didn't need to outrun the bear, she needed to outrun her 'friends'. If the monster was killed, great; If not, eehhh, Sully could get eaten and she would run away. These were the thoughts that ran through her poisoned mind as her gun violently exploded forth white hot lead at the Yao Guai. "Waste it!"</s> <\|message\|>Felix Bordelon Felix simply gazed upon the lifeless bodies of the dogs, their life blood oozing out from the wounds. After a second or two spent starring at the bodies, he looks away with disinterest and instead looks to his laser rifle. He had memorized how many shots the laser rifle could do on the normal power output setting before draining the microfusion cell, something he had learned quickly when he had begun using it, but sometimes it is better to be sure. At a push of a button small crimson number appeared on the small screen located at the back of the capacitor, just above the stock. '11 shots remaining...' He thought to himself before switching off the screen and looks to the location where Sylvia had shone her light. There hung Ms. Cassom. There was no time to celebrate as a massive figure appeared. The mutated black bear had not noticed Ms. Cassom, and Felix had no intention to place an innocent life in danger. He began thinking of ways to dispose of the bear. The most prominent of ideas were to set his lasgun to high and send a beam of light through it's skull even before it charges at us. His hand had already moved to the knob on the rifle that managed the power output of the rifle and set it to maximum power output, before Sylvia had decided to open fire at the Yao Guai. Screaming one single directive. "Waste It!" He had no qualms about killing the bear, but now that the bear had been agitated, it would make shooting it's head rather difficult and was not keen on wasting the 6 high powered shots he had trying a to get a head shot. Felix opted to scrap the idea of shooting the thing in the head and settled for one of it's limbs. He raises his laser rifle, takes aim at one of the Yao Guai's leg joints and fires a high powered beam of focused green light at it. Felix hopes the shot would be strong enough to cripple the limb in one shot.</s>	<\|message\|>Designation T-36, or "T" As the life seeped from the wolves, T's HUD slowly fades the green border from their outline. Threat eliminated. He notices Rocket dangling from the tree, and the hud flashes amber over her figure, outlining her in the same color. A subtext labels her as "MISSION OBJECTIVE (VITAL)". Then the Yao Guai appeared. It was big, viscious, and looking about half as cuddly as a Super Mutant in a mascot costume. The HUD outlined it in red. The subtext labels it as "POSSIBLE OBJECTIVE (SECONDARY), DANGEROUS". Seeing as Miss Cassom was in no position to defend herself from a charging, mutated bear, T repeated his tactic with the wolf. He flipped his shotgun into hand and fired at the bear, more trying to draw attention than to hit a vital area.</s>
<\|description\|>Nanashi Kanzen Age: 17 Year: 2nd Year Appearance: Personality: Excitable, Childish, and Thoughtful. Background: Ever since seeing the Star Build Strike Gundam in the 7th World Tournament, Nanashi has become obsessed with Gunpla. Although he loves battling, he loves building much more. Having built replications of custom Gunplas like Maohs X Gundam and Ricardo's Wing Gundam Fenice. Battling/Building Ability: Although Nanashi's battling ability is average, he makes up for it with his Gunplas superb making. His Gunplas performance and Nanashi's Gunpla knowledge keeps him from losing to other extremely talented battlers. Mobile Suits: -Name: Origin Strike Gundam -Description: A pure white enhanced Strike Gundam with black features and an opening in the back of the neck that creates a plavsky particle scarf. The suit gains color depending on what Striker Pack is Equip. The Origin is also equipped with 4 circle shaped funnels that can create a particle shield and shoot independently. The Scarf can move around also like a pair of sub arms, being able to wrap around opponents to restrict them or to help repair broken off limbs. -Name: Origin Zaku Warrior -Description: An enhanced Zaku Warrior that's just painted white instead of green. -Name: Origin Zaku Phantom -Description:The Origin Zaku Phantom is the upgraded version of the Zaku Warrior, using parts from a Zaku Phantom kit. It has the two shoulder shiels as well as a thired one on its back. All shields hold a beam tomahawk and multiple missile pods, all able to fire homingh missiles. Lastly, the rifle is replaced with a beam sniper from a GM sniper unit. Mobile Armors/Support Fighters: -Name: Skyscraper -Description: A support flier that equips and delivers Striker packs to the Origin Strike Gundam mid battle. It can utilize the effects of whatever pack is equipped. It's been modified to be remotely controlled by the Origin Strike Gundam.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "That would be great!" said Shouji said with a big smile. Then he glanced over at the now-snoring Sousuke, "Just, um... don't tell Sousuke. He's always had trouble accepting things from others... maybe it's a pride thing, I'm not sure." that was when Shouji decided to take a break from working on the Joker. Instead he pulled out an entirely different carrying case from under the hospital bed. This wasn't portable, and opened up to reveal an incomplete Gunpla and its remaining parts. Nanashi would recognize it as the SD Master Gundam that Sousuke had tried to build before. But even in its incomplete form, this Gunpla completely trounced its earlier incarnation. Not only design, but in that Shouji was actually adding customizations to it. He had even repainted the parts. No longer were they black like the standard Master Gundam, but were a bright crimson as if invoking the spirit of the Red Comet himself. "Er, don't tell Sousuke about this Gunpla either." asked Shouji with a polite bow, "I'm trying to surprise him, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to keep this thing hidden in here." then he laughed a bit, "It's nowhere near finished yet, but I have a good feeling about it. I think it might even surpass the Joker."