Split (1)

train · 56.6k rows

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3,400	76	36	1,551	217	S-seduce?! Lammy replied with his own grin. "Maybe a little bit..." He added through partially inaudible mumbling. He partially thought of just spilling his guts right then and there, just to make his thoughts known while he still had the chance. That was gonna stay an eternal debate, until he had a few more drinks in him, most likely. "But seriously, we haven't seen each other in such a long time. I figured we could at least share a few more laughs. Y'know, take advantage of this bleak situation we've been thrown into...Might involve getting drunk..." As if proving his point, he went towards his shot glass, and downed it. He then took to the beer, gulping down the rest of it before he could fully feel the liquor. Coming back from all of it, he burped and grimaced at the dull fire in his chest. "Ever heard of the saying 'liquor before beer, you're in the clear? Beer before liquor, never been sicker?' I'm doing it right...yeah?" He wondered.	Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle Age: 24 Sex: Male Race: Human Class: Druid Alignment: Neutral Good Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'2" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell. Equipment: Lammy doesn't carry much. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources. Other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), his 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything), and a carving knife, he tends to travel light. Really light. Skills and Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome dire bear, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has the expanse area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. He can shift into at least two animals once a day, and since he's been on the road, he's been working on strengthening his abilities. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds. Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it. Backstory: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary. It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. One day, Lammy's mother approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son. ...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. That was two years ago. Not only had he found himself a really big job in that time, but he and his traveling companions completed it with flying colors. He's yet to have been back home in the time prior, but still plans on returning one day, to show his parents the spoils and souvenirs of his travels. He's on the road, passing through towns, taking on small jobs that worked best with his abilities. At times he'd think back to that very first job, and mull over some of the bigger events with a warm smile on his face. His thoughts would linger towards one of the party members, a lady paladin he grew smitten with. While she was a bit of a fish out of water, and didn't get all of his jokes, she was a fierce warrior whose loyalty towards her friends gave Lammy a new outlook on life. Not too bad looking, either. As the job completed and the party parted ways, Lammy found himself regretting never telling her how he really felt about her. On his travels, he always wondered if their paths would cross once more.
3,401	76	37	501	259	Lammy, I don't drink except for sacramental wine, so how would I know? Lily said as she looked over the collection of alcohol. Hopestone gave her a side-eyed look, then glanced at Lammy, then shook her head. She nodded to Hopestone, who set her the same thing - she did it in fairly quick sequence, then leaned over the bar, looking like she'd been kicked by a mule. "Hell's balls." Hopestone muttered. "Anyway, there's a staircase over that way that leads to rooms. I don't keep them locked, but there's a bar on the inside if you want some privacy, and they'll probably be more than a little dusty. Shouldn't have any rats or similar problems, though, I've hexed this place against them and anything that gets past me doesn't get past Lord Whiskers. Speaking of which if you run into a very large housecat or a smaller puma leave him be." "For as long as you're in town I'll offer whatever help I can, in exchange I'd appreciate if you'd keep me apprised of what you find out. If nothing else I might be able to make your travels into a decent story."	- Name: Lily Beckett - Age: 22 - Race: Human - Class: Paladin - Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind, and renders her immune to all known diseases and curses. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. As an agent of Gods anathema to the Demiplane of Dread - even if they don't even know it exists - Lily carries a portion of their light with her. She is actively - albeit unknowingly - hateful to the plane itself. This is not a good thing for anyone involved, especially not Lily. While she technically has the ability to sense Evil, since her arrival in the Demiplane of Dread the ability has been made useless - while she is still capable of sensing Evil the sheer omnipresence of it within the plane makes attempting to sense Evil a bit like trying to detect light by staring directly at the Sun. You'll find it, sure, but you'll also burn out your retinas. Attempting to sense evil is both agonizing and pointless for her. - Alignment: Lawful Good - Appearance: Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded, travel-stained cloak of deep, dark red. - Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one: A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance. A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice. A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent. A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it. A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not. A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice. A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need. A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others. Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure. - Inventory: Lily's most important possession is her sword Faith's Fire, a two-handed longsword that at will burns with blue-white flames that are antithetical to the forces of Evil. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for, if dented, scratched, and generally battered. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it. Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain. Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife. - History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own. Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began. To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. " At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple, culminating in a series of quests she would begin at twenty years of age - plunging into a deep catacomb with an army to disrupt an undead horde forming, a year-long crusade against Devilish powers rising in the High Moor - where she met and befriended the Druid Lammy LaSalle and the priestess Eranah. After their parting she traveled alone for many months, battling against evil in the world, rooting out murderers and necromancers among the small villages. Her fervor drew notice of darkness, and the Mists reached for her.
3,402	76	38	1,551	217	Lammy could only look on in surprise as the paladin tackled her drinks, and about as expediently as he did (if not faster). "She doesn't drink, she says..." He mumbled and smirked and crossed his arms. Lily snorted. "I don't drink, Lammy. This is a special occasion." She rubbed her mouth and shuddered. "Blaugh, Nine Hells, stuff tastes almost as bad as that time I got Ankheg blood in my mouth." She said low enough that Hopestone couldn't hear. Lammy looked towards their hostess as Lily took a second to recover. "Thank you again, for all of your hospitality." He said, slightly louder than he thought. Then, peered back towards the lady paladin. "So, it's been like two years since we've adventured last. What've you been up since then?" He asked her. She paused a few moments before continuing. "After the Battle of the Moor I went back to Waterdeep to report the events to the Temple, and also to give them Faith's Fire." The patted the hilt of her sword. "They decided that my actions said I was worthy of the sword, though, so I got to keep it. After that I was assigned to work as a guard for a Waterdhavian diplomat trying to broker a peace between Neverwinter and Luskan." She took a sip from her beer to wet her mouth. "That did not go well. Seemed to at first, we'd gotten to what should have been the end of the negotiations, a representative of the Hosttower of the Arcane and Lord Nasher Alagondar ready to sign the treaty. Then just before they put ink to paper the Hosttower guy sends a light into the air and Luskan soldiers come out of nowhere." She shakes her head. "Lord Nasher didn't even blink as soldiers started pouring out of every home and cellar, just sighed and drew his sword, blows a horn, and then tells us we just need to hold our ground for a few minutes. Take cover in a cellar and within ten minutes a hundred of the Neverwinter Knights come charging into the village, lances ready." She shakes her head. "The craziest part? After we got out Lord Nasher didn't even plan on attacking Luskan for it. Apparently this is so typical of them that it wasn't even worth going to war over." "Uh...heh...wow." The Druid was at a loss of words a bit. "You've...you've been busy, huh?" He leaned back in his seat, downing another long swig of beer from his cup. "Sounds a lot more exciting than what I've been up to!" He chuckled. "A Paladin's work is never done." Lily said with a shrug. "Speaking of which." She muttered her Control Word, the latches, straps, and arming points of her plate loosening, and began to remove her armor, starting with her gauntlets and working her way across and down her body, revealing the soft cloth padding she wore beneath. "So what have you been doing, Lammy? Somehow after the Crusade I don't think you decided to get a job herding sheep." "Nah, I left the sheep herding back at the homestead." He replied, managing to peel his eyes away from the not-so-sensual strip show. "After we split, me and Sheeva kinda just...freelanced around. We collected bounties, found lost items, protected struggling families, rescued cats out of trees. Y'know, the usual. Made a little bit of gold for my troubles, sent it back with Amaya. (You remember Amaya, right? Pigtails, taller than you, shorter than me?) "I actually ran into her again a few months back, and we travelled around for a bit. Got a ton of magic training done, with lil' sis as the mentor. She suggested I look into the other elements, but I decided to stick with fire for the time being. I can conjure fireballs without barely even thinking about it now!" He thought about showing her right then and there, but considering all the hard alcohol in the area, it wasn't really the best idea. Sheeva flapped down from her perch in the rafters, landing in one of the adjacent seats. "Chi-weirk! (And, she's with child as well!)" She added with some excitement, with in turn, made Lammy excited. "Oh yeah, how could I forget?! I'm gonna be an uncle!" He announced. "It's still kinda early, so we don't know if it's a boy or a girl, but I know we're gonna have another druid in our family!" He was beaming a bit, and took another long swig of beer to calm himself down. "Amaya was on her way back to the homestead to tell our parents the news. That was like, a few days ago. Then...this...happened." He gestured about the tavern. She reached over and clapped him on her shoulder with her now-bare hand before starting to work on her other arm. "You haven't had such an uneventful time yourself, albeit less insane than what tends to happen when I'm around." She grinned. Lammy couldn't help but grin back. "Heh, yeah. But, insane is easier to endure when around you, Y'know? Like, you make insane doable." He replied with a chuckle. The druid pondered in that brief moment, recounting significant moments leading up to the present. "...It's kinda funny, thinking back. Actually being able to reminisce on some of our accomplishments. Wouldn't be able to think back on these things if I was still home. I'd probably still be a lazy, jobless bum if I'd had never met you guys. Still blaming the world for my own shortcomings." He smirked, voice lowering. "You've had more impact on my life than you know, Lily. Really, changed me for the better." He admitted sheepishly, staring into his cup. She smiled at him, her cheeks reddening a little bit. It took her a few seconds to work out how to respond, taking a sip of her drink. "You sell yourself too short, Lammy. Even if me or Eranah or any of us hadn't been there you still would've come, would've fought the good fight. You've got a heart like a lion." "If I've got a lion's heart, then you've got the...bigger...lion's...heart." He stumbled a bit on his words. He could name all the strong, courageous animals in the world, but couldn't think of one just then. His brain was going a mile a minute, as was his pulse. "Seriously, watching you fight, or tackle a situation, or rally us together...I was never not inspired. Felt like I wanted to be you just as much as I wanted to be...with...you." His mouth and head were moving at two different speeds, and that little ditty kind of just slid out before he could catch himself. Now his face was red. "I, uh..." Lily went a similar shade of red. "Um." She glanced around the room. This was not the situation she wanted to have a conversation like this. Quickly she formulated a devious plan, finishing removing the plates on her boots and setting her armor aside. She belted Soul's Fire back around her waist, then glanced over at the others. "Hey, I need to get some air, I'll be just outside." She tilted her head at him, trying to indicate that he should come with her. Lily had many strengths and good qualities, a strong sense of subtlety wasn't one of them. "O-oh...er...umm..." Lammy wasn't exactly sure how he was to react to her reaction. Now that his feelings were out in the open, he thought she might've been turning him down. Either way, he stood from his seat, ready (if hesitant) to follow her. She stepped out into the cold air. The sun had finished its descent sometime since they'd stepped inside, and the moon lay high in the sky, a crescent but blazing as bright as any full moon Lily had ever scene. She looked up, and felt a chill run through her stomach. The stars were so strange here, alien patterns in the sky, and no sign of the Tears of Selune in the moon's wake. She stepped down the street a short ways from the inn, then turned around, looking at Lammy. Truthfully, she had no idea what she was going to say. "I, um..." Brilliant, Lily, she thought. "I missed you." She managed to get out. A little voice poked into her thoughts. No, really? You missed him? Why don't you tell him something else blindingly obvious, preferably something you already told him in more words. "You, uh..." She stammered, then just decided to hell with it. "You made all the dark places seem a little brighter. I don't think I laughed as much in the whole time we were apart as I did in the little time we were together. Something tingled in the back of her neck, she took it for embarrassment. The little voice in her head calling her an idiot didn't help matters there. There was an...unexplainable sensation buzzing through Lammy's brain. Could've been the alcohol. Between it, and Lily's words, he was far too focused on the moment to notice the chilly night breezes passing through his clothes. He closed the gap between the two, the Druid taking up her hands. Warm, soft, but firm and powerful all the same. He felt she could save the world all by herself if she wanted. "I don't think I could've brightened those places without you." He leaned in slowly, his forehead touching hers. "You've filled me with so much hope..." She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something else, but no words came to mind that made any sense - half of them seemed to be in different languages, and most of the rest were gibberish. Lily swallowed nervously, then mustered that courage that let her stand against a dozen screaming Orcs without flinching, led her back into a blazing building to find one more life, and gathered more of it than she ever knew she had, leaned forward and kissed him, quickly and more than a little clumsily. It was partially expected, but Lammy was wholly surprised nonetheless. Either way, he was lost in the moment now. Nothing else, just the Druid, and the Paladin. He leaned back in, holding the kiss longer than just a frantic peck. Introduced some tongue to the equation. It grew longer and warmer still, and his hands began to move on instinct, exploring and caressing the curves of her padded waist. Lily slipped her arms behind him, pulling him against her, running her fingers into his hair and holding him tight. She felt so foolish for not doing this sooner - but at least she did it now. Then, an intense shiver traveled up and down Lammy's spine. Was it the anticipation of the moment? Or just the weather finally getting to him? Paired with it, was a minute stench on the air. Something unnatural, feral, and close. Wasn't Lily, obviously. Made him remember that being outside after dark wasn't the best mode of action in this town. It brought him out of the moment, if only briefly. "Lily, wait." He pulled back the tiniest bit, just enough to talk. His voice kept low and soft. "Let's go back inside. Don't want anyone worrying about us." He added, really not wanting some sort of monster ruining the moment. Lily sensed it too, a cold thrill up her spine that had nothing to do with the warmer feelings the moment was giving her. She slipped her hand from around him reluctantly and nodded. She started to head back inside when she noticed that they weren't alone, her other old friend sitting against the wall of the inn not ten feet away from them. "...hi, Eranah." She said, her face burning so hard she was certain it was glowing in the night. "It's, uh, getting kinda dark, so we were just thinking you might want to come back inside." Brilliant cover, Lily. There was an immense amount of happiness welling up in Lammy in the awkward moment. He stifled a laugh, holding back from busting a gut. "Lily, I think she saw everything!" He loudly whispered to her, continuing to lead her over the threshold. "Shut up, Lammy." She ground out. Eranah was the last person she would have wanted to see that. Not because she felt like she had looked like a fool, although she did, but because she had the sneaking suspicion she was going to have either A: a visit from her discussing proper propriety with such matters please merciful Torm no, or worse: a visit where she imparted her age old wisdom. Lammy on the other hand, just chuckled some more.	Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle Age: 24 Sex: Male Race: Human Class: Druid Alignment: Neutral Good Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'2" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell. Equipment: Lammy doesn't carry much. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources. Other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), his 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything), and a carving knife, he tends to travel light. Really light. Skills and Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome dire bear, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has the expanse area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. He can shift into at least two animals once a day, and since he's been on the road, he's been working on strengthening his abilities. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds. Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it. Backstory: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary. It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. One day, Lammy's mother approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son. ...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. That was two years ago. Not only had he found himself a really big job in that time, but he and his traveling companions completed it with flying colors. He's yet to have been back home in the time prior, but still plans on returning one day, to show his parents the spoils and souvenirs of his travels. He's on the road, passing through towns, taking on small jobs that worked best with his abilities. At times he'd think back to that very first job, and mull over some of the bigger events with a warm smile on his face. His thoughts would linger towards one of the party members, a lady paladin he grew smitten with. While she was a bit of a fish out of water, and didn't get all of his jokes, she was a fierce warrior whose loyalty towards her friends gave Lammy a new outlook on life. Not too bad looking, either. As the job completed and the party parted ways, Lammy found himself regretting never telling her how he really felt about her. On his travels, he always wondered if their paths would cross once more.