</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei --- * * * April 28th * * * Natsu felt an odd sensation the next day as he laid on his poorly-made bed. It was deeper, darker. A vortex of emotion that threatened to swallow him hold ... and yet, it was near impossible, no matter how much he wanted to, to ask for help. He trudged onto the edge of his full-size bed, his jogging pants a mess of wrinkles, his hair a old blue feather duster. He sighed and with that felt an ever-so-light release of that miasma in his heart. I don't wanna go to school today ... After washing up and putting on his uniform he opened his door, only to see Yuma sleeping across the narrow hallway. He was wrapped tightly in his white linen, his eyes staring intently at Natsu. They demanded that he stand still. "Natsu you're depressed, bro. Over something completely understandable but you can't avoid me because of it." Natsu tightened his jaw. "You don't think I know that?" "Most people do, doesn't stop them from running away from it." Natsu was at a lost for words. So he remained quiet. "If you need to talk come to me, Natsu. I'm not only your brother, or your Gunpla builder, less not forget I'm also your best friend." Yuma shrugged off his covers and stood up, revealing how bonny he had become. Natsu turned his eyes to the floor. "I met a kid 'round my age yesterday in the hospital. I think his illness was terminal." "...Oh. That's why you wrecked your room last night?" he accused. "So what man, you'll be okay. I got this from smoking and I'm sure that kid got his from somewhere too, you don't get sick like this out of the blue. So don't worry." Yuma reached out to clasped his shoulder but Natsu sidestepped it in a fit and started the down the stairs. "Natsu?" He hurriedly grabbed his backpack, slid on his shoes, and slammed the door behind him. "Natsu!" Though he was out door, he imagine his brother ruffling his black hair in frustration. "Shit!" * * * * * The moment he got near school, he felt the grey overcome him and jumble everything together. His eyes glazed over with a sense of boredom. Knew he wouldn't get it. He ruins everything by jumping recklessly ahead ... I was happy it wasn't me. That it was him on the chopping block instead. The school day was host to a new endless tone, even as he was called on, he let auto-pilot handle his life. At least he would until a bit of color emerged during Gunpla Club.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen The week rolls by in the blink of an eye with a repetition of practice fights after practice fights against the CPU of the Battle Simulator until finally, Sunday. The day of the Practice tournament between Ichikawa, Hokuten, Nobuya and Karasato. The four (Mika following to watch) had to ride and switch trains twice before reaching Nobuya Private High School, where the tournament would take place. The Ichikawa group all stood outside of the large school, the premise easily dwarfing Ichikawa High. Nanashi shivered a bit at the sight, "Man, I'm just getting shivers about this y'know." He said to the others "Well, I'll be relying on the both of you alot for today, so lets do our best and hopefully improve." He said with a fist pump. Just as he finished, a van with the symbol of Karasato Academy (@Dezuel) stopped behind the group. "Oh? Seems like some of our competition arrived."</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke probably seemed the least nervous of the three. To be fair, he essentially had more tournament experience than either Nanashi or Natsu. Didn't stop the feeling of staring up at what would become a battleground, especially if it were one's first visit to said location. Sousuke breathed deep, then quickly adjusted his hat, "These are real battles, 2nd Year, that means I'll be billing you for the rounds we compete in." he said, adding a sly smile that made it impossible to tell if he was just joking or being completely serious. Almost immediately a van pulled up bearing the symbol of Karasato Academy. Another school that Sousuke had never been to nor interacted with, so both of these teams would be entirely new encounters for him. But sometimes, it was devil you knew that could be more intimidating than a perfect stranger. Speaking of which, another van came rolling to a stop. This one bore the all-too familiar symbol of Hokuten Academy. At this Sousuke tipped his hat downward a bit, "And here we go..." he muttered. Two Days Earlier "All right, Team Chaser! That should do for our regimen today!" said Keiichiro, almost shouting. He took command rather easily, and the fact that he had a voice that seemed perfectly suited for barking orders made it even easier for him to assume the role of Captain. The team had been training with their usual regimen that day. Simulations depicting reenactments of famous of battles during the One Year War. Sometimes Chaser would be on the Zeon side fighting the White Base, other times they would be on the Federation side fighting against various mobile suits flown by Char himself. It made for great discipline building and tactical training, giving the team an almost professional aura. "We'll be using tomorrow to rest and mentally prepare ourselves, so use your time wisely so we can-" "Um, Sempai?" asked Sakuya, who was rereading the invitation letter, "Seems there was a last minute change to the turnout." "Don't interrupt me when I'm giving a speech Sakuya!" Keiichiro barked dismissively. "It's just that, this new school... Ichikawa. Isn't that where Sousuke-san transferred to?" That got Keiichiro to stop dead in his tracks, "Huh?" he said, almost comically loud before snatching the paper, "Let me see this! Ichikawa Batlte Club... no name... members... Kanzen, Nanashi... Saisei, Natsu... AAHHHHHH!!!" he suddenly yelled with an almost comical fire in his eyes, "Kikkawa SOUSUKE!!!" "Ahem." Tsukasa coughed quietly, "I thought you were past that now?" she asked coldly. "What? Of course I am! Keiichiro Asaka doesn't hold grudges. Do I look I'm holding a grudge?" he asked, making a pitiful attempt at hiding his feelings, "New plan Team Chaser, we're having an emergency practice tomorrow!" and then Keeichiro stormed off. The very next day, Keiichiro put Team Chaser through different training simulations. This time they were all against the Crossbone Vanguard. Clearly he wanted them to be prepared to counter anything Sousuke throw at them.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei --- * * * April 28th * * * Natsu stood between Nanashi-san and Sousuke-san, staring up at the grand institution known as Nobuya Academy. There was a notable irritation in his dead blue eyes. Even as he stood dumbfounded by the gray color of the extravagant school--which was a mildly-futuristic outlook of his own--he felt that prod of familiarity again. The question. Have I been here before? arose three times. Natsu Saisei watched Sousuke tip his hat down with a foxish flare. The blue-themed boy stepped to mimic his position and firmly grabbed his own neck. A tightened push on one side created a crackle of noise. With a sigh he said, "I'm ready to pummel'em all. Also, Nanashi-san, on the way here I was thinking of a few names for our group ..." He paused, slightly abashed. "The Definities. I thought hard about it and we're near nothing alike but we all have our definitions of Gunpla. It brought us together and I think it makes us who we are. So ... why not?"</s> <\|message\|>Kayl Lanzer They had finally arrived to the Nobuya high school grounds where the practice tournament would take place. Kayl had kept reading through a magazine throughout most of the drive to the place, with every now and then the occasional comment regarding the subjects Syo were discussing with the driver of the van. Kayl was dressed in his school uniform with a broché attached to his chest, marking him as the leader of the Karasato gunpla club. The symbol itself seems to very much resemble the icon for ZAFT. He had stored his gunpla safely away in a shoulder bag, a bag which most would consider to be a tad too feminine for a guy. It didn't seem to bother him the slightest though. It was the perfect way to carry both boxes containing his gunpla, books and other important things. Behind him in the van sat Ternal, wearing a vest and longsleeved white shirt. He had remained silent during most of the ride, listening to music and getting into the spirit of fighting. His gunpla were carried in a more regal manner, in the form of a black suitcase which also contained spare parts, building tools and some other things which were connected to what they were going to do. In the front seat, next to the driver of the van sat Syo. Who looked out of place from the other two students, he looked very much like a delinquent. His school uniform jacket was opened and his shirt was slightly unbuttoned, he carried his own gunpla in a black backpack with a skull on it. The first one to exit the van was Syo, his shoes hit the ground and he let out a loud whistle as he looked over the school building, his backpack swung casually over his shoulder. "Sheesh. These guys are trying to act big. Time to put them into their place." He tilted his head to left and right, before setting his eyes on the students from Ichikawa. He allowed an amused smirk to form on his lips as he approached, Kayl and Ternal taking abit longer to get out of the van. "Yo! So you are the sad lot we are going to wipe the floor with today? Good grief. I thought we would actually get some challenge. Not some kids with defective gunpla." Syo put his left hand at his waist and stood tall and with his chest puffed out, obviously trying to taunt his opposition. A mocking grin on his lips. If he could trigger some reaction out of them he might be able to disqualify them if they went physical. It was all too easy. A couple of moments passed before Kayl and Ternal caught up to him. "Syo, stop that crap right now. I don't want you to badmouth our sparring partners." Kayl walked up and past Syo, giving the latter a look which would tell anyone present that he did not approve of it the slightest. "Sorry about that. I'm Kayl Lanzer of the Karasato gunpla club. Pleased to meet you." He reached out his hand towards the Ichikawa school members. "Let's have some fine fights allright?" Syo on the other hand gave the Ichikawa students a glare each with obvious dislike, not interested at all in shaking anyones hand. "Tch.." The third member of the group, Ternal had approached aswell and had set his gaze on Lisa. "My my, I did not expect the opposition to have such a beauty amongst them. If you fight as good as you look, then we are in for a treat indeed. I'm Ternal, Ternal Dawning." Ternal did a courteus bowing motion to Lisa, and gave her a wink which could very well be considered seductive, complete with a soft smile.</s>	<\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Nanashi chuckled as he walked up in between their two groups, smiling at all three of the Karasato high schoolers. "Hello, nice to meet you all. The names Nanashi Kanzen, president of the Ichikawa Gunpla Battle Club." Mika sweatdrops at Ternals comments towards her (I'm assuming). "The names Mika Ryuga, team manager." She said with a small bow.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Well, seeing as classes are over..." Kikkawa muttered to himself, as he reached down for his belt. He grabbed the stylish trilby hat clipped to his belt, even flipping it into his hand before gently placing it on his head. He rubbed his finger across the brim to ensure that the hat was straightened properly, "...much better." the school didn't really like him wearing his hat during class, but classes were over for the day so as far as Sousuke Kikkawa was concerned, that meant he no longer had to adhere to the dress code. "Oh, right... guess I should put the finishing touches on that, shouldn't I?" he reached down again, this time for the portable Gunpla case carrier on the opposite side of his belt. He opened the leather flap and pulled a Gunpla model from the case. He then grabbed the portable polishing kit from his book bag and went to work, right there at his desk. Classes were over so surely no one would mind. After a few brush strokes, Sousuke put the kit down and then admired his work a bit, "...hmph, there, now no one can say I can't build a Gunpla." in his hands was... a completely and utterly standard SD Master Gundam model. It had no distinctive qualities to it whatsoever. The quality of the build was completely, utterly, average... at best. In fact Sousuke literally just followed the instructions and nothing more. "Pfft, like extra polish and coats of paint are really gonna change how it battles..." Sousuke was a practical thinker. In his mind it was purely the parts and weapons that determined the battling capability of the Gunpla. Flashy paint jobs, extra polish, that was all flash and no substance. That was how the actual Mobile Suits worked too, right? Sousuke hadn't ever actually sat down and watched through any of the anime. Box art descriptions told him all he needed to know. Besides, there was just too damn many series and nobody ever seemed to be able to give a straight answer on what was important and what was skippable. And Sousuke sure as hell wasn't going to sit through absolutely all the Gundam anime, he had way more important things to do with his free time. Like earning his next payout for example. Speaking of which, Sousuke's thoughts were interrupted when some loud guy burst through the door and shouted something about Sousuke's whereabouts. Sousuke just cocked an eyebrow, "Um... I'm Sousuke Kikkawa?" he said, probably against his better judgement. The guy looked and was acting pretty odd, and how could Sousuke possibly keep up his coolness by associating with a weirdo for too long?</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Um... I'm Sousuke Kikkawa?" A voice said and Nanashi immediately looked at its source. Blonde hair? Check. Gunpla on belt? Check. 