3,403	76	39	501	259	Contrary to what either of them were expecting, Eranah hadn't even noticed the two of them were out there until they had spoken directly to her. Too lost in her thoughts, or more accurately, mental breakdown to see them. When she was directly spoken to however she did her best to put on a brave face. Not wanting her two friends to worry about her, knowing she would eventually move past this certainly, though she doubted it would be any time soon. "You're right, I probably should head inside." Eranah replied as she did her best to put on a smile. Standing up and walking inside right past them without so much as a mention of what it was pretty obvious they were doing if she actually put her mind to it. For now however she was still trying to process everything. There were no gods here, likely no astral sea or even a connection to it. For all she knew, death was death now. Thousands of lifetimes ended completely, so far as she knew it was unheard of. As firsts went, it was not one she looked forward to possibly experiencing.	- Name: Lily Beckett - Age: 22 - Race: Human - Class: Paladin - Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind, and renders her immune to all known diseases and curses. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. As an agent of Gods anathema to the Demiplane of Dread - even if they don't even know it exists - Lily carries a portion of their light with her. She is actively - albeit unknowingly - hateful to the plane itself. This is not a good thing for anyone involved, especially not Lily. While she technically has the ability to sense Evil, since her arrival in the Demiplane of Dread the ability has been made useless - while she is still capable of sensing Evil the sheer omnipresence of it within the plane makes attempting to sense Evil a bit like trying to detect light by staring directly at the Sun. You'll find it, sure, but you'll also burn out your retinas. Attempting to sense evil is both agonizing and pointless for her. - Alignment: Lawful Good - Appearance: Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded, travel-stained cloak of deep, dark red. - Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one: A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance. A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice. A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent. A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it. A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not. A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice. A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need. A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others. Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure. - Inventory: Lily's most important possession is her sword Faith's Fire, a two-handed longsword that at will burns with blue-white flames that are antithetical to the forces of Evil. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for, if dented, scratched, and generally battered. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it. Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain. Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife. - History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own. Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began. To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. " At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple, culminating in a series of quests she would begin at twenty years of age - plunging into a deep catacomb with an army to disrupt an undead horde forming, a year-long crusade against Devilish powers rising in the High Moor - where she met and befriended the Druid Lammy LaSalle and the priestess Eranah. After their parting she traveled alone for many months, battling against evil in the world, rooting out murderers and necromancers among the small villages. Her fervor drew notice of darkness, and the Mists reached for her.
3,404	76	40	1,551	217	As the Paladin moved in to console her Cleric, the Druid was quick to follow. He may've wanted to straighten his face to correspond to the mood of the changing situation, but he was far too high on cloud nine to come down just yet. Besides, a small grin and upbeat disposition could do much to alleviate a somber moment. "Heh, spooky prison plane...rolls right off the tongue." He chuckled, following the two back inside. "But yeah, Eranah, a obstacle like this shouldn't even slow us down." He reassured softly, pushing his own negative thoughts further into obscurity. "Hell, i'm beginning to think of this as a little vacation! I mean...s'not the most alluring vacation spot, but...we're away from most responsibilities, right...?" He was kinda unsure about that.	Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle Age: 24 Sex: Male Race: Human Class: Druid Alignment: Neutral Good Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'2" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell. Equipment: Lammy doesn't carry much. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources. Other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), his 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything), and a carving knife, he tends to travel light. Really light. Skills and Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome dire bear, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has the expanse area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. He can shift into at least two animals once a day, and since he's been on the road, he's been working on strengthening his abilities. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds. Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it. Backstory: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary. It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. One day, Lammy's mother approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son. ...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. That was two years ago. Not only had he found himself a really big job in that time, but he and his traveling companions completed it with flying colors. He's yet to have been back home in the time prior, but still plans on returning one day, to show his parents the spoils and souvenirs of his travels. He's on the road, passing through towns, taking on small jobs that worked best with his abilities. At times he'd think back to that very first job, and mull over some of the bigger events with a warm smile on his face. His thoughts would linger towards one of the party members, a lady paladin he grew smitten with. While she was a bit of a fish out of water, and didn't get all of his jokes, she was a fierce warrior whose loyalty towards her friends gave Lammy a new outlook on life. Not too bad looking, either. As the job completed and the party parted ways, Lammy found himself regretting never telling her how he really felt about her. On his travels, he always wondered if their paths would cross once more.
3,405	76	41	501	259	Lammy, have you ever heard the phrase 'tempting fate'? Apparently someone had, because not ten seconds went past it before the door suddenly shuddered under a battering ram barrage that could be described as knocks if you lived with an ogre family, or perhaps thought that knocking was a form of martial arts. Hopestone said something that none of them could understand, but it sounded pretty obscene, and moved over to the door, snatching the sword from its hanging behind the bar. She moved to the door and pulled it open a crack. "Daskard, you're still alive." The door got shoved open and a large, aging man entered, a red cloak wrapped around his body. His head was shaved except for two strips of hair along his cheeks, a look that had Lily giving him the side-eye. Behind him were two men wearing heavy armor, and compared to the gate guards they had the bearing and gear of actual soldiers. "Hopestone. His Lordship has become aware that we have guests within the city. They are ordered to accompany me to meet with His Lordship immediately." "See, Lammy? Tempting fate." Lily sighed. "Give us five minutes." She moved over to her gear and began donning her armor, Daskard watching with barely concealed impatience.	- Name: Lily Beckett - Age: 22 - Race: Human - Class: Paladin - Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind, and renders her immune to all known diseases and curses. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. As an agent of Gods anathema to the Demiplane of Dread - even if they don't even know it exists - Lily carries a portion of their light with her. She is actively - albeit unknowingly - hateful to the plane itself. This is not a good thing for anyone involved, especially not Lily. While she technically has the ability to sense Evil, since her arrival in the Demiplane of Dread the ability has been made useless - while she is still capable of sensing Evil the sheer omnipresence of it within the plane makes attempting to sense Evil a bit like trying to detect light by staring directly at the Sun. You'll find it, sure, but you'll also burn out your retinas. Attempting to sense evil is both agonizing and pointless for her. - Alignment: Lawful Good - Appearance: Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded, travel-stained cloak of deep, dark red. - Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one: A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance. A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice. A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent. A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it. A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not. A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice. A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need. A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others. Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure. - Inventory: Lily's most important possession is her sword Faith's Fire, a two-handed longsword that at will burns with blue-white flames that are antithetical to the forces of Evil. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for, if dented, scratched, and generally battered. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it. Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain. Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife. - History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own. Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began. To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. " At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple, culminating in a series of quests she would begin at twenty years of age - plunging into a deep catacomb with an army to disrupt an undead horde forming, a year-long crusade against Devilish powers rising in the High Moor - where she met and befriended the Druid Lammy LaSalle and the priestess Eranah. After their parting she traveled alone for many months, battling against evil in the world, rooting out murderers and necromancers among the small villages. Her fervor drew notice of darkness, and the Mists reached for her.
3,406	76	42	1,551	217	Lammy's smirk instantly dropped into a look of disappointment. "Awwww maaaan!" He whined, shoulders slumping down like a spoiled child denied a new toy. "This could've been a nice, calming (for the most part) night! But then this had to go and happen!" He thought, reluctantly looking on as Lily fetched for her armor. Sheeva flapped up to his shoulder as he collected his staff. "chiwierk? (What's all this about?)" The hawk queried. "Good question." Lammy quickly replied. "Hey," He addressed the red cloaked individual. "Daskard, i'm assuming? His Lordship? Are we celebrities now?" He asked.	Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle Age: 24 Sex: Male Race: Human Class: Druid Alignment: Neutral Good Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'2" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell. Equipment: Lammy doesn't carry much. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources. Other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), his 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything), and a carving knife, he tends to travel light. Really light. Skills and Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome dire bear, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has the expanse area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. He can shift into at least two animals once a day, and since he's been on the road, he's been working on strengthening his abilities. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds. Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it. Backstory: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary. It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. One day, Lammy's mother approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son. ...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. That was two years ago. Not only had he found himself a really big job in that time, but he and his traveling companions completed it with flying colors. He's yet to have been back home in the time prior, but still plans on returning one day, to show his parents the spoils and souvenirs of his travels. He's on the road, passing through towns, taking on small jobs that worked best with his abilities. At times he'd think back to that very first job, and mull over some of the bigger events with a warm smile on his face. His thoughts would linger towards one of the party members, a lady paladin he grew smitten with. While she was a bit of a fish out of water, and didn't get all of his jokes, she was a fierce warrior whose loyalty towards her friends gave Lammy a new outlook on life. Not too bad looking, either. As the job completed and the party parted ways, Lammy found himself regretting never telling her how he really felt about her. On his travels, he always wondered if their paths would cross once more.
3,407	76	43	501	259	I'm guessing the Baron wants to grill you about how you came to be here. Hopestone said. "Travelers don't just -come- here. This has never been the most traveled land in the world, but ever since the War two years back no one comes. The borders of the land are choked with mist and people who travel into them don't come out again." "Beyond when we were brought here we didn't see any mist." Lily said as she finished with her armor, affixing breastplate to backplate. "Strange...perhaps it has finally passed. "This is all very interesting." Daskard said, tapping his boot. "But his Lordship has demanded your presence and he is not a man to be kept waiting." Lily snorted. "It's a good thing none of us are using the privy then." She approached Daskard. "Alright, lead the way."	- Name: Lily Beckett - Age: 22 - Race: Human - Class: Paladin - Abilities: As a knight Lily is physically strong, an excellent rider, and a superb swordsman, with ancillary training with polearms and bows. As a Paladin Lily is capable of channeling holy energy through her body to heal the living or harm the undead, focus her spiritual might through her holy symbol to repel evil forces, and focus the energies of righteousness through her sword to smite evil. The holy power coursing through her body grants her protection from many mystical attacks on her body and mind, and renders her immune to all known diseases and curses. Lily has been granted a limited ability to focus the power of Torm as spells, enabling her to perform blessings or ward an individual or small area against evil. As an agent of Gods anathema to the Demiplane of Dread - even if they don't even know it exists - Lily carries a portion of their light with her. She is actively - albeit unknowingly - hateful to the plane itself. This is not a good thing for anyone involved, especially not Lily. While she technically has the ability to sense Evil, since her arrival in the Demiplane of Dread the ability has been made useless - while she is still capable of sensing Evil the sheer omnipresence of it within the plane makes attempting to sense Evil a bit like trying to detect light by staring directly at the Sun. You'll find it, sure, but you'll also burn out your retinas. Attempting to sense evil is both agonizing and pointless for her. - Alignment: Lawful Good - Appearance: Lily stands at roughly 5'10, and has a lean, athletic build that is corded with muscle. Her hair is black and worn long, usually simply gathered together under her helm in battle. Her eyes are gray, and while she is well-calloused she has no scars, suggesting easy access to healing magic. About her shoulders she wears a hooded, travel-stained cloak of deep, dark red. - Personality: Lily is a Paladin, although not with all that implies. She lives her life by a simple code, dedicated to the Triad, the gods Tyr, Ilmater, and Torm - although Torm is her patron, and has her deepest devotion. The code she abides by is a simple one: A Paladin is a speaker and seeker of Truth. A Paladin does not prejudge, but instead keeps an open mind. A Paladin never shirks from speaking the truth under any circumstance. A Paladin is the arbiter of Justice. A Paladin will never allow the guilty to escape their Just punishment, nor the innocent to be trampled by injustice. A Paladin is Sacrificing. The Paladin will give up everything they have, even their lives in the defense of the innocent. A Paladin is Courageous, and does not shirk from battle with darkness but instead seeks it out and ends it. A Paladin is Compassionate, and is kind to those around them, whether they appreciate it or not. A Paladin is Merciful, and takes life only when there is no other choice. A Paladin is Faithful, to their Masters and to their peers. A Paladin can always be called upon, and will never abandon those in need. A Paladin is Humble, and does not seek personal glory or the adulation of others. Outside of the tenets of this code, Lily is a simple person - not stupid, she is quite learned and intelligent, but she is not subtle or cunning. She has a habit of believing the best of people who too often don't deserve it. She approaches every aspect of her life the way she approaches her labors as a Paladin - directly and relentlessly. She is, however, smart and wise enough to grasp that not everyone who is good at heart should be forced to abide by her way of life, say, by having her reject the promised reward for a task simply because she has no use for treasure. - Inventory: Lily's most important possession is her sword Faith's Fire, a two-handed longsword that at will burns with blue-white flames that are antithetical to the forces of Evil. With it she wields a suit of well-forged plate armor, similarly unadorned but nevertheless well cared for, if dented, scratched, and generally battered. The armor does bear a minor enchantment in that it is self-fastening, enabling Lily to quickly don and remove it in moments without assistance, rather than the minutes she would need even with a squire. In battle she adds a visored barbute. The gauntlets are special as well - each has been anointed by a Priest of Torm, and through them Lily can focus her Paladin capabilities. She also carries a similarly enchanted but much smaller and more maneuverable holy symbol on a silver chain around her neck, a simple circle of metal with a gauntlet etched upon it. Over her armor she has a simple, unadorned red cloak, unmagical but warm and protective from rain. Aside from her battle gear, she carries a light traveling pack holding rations, water, a small vial of blessed water, Tormite Holy Scripture, flints and tinder, fifty feet of rope, a grappling hook, and a utility knife. - History: Lily doesn't really know where she comes from, beyond probable Illuskan ancestry judging by her coloration. Twenty years ago she was found on the doorstep of the Temple of the Triad in Waterdeep, a crying infant in a basket. In a city like Waterdeep this wasn't a terribly uncommon incident, although people usually had the courtesy to hand the baby to a Priest. Being a temple dedicated to three of the most noble and heroic Gods they weren't complete dicks, and so took the child in, fostering her with a humble Tormite Priest by the name of Gabriel, who raised her as his own. Although little more than an apprentice priest, Gabriel was treated with great respect, and as Lily grew she soon discovered why. Gabriel was better known as Sir Gabriel Beckett, Knight and Paladin of the Tormtar, a legendary hero who had guarded the Sword Coast for decades. Upon learning this young Lily was inspired, and hounded the old knight to teach her the ways of the Paladin. Despite his reticence to see the girl he had come to call daughter take up the heavy burden of the Paladin he did not deny her, and her training began. To Lily's surprise the training involved much less sparring and much more deep contemplation and study. Gabriel and her would spend many hours, deep into the night discussing the nature of evil, and how to fight it. Gabriel taught her to use her sword as a last resort, to battle evil with her mind and heart, to offer peace before battle and mercy in victory, even to the wicked who seemed truly vile. "We are Paladins, not judges. Our place is not to lay judgment, but to prevent further evil. " At seventeen she began to shift from pure training to minor missions for the Temple, culminating in a series of quests she would begin at twenty years of age - plunging into a deep catacomb with an army to disrupt an undead horde forming, a year-long crusade against Devilish powers rising in the High Moor - where she met and befriended the Druid Lammy LaSalle and the priestess Eranah. After their parting she traveled alone for many months, battling against evil in the world, rooting out murderers and necromancers among the small villages. Her fervor drew notice of darkness, and the Mists reached for her.