3rd year? Unless this is the wrong class then check. Nanashi pushed past the others and approached the sitting 3rd year. "whistle cool hat man, you look like a gangsta." He said with a chuckle. "Well anyways, I want to ask you something." He said clearing his throat. "Sousuke Kikkawa, Please join the .. the um .. er … I-I'm sorry but, is your Gunpla damaged?" He said looking at the SD Master Gundam on Sousuke's desk. "I mean, you must have got hit in the joints or something while piloting because it looks like it can fall apart any second now." He said rubbing his cheeks. The joints weren't tight enough, the Gunplas hands weren't clipped correctly and it looked like the frame hadn't even been glued yet, but it seemed to have already been cleaned!! "Y'know, if you want I can help you with that."</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "D-Damage?" Sousuke snatched the Master Gundam off the desk and hurriedly, "W-Where? I just finished it, how's it damaged?" it hadn't actually occurred to Sousuke that his build just plain sucked. But wait, why was this 2nd Year guy so interested in his Master Gundam? Sousuke's shoulders slumped with the realization. He was about to be invited into yet another Club was he? There really was no point, since he could have to move again and thus leave the club behind. Still, he needed a payout of some kind, so maybe... "Gunpla Club, right?" he asked, then quickly slid the Master Gundam back into the carry case, "Show me your Club, I wanna see it for myself." if the 2nd Year was serious, he'd have no problem giving Sousuke the quick tour. But Sousuke wasn't about to make any commitments before even seeing the club first. That would just be foolish. He picked his book bag up off the floor at his feet and slung it over his shoulder, "We're going, right? Well, lead the way."</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Nanashi chuckled a bit at Sousukes panic over his Gunpla. It's always good to care about your Gunplas condition. "Err, well we don't exactly have a 'club' per say, well yet anyways." Nanashi said rubbing his head as he lead the way out of the room. "We only have 2 people and need 3 to become a club." He explained as they walked. "Oh! But how bout me and Mika show you what we got at the arcade! I'm meeting up with her in 30 minutes so we can practice." He said with a thumbs up.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke stopped dead in his tracks, "Wait..." he turned a sharp gaze onto the 2nd Year, "...your Club's not even official?" then he... laughed? Well, he laughed a little bit, but then he let out an exasperated sigh, "I can't get anything out of an unofficial club..." he muttered under his breath, while rubbing his temples. After a moment he looked back at the 2nd Year student, "Sorry. Not interested." he said suddenly. Strange that someone would appear to show interest only to withdraw it a moment later. But that was what happened, and then Sousuke took off on his own. With no other plans for the day, the only thing he could think of to do was kill some time at the arcade, so that was where he headed.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Begin Plavsky Particle dispersal." the computerized voice of the Gunpla Battle terminal suddenly spoke up. The Yankee boy was startled by this, and he and his gang all spun around to see a new face about to launch his Gunpla. "Okay, Master Gundam, let's see how handle in-" "Hey! Hey! HEY!" the Yankee boy shouted, grabbing Sousuke by the collar, "Who do you think you are, using my terminal without permission?" "Your terminal? I don't see your name on it anywhere. Now get out of my face, your breath stinks." said Sousuke, forcibly shoving the Yankee boy away from him and turning back toward the terminal. "What's this? A tough guy? Or maybe you just don't know how things work around here?" the Yankee boy demanded, "You wanna use the terminal? Fine, but it'll be in a fight against me!" That got Sousuke's attention. His ears seemed to perk up at the challenge, "Battle? Well, I was meaning to see how it performed in combat. Whatever, do what you want." Sousuke honestly had no idea who the Tiger Gang was. He hadn't lived in the area long enough to ever hear about them or see them for himself. Not that it would have deterred him in the slightest. Sousuke stepped up to the Terminal and inserted his Gunpla base. This registered him as a Pilot currently using the terminal. Then he placed the SD Master Gundam on the launching pad, "Okay, Master Gundam, let's see those specs of yours in action. Launch!" The Gunpla shakily launched out into the simulated field, which happened to be an Open Field type. So no real cover or any terrain to take advantage of. But it wasn't long before the little SD Gunpla found itself standing in a massive shadow. Towering over it was a Mobile Armor, a Big Zam to be exact. "What the hell?" Sousuke exclaimed, "That thing's huge!" unfortunately, this was the first time Sousuke had ever seen a Mobile Armor. He still didn't let that deter him, and the Master Gundam flew forward and put all its strength into a punch, "The bigger they are..." Sousuke started, but stopped when the Master Gundam's fist broke on the armor of the Big Zam. Then the Zam struck back, kicking Master Gundam square in the torso and sending the poor little Gunpla flying right out of the play area and smashing into a wall, where the model shattered into its individual parts. "Battle: Over." the computer's voice announced and the simulation ended. Sousuke tipped his hat in disappointment as he knelt to gather the broken pieces of his Master Gundam. The gang were all in stitches at this scene, "Ha! That had to be some kind of record, Boss! You smashed that piece of junk in just one hit!"</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Mika stood in the arcade on her phone, checking her emails until all of a sudden she saw the tiger gang messing around. "Ugh, these guys." She said before seeing Nanashi enter the arcade. "Yo senpai!" "Yello!" Nanashi said with a pep. "Hey Senpai, those tiger guys are back. I think today we should finally teach them a lesson shouldn't we?" She said with a smirk. Nanashi shrugged "I don't know I think tha-" he started but paused. "Hey that's him!" He said pointing at Sousuke, holding the SD Master Gundam in hand. Mika looked and sighed. "He's gonna have to fight those guys." She said "He's going to lose." Nanashi declared. Turning around and heading to the shopping part of the Arcade. "Yo boss, I need a gunpla set stat!" He said to the clerk. "Which one kid?" He asked showing the selection they had this week. An Exia Gundam. A Victory Gundam. And a Zaku. "Give me the Zaku and Victory!" He said grabbing the two boxes. "Ehh senpai why are you building new Gunpla right now?" Miku asked. "Because the strike isn't ready for battle right now and we gotta help him before he gets destroyed!" "But there battle starts in like, 5 minutes." Nanashi chuckled, "I can build it in 4, 2 and a half for each." Then in the blink of an eye began already finishing the clipping of the parts. Nanashi expertly connected and paired all the parts without missing a beat and finished the two Gunpla. "There, take this!" He said placing it in her hand. They both entered the room just in time to see the SD get destroyed by the the Zam. Nanashi stepped up, putting down his terminal and Mika doing the same. "Origin Zaku Warrior!!! Execute!!!" "Victory Angel Gundam! Fly!!!" Mika said</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "So it lost, huh?" Sousuke muttered under his breath, "Guess I'm not cut out for this after all. I'm sorry..." he shouldered his bag and turned for the door. Right about this time, the 2nd Year from earlier rushed onto the scene, followed closely by a girl Sousuke hadn't seen before. It looked like they were going to battle that big plastic monstrosity. Fine, maybe they stood a better chance. As for Sousuke, he found himself no longer in the mood to battle. And so he began to leave. On his way, though, he overheard some voices. "Aw, even the older guy lost! Those Tigers really are unbeatable..." "We'll never get to play at this rate!" This made Sousuke pause, but he just stood there, still undecided. Then he recalled a memory. It was some years ago, and he was reading a manga with someone else. The manga was about a hard-boiled detective who braved the dark streets to help his clients. And Sousuke remembered something else from the manga, a speech the main protagonist often made: "A man who can't help others is either incompetent or needs help himself. But a man who won't help others... is the worst kind of scum." Sousuke tightened his grip on the strap of his book bag. Was he unable to help... or just unwilling?</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Mika! Flank!" Nanashi yells as his Origin Zaku Warrior hovers left and shooting covering fire. "On it!" She yelled from the Victory Angel as it moved right, also shooting. The two kept firing but couldn't do any damage at the time. "Crap! Mika we need to get close range if we wanna pierce that armor." Nanashi yelled. The Zam beginning to spin while shooting the beam, separating the two. "But neither of us can get close enough!" She responded as the two of the kept dodging the attacks.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Gunpla: Set." The computer announced a new player in the arena. Well, not actually a new player, but rather the return of a previous player. Sousuke returned to his position in the battle arena and replaced his terminal back in the slot, "You broke my Gunpla. It's only fair I return the favor." then he reached into his book bag. This time he did not retrieve the Master Gundam, it was broken to pieces anyway. No, this time he grabbed a second Gunpla carrier, one that looked a bit more worn than the one Sousuke's belt. From the case, Sousuke revealed a black Crossbone Gundam, or at least a heavily modified one. The difference between it and the SD Master Gundam was like night and day. Unlike the Master Gundam, this Crossbone model was extremely well built. Given a bit more time and tweaking, it could even reach World Level ability. "Your luck's run out. In the end, I hold the trump card that will snatch victory from the jaws of despair." Sousuke spoke with an almost intentionally dramatic tone, almost like he was trying to be theatrical, "Crossbone Joker..." he said the name of the Gunpla, not in Japanese but English, "...steal the win!" The Gunpla launched and found itself approaching the fight. That Mobile Armor was big, but those arms looked pretty thin compared to the rest of its body. Sousuke knew what he had to do. A blade extended from the Joker's right arm, then detached and formed a GN Sword nicknamed the Joker Blade, "Let's make this showy, Joker!" the Gunpla picked up speed as it went for the slash against one of the Zam's arms, then did so against it's other arm as well as one of the legs.</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Gunpla: Set." The computer announced a new player in the arena. Well, not actually a new player, but rather the return of a previous player. Sousuke returned to his position in the battle arena and replaced his terminal back in the slot, "You broke my Gunpla. It's only fair I return the favor." then he reached into his book bag. This time he did not retrieve the Master Gundam, it was broken to pieces anyway. No, this time he grabbed a second Gunpla carrier, one that looked a bit more worn than the one Sousuke's belt. From the case, Sousuke revealed a black Crossbone Gundam, or at least a heavily modified one. The difference between it and the SD Master Gundam was like night and day. Unlike the Master Gundam, this Crossbone model was extremely well built. Given a bit more time and tweaking, it could even reach World Level ability. "Your luck's run out. In the end, I hold the trump card that will snatch victory from the jaws of despair." Sousuke spoke with an almost intentionally dramatic tone, almost like he was trying to be theatrical, "Crossbone Joker..." he said the name of the Gunpla, not in Japanese but English, "...steal the win!" The Gunpla launched and found itself approaching the fight. That Mobile Armor was big, but those arms looked pretty thin compared to the rest of its body. Sousuke knew what he had to do. A blade extended from the Joker's right arm, then detached and formed a GN Sword nicknamed the Joker Blade, "Let's make this showy, Joker!" the Gunpla picked up speed as it went for the slash against one of the Zam's arms, then did so against it's other arm as well as one of the legs.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "What the?! What the heck is that?!" Mika asked as she saw the Gunpla cut off a third appendage. Nanashi smirked. "An opening!!!" He said as the Origin Zaku Warrior threw away its machine gun and unsheathed its heat axe. Mika copied with her own beam sabers. The both striked the remaining leg together, cutting it off completely. Nanashi then grabbed the mobile armor from underneath. "Oi Sousuke, end him!" He yelled as the Zaku held the MA in place.