3,408	76	44	1,551	217	Eranah stood up and got prepared even as she spoke to their attempt to console her. "It isn't so much that. I know we'll get home, it's just. Mortality is something of a foreign concept. I understand it, but I've never exactly experienced it. I die, and then I return to the astral sea to be reborn. While the loss of that life is sad, it is by no means permanent. Memories and impressions from them persist, but this time... not even the gods are here. There may be no connection to the astral sea, it could be if I die here...that's it. Thousands of lifetimes simply ended. It just is a lot to take in and realize. That this time, death may very well be a very permanent thing." She spoke as if it were only the three of them there, she didn't particularly care if these people heard about what she was. Chances were, if they didn't know what she was it wouldn't matter, and if they did know she was a Deva they would already have an idea of what she was saying.	Name: Lamont "Lammy" LaSalle Age: 24 Sex: Male Race: Human Class: Druid Alignment: Neutral Good Appearance: It's been argued that Lammy's overall appearance reflects both his personality, and lifestyle. Moderately tan skin covered in dirty splotches, a disheveled, shaggy, black mop of tangled locks (with a seldom braid twisted in here and there) he considers "hair", an equally disheveled goatee, unnaturally bestial hazel irises that one could say sparkle in certain light, callous caked bare feet and hands, and a usually confused disposition. Standing at 6'2" and 155 lbs, Lammy's a tall, stringy fellow that looks like he needs a bath (and most likely does). Imagine if Tarzan was a slacker that could change into any animal he pleased. That's Lammy in a nutshell. Equipment: Lammy doesn't carry much. No need for money or supplies when you can delve into animal instincts to hunt for food and resources. Other than that and the clothes he'll wear (his trusty, raggedy, dirt brown cloth pants and equally dirty vest), his 4 foot long ironwood quarterstaff (that he uses more as a walking stick than anything), and a carving knife, he tends to travel light. Really light. Skills and Abilities: An established druid, Lammy is capable of transforming into multiple classifications of fauna. Whether it be a mighty bird of prey, a fearsome dire bear, or a lazy housecat, Lamont has the expanse area of the animal kingdom at his disposal. He can shift into at least two animals once a day, and since he's been on the road, he's been working on strengthening his abilities. Then again, the lazy housecat is his favorite animal to shift into. His sister always excelled where he didn't when it came to magic, so he's a little outclassed when it comes to that. At his side is his trusty pet, a Red-tailed Hawk named Sheeva. He can communicate with her when he needs to, which seems like all the time. She apparently tells great jokes, and her sass knows no bounds. Personality: His mom calls him lazy, but he considers himself "understandably uninspired". But no, he's mostly lazy. And a little aimless. He usually needs to be pushed in the right direction in order for him to get things done. That being said, his peculiar upbringing leaves him as a bit of a flower child. As the oldest sibling in a family of druids, Lammy's pretty in tune with nature. And if he's motivated enough, he'll always want to protect it. Backstory: As noted prior, Lamont belongs to a family of druids. What started out as a adventuring duo sharing common interests, blossomed into a semi-popular family team gaining some groundswell in their hometown. As the kids got older, the mom and dad decide to settle down, with enough amassed funds (from successful quests) to convert their housing into a animal and nature sanctuary. The younger sister, Amaya, matured in a way differently than her older brother. Following in her parent's footsteps, she took up the adventuring mantle, and embarked on quests of her own. Lamont, on the other hand, opted on staying home to help tend to the sanctuary. It was appreciated at first, but his mom and pop began to realize just how directionless their son had become. One day, Lammy's mother approached him with a short staff made of extremely durable ironwood. "I'm kicking you out~!" Her chipper serenade harshly contrasted such a drastic demand. Before he could properly protest, she began pushing him out the door. "Go out into the world, find you a really big job, and don't come back until you've completed it...or give me grandchildren...preferably both!" She smiled all the while, she meant well for her son. ...And then she promptly slammed the door shut. Lamont sighed. "D'oh well." The least he could do was fly into town. Maybe there was something on offer at the bulletin boards. With a sharp whistle, his trusty hawk companion Sheeva glided to his side. "C'mon Sheev. Let's go find ourselves a job." He said, quickly taking on his own hawk form before flying off. That was two years ago. Not only had he found himself a really big job in that time, but he and his traveling companions completed it with flying colors. He's yet to have been back home in the time prior, but still plans on returning one day, to show his parents the spoils and souvenirs of his travels. He's on the road, passing through towns, taking on small jobs that worked best with his abilities. At times he'd think back to that very first job, and mull over some of the bigger events with a warm smile on his face. His thoughts would linger towards one of the party members, a lady paladin he grew smitten with. While she was a bit of a fish out of water, and didn't get all of his jokes, she was a fierce warrior whose loyalty towards her friends gave Lammy a new outlook on life. Not too bad looking, either. As the job completed and the party parted ways, Lammy found himself regretting never telling her how he really felt about her. On his travels, he always wondered if their paths would cross once more.
3,409	77	0	576	94	Sam Fisher Sam sighed from his back, gazing up at the stars. He and Bo lay underneath the forest canopy after a long day's travel. They had been making their way towards New York City after multiple tips from fellow Rebellion members, too many tips to ignore any longer. They were just a couple days outside of the city now, having left from Arizona months ago. They went to Arizona after they caught wind of a Rebel base being formed. His hopes were dashed however, finding nothing but another rumor spread by The Regime with hopes of tricking Rebel sympathizers out of the shadows. Another near death experience, another escape under his belt. He figured he had to be somewhere high up on The Regime's most wanted list by now. He chuckled aloud at the thought. "Whadya think they'll do to us if they ever get their hands on us Bo?" he said, rolling over and sprawling out onto Bo like he always did. Bo snorted, shaking his mane free of the thought of capture. "Yeah I suppose youre right. We'll be dead before we ever find that out." He smiled and patted Bo on the ribs sternly, just how he liked. They were secluded where they lay, with a wall of rock a few feet away and heavy brush surrounding them. Knowing nothing would make it within a hundred yards without Bo knowing, Sam allowed himself to drift to sleep, at peace in the wild with Bo, where he belonged.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,410	77	1	2,658	378	Indigo Samson They'd catch the Regime by dusk now; don't sleep on an underdog. Walking in the pale of moonlight, Indigo and his Nidoran♂ traversed the countryside towards NYC, where advanced Regime activity was being reported in across the country. They had trained for long enough, and now it was time to hit them where it hurt. Attacking such a major encampment required a major force, but Indigo had lost contact with any rebel forces long ago. He'd have to do it himself. Indigo walked poised, light of feet, heel to toe. Sticks did not break underfoot, but it was impossible to eliminate all noise when wearing dress shoes. He didn't need anything for hiding, as the darkness was their camouflage. Nidoran♂ would stride much like Indigo, however he was in his pokéball at the moment. No need for extra sound. Their journey led them to some particularly heavy shrubbery. Indigo wade through the green sea of twigs and leaves as best he could, but it was impossible to not be heard within a hundred yards or so. He was making too much noise, hell, the Regime could be closing in on him now. Paranoia set in and Indigo decided to sit still for a moment to dissuade anyone that might be listening. Just in case, he gripped his pokéball tightly, teeth grit and eyes darting about the dim forest. There were only rare beams of light, but he still had to worry about being sniffed out.	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,411	77	2	1,767	2,271	After weeks of taking backroads and sidestreets up the east coast Forrest and Mika finally arrived at a dingy broken down abandoned park outside the New York City limits. Why were the duo heading for New York? News travels fast when concerning the Regime. Heavy activity including but not limited to Pokemon trafficking. A large shipment of apparently powerful pokemon is scheduled to arrive in the next couple of days via cargo ship. If the self proclaimed ranger and his trusty partner have anything say about it they'd march strait into the city and wreak as much havok as possible. That would be suicide obviously, but the sentiment was still there. After finding a decent hiding spot Forrest and Mika made camp. Small fire, small tent for two, and a small dinner of assorted berries and Pokefood. Everything had to be small and made for a quick getaway. The Regime could be anywhere, anyone, and anytime. They had to be alert at all times and sleep with one eye open. A trick Forrest learned a long time ago and was thankful to still have.	/Delete
3,412	77	3	576	94	Sam Fisher Sam awoke to Bo standing alert and pulling on his sleeve. In an instant Sam was up with his pack on. Sam and Bo were a finely tuned machine. Bo's body language and growl pattern was enough for Sam to determine where the danger was at and how far. Slowly they circled out away from the wall they were next to. Bo had sensed something just at the range of his smell, perhaps just over a hundred yards out. Staying low, Sam was able to catch a silhouette of a person in the moonlight. As he noticed this Bo turned his attention the other way, where a campfire could be seen off in the distance. Who in their right mind would light a fire this close to New York? Regime agents wouldnt travel alone, especially at this time of night. Sam ran through possibilities in his mind. Odds are, it was Rebel agents making their way to the city as well. That was good and bad for Sam. More people meant it would be harder to sneak in if they decided to tag along. He couldnt leave somebody helpless out here alone if they were in danger. Sam looked at Bo who nodded. If it was indeed a Regime trap of some kind, they would just fight their way out like usual. Sam signaled Bo to stand down. Sam yelled out, "Hello. My name is Sam. My pokemon is here next to me. Please show yourself slowly, we dont want anybody getting hurt." Bo was low, ready to pounce at a moments notice.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,413	77	4	1,767	2,271	Delete	/Delete
3,414	77	5	2,658	378	Indigo Samson Indigo reset his footing upon hearing the voice calling from a distance. A rustle emitted from the bush, and he swore under his breath. He'd been found, but by whom? He peeked his head above the thick shrubbery he was hiding it to spot a faint outline, no two, in the distance. Judging by the situation, whoever was calling out to him had a pokémon who had a strong sense of smell. It was the only way Indigo could have been detected. Poochyena? Houndour? Or perhaps it could see in the dark, or was had someone seen him enter the brush somehow? There were many possibilities. Indigo tapped the pokéball on his leather belt, faint clicks sounding in beat. No, not yet. There were chances that this was another rebel sympathizer, or someone neutral in the war. To give Indigo the chance to reveal himself before attacking seemed too clever for a Regime scout. Maybe they were testing the waters and hadn't actually seen him, no, that was unlikely. Indigo had been roused, what was the right response? After a time, Indigo stood from the bush he was hiding in, avoiding any faint beams of light coming through the canopy above. He gripped his pokéball with one hand, the other hanging loosely beside of him. It was enough to hide the technology without seeming suspicious. His shoes crunched leaves underfoot as he hurdled a final branch within the entanglement. His feet pointed directly forward, shoulders poised, torso slightly turned away. Indigo stopped just before one of the sources of moonlight, giving his body a faint white outline in the perspective of onlookers. He adjusted his black lenses and scratched his noise, flicking a splinter from the bridge. Indigo coughed. More silence, more crickets. Suddenly, there was a breach in the contract of quiet. "Who are you? It makes a man wary to suggest anyone might get hurt" Indigo said. He voluntarily failed to introduce himself in the meantime, sizing up the situation instead.	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,415	77	6	2,483	4,750	Kale heard noise ahead of him and immediately dove for cover. The Regime was in the area and he couldn't be too careful. Sure, he could take them one-on-one, but they tend to travel in groups, especially at night. He saw Eve's head pop as she sniffed the air. "Eve" she said excitedly. "Another pokemon?" he asked, as she didn't get excited about humans. The pokemon was probably one she felt comfortable around, which meant that it wasn't that different than her. "Which direction?" She pointed in a towards the creature and, after making sure that he didn't see any humans around, Kale stood up and motioned for her to show him the way. A few minutes later he saw movement through underbrush. He motioned for Eve to slow down and crouched down himself, slowly moving forward. He got to a clearing and looked through the underbrush at the edge of it. There he saw pokemon that was much like Eve, but black in color with yellow circles and rings on it.	