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke didn't answer back. He was too focused on fighting. The Crossbone Joker deployed a second weapon, a high powered beam rifle that looked like it was taken from the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. Sousuke called it the Joker Magnum. The Gunpla boosted foward, flying toward the Zam while firing off a short series of beams from the rifle. These beams alone wouldn't destroy the body, but they would put a crack in the shell that could be targeted for a finishing blow. With only just enough time to do so, Sousuke discarded the rifle and thrust the Joker Blade forward in time for it to crash into the cracked spot on the Zam's armor. It went through... completely through. The Crossbone Joker may as well have drilled all the way through the Big Zam's body and out the other side. This was the clincher, and the remains of the Big Zam exploded. "Battle: Ended."</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Alright!" Nanashi cheered as the field started to disintegrate leaving only the plastic models in the center, the Victory and Zaku mostly unharmed and the Crossbone Joker with not even a spec of dust. "N-no way, the Tiger Zam got destroyed." The yankee said in anger. "Dammit you cheated I demand a rematch!!!" Before anyone could argue however, the door to the battle area bursts open revealing the clerk that sold them the Victory and Zaku Warrior. A big man a head taller than all in the room."Oi Tora!!" "Its Tiger!!" The Yankee yelled "Don't care, you guys made a deal, they won. So get the FUCK. OUT." He said just loud enough so everyone can hear, everyone feeling a bit of fear from his voice. The three hooligans all shivered before quickly running out of the shop. Nanashi smirked. "Thanks Boss!" He said in a sing song voice. 'Whatever.' The clerk said before heading back to the front. The room, now empty of everyone except the high schoolers, quiet. Nanashi, still smirking from their win over the hooligans, turns to Sousuke. "So? Whatcha think of the club?" He asked.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa "Don't misunderstand me." said Sousuke, retrieving his Crossbone Joker from the field and carefully sliding it back into the carrying case. He was notably more careful with handling the Joker than he ever was with the SD Master Gundam. Clearly it was a treasure for him, "I was just avenging my Master Gundam. That is all." with that he shouldered his book bag and started walking away again. His hand reached for the handle of the door but stopped. Admittedly, what he had said was a lie. It wasn't about avenging his Gunpla. He just remembered a lesson that someone important to him to lived by, and he wanted to emulate that person in his own way. Still, his shoulders slumped as he made a decision that in any other situation would go against his every instinct, "Fine, I'll join your club..." he said without turning around. But before the 2nd Year could get too excited, Sousuke suddenly spun around and added, "...but not for free. I'll be charging you based on how much we battle. That match just now was your first and only freebie." he said nothing more and walked out the door. It would have been polite to stay and get to know his new clubmates, but Sousuke had somewhere he needed to be.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen Sousuke left just in time to hear Nanashi's cry of joy. "Yes!! We finally got a full team!!" He cheered before looking over at Mika, who was frowning rather than cheering. "Er, Mika? What's up?" Mika picked up the Victory Angel gundam with a sigh. "Honestly, I just don't know if Gunpla is right for me." She said as she ran her fingers over it. "I like Gunpla, and I want to stay … but," Nanashi smiled softly before patting her head. " It's fine, I understand." He said with a sigh. "It's all good! I'm pretty sure we can find a new guy to join the group!" He said pumped. "But anyways, did you SEE the Gunpla Sousuke used, the difference between that and the Master SD was like day and night!" "Oh yeah, it was pretty strong wasn't it?" "I wonder .. where did he get it?" Nanashi asked himself. … … "Hey senpai, didn't he say he wanted payment?" … … "... I can count Sousuke as a club expense right?" He asked with her shrugging.</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa A little later that day, the voice of an excited boy could be heard from his hospital room. It made a nurse outside make a startled pause before continuing about her duties. "You battled today?" "Yep." "Wish I could have been there. You won right? You totally kicked butt?" "Of course." "That's my big bro. Your skill with my Gunpla? Unstoppable!" "You bet we are. By the way, um... I'll be battling a lot more in the coming weeks so-" "You joined another club, didn't you? Don't worry, I'll keep it nice and fixed up. If you're planning to enter the Under 19, you better make sure and tell me when your matches are so I can catch the livestreams!" "Like I'd forget to do something like that? We're still a team, even if only one of us can battle. It's you and me, got it?" "Yeah!" "Oh, um... that Master Gundam you gave me kind of-" "Lemme see it!" "Wait, don't-" "Hey! It's still in pieces! Did you even try to build it?" "Well..." "Leave it here with me. I could use something to pass the time while I'm stuck in here."</s>
<\|description\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Age: 18 Year: 3rd Appearance: Personality: When describing Sousuke, only two words really come to mind: Cocky and Driven. Sometimes he can be a little too cocky for his own good, which can and has gotten him into trouble on multiple occasions. In spite of that, his rather driven nature and sometimes unbreakable tenacity to keep pushing forward has often been the thing that got him out of the very trouble that his cockiness gets him into. Some would say that that balances out in the end, while others might find him annoying or just outright frustrating to work with. On top of all that is his apparent need to be as cool as possible. His gestures, way of speech, it's all for the purpose of making an impression and ensuring that people who meet him are not soon to forget his name. Background: Having moved around several times throughout his life, Sousuke has transferred between many different schools. The subject of why his family moves around so much seems to be a sore spot, as asking him about only seems to make him irritable. Whatever the case, Sousuke is no stranger to being the new kid, and this has made it rather difficult for him to form any kind of bonds with other people... at least none that actually stick. He's also been a member of several different Battle Clubs, at least until his family has to move again and Sousuke has to transfer to another school. This has led him to stop joining the Gunpla Clubs altogether and just focus on developing his Gunpla skills solo. One recurring trait of his was to offer his skills to Gunpla Teams, but not for free. Rather, he would ask for compensation in exchange for his filling out a slot that a team needed filled. Some would call this greedy, but Sousuke prefers the term "Free Agent". As for what Sousuke actually uses his earnings for... no one actually knows, and he tends to just make up an answer when asked. Battling/Building Ability: Sousuke is definitely more of a battler than a builder. Sure, he can fix his Gunpla with parts, but building an entirely new one was never something he was good at. That being said, Sousuke's Gunpla happens to be a very well-built model with top notch performance and customizations, leading some to wonder how someone with such poor or average building skills managed to get a Gunpla of such quality. The answer is, as usual, something Sousuke prefers to keep to himself. Mobile Suits: -Name: Crossbone Joker -Description: Crossbone Joker is a heavily modified Crossbone Gundam utilizing various utilities and systems from other models. An example of such is the Joker's primary melee weapon, clearly inspired by the GN Swords from Gundam 00. His primary shooting weapon is a high powered beam rifle reminiscent of the Wing Gundam or Wing Gundam Zero. One the Joker's more flashy weapons is the Crossbone Bars mounted on its back. Rather than simply serve as boosters as they do on the official Crossbone model, the Joker's Crossbars can be dismounted and swung or thrown like a giant windmill shuriken. And finally, the Joker possesses another Trump Card, one that Sousuke rarely ever uses if he can help it. It's equipped with a 00-inspired Trans-Am system that turns the Gunpla red and then briefly triples it's overall speed, power, and defense performance. It's primarily a sleek black color that allows it to easily blend into the dark environments of space fields, though retaining the white skull chest piece of the official Crossbone model. Also, its head unit is decorated like a pirate bandana rather than a captain's hat. =Weapons= -Joker Blade: An enhanced GN Sword that deploys from the right forearm. -Joker Magnum: A customized Buster Rifle that is kept in two pieces stored in each leg respectively. -Joker Star: The crossbars mounted on the back. Outfitted with openings for particle emission. -Trans Am: A phase shift system that turns the suit bright red and temporarily triples performance. -Name: Mach Fist Master -Description: ? -Name: Joker Xtreme -Description: ? Name: Masato Kusaka Age: ? Appearance: ? Personality: Masato is arrogant, narcissistic, and has a borderline God-complex. As far as he's concerned, there's only two tiers that actually matter: himself, and literally everyone else beneath him. Like Sousuke, he's a free agent, but for some reason charges no money. Instead his form of "compensation" is finding strong opponents worthy of him. If he can't find an opponent within a seemingly random timeframe? He not only leaves the team, but outright turns on them and trashes their Gunpla and ensuring their inability to continue competing. To call Masato an asshole is the understatement of the century. And yet, in spite of all that, he still manages to find himself on teams willing to risk hiring him. Background: ? Battling/Building Ability: Masato is a prodigy builder and battler. In spite of his extremely jerkish personality, he still manages to find teams that are willing to put up with him. The reason for that is almost chillingly clear: because Masato really is that good. The only reason he hasn't started competing at World Level yet is because he wants to milk the Under-19 scene for all it's worth before moving onto the World Tournament competitions. Mobile Suits: -Name: Phantom Rogue -Description: It appears to be a highly customized Epyon, or at least it was an Epyon at some point. The dark maroon paint has been replaced with pitch black. Not only that, but the horns on the head as well as the areas around the suit's eyes have been painted white, making it appear as though the Gunpla is wearing a mask. The wings appear to have been removed, in their place are openings for plavsky particle emission. The emitters equip the Rogue with either a set of black wings or a shadowy cloak. =Weapons= -Twin Magnums: A pair of revolvers, stored in each leg that fires surprisingly high-powered plasma shots. -Lupin Striker: The wicked whip normally seen on Epyon. This one has been modified to be able to straighten into a sword blade for dueling, or use its usual whipping attacks to make wider strikes. It's also outfitted with particle emitters to boost the weapons striking power as needed. -Particle Phantoms: The particle-emitted wings or cloak isn't just a fashion statement. It allows the Phantom Rogue to deploy doppelgangers of itself made of harmless energy, or leave them in its wake like afterimages. The doppelgangers are harmless, unable to cause damage to enemy Gunplas, but they can cause confusion visually and cause radars to detect multiple Phantom Rogue copies.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei The forest he had landed in was just large enough to tuck him away. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the babble of a river snaking away. He looked over, knowing that he hadn't encountered anyone but somewhere close were two other Gunplas he knew near nothing about. He took a step forward, the impact of his foot thrumming the earth. Then he felt it, a bolt of instinct anchoring him with caution. A long beam bolt sung out, crashing into the earth to the left of him. Echo Barbatos jumped away from the initial shot before gazing in the direction of still ringing sound. As more and more bolts rung clear, followed by massive beams veering mostly to his left, he directed Echo Barbatos through the dense forest. The wild Gunpla surged through the trees like a feral beast, its Tail Blade extending out and whipping back and forth in anticipation. It wasn't long before he spotted the cause for the missed shots. Echo Barbatos tore through the trees and out into the open, standing in the raging river. A glinting in the distance gave him a hint of his shooters location, however, he also felt guided, or pushed in the direction he had ended up at. He looked up and around himself before noticing something, it was slight but the color was so pitch black that it begged for his attention in the mountainous daylight. "Prey ..." mumbled Natsu. His Tail Blade smacked the ground as he started towards the Crossbone Joker. He reached down and ignited one of the beam sabers on his hip during his charge, fully prepared to strike out at him once on him.</s> <\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa Sousuke watched the beams fire from a source a long distance away. Sniper fire, but it was a beam sniper rifle, meaning that it was easy to trace the shots to their origin. And it only took a moment for Sousuke to get a rough estimate of Nanashi's position. "Thanks for giving up your position... idiot. Next time try using something other than beam attacks so you're harder to spot." of course, it wasn't long before the rustling and shifting of trees betrayed the impending arrival of Sousuke's other opponent. He wasn't exactly trying to be stealthy, not that much anyway, "Oh for the love of... he does know he's being herded like cattle, right?" Sousuke's grip on his controls tightened, and he suddenly activated his own thrusters, firmly pushing the throttle all the way forward, "Sorry, Mr. President, but I'm not playing your little game." and he started flying right toward where he estimated Nanashi's hiding place was. Assuming the Barbatos was was still hellbent on targeting the Joker, that meant Sousuke would be leading the beast right to their would-be manipulator. "Okay no more hiding, 2nd Year. Time to face the music." without slowing down, Sousuke deployed his rifle, the Joker Magnum, and fired off a high-powered shot toward the spot he guessed Nanashi was hiding. Little did he notice, the crossbars on the Joker's back began to emit plavsky particles and the Gunpla's flight began steadily speeding up beyond what it was originally capable of, "Huh?" Sousuke quickly checked his settings, and that was when he finally figured out the meaning behind that note. It seemed there were now openings along the edges of the crossbars that could emit plavsky particles. Specifically, these would give it extra throttle, like a plane using afterburners. It also had the effect of the Joker leaving behind a rather pretty trail of sparkling particles. That meant it was easier to spot from a distance, but in exchange it could cover a greater distance in a shorter time.</s> <\|message\|>Nanashi Kanzen "Waaaah, Sousukes so mean!" He said chuckling as Sousukes blasts fires just over him. "But man, thats a cool upgrade, but in earths gravity how much particles can it use up before falling?" He asked looking at the now flying MS, before the three shields move to reveal the missile pods hidden away. He then began to fire missiles all along the mountain side, creating a large amount of smoke as well as making the mountain side a mess. He then began to fire more missiles to both of his enemies, makings them fly from different angles as not to show his position. Now the mountain side is messed up so Echo Barbatos can't get to him, and his rifles and missiles are intercepting the Crossbone Joker. Nasnashi was thinking he was doing pretty well right now.</s> <\|message\|>Natsu Saisei Natsu pursued the Crossbone Joker and despite all the ruckus, once he had caught up to the two, even with all the debris scattered and the mountainside crumbled down; the Echo Barbatos found it is to traverse with its hardened claws. Its strong frame and build endured the light pelting while its powerful legs bounded it up the cliff side. "Don't take me so lightly. I may be just a first year here but I'm skilled," he proclaimed with little passion. He surged Echo Barbatos up the mountain and through the smokescreen. Within said smokescreen, under the veil of Origin Zaku's poorly aimed missiles, he deploy the four funnels on his side upwards through the smoke -- stealthily changing his target from Crossbone Joker to Origin Zaku Phantom. The sound of extraneousness explosions dialed his cautionary instincts up to eleven. It was them that ushered him out the smokescreen and a few meters from Nanashi's Origin Zaku Phantom. Echo Barbatos let loose an odd, alien snarl from menacing face. A moment later and the thin whip of his tail-blade arced up before stabbing down at the Zaku-modded Gunpla. "Are you seriously the president?" Natsu asked Nanashi. " 'Cause I'd like to join."</s>	<\|message\|>Sousuke Kikkawa The missiles, well, Sousuke admittedly didn't anticipate those. Maybe the 2nd Year wasn't as dumb as he looked, after all? Still, with him in the air, he did at least have one surefire way to dodge the salvo of missiles, but it wasn't going to be pleasant. Without warning, Sousuke killed his thrusters, and without anything keeping it in the air the Crossbone Joker slowly started to free fall back toward the ground, specifically the mountainside. It might get scuffed from the landing, but it was better than getting blown up by missiles. And that was then the apparent avalanche happened. And Sousuke just happened to have put himself in the worst place during it. He was tempted to fly up but that particle boost from earlier had ate up a good portion of his energy and he couldn't afford to waste anymore. Instead he stayed put and readied the Joker Magnum. Only one of the falling rocks rolled his way, and when it did Sousuke pulled the trigger and let the beam from the rifle split the rock in two so that it rolled in two separate directions on either side of the Crossbone Joker. That was much more cost-effective way to avoid the rocks then wasting more particles on high-speed flight. At this point, Sousuke returned to his original plan. The beastly Barbatos seemed to have lost interest in him, and by the time the smoke started clearing, Sousuke could just make out the two other two Gunpla staring each other down. He let them talk for a moment before thinking of a devilish idea. The two enemy Gunplas were only meters away from each other. The crossbars of the Joker Star had quite the long diameter. With a well-aimed throw... Sousuke gave a devilish smirk. From higher up Mt. Fuji, he made his Gunpla leap into the air instead of flying in order to conserve as much particle energy as possible. While airborne he made the Gunpla's body twist around while the crossbars simultaneously detached from the Gunpla's back and went into the Joker's hands. With both hands gripping it, and with momentum from the spin Sousuke made his Gunpla give as much of a mighty throw as he could, and the Joker Star went flying. Something Sousuke wasn't expecting was the Joker Star automatically beginning to emit particles again after it was thrown. Similar to when he was flying earlier, the particles acted as makeshift thrusters that added extra flight speed and spinning speed to the Joker Star as it screamed toward its two targets, and it would thus hit quite a bit harder than Sousuke first calculated, especially when taking the particle energy emission into account. It looked like it could hit one of them dead on while just grazing the other. Unless of course they detected the attack coming and were fast enough on the draw to avoid it. Then the Star would just go crashing into the side of the mountain and probably leave a very visible gash along the cliffs and possibly cause another avalanche.</s>