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,416	77	7	19	1,003	Brynn Wild It'd been approximately a month and a half since I'd left what was once known as my home. Our journey left us on the outskirts of New York. People of the town had been talking behind closed doors of a Rebellion, and how they'd join up with other members in upstate New York where safe passage may be offered. I'd heard of several situations where the Regime would spread rumors such as these to capture members of the rebellion, but I had to find out for myself. I wasn't about to wait and miss out on a potential opportunity, but I'd be as cautious as possible upon closing in on the safe place. From a distance shot a loud explosion and a dark flash that spread out across the city sky. My eyes met Vi's, who tucked tail and ran for a nearby bush under a fairly large willow tree in a neighborhood yard. Kicking the small log out into the street from the small fire Vi made for us to keep warm, I grabbed my pack and took a running start at the tree Vi hid beneath. Leaping as high as I could, I grabbed on to a couple branches and pulled myself up into the tree, climbing up midway to keep me out of immediate sight. No one would find me in my dark clothing unless they were really looking for me. I could see Vi below me staring back into the direction it all came from and hunkered down, hair raising up on her hide quarters and teeth bared in a menacing smile. I, too, looked the same way and could now hear men yelling out orders, from. Yelling wasn't the only thing I heard. I heard footsteps. Loud ones. As if the person was running, quite possibly from the group of men off in the distance. Making sure Vi stayed low in the thick brush, I held my breath as the steps grew louder, and closer thinking to myself, "This isn't it." EDIT: Directed at , but , since you already posted while I was in the process of doing so, it could be either of you. x)	♦Name♦ "My name is Bronwyn Wild, but I just go by Brynn. No need for the full name. I hate it, anyway." ♦Gender♦ "Is it that hard to tell? I'm a female, you uncultured swine." ♦Age♦ "21-years of age." ♦Other♦ "I've got combat skills. Grimm, Vi and I train, it's not just on them when it comes to protection between us. I can fight." ♦Personality♦ "I guess you could say I'm your typical loner. Kind of a rebel, as well, honestly. Not the hard-core types, but one all the same. I care deeply, and love purely. Throughout the years of hardships I've faced, I manage to keep a soft spirit and a kind heart. I'm a fighter. I stand up for what's right in the world. Not much that's right about it, now, but.. I don't give up. Nor am I easily intimidated by the Regime, or anyone else. Stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed.. whatever you may call it. All of the above, I guess. I don't give up easy, that's for sure. I doubt you'll find another girl quite like me." ♦Background♦ "I lost my mother when I was young, and my father. Well, he was never around back in the day, but out of the blue decided to pop back into my life. Come to find out, my father is a high ranking Regime Officer. Makes me hate him even more. I've pretty much been on my own since I was 12-years-old. Luckily when I was 14, nearly 15, I found Grimm. Since then, he and I have thrived pretty well.. for a couple of orphans, anyway. We've stayed out of the Regime's eye for the most part, up until my father mysteriously found us. We only take what we need but we always give back - except for Grimm's pokeball. I'm not giving that back, obviously. I found it on the road, where it must have fallen out of a Regime transport truck." ♦Pokemon♦ "On Regime books, I've got my female Vulpix, named 'V'. What they don't know, is I've also got a second Pokemon. A male Cubone I've named Grimm." ♦Pokemon Background♦ "My Cubone, Grimm has been with me 6, almost 7 years. Grimm and I were truly meant for one another. I lost my mother when I was just 11-years-old, on the brink of turning 12, to liver failure. Come to find out later, she was a heavy alcoholic. Anyway, I was out in the woods moping around while attempting to gather some firewood before dark when I, quite literally, stumbled upon a small Pokemon. I picked up the logs I'd dropped in the process to turn back to the Pokemon to find it was crying, sitting up against a bush. Leaves, branches and scuff marks covered the ground, ugly scars left on tree trunks that now oozed it's lifeblood sap.... The poor Pokemon had tear stains running through the dirt layer on his face mask. His crying grew louder from the moment I gazed his way. I felt sorry for him. I'd heard stories of the Cubone Pokemon, and thinking back on them now, I could relate to it. I got down on one knee, setting aside my scrawny logs to free my hands so I could pull out the bandanna from my back pocket. With it, I held up my hand to show him I had no weapon and I meant no harm. The Cubone's crying stopped almost instantly and he watched me with weary eyes, probably not sure what to do in the moment. Let me in, or run. I'd have chosen the latter if I was him, I wouldn't have blamed him. With a cautious hand, I wiped his mask clean of both tears and dirt. I picked up his club and held it out to him as I murmured, "My mother's gone, too. You'll see yours again, one day." I got up once he took his club back, gathering my things and leaving. To my surprise, a few minutes up the road the very same Cubone was in my path, staring me down with a kind smile. He had to have cut through the forest to beat me there, but there he stood. The Cubone followed me all the way home, and ever has followed me every step of the way since. I am his, and Grimm is mine. How I came across Vee is, well. It's a different story, I'll tell you that. When my father, Rhaeger Cross the Regime Officer reappeared in my life, he taught me quite a bit about how to avoid the Regime and how to properly train my pokemon. Honestly, that's the only thing I'm grateful about him giving me, besides V. Before parting ways, my father handed me a deep red Cherish Ball and told me it was a gift from my mother. I released the pokemon to find a small Vulpix with five tails, hence the name V. Roman numeral for five. Had it not been sent by my mother, I'd have given it back. V remains the only pokemon in my possession on Regime records, thanks to my father. The relationship I have with V isn't as strong as the one I have with Grimm, but each shares mutual respect between trainer and pokemon. I've run into trainers who treat their pokemon much like the Regime do to their 'service pokemon'. Master and Servant. It's disgusting. Pokemon deserve to be treated better. They're much like us. On the run, afraid and alone. Why shouldn't they be treated the same as we'd treat another human being?" ♦Appearance♦ "I have dark brown eyes and the hair to match them. My hair length extends down to my chest and remains straight until it gets humid, then it gets a bit of a wavy curl going on. Standing straight, I peak at about 5'10" and weight approximately 145lbs. Slim, athletic build." ♦Outfit & Pack♦ "Plain black snapback hat. White v-neck, short-sleeve t-shirt. Black, sleeveless vest. Black boots. Black pants. Dark brown bomber jacket. Black sling backpack with included camelbak and side-pouch bottle." 2.0 (Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld)
3,417	77	8	1,767	2,271	Chris was walking through the woods in the dead of night, hoping to get to New York City before morning. He had heard of a group of rebels, and was hoping that he would be able to help them, by healing their pokemon. He hoped that there wouldn't be too much trouble. Legally, he was still a part of the Regime. He had told his family that he was going on a trip to see what the country was like, and they didn't question him much. Overall, they seemed okay with it. This was good - it meant that nobody would be looking for him, which would keep him and Duskull safe. He still had his Regime ID card, and his medic jacket. Chris and Duskull were walking (and floating) along, when they heard a bang, and then a dark flash. "Duskull, we should probably check that out," he said to his Duskull, "Go invisible, and follow me." Duskull went invisible, and Chris began running towards the source of the bang. After less than a minute of running, Chris and Duskull ran into a Regime solider, who had an Umbreon and a gun (). Duskull made sure to stay out of sight, and hid in a tree and became slightly visible to conserve energy. Thankfully, he was out of sight. Chris noticed that the solider was a rank lower than him, and began to pretend that he was still in the Regime. "Solider, what was that gunshot?" he asked.	/Delete
3,418	77	9	1,767	2,271	Delete	/Delete
3,419	77	10	576	94	Meanwhile, in the city proper. A veterinarian was doing some late night paperwork. Doctor Jethro Lowe sighed. He would much rather have his porygon input the ata while he went out to the pub... but as a citizen under watch, the curfew applied to him. Jethro sighed deeply, he could still remember the innocous flyer that got him on the watch list. It had been an insignificant piece of writing. Full of generic claptrap about rising free and starting revolution. The police raid even had to outright fish the thing out of his trash bin. He looked over to his wondrous artificial assistant. The porygon was doing... something. Jethro had been wondering what went through the computerized mind of the creature ever since his pokeball got revoked. Before that, it was easily missed. But lately, he had been confronted with how the pokemon spends its free time just... floating somewhere until given new orders. Yet the naunced and detailed manner with which the porygon handled these orders suggested there was at least some autonomous intelligence in it. Did it onlyh think while acting? COuld it only respond to commands? Or did it spend its free time thinking about the mysteries of life. The doctor was jolted up from his thoughts by the sound of knocking coming from his door. Another surprise inspection? When would they realize he didn't want any trouble and had no intention of challanging the regime... With a sigh, he opened the door, and was surprised to see not the familiar steel faced visage of his assigned correctional officer, but a bloodied man. Standing on just one leg, with his other limoing behind with a wicked slash across it. "Hey... you a doctor right? I need painkillers!" Jethro staggered back. Who was this guy? "I'm just a veterinarian! Shouldn't I call the hospital?" He reached for the phone, but the man raised his hand as if to motion him not to do it. "No hospital... no police either... Just patch me up and I'll be gone." He didn't want a proper doctor... That was a suspect sign. Was this someone of the resistance? his garb certainly suggested such. Clothed in a long trench coat, a rag covering a good half of his face. "Who the hell are you? Tell me or I'm calling the cops!" Before Jethro finished the sentence, he was thrown to the ground. The man moved with a n unexpected speed and power. It would have been impressive to Jethro to see the man exert himself with such debilitating wounds, but right now, the doctor's mind was focused more on the strong arm keeping him pressed to the ground. "Don't play games with me man. We know you were interested in the cause... YOu wouldn't sell out a fellow free man... would you?" Jethro shook his head as best he could, immobilized as it was between an arm and the floor. Suddendly, the man flew sideways against the coat hanger in the hall. Jethro turned to see his porygon, flashing its eyes. It didn't need orders to protect its owner from harm. The distance suggested the pokemon had used its innate psychic powers to push the assailant away. As jethro crawled away, he could see something coming from the hall... The man had a pokemon with him as well. A flash of jet black sailed through the house and threw itself on porygon. The snarling form of a houndoom pinned the artificial being to the ground. Jethro turned to the man again. Who was now treathening him with a rather wicked looking knife. "Freaking bad intel... I was told this was a safehouse." He exclaimed. "I picked up a few folders of you guys once! I don't want to be involved!" Jethro had his hand raised. The intruder closed the appartment's front door. "Whatever, just fix me up and I'll leave you alone" Jethro nodded. He was ready to do anything to get this lunatic out of his house. "Alright, let me just get some things from the medicine cabinet." He walked away from the man, keeping his arms held high and visible. Jethro walked over to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The intruder looked at him through the doorway. Searching through the various prescription medicines for pokemon, Jethro uncovered a bottle containing just what he needed. He took the medicine and a clean roll of bandages. "Alright, I'm coming back to you now! here's my hands! I have your meds in them!" The intruder grasped at the bottle once. "Hold on!" Jethro exclaimed. "That's prescription stuff! A wrong dosage and you'll be dead!" The intruder sat down on a chair in the kitchen and unrolled a sleeve, keeping Jethro in the corner of his eyes all the way. "Come on doc, hit it!" Jethro slowly approached the man. He took a syringe he held alongside the bottle, measured out a dosage, and injected the man carefully and deliberately. Almost immediately, the man tensed down. Jethro knew it was probably jsut a placebo effect. The meds wouldn't take effect until another few minutes. Still, it was good to see the man calm down. They exchanged a look, and the man spoke again. 'Well, what are you waiting for? my leg isn't bandaging itself!" Jethro jumped and sat down on his knees to comply. A few tense minutes later. The man's leg was bandaged up and the medicine was starting to take effect. THe houndoom had been recalled to its owner's side. "So... what's your deal? Who showed up at my doorstep and made me patch up a wound on his leg at knifepoint" Jethro asked as he offered the pokemon a treat from the kitchen. The black hound seemed nice enough while not protecting its owner. And it looked like it hadn't really wounded A.C. in any way. "I mean, you don't have to tell me, but it'd be nice to know why my evening of filling out paperwork was so rudely interrupted.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,420	77	11	2,483	4,750	So, neither one of them are with the Regime. thought Kale, realizing that they both travel alone at night. Still, the Regime could be watching, or it could be a setup and they only appeared to be traveling alone. He needed to introduce himself in a way that didn't alert them to his true sympathies in case one of those were true. After a few seconds of thought, he motioned for Eve to enter the clearing, then a few seconds later stood up and entered it himself. "Eve, what are you..." He looked at the two men in uniforms standing before him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Eve just started running this way and I couldn't catch her." He motioned to Eve, who was looking at them with Baby Doll Eyes, something she knew to do when he started apologizing. "I was just taking her for a walk and I guess she smelled one of her own kind out here." He motioned to the Umbreon. "It's been a long time since she met another of her species." Over eight years, he thought, but they don't need to know that. Normally he'd introduce himself to someone new, but under the guise that they were Regime officers it wouldn't be appropriate.	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,421	77	12	2,658	378	Indigo Samson It couldn't be seen in the dark, but Indigo's chest heaved. A sigh trailed out of his lips. One misstep out here and the plan is ruined. Indigo had gotten it right, for now. "I can't say I have," He stepped forward into the light, "Though I've lost contact for some time now. Good to see I have allies, yet," Indigo said. It was true, Indigo hadn't heard from the Rebels for two months now. He wasn't one to start conversation, which explained why he'd never heard of Sam before, and likely vice versa. Indigo wasn't much to be known, or to know other people. It was better that way; the Regime had less to track him and his pokémon with. "My name is Indigo Samson." He stepped fully into view now, about ten feet away, before giving a slight bow. Indigo had formal wear on, something one might attend a dinner party with. Purple suit coat, brown vest, dark dress pants and shoes, with a leather belt that secured his precious pokéball. Indigo unstrapped the pokéball from his belt and held it up, showing his intentions. A red bolt shot from the ball and landed onto the ground, taking form. "This is Maximillian," Indigo said. The Nidoran♂ stood poised, legs straight and shoulders arched. His neck craned and his horn was just hovering skyward. The Nidoran♂ blinked but reacted little else to Sam and his Growlithe, Bo. Maximillian was surprisingly silent for a pokémon, with not even a stir from his mouth. He maintained this stance just to the left of Samson's dress shoes. Indigo spoke plainly after some moments of silence. "You're going to Manhattan. Let's go together." Indigo spoke with his hands as much as he did his words. "We won't enter Manhattan as quietly, but odds are there'll be a fight if we're alone or not," Indigo said. He adjusted his glasses, looking to Maximillian who looked back. "And I don't plan on losing."	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,422	77	13	19	1,003	Brynn Wild Close by , , & I clung to the trunk of the tree in hopes of staying hidden. I could just barely make out what the two - wait, now three, men looked like, let alone what they were saying. Two sounding very formal and militant, most likely Regime soldiers. The other, however, sounded like he was fumbling on his words, possibly a young kid. 'Another rebel? ..gods help him. Hope he makes it out of there.' I looked down at Vi who was still crouched in the bush below me, thinking to myself, 'If something goes down, we'll be there to help.' Placing my hand over my chest where Grimm's ball was safely tucked away in my sleeveless vest beneath my jacket, I whispered under my breath, "They won't take any more of us." Vi began to get restless below me, and I could feel it.. but could they see her? From above, I could just barely make out her head and ears, enough to know she was still there at least. I'd hoped she'd picked a thick enough bush that from a straight on view, she couldn't be seen. '-a long time since she met another of her species.' I focus my eyes over to the group ahead, and just make out two men as I'd assumed in Regime soldier outfits, and the young boy standing with them. Much smaller than the two giant soldiers standing before him. Staying put in my tree, I hardly allow myself to breath and remain as still as a statue in attempts to not be seen. I needed to get out of here, but not till they dispersed. There was too much action around here, and I needed to be back on the move at least make it into New York by morning. I had about another hour of travel left before I could accomplish that.	♦Name♦ "My name is Bronwyn Wild, but I just go by Brynn. No need for the full name. I hate it, anyway." ♦Gender♦ "Is it that hard to tell? I'm a female, you uncultured swine." ♦Age♦ "21-years of age." ♦Other♦ "I've got combat skills. Grimm, Vi and I train, it's not just on them when it comes to protection between us. I can fight." ♦Personality♦ "I guess you could say I'm your typical loner. Kind of a rebel, as well, honestly. Not the hard-core types, but one all the same. I care deeply, and love purely. Throughout the years of hardships I've faced, I manage to keep a soft spirit and a kind heart. I'm a fighter. I stand up for what's right in the world. Not much that's right about it, now, but.. I don't give up. Nor am I easily intimidated by the Regime, or anyone else. Stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed.. whatever you may call it. All of the above, I guess. I don't give up easy, that's for sure. I doubt you'll find another girl quite like me." ♦Background♦ "I lost my mother when I was young, and my father. Well, he was never around back in the day, but out of the blue decided to pop back into my life. Come to find out, my father is a high ranking Regime Officer. Makes me hate him even more. I've pretty much been on my own since I was 12-years-old. Luckily when I was 14, nearly 15, I found Grimm. Since then, he and I have thrived pretty well.. for a couple of orphans, anyway. We've stayed out of the Regime's eye for the most part, up until my father mysteriously found us. We only take what we need but we always give back - except for Grimm's pokeball. I'm not giving that back, obviously. I found it on the road, where it must have fallen out of a Regime transport truck." ♦Pokemon♦ "On Regime books, I've got my female Vulpix, named 'V'. What they don't know, is I've also got a second Pokemon. A male Cubone I've named Grimm." ♦Pokemon Background♦ "My Cubone, Grimm has been with me 6, almost 7 years. Grimm and I were truly meant for one another. I lost my mother when I was just 11-years-old, on the brink of turning 12, to liver failure. Come to find out later, she was a heavy alcoholic. Anyway, I was out in the woods moping around while attempting to gather some firewood before dark when I, quite literally, stumbled upon a small Pokemon. I picked up the logs I'd dropped in the process to turn back to the Pokemon to find it was crying, sitting up against a bush. Leaves, branches and scuff marks covered the ground, ugly scars left on tree trunks that now oozed it's lifeblood sap.... The poor Pokemon had tear stains running through the dirt layer on his face mask. His crying grew louder from the moment I gazed his way. I felt sorry for him. I'd heard stories of the Cubone Pokemon, and thinking back on them now, I could relate to it. I got down on one knee, setting aside my scrawny logs to free my hands so I could pull out the bandanna from my back pocket. With it, I held up my hand to show him I had no weapon and I meant no harm. The Cubone's crying stopped almost instantly and he watched me with weary eyes, probably not sure what to do in the moment. Let me in, or run. I'd have chosen the latter if I was him, I wouldn't have blamed him. With a cautious hand, I wiped his mask clean of both tears and dirt. I picked up his club and held it out to him as I murmured, "My mother's gone, too. You'll see yours again, one day." I got up once he took his club back, gathering my things and leaving. To my surprise, a few minutes up the road the very same Cubone was in my path, staring me down with a kind smile. He had to have cut through the forest to beat me there, but there he stood. The Cubone followed me all the way home, and ever has followed me every step of the way since. I am his, and Grimm is mine. How I came across Vee is, well. It's a different story, I'll tell you that. When my father, Rhaeger Cross the Regime Officer reappeared in my life, he taught me quite a bit about how to avoid the Regime and how to properly train my pokemon. Honestly, that's the only thing I'm grateful about him giving me, besides V. Before parting ways, my father handed me a deep red Cherish Ball and told me it was a gift from my mother. I released the pokemon to find a small Vulpix with five tails, hence the name V. Roman numeral for five. Had it not been sent by my mother, I'd have given it back. V remains the only pokemon in my possession on Regime records, thanks to my father. The relationship I have with V isn't as strong as the one I have with Grimm, but each shares mutual respect between trainer and pokemon. I've run into trainers who treat their pokemon much like the Regime do to their 'service pokemon'. Master and Servant. It's disgusting. Pokemon deserve to be treated better. They're much like us. On the run, afraid and alone. Why shouldn't they be treated the same as we'd treat another human being?" ♦Appearance♦ "I have dark brown eyes and the hair to match them. My hair length extends down to my chest and remains straight until it gets humid, then it gets a bit of a wavy curl going on. Standing straight, I peak at about 5'10" and weight approximately 145lbs. Slim, athletic build." ♦Outfit & Pack♦ "Plain black snapback hat. White v-neck, short-sleeve t-shirt. Black, sleeveless vest. Black boots. Black pants. Dark brown bomber jacket. Black sling backpack with included camelbak and side-pouch bottle." 2.0 (Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld)
3,423	77	14	2,424	1,745	Running. Up the stairwell, passing floor after floor with the sound of clacking metal-capped shoes on chipped laminate. Yes, stairways still existed, even in the far future for automation had not reached so far outside the splendors of the regime. Further out, in the rustic ghettos of the past, another age dwelt. Forlorn apartments, either condemned, dying or vacant dotted the districts, pop-up areas for all the vermin to gather and die together. Coughing, sickly moans, and unwarranted groans filled the lower floors, as bodies were moved to make way for the chase. It was stupid of him to have fallen for it. To think taking one down would let escape was foolishness, and now he had paid for it. They were behind him, not too far down the stairwell, but it would only be a matter of time before they catch up. Fortunately even if ghost-types laughed at physical barriers, they still required orders from their trainers to make matters easier. So he had time, time enough to worry about the poison or rather venom. Each step was time lost, his pursuers were good, but not good enough. A quick glance at his belt hurried his pace, skipping the steps as required to get to the top. An ariados of all things. Sticky string houndour burned off, but the poison was worsening. For both of them. As his vision began to blur, eyes began to blink as the effects of the poisoning made it difficult to maintain coordination. The rails were his guide, he had to make it, they would execute him upon capture. The door was his salvation, and so with panting breath and vertigo, he kicked it open and threw caution to the wind. Wide paces, his nausea dizzying at such heights as the building overlooked the streets below, nowhere to turn, but to the next building over by the rooftop. A leap of faith, running back and trusting that one could make the jump. So it was, and so it shall go with his running start. Being kicked in the balls. That was the landing, hard and disabling, but he had no time to worry about the pain swelling up his arm. Having pulled himself up from the edge, barely made it to the building over certainly enough to pull his rotators. Of which he had to accept it and move on, clutching his arm with his other and sighing that the next building was far closer this time. How many of these did he have to jump to? No time to think of it, either way Conrad was a dead man if he didn't. Go, don't look back, they are behind you, you know they are. But look forward, always look forward, look for where you can duck into, hide into, and slip into. A place to elude them for a day or two. Pay no mind to the toxins running in your veins and causing your organs to fail you. Breathing becomes labored, your windpipe constricting, your muscles in spasms. What are the options? Get caught and die? Run and die? Fall and die? Keep running, yes, into that building there, no, wait it's higher. A window will have to do. Is it going to shatter when you throw your body at it? shattering glass, a roll of black, the frantic running again as onlookers gasped at the sudden appearance of the man in his black regalia. A uniform of the Shadow Division, iconic to strike fear in the hearts of rebellion. Black and red, a rank insignia and a shoulder guard of security clearances. But his uniform was frayed, torn in places, and weather beaten, shabby from a long history of life as a deserter. What was this building? A symbol on a wall suggested it was one of the Silph Company buildings, no time to confirm, just grab the nearest flat-object, that metal bar you nearly impaled yourself on would do. Yes, take it and use it to pry apart the elevator doors with your good hand. Down the cable, brace yourself against it, hug it well, hold it against you as you would a dear lover. Then jump down, and fall into the abyss. The elevator itself will stop your fall, just don't fall to fast or you'll break your legs. Hold on, slow down, pull the rope to hold yourself, the car is coming up, drop down, hurry open the service hatch. Locked from the inside "Damn it." An unwell pokemon was released, clinging on for life as it weakly growled and spouted some heated flames to melt the metal hatch. "Ember Houndour, now tear it off! come on!" A grabbing hand yanked the pokemon away from the open hatch, singeing the jacket on the hot steel. Their time was almost up. Without an antivenom, they had only a few minutes to live. Quite a pair, running down the last flight of stairs and exiting the back door. Keep running, they wouldn't give up the chase so easily. "Damn it." Conrad collapsed with a thud against a door. And a whining houndour fell down with him. And as sheer luck would have it he landed right at the doorsteps of a Doctor.	Name: Forrest "Woods" Willows Gender: Male Age: 25 Appearance: Adverage height, about 5ft 10in, slightly overweight, about 200lbs, and broad shouldered with a barrel chest. Deep chestnut hair cut short and usually messy. A short wiry beard with a copper tone and a tint of auburn covers a square jaw. Set behind a thick brow is bright blue eyes. He has his mother's thin nose and his father's full lips. Surprisingly fit save for the spare tire around his middle, but non the less handsome. Both ears are pierced with small gauged plugs. A few tattoos cover his sunkissed skin. A Charizard across his chest, a Gyarados wraps around his left arm, and a Bellosom on his inner right forearm. Usually wears outdoorsy functunal garb like plain teeshirts, cargo pants, and hiking boots. Personality: Rough and tough take no bullshit attitude, but underneath his coarse exterior is a real sweetheart. He still don't take no shit though. A rough past conditioned him to put on this mask to cover up his true self. When met with new people and new challenges he tends to revert back until he trusts again. When that happens he is a whole other man. Calm, cool, and collected. For the most part. Still has a bit of a temper and tends to wear it on his sleeves. Some things you just can't shake free of. One thing you'll learn real quick though is he is protective, overbearing, and cautious. Borderline paranoid really. In this day and age who wouldn't be? Background: A street punk for most of his life Forrest thought himself a Rebel until one day he saw a skermish between a local Rebel cell and a Regime raiding party. Seeing the heroics of the true Rebels made him see how silly his feeble attempts at "resisting" was. Vandalism and petty theft was nothing compared to what he had seen. So the next day he asked around and found the true Rebellion and joined the ranks. Surprisingly he was recruited and assigned to a pokemon rescue force. They would go out and track Regime sanctioned poaching and rescue the pokemon from capture and/or death. Pokemon: A Female Makuhita named Mika. Pokemon Background: Mika was a rescue while on assignment in the Appalations of Tennesee. Forrest's group had heard rumor of the Regime being on the lookout for a Tyranitar Nest. The group tracked down the Regime agents and destroyed all their equipment and chased them off. In the aftermath they found cages of some pokemon they had recently captured. One of them was a severely injured Makuhita. She was weak and on death's door, but Forrest could tell she was a fighter and took her under his personal care. Two and a half weeks of sleepless nights later he had name her Mika and they have been inseperable since. Still yet to find her a Pokeball to make it official, but there is still hope.
3,424	77	15	1,767	2,271	Chris listened to the soldier's explanation, which seemed reasonable enough. He noticed how the young boy was so scared of him. Chris remembered that his family were quite known in the Regime. Thankfully, he hadn't needed to use this yet, but it could come in handy. It probably also helped that he was 6'7", just over a foot taller than this particular soldier. "I trust you handled him well," Chris told the soldier. Suddenly, an Eevee ran into the clearing that Chris and the soldier were in, followed by a young man. "Oh, I'm sorry, Eve just started running this way and I couldn't catch her," the boy apologised. An Eevee AND an Umbreon, Chris thought, These would be very good for the Eevee breeding programme. Chris was surprised that these boys would have these pokemon. Most of them were in a breeding programme to make more, due to their rarity. Suddenly, Chris realised how he was thinking, as if he was still in the Regime. I need to stop thinking like this, he told himself, I don't want to get caught back up with that retched organisation. "I was just taking her for a walk and I guess she smelled one of her own kind out here. It's been a long time since she met another of her species," the boy said. "What's your name?" he asked the boy, annoyed that he had to keep up the act longer. "Why are you out so late?"	/Delete
3,425	77	16	2,658	378	Forrest and Mika were about to bed down for the night when the sound of a voice permiated their tent. A moment later another voice sent Forrest scrambling out of the tent to douse the small flame that was their fire. The second voice spoke again. This time Forrest triangulated the direction it came from. They were deeper into the trees than he was a fair bit away, but he still had to make sure they weren't Regime agents. As Forrest moved to investigate Mika made a whimper. "It'll be fine bud. Come on. Just stay low and be quiet." Said the trainer to his pokemon as he heeded his own words. Staying as low and as quiet as he could he followed the sound of the voices. After a few moments the pair stopped in his tracks as he saw and heard something all too familiar. The tell tale flash and crackle of energy of someone calling a pokemon to or from their pokeball. Now that he was closer he could hear better and the second voice seemed to be making introductions with the first. Taking the opportunity to move again Forrest and Mika snuck closer until he could make outlines of the two voices. Forrest thought he heard mention of the Rebels, but couldn't tell so he scooted a little closer and listened for more info. He prayed they weren't Regime thugs, but with his luck it could be anybody.	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,426	77	17	1,767	2,271	Delete	/Delete
3,427	77	18	2,483	4,750	My name's Kale Fields. I live in a trailer park about a mile over there. He pointed to the location of the nearest trailer park. Sure, he had moved out about a week ago so that it'd be harder for them to track him, but his former roommate would cover for him if they were asked. Mostly that's because Kale would pay him to lie, but if it came to that he'd be happy pay up. "Like I said, I'm just taking Eve for a walk. She's not housebroken yet, and woke me up to take her out. Is there a reason I shouldn't be out?" Kale slowly reached for some dried Berries in his pocket. "Do you mind if I give her a treat? Alex can have one too, if you want."	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,428	77	19	1,767	2,271	"Thanks, yeah Alex loves berries. And can I talk to you a moment, alone?" Avary said, hoping to get Male's help to take on Grimm.	/Delete
3,429	77	20	576	94	Sam Fisher Sam nodded to the oddly dressed man, hoping what he said was true and that he had found an unlikely ally in these woods. Indigo's voice began to fade however as instincts took over. He had just offered to come with Sam when Bo let out a low even growl. Sam stole a gaze towards Bo, eyeing his meaty paw as it lightly scratched the ground in the direction of their flank before finally setting it down and grinding his pads into the dirt. Sam could almost read Bo's mind by now, acting as one. The scratching indicated the direction, the grinding meant whatever it was was nearly on top of them. Behind us. Close range. Sam thought to himself. If Bo thought it was a threat he would have told him before now. Whoever it was, surely wasnt Regime. They always carried a particular smell that Bo could usually pick up. Perhaps it was the clothes issued to them. Whatever the case, Sam wrenched his conscious back to the odd man in front of him. "Its a pleasure to meet you Indigo. Youre more than welcome to join us, but know the path ahead isnt safe. I wont tolerate neutrality. I intend to make that very clear in the coming days." Sam said, hoping his crude words struck the appropriate chord with the man. He couldnt afford to be compromised this close to the city. Sam turned on his heel, giving his back to the man and calling to Bo. "That goes for you to, if you plan on tagging along." Sam directed the sentence to a bush some feet away. He started forward, not bothering to exchange pleasantries with yet another stranger. "Both of you should know, if I find out youre Regime, ill kill you." he finished with solidarity. He nodded at Bo, indicating to him that he is on guard from here on out. The sun was rising, outlining the high rise of the city. Whether he found more Rebel forces or not, the trip here would not be a waste. That much, he guaranteed.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,430	77	21	576	94	Unnamed NPC, Dr. Lowe's house His breathing still hadnt quite subsided. His leg was mangled from the fight with the first two Regime officers. For patrol officers, they worked surprisingly well as a team with their Absol and Sandslash. Must be because they were in the city. The rest of his wounds received while outrunning Shadow officers. Ghost types, all three of them. If it hadnt been for Houndoom he'd be dead. To be honest he wasnt sure he would live anyway. He had atleast two broken bones that he could tell and was unable to catch his breath. Houndoom faired a little better but was still in pretty rough shape, panting, even though they had been at rest for some minutes now. Sitting now, in the chair in this Doctor's house, he laughed out loud to himself. A safehouse. He wished. He walked into a strangers house declaring himself as a Rebel. Yet another mistake added to the list from the last 24 hours. He almost didnt care at this point. He succeeded in his mission. It wouldnt be long now before all the units chasing after him were called off to address more...pressing matters. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply and smiling. If he died now, he died with honor, fighting for the Rebellion. "Hey Doc, im not feelin too hot. Im not sure why I was told to come here, but the reality is ive now put your life in danger." he wrenched the words out now, prying them from his burning lungs. "Youre gonna have some time to run. Regime's about to have their hands full. Youll know when its time to run. If you want to live I would. After what ive done...theyll kill you just for having spoken to me." he almost gasped the last words out. He was going to explain further but a resounding thud came from the other side of the door. Perhaps they were here for him already. "DOC!" he yelled louder than he probably needed to. Once the man's attention was his, he spoke his last words. A single, solemn tear ran down his cheek as his Houndoom pawed his leg. "When the lights go out, its time to go." With that the man hiccuped one last laugh before slouching over in the chair motionless as the Houndoom let out a horrific whine, mourning his master.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,431	77	22	2,658	378	Indigo Samson Indigo would immediately stop speaking as Bo took to growling, and Maximillian took point between Indigo's shoes. Each of them covered a different direction. Indigo bent his arms and squinted, eyes darting to every point in his perspective. Even if there were Regime, it was unlikely that he would be able to see in this dim lighting. He'd have to reflex Sam's actions, and precisely at that. Maximillian remained quiet as ever, claws dug into the ground. His battle stance was low to the ground, an instinctual guard against being flipped and knocked. A low center of gravity made it more difficult for opposing pokémon to push Maximillian around. Downward facing spikes gave the Nidoran♂ even more traction in this regard, each one lightly scraping against the dirt, a baseball player rubbing his shoes in the dirt before a hit. Maximillian awaited orders, and Indigo awaited a sign. Sam continued to speak, and Indigo raised an eyebrow in response. He inferred there weren't any Regime around if the man continued to exchange formalities. Who, or what, was out there then? Indigo's response was quick, practiced, "I've studied this path more times than I can count. If I wasn't okay with the odds being against me, I would've backed down before I started." Sam turned away, speaking to whoever his Growlithe had detected. A handy tool that fire dog was; he'd be an important asset for invading the city and night watches. Maximillian's large ears began moving about as sonar. Where Bo was capable in detecting smells, Maximillian could hear sounds. In more frequencies and farther away than any human could. Nidoran♂ were famous for their hearing abilities, something Indigo drilled into Maximillian's training. Maximillian's ears both faced the same direction as to where Sam was speaking, but he gave no queues as to a dangerous foe. Indigo straightened his arms, allowing them to float at his sides. Upon the mentioning of being killed, something passed as an act so casual, Indigo bit the inside of his cheek. He rubbed it between his gritting teeth, mouth slightly agape. Indigo was on the Rebellion's side, that was certain, but how was that side defined? It apparently ranged from person to person, whereas Indigo took a non-lethal approach. He had encountered many Regime members and sabotaged their efforts, but never had he killed anyone. And he guessed Sam would, no, that he was going to. Or perhaps he had. And if Sam were to take the same approach to the Regime's pokémon... Indigo shook his head. He'd involuntarily began to hone in on the ground, losing focus of his physical state. An intolerance to neutrality, death to those who opposed the Rebellion, it was a bit much to handle of Sam's personality in one conversation. Sam was extreme, at the least, though some would say he had the qualities of being a strong leader. What kind of leader that was, Indigo would find out shortly, if a leader at all. He nodded. Indigo would go along for now. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe he'd tagged Sam for who he truly was in that forest. Indigo had one stipulation to add after scratching his chin for some time. "We act and decide as equal members of the Rebellion. No vote usurps another." Indigo extended an open hand to properly greet his new ally, awaiting his response.	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,432	77	23	19	1,003	Brynn Wild Close by , , & Vi's ears perked at the word 'treat' one of the men up ahead spoke and her stance became slouched, almost relaxed. Without hesitation, Vi ducked through the brush and entered into the open, walking down the street towards the two men and young boy. I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself from calling her back to me. Reaching into my vest, I grab both Vi and Grimm's pokeballs out, releasing Grimm from his slumber with my left hand. Pop! Simultaneously, with my right arm, I toss Vi's Cherish ball out at her and with a single bounce, Pop! Vi returns into her ball. Quickly, I jump from out of my hiding place and land smoothly on my feet, calling out to Grimm lowly, "Wrap it up, Grimm." As trained, Grimm flips his club in hand and uses Bonemerang, sending it through the air. The club flies straight a few yards before it flips back around making it's way back towards us and smack! hits Vi's ball up off the ground right into my hand. I secure her ball back in the pocket of my vest and immediately take off in the opposite direction of the group, knowing Grimm will follow closely behind with ease. It's still dark out, and I'd use that to my advantage for the time being. Unless I get sniffed out, I shouldn't be found. Even then, it's easy to manipulate the Regime's hounds, just not so easy to escape the soldiers that gave them the orders. They carried weapons of their own besides their well-trained pokemon slaves. Putting a good amount of distance between the group I left behind, I stop down a small alleyway to catch my breath, but only for a moment. 'You have to keep moving,' I reminded myself. Grimm pulls himself up into a planter placed outside the back door of an old business, sitting down in the dirt and begins patting himself down with handfuls of it. A smile nearly reaches my ears at the site of it, knowing I'd trained him too well how to hide his scent. I grab fistfuls of my own, padding my clothing down with the dry, dark earth to disguise my scent. "Can't be too careful, can we, Grimm?" Grimm's eyes narrow into slits and acquired crows feet at the corners, which I could always assume was his smile. Taking a look around, it was hard to tell which direction we were heading in. 'Damn those guys,' I glared back in the direction I'd left them in, turning back to face where we were now headed. With no map, there was only hoping I was heading in the right direction. I ease up out of my crouched position and begin heading off with one hand tightly grasping my backpack strap across my chest, the other pressed tightly in a fist against my mouth to muffle a yawn. 'Shelter. We need to find shelter.' I begin looking around while we walk down the empty streets, searching for any sign of life in the windows of the homes and businesses we pass along the way.	♦Name♦ "My name is Bronwyn Wild, but I just go by Brynn. No need for the full name. I hate it, anyway." ♦Gender♦ "Is it that hard to tell? I'm a female, you uncultured swine." ♦Age♦ "21-years of age." ♦Other♦ "I've got combat skills. Grimm, Vi and I train, it's not just on them when it comes to protection between us. I can fight." ♦Personality♦ "I guess you could say I'm your typical loner. Kind of a rebel, as well, honestly. Not the hard-core types, but one all the same. I care deeply, and love purely. Throughout the years of hardships I've faced, I manage to keep a soft spirit and a kind heart. I'm a fighter. I stand up for what's right in the world. Not much that's right about it, now, but.. I don't give up. Nor am I easily intimidated by the Regime, or anyone else. Stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed.. whatever you may call it. All of the above, I guess. I don't give up easy, that's for sure. I doubt you'll find another girl quite like me." ♦Background♦ "I lost my mother when I was young, and my father. Well, he was never around back in the day, but out of the blue decided to pop back into my life. Come to find out, my father is a high ranking Regime Officer. Makes me hate him even more. I've pretty much been on my own since I was 12-years-old. Luckily when I was 14, nearly 15, I found Grimm. Since then, he and I have thrived pretty well.. for a couple of orphans, anyway. We've stayed out of the Regime's eye for the most part, up until my father mysteriously found us. We only take what we need but we always give back - except for Grimm's pokeball. I'm not giving that back, obviously. I found it on the road, where it must have fallen out of a Regime transport truck." ♦Pokemon♦ "On Regime books, I've got my female Vulpix, named 'V'. What they don't know, is I've also got a second Pokemon. A male Cubone I've named Grimm." ♦Pokemon Background♦ "My Cubone, Grimm has been with me 6, almost 7 years. Grimm and I were truly meant for one another. I lost my mother when I was just 11-years-old, on the brink of turning 12, to liver failure. Come to find out later, she was a heavy alcoholic. Anyway, I was out in the woods moping around while attempting to gather some firewood before dark when I, quite literally, stumbled upon a small Pokemon. I picked up the logs I'd dropped in the process to turn back to the Pokemon to find it was crying, sitting up against a bush. Leaves, branches and scuff marks covered the ground, ugly scars left on tree trunks that now oozed it's lifeblood sap.... The poor Pokemon had tear stains running through the dirt layer on his face mask. His crying grew louder from the moment I gazed his way. I felt sorry for him. I'd heard stories of the Cubone Pokemon, and thinking back on them now, I could relate to it. I got down on one knee, setting aside my scrawny logs to free my hands so I could pull out the bandanna from my back pocket. With it, I held up my hand to show him I had no weapon and I meant no harm. The Cubone's crying stopped almost instantly and he watched me with weary eyes, probably not sure what to do in the moment. Let me in, or run. I'd have chosen the latter if I was him, I wouldn't have blamed him. With a cautious hand, I wiped his mask clean of both tears and dirt. I picked up his club and held it out to him as I murmured, "My mother's gone, too. You'll see yours again, one day." I got up once he took his club back, gathering my things and leaving. To my surprise, a few minutes up the road the very same Cubone was in my path, staring me down with a kind smile. He had to have cut through the forest to beat me there, but there he stood. The Cubone followed me all the way home, and ever has followed me every step of the way since. I am his, and Grimm is mine. How I came across Vee is, well. It's a different story, I'll tell you that. When my father, Rhaeger Cross the Regime Officer reappeared in my life, he taught me quite a bit about how to avoid the Regime and how to properly train my pokemon. Honestly, that's the only thing I'm grateful about him giving me, besides V. Before parting ways, my father handed me a deep red Cherish Ball and told me it was a gift from my mother. I released the pokemon to find a small Vulpix with five tails, hence the name V. Roman numeral for five. Had it not been sent by my mother, I'd have given it back. V remains the only pokemon in my possession on Regime records, thanks to my father. The relationship I have with V isn't as strong as the one I have with Grimm, but each shares mutual respect between trainer and pokemon. I've run into trainers who treat their pokemon much like the Regime do to their 'service pokemon'. Master and Servant. It's disgusting. Pokemon deserve to be treated better. They're much like us. On the run, afraid and alone. Why shouldn't they be treated the same as we'd treat another human being?" ♦Appearance♦ "I have dark brown eyes and the hair to match them. My hair length extends down to my chest and remains straight until it gets humid, then it gets a bit of a wavy curl going on. Standing straight, I peak at about 5'10" and weight approximately 145lbs. Slim, athletic build." ♦Outfit & Pack♦ "Plain black snapback hat. White v-neck, short-sleeve t-shirt. Black, sleeveless vest. Black boots. Black pants. Dark brown bomber jacket. Black sling backpack with included camelbak and side-pouch bottle." 2.0 (Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld)
3,433	77	24	2,424	1,745	The man seemed pale... introspective... his breathing was increasingly ragged. Were there internal injuries Jethro had missed? He uttered out a warning about needing to escape. The way he worded it implied he himself would not be coming. Before Jethro could reply anything to the man's grim warning, his train of thought was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. THe doctor stood up and hesitantly walked to open. Maybe... maybe this guy was just some hobo in need of a high through some convoluted plan... He opened the door, and the one on the other side quite literally fell in. The telltale uniform of the shadow division was worn by the man. However, he was anything but treathening. Bruised, battered, and slipping out of conciousness. "Hey... stay with me!" The doctor shouted, dragging the man inside. Had he been a less moral man, he would have just left this second stranger there and called the police. But damn it! he was a doctor, and it was obvious this guy wasn't gonna make it unless he did something. "When the lights go out... It's time to go" A now somewhat familiar voice choked out behind Jethro. He looked behind him to see the stranger... no... his patient, slipping off his seat. By the time Jethro was there, he could only confirm what was already made apparant by the mournful howl of the houndoom. Jethro did not take pause... there was someone he could still help. He closed his front door and quickly examined the man, and the houndour he found besides the man... Two stab wounds with swollen tissue around them... A poisonous bite of some sort most likely. Again, Jethro went to his medicine closet. This time, he just empied the whole closet into a washing tub he took with him on the way. Searching through his equipment, he found himself lacking in sterile needles... that wouldn't do, especially with a poisoned patient. He slowly turned to the houndoom standing over its still friend. "I need sterile needles to help these guys... the quickest way is to heat them... A.C. can't create the amount of heat needed... I need your help." Jethro gulped for a moment, Pokemon such as houndoom were generally quite temperamental and unpredictable to people 'outside their own pack'. The black hound came closer... and carefully blew a jet of flame on jethro's syringe... The doctor nodded in thanks. He measured out a dosage of general purpose antidote... For the houndour, and then for the man. He might not know exactly what he was doing to help humans, but pokemon he most definitely knew how to help. The medicine would supress the worst of the poison. It was the best he could do for them until he knew what pokemon the poison originated from. Then, just as things seemed to finally calm down. There was more knocking on the door. "This is the police! we have reason to believe you are harboring dissidents! Open up! We have a warrant to enter by force if necesarry." Thoughts rushed through Jethro's head... He could open the door and let the police in... let them deal with the home invader and the poisoned stranger... It was more than possibel for him to play the innocent bystander here... So why was he dragging the poisoned man with him towards the fire escape? "A.C., get the houndour!" As the porygon latched some of its blocky appendages on the small black dog, Jethro was wrestling open the window. Perhaps it was the dead man's words ringing in his head... "They'll kill you just for talking to me." He had warned him... And with how insane things had been these last few moments, he was inclined to believe this warning. There was also the mather of condemning another man... He might survive, but the regime wouldn't spare what was likely a member of the resistance... As attractive as it sounded to go back to the daily grind after this experience... Jethro just couldn't bring himself to do such a thing. A makuhita pushed the door off its hinges. Quickly, a squad of police officers in full combat gear rushed in. Their pokemon spearheading for them. They found only a dead man and an open window leading to a fire escape. "Sweep the area! they can't be far!" the largest man of the lot shouted. Jethro could hear the man shouting from where he was, just jumping off the bottom of the fire escape. The houndoom had followed him and helped him support the poisoned man... Still, there was no way he was outrunning these guys, not with the stranger weighing him down like that... But he had to try. He was not going to leave anyone to their deaths if he could help it.	Name: Forrest "Woods" Willows Gender: Male Age: 25 Appearance: Adverage height, about 5ft 10in, slightly overweight, about 200lbs, and broad shouldered with a barrel chest. Deep chestnut hair cut short and usually messy. A short wiry beard with a copper tone and a tint of auburn covers a square jaw. Set behind a thick brow is bright blue eyes. He has his mother's thin nose and his father's full lips. Surprisingly fit save for the spare tire around his middle, but non the less handsome. Both ears are pierced with small gauged plugs. A few tattoos cover his sunkissed skin. A Charizard across his chest, a Gyarados wraps around his left arm, and a Bellosom on his inner right forearm. Usually wears outdoorsy functunal garb like plain teeshirts, cargo pants, and hiking boots. Personality: Rough and tough take no bullshit attitude, but underneath his coarse exterior is a real sweetheart. He still don't take no shit though. A rough past conditioned him to put on this mask to cover up his true self. When met with new people and new challenges he tends to revert back until he trusts again. When that happens he is a whole other man. Calm, cool, and collected. For the most part. Still has a bit of a temper and tends to wear it on his sleeves. Some things you just can't shake free of. One thing you'll learn real quick though is he is protective, overbearing, and cautious. Borderline paranoid really. In this day and age who wouldn't be? Background: A street punk for most of his life Forrest thought himself a Rebel until one day he saw a skermish between a local Rebel cell and a Regime raiding party. Seeing the heroics of the true Rebels made him see how silly his feeble attempts at "resisting" was. Vandalism and petty theft was nothing compared to what he had seen. So the next day he asked around and found the true Rebellion and joined the ranks. Surprisingly he was recruited and assigned to a pokemon rescue force. They would go out and track Regime sanctioned poaching and rescue the pokemon from capture and/or death. Pokemon: A Female Makuhita named Mika. Pokemon Background: Mika was a rescue while on assignment in the Appalations of Tennesee. Forrest's group had heard rumor of the Regime being on the lookout for a Tyranitar Nest. The group tracked down the Regime agents and destroyed all their equipment and chased them off. In the aftermath they found cages of some pokemon they had recently captured. One of them was a severely injured Makuhita. She was weak and on death's door, but Forrest could tell she was a fighter and took her under his personal care. Two and a half weeks of sleepless nights later he had name her Mika and they have been inseperable since. Still yet to find her a Pokeball to make it official, but there is still hope.
3,434	77	25	2,241	60	Chris listened to the solider's explanation, "Yes sir I handled them they jumped out at me from nowhere, so I took care of them," he was told. "That's very good," he told the soldier. "By the way, I never got your name," he said, "What is it?" He was annoyed of not knowing this solider's name, even though it was quite obvious that the solider knew his. "My name's Kale Fields. I live in a trailer park about a mile over there," the boy, Kale, told Chris. This story sounded realistic, some pokemon took a long time to house train. He needn't worry or not he was lying, since he wasn't really a regime medic, and he could also see Duskull out of the corner of his eye. Chris was sure that Duskull would look out for him, and he also knew that anyone would believe he was a rebel if they found out about his shiny pokemon. When the soldier asked Kale to speak alone with him, however, Chris became slightly suspicious.	Name: Odette Westfall Age: 23 Gender: Female Odette has purple hair, usually pinned up into a bun, and brown eyes. Usually wears a white lab coat, t-shirt, and capris.(new pic in the works!) Personality: Initially shy, Odette opens up to show an outgoing and personable attitude once you get to know her. She is extremely independent and sometimes a little hard headed, but generally means well. History: Odette was born into a glamorous life. Everything she desired was hers, especially pokemon. Her family was one of the few that, while secretly, opposed the way The Regime treated the creatures. She was to be taught to raise them with the respect they deserved. It wasn't to be. On her fifth birthday, her family home was burned to the ground along with her parents and siblings. The one thing she kept was a single pokeball clutched to her chest. Inside, an eevee named Lys, after her mother. Although now an orphan living with a family friend, it didn't take long for the young girl to realize everything she knew about pokemon was wrong. Whatever happened, Lys was there to share Odette's joy, pain, and sadness. On a rather upsetting day, Odette decided to run away from home the city. She couldn't stand the way Pokemon were treated by her family and friends. While out in the middle if who knows where, she was attacked by a wild Pokemon and Lys came to her rescue. After the battle, Lys turned toward her trainer and mewed before being engulfed in a brilliant light. Once the light faded, Lys and Odette went home, both understanding their friendship. Over the years, Odette became infatuated by science and pledged her life to the study of ways to make the life of pokemon easier. Her work was often ridiculed or turned to nasty purpose, causing her to dislike the government even more. Unable to take it any longer, she fled the city with the aid of her pokemon finding solace with the rebels as nothing more than a mysterious tinkerer, afraid of what they would do should they find out what kind of pain her inventions had inadvertently caused pokemon. Pokemon: Espeon pokemon nickname: Lys Pokemon history: Lys comes from a long line of pampered pokemon. She was specifically bred to be given to Odette on her fifth birthday and has a superb pedigree. Since that tragic evening, she has not left her lady's side. Other: N/A
3,435	77	26	576	94	Sam Fisher Sam had kept mostly quiet over the next day, pondering how he handled these strangers. Had be been too harsh? Probably. But if there was one thing he learned since being on his own, it was to take nobody at face value. They very well could still be Regime after all, and he couldnt risk them thinking he was weak. If they planned on betraying him, atleast now they knew they would be in for a fight. The three had long since entered the city and night was upon them now. Lucky enough for them, the side they entered was mostly abandoned save for a few sets of eyes peering through closed blinds. Was the entire city like this? He had heard stories of certain parts of the city being essentially abandoned but he had never seen it himself. As he walked through the empty and dark corridors devoid of life, he debated with himself on whether he should apologize to his party, but ran out of time as he began to hear the hustle and bustle of people. They were coming to the other side of the Manhattan bridge now and the city was finally showing signs of life, even at this hour. Citizens were out and about, streets were buzzing with noise, and Regime officers were everywhere. Sam began to get nervous for the first time in days. A city this size was not ideal for him and Bo, having spent most of their time outside cities in rural areas their entire lives. He signaled to the others to branch off and separate, hoping they understood what his gesture meant. Sam was slipping through the crowd, seemingly with ease, keeping his head down and eyes up, but the same could not be said for Bo. Sam had never bothered to find a pokeball for Bo, having never really needed one. Now however, he wished more than anything that he had one. Bo was trying his best to stay low and avoid people, but they wouldnt allow it. Bo's powerful physique led the eye right up to a thick and healthy mane. Most common folk had never seen a pokemon like him in person. What made matters worse, was that Sam had never come across a fire stone either. Sure, he and Bo had talked about it at length before (Bo obviously didnt say much) but due to the rarity and difficulty in getting one, he had given up hope. The result was a rather large form of his current state, being large even by Growlithe standards, ultimately forfeiting what would have been an advantage of a young and unevolved pokemon. Sam watched as people gawked and pointed at Bo, making it impossible to keep a low profile. It wasnt long before Regime guards took notice and quickly tailed the duo. Sam swore under his breath. He hadnt made it two blocks into Manhattan and he had already been noticed. His pace quickened as he saw more guards take notice, and ignored the shouts directed at him by the first few. Turning a corner, he began sprinting, Bo next to him and keeping up all too easy, covering four of his strides in one bound. The shouts from the guards were threats now as he put distance between them. Him and Bo were survivors, and rightfully so prided themselves on being in shape to handle anything the Regime may throw at them. He weaved an intricate trail through the alleyways, being aware of the direction he was going. He spilled out onto a sidewalk, and surprisingly enough just feet away were the other two he had traveled here with, pokemon out, and only slightly short of breath. He could hear the guards' shouts not far behind them, getting closer with every passing moment. Sam started up again, but quickly stopped. The city shook. He looked around, looking for a source of the possible explosion. Again the city shook. He looked to his companions, who look just as perplexed as him. Were there bombs going off? Once more the city shook, this time taking the lights with it. The heavy, low whine of transformers shutting down in mass numbers filled the air. Streetlights above exploded in a cascade of glass. Lights in buildings everywhere were blowing out, causing widespread panic amongst citizens who now frantically ran for the safety of their homes or the nearest bomb shelter. The guards who had been following had seemingly disappeared. Sam took off up the street towards the sound of the explosions. He heard a voice behind mutter something about running towards what was likely Regime soldiers, but he ignored it, choosing instead to follow his gut. Turning the corner into a nearby alley, he collided with a group of people. From his back Sam looked up to see what appeared to be a doctor and two others, one being in pretty rough shape. The trio had multiple pokemon with them, and as Sam jumped up and retreated back a few feet, he realized he now found himself between a wall of people and pokemon alike. Behind him, his two companions and their pokemon along with Bo. In front of him was a Hondour, Houndoom, Espeon, and Porygon. The man who looked to be a doctor helped the lady with him support the last man, clad in Regime Shadow Division garb. Moments of silence passed between the two groups. Was this a Regime doctor helping an injured soldier? He could have asked any number of questions that would have better served to explain who they were, and thus help determine whether or not he should be worried. He refrained from asking them however, finally breaking the awkward scene with what they probably viewed as a weird question. Sam looked to the doctor now, "Do you know why the lights are out?" As the last words left his mouth, a piercing shriek could be heard throughout the sky. The entirety of the group looked to the sky as a giant and majestic golden bird soared through the night. Electricity following in its wake, along with what seemed to be dozens of pokemon, all chasing the enormous beast.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,436	77	27	1,767	2,271	Delete	/Delete
3,437	77	28	2,483	4,750	Collab between Overlord24 and TheUnknowable Kale gave Eve a berry, then held one out in his palm for Alex. "Ah, I get it," he said, pretending to be a normal person who had no idea what was going on. "You think if we can breed then, we could make a bit of money. I'm listening." He walked over to the probably-fake uniform-clad man so that they could discuss "business" privately. "What? No, I don't want to breed them, I need to tell you," now dropping his voice down to a whisper, "I'm not Regime, at least not anymore. I need your help to take down the other guy, he's a high-up in the Regime. If you help me, I can help you." "The "breeding" thing's a cover," Kale said quietly, "and I think we should maintain it for now, as a greedy agent's treated much better that a turncoat, especially if you aren't above bribing your CO." He scratched his chin, acting as if he was thinking about it. "Not sure if I can help you, though. I've never killed anyone before and I'd rather not start." He still wasn't sure it wasn't a trap, but if this guy really was with the rebellion, he didn't want to make himself seem too dedicated to the Regime. "I'm not trying to trick if that's what you think, and I'm not asking you to kill him, I'm just needing you to help me incapacitate him, and the breeding idea is good. But please, I really need help, I'm on the run from the Regime, but I can do this with just me and Alex if need help, but you and your Eevee could help quite a lot. And I know the way to a Resistance base, I'm heading that way, so if you want I can bring you there." "Ok, then, as long as we let him live. You think they'd reward us if we brought them a prisoner?" Kale glanced over at Eve and motioned for her to come over. "Probably, I like the way you think. OK, I say we come out talking about Pokemon breeding, then when he doesn't expect anything, I send Alex at him, you can send Eve, and when we get him off guard, we call them back and launch ourselves at him. I have some rope, I know he's a strong soldier, but it's really strong rope." Avary says this with hope and fierce determination in his eyes. "Or, we could just have them use Swift or Quick attack, keep him off balance. Besides, there's a problem," Kale bent down to pick Eve up, then stood up again. "We don't know what his pokemon is or even where it is. The fact that it's hidden could mean it's a ghost, which would make moves like tackle and bite useless." Kale heard a noise in the woods. "Pokeballs." he said. "Regime?" Civilians rarely had them. Sure, he did, but his was a special case. "I heard that to, but I think you're right, he is very famous among the Regime, when I was- I mean, I heard rumors that he had a ghost type, he's very powerful, so is Hawkins, but if we surprise them, and I ask Alex to use Shadowball, then we might be able to take them down." "Ok, then, you deal with the pokemon, I'll deal with him. If the Regime really is out there, though, we'll need to run. You want to start the attack?" He set Eve down and motioned for her to scurry over to the Regime officer, looking up at him with the same Baby Doll Eyes she used earlier. "Let's do this," at this Avary sent Umbreon out to go with Eve and use baby doll eyes as well. After they did that, Avary launched out from where he and Kale were talking with the his staff raised at Hawkins. "Eat this Regime scumbag!"	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,438	77	29	2,424	1,745	In the haze of the dream world. Leaping from endless cloud to endless cloud. A place between our world, where darkness rules and visitors pay the toll for passing. Was this death? with the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us. I feel stupid, and contagious, here we are now, entertain us. Hello hello hello... "Hello, Conrad." A voice without image. A projection of himself floating in his own consciousness as the needle pierced his skin. A prisoner of his own mind, trapped in a state between life and death, so was this limbo? An image appeared, the dark clouds parting to reveal a strange sight, it was a creature of fantasy, a wyrm-like monster with six shadowy tendrils emerging like wings from its back. A head capped like a centipede, with golden rings around its neck and spikes across its body and tail. What was this thing? A pokemon? "Am I dead?" the question asked, unsure of where he was, nor what experience was this. But his answer never came as he suddenly found himself gasping for air as water filled his lungs. And the creature disappeared. He was naked, bathed in the fluids which had formed a hydrosphere around him. In panic for his life, his arms flailing about, eyes widened in shock as the last of his breath was fading with the bubbles. His subconscious consciousness fading as his eyes grew heavy. That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die. The needle had burst his aqueous prison, released from the womb and falling into the void with the gush of water. Born once more into the world. Waking slowly, breathing once more as he was lifted by invisible hands and carried into the world. The antidote running its course through his plumbing, venom neutralized by a cocktail of whatever it was they made these with. Those pokebiologists were usually good at surpassing the biologists in their study of pokemon. As such most poisons produced by pokemon were neutralized by one administration of an antidote through the circulatory system. Critical organ failure however, took more than an injection of antidote. Fortunately Conrad would recover, soon enough, despite the woozy feeling in his stomach. But now as his eyes cracked open with a groan, he questioned if his dream had truly ended. For now there was an entourage of people among him, a houndoom, a porygon, and espeon, a guy in white coat and a girl. Was he captured? Why was the city dark? What was that? A screeching cry that split the sky, a peal of thunder, dark clouds like those of his dream casting their storms to strikes the tall buildings. A golden bird, no, a shinnying one, with wings jagged like the streaks of lighting across the sky. Behind it all types of Pokémon in pursuit. "The Grid... Zapdos" Weakley uttered to the doc, "is houndour okay?" Consciousness faded once more. He felt his eyes grow heavy, his stomach churning its contents. And with the vomiting of his acids, Conrad returned to his dream world.	Name: Forrest "Woods" Willows Gender: Male Age: 25 Appearance: Adverage height, about 5ft 10in, slightly overweight, about 200lbs, and broad shouldered with a barrel chest. Deep chestnut hair cut short and usually messy. A short wiry beard with a copper tone and a tint of auburn covers a square jaw. Set behind a thick brow is bright blue eyes. He has his mother's thin nose and his father's full lips. Surprisingly fit save for the spare tire around his middle, but non the less handsome. Both ears are pierced with small gauged plugs. A few tattoos cover his sunkissed skin. A Charizard across his chest, a Gyarados wraps around his left arm, and a Bellosom on his inner right forearm. Usually wears outdoorsy functunal garb like plain teeshirts, cargo pants, and hiking boots. Personality: Rough and tough take no bullshit attitude, but underneath his coarse exterior is a real sweetheart. He still don't take no shit though. A rough past conditioned him to put on this mask to cover up his true self. When met with new people and new challenges he tends to revert back until he trusts again. When that happens he is a whole other man. Calm, cool, and collected. For the most part. Still has a bit of a temper and tends to wear it on his sleeves. Some things you just can't shake free of. One thing you'll learn real quick though is he is protective, overbearing, and cautious. Borderline paranoid really. In this day and age who wouldn't be? Background: A street punk for most of his life Forrest thought himself a Rebel until one day he saw a skermish between a local Rebel cell and a Regime raiding party. Seeing the heroics of the true Rebels made him see how silly his feeble attempts at "resisting" was. Vandalism and petty theft was nothing compared to what he had seen. So the next day he asked around and found the true Rebellion and joined the ranks. Surprisingly he was recruited and assigned to a pokemon rescue force. They would go out and track Regime sanctioned poaching and rescue the pokemon from capture and/or death. Pokemon: A Female Makuhita named Mika. Pokemon Background: Mika was a rescue while on assignment in the Appalations of Tennesee. Forrest's group had heard rumor of the Regime being on the lookout for a Tyranitar Nest. The group tracked down the Regime agents and destroyed all their equipment and chased them off. In the aftermath they found cages of some pokemon they had recently captured. One of them was a severely injured Makuhita. She was weak and on death's door, but Forrest could tell she was a fighter and took her under his personal care. Two and a half weeks of sleepless nights later he had name her Mika and they have been inseperable since. Still yet to find her a Pokeball to make it official, but there is still hope.
3,439	77	30	2,483	4,750	After being threatened Forrest had long since left the two known as Sam and Indigo to their own devices. If he was going to join them he needed to pack his stuff. Returning to their camp Forrest and Mika deconstructed camp and packed up. Half an hour later he approached the others and introduced himself as Woods. A cover name he gave until he trusted people. Listening to Sam's plan to enter the city, Forrest honestly couldn't think of a better plan. It had taken the better part of the day to enter the city. The last of the sun had finally crested over the horizon leaving the city to light itself. Once in the city Forrest noticed something. It was eerily quiet. No one walked the streets and the only signs of life was the fresh garbage lining the alleys. That was until they finally crossed the Mahattan bridge. Forrest hadn't seen that many people in one place in months. The nervous aura coming off Sam didn't help his own. Seeing a cluster of Regime agents Sam signaled to split up. Taking the left flank Forrest and Mika dissapeared into a crowd of Hat ladies. Keeping an eye on Sam, Forrest kept a safe distance. Lucky enough for him fighting-type pokemon are pretty common in the city. Used by blue collar folk like construction workers and such. Unfortunately Bo was another story. The Growlithe seemed to be causing quite the stir. Attracting the attentions of nearby Regime agents. They spat out warnings which Sam ignored. when they ordered him to halt and Sam bolted into an alleyway, Forrest cursed under his breathe. He hated running, but he did it anyway. Doing his best to follow, anticipate, and track Forrest trailed along. Meeting up with Indigo after taking an alleyway they followed a street they believed Sam could possibly turn on. Fortunately for them they were right. Seeing Sam pullout onto the sidewalk the trio stopped and acknowledged each other a moment. They then started off again, but not before five steps later the ground shook. Twice more the ground shook and Forrest looked with Sam for a possible explosion. They locked eyes and Sam looked as confused as Forrest. Sam then just bolted towards where the sounds had came from. Forrest had no other choice but to follow. There could be hurt people and Pokemon. "I know what you're thinking, but you know it'll be crawlling with Regime agents." Muttered Forrest as he followed Sam. The man just ignored him and sprinted down an alley. He sighed deeply and followed. Forrest was met by the sound of bodies colliding. When he caught up he saw Sam on the ground looking up at two people, a woman and man, helping another man walk. Along with the new folks were a houndoom, espeon, and aconclomeration of pink and blue shapes carrying a houndour. An odd sight to behold, but what made it worse was the passed out man was dressed as a Regime agent. Forrest and Mika both growled their distain and the trainer was about to start throwing accusations when Sam beat him to the punch, albeit with a much different question. "Who gives a shit about the ligh..." Began Forrest when he was interuppted by the screech from hell. It was accompanied by a huge flying creature with wings of lightning and flaps of roaring thunder. It was beeing chased by a huge flock of pokemon. Was that thing a pokemon? He had heard of legenary class pokemon, but never seen one before. Forrest could feel it's power from here. He wasn't one for puns but the only word to explain the power he felt was: Electrifying.	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,440	77	31	2,658	378	Indigo Samson Indigo scratched his palms, watching the few people around as closely as the people he was with. They’d made an agreement before entering the city. At an impasse each person had one vote, and no vote was greater than another. Though, a word only went so far these days. Indigo’s pupils shivered. His breath was shallow and rapid. Sam’s shoulders were poised. Bo’s stride was swift. Indigo knew, though, they were afraid as him. Being a rat in a maze did that to a man. Even if they were a group of three rats, they were still rats. The passages were narrow and there was only one exit. Indigo took the rear and allowed the other two an advance position. His eyes shifted to the side, looking to the back of Woods’ head. They hadn’t spent enough time together for Indigo to really gauge any sort of his character. On top of that he seemed quiet, or perhaps wary. Maybe both. His Pokémon, a Makuhita, was a strong addition to their current roster. A fighting Pokémon was difficult to defeat in physical combat. With supporting attacks from Growlithe and Nidoran♂, her punches would become nigh unblockable for a single Pokémon. For that to work, though, they needed security in each other. They and their Pokémon, each of them needed to know what the other was to do as it occurred. Such as a trainer has a relationship with their Pokémon, so it must be in a team battle. There is no talking, no mistakes, simply execution. Three stranger rats in unknown territory had to work in absolute coordination. And there was that last part of that bond, the most important thing to consider: trust. They shared about two days of travel and a loose coalition they followed. Indigo pulled on his collar and cleared his throat. If somebody had noticed, they hadn’t said anything. Eyes between blinds shot glares at the trio as they walked through the rougher parts of the city. Their gazes pierced Indigo’s own. Trash rolled across gutters. Mangy animals hid in dark alleyways. They knocked over cardboard boxes and hissed from yellow, glowing eyes. Maximillian maneuvered between Indigo’s shoes, taking three steps for every one Indigo made. The Nidoran’s♂ ears turned and twisted in unheard of directions. Maximillian looked up to Indigo, who returned his glance with a faint smile. His eyes arched upward beneath his black, square frames, and his heart could be heard thumping against his chest. Maximillian nodded, and continued to adjust his antennae ears. Indigo didn’t like the idea of Maximillian being outside of his pokéball in such a dangerous area, but it was necessary. Indigo needed to hide the technology from the Regime, but he also needed Maximillian’s hearing capabilities. It might be the difference between an ambush and an escape. Indigo still traced the outline of the sphere in his pants pocket, but he didn’t dare grasp it. Indigo’s mouth began to dry as they approached Manhattan bridge. Some invisible force pushed down on his chest, and he was visibly paler. Indigo’s palms shuffled against his purple suit coat. He felt a scrape against his pant leg. Indigo looked down to meet Maximillian’s stare. His pupils vibrated and his neck swiveled, motioning forward. Sam and Woods continued to walk farther forward, but they hadn’t noticed Indigo’s pause yet. Maximillian stomped on the ground twice with his front two legs, and swung his head from side to side, unleashing a flux of air from his nostrils. He revealed his neck and stood high upon his front legs, vibrating pupils boring holes into Indigo’s face. Indigo swiveled his head, looking at the crossroads sign toward Sam and Woods and back the way he came. Indigo made hours out of moments. His lips tucked inward and he nodded at Maximillian, rushing to catch up to the now distant Rebels. Civilians and Regime alike contained the trio. Indigo did not mind the feel of a city, but this was worse, much worse. It was like the boot of an officer permanently stuck digging into your stomach. People knocked against Indigo, sending him into others, into others. Indigo saw Regime in every citizen. He profusely apologized in-between knockings and goings. Indigo felt another scrape against his pant leg, and he took a deep breath. There were no more apologies. Sam gave a sort of signal, and as he merged with another tide Indigo figured the trio were to split up. Indigo and Maximillian ducked and weaved within the heavier rapids of the crowd. Even if they were spotted by the Regime as outsiders, they would need to traverse difficult terrain. Despite their efforts of blending in with numbers, scarce amounts of Regime became visibly suspicious. Maximillian noticed before they acted. His superb hearing was able to differentiate the different voices in the sea of sound, and he picked up on Regime conversation. They’d been detected. There was a light push against his inner, left ankle. They were to the west, far enough but still approaching. Indigo’s tall form ducked beneath the waves of heads and began maneuvering toward an alleyway on the same side of the street. Leaping from the crowd, the two sprinted into the alleyway as they heard a shout, again to their left. They rounded a sharp corner. Spikes shot from Maximillian’s body and covered the floor and walls of the turn, glowing purple even in the dim light. The two navigated through narrow passages and avoided dead ends. Indigo had studied this route. No, that was a dead end, take a left instead. That led back to the street. Right, left, straight, hold, okay keep going. They leapt over trashcan hurdles, murky puddles, and climbed over chain-link fences. Eventually, their breath in unison merged with an exit, just as Woods came careening from another path, and Sam from the opposite way. The three fell silent to collect themselves. The world held it’s breath, and then it screamed. The sound and the fury of a golden storm erupted from the sky. Glass erupted from street lights as Indigo crouched over Maximillian and covered his own face with bent arms. Maximillian’s ears turned every direction, head swiveling, front legs pacing in place. A shadowy fist clenched the city as almost all light ceased to be. The only remaining illumination came in intervals, lightning striking down from furling clouds. “What’s happening?” Indigo said, still in his hunched position. His eyes widened as his neck arched upward. The sky became bright with another strike. No, it couldn’t be. But this storm was so sudden. The sky challenged the earth in a battle to the death. Or perhaps something challenged them all. Indigo’s thoughts became interrupted by the world screaming once again. Thunder surrounded them, deafening, on all sides. Sam sprinted off down the street randomly, and Woods soon after. Indigo exhaled incomprehensible babblings before following soon after, Maximillian leaping as lightning may between each stride. Indigo travelled by the storm’s strobe. “Wait, wait, stop running!” Indigo said, unable to scream over crashing thunder. A flash of light revealed Sam was turning into an alley way, and Indigo was close behind. He nearly crashed into Sam and Woods as the brightening of the sky revealed others, one of them in Regime uniform. Indigo hunched over, hands on his knees, and his chest heaved repeatedly. His neck craned forward and his eyes bobbed up and down. Three people, four Pokémon, two evolved. Maximillian remained silent but his spikes vibrated against the leather of Indigo’s shoes. The encounter was too tense for words, not yet. Any wrong action could lead to an all-out brawl that they could very well lose in this enclosed space. And just as Sam ventured into the silence, Indigo’s raven hair stood on end all about his body. A static charged permeated his skin and navigated around goosebumps. The sky came down. It was true. Nobody could catch a storm, even if they wanted to. Golden undulations of energy radiated out of its brilliant form. It was jagged as its power, wings piercing the dark veil around it. Each flap of its wings caused the sky to scream and the clouds to furl. God gave man fire, and now it was to give them lightning. Meek dots trailed in its wake, ants trailing conveniently amongst a king. Indigo looked up as the entirety of a city did. “Why here? Why now?” Indigo managed to stand and arch his neck, but kept his torso facing the opposite party. His chest contracted slowly, breath travelling slowly out of his mouth. “We can’t stay here,” said the speck of dust.	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,441	77	32	19	1,003	Jethro kept his head down... He didn't quite know what to do at the moment, then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, followed by a familiar voice. Jethro turned around to see one of his off-time customers... The people that came to him when he was at home to get their pokemon healed. He quite remembered the woman by the state of her pokemon. Apart from the sickness the espeon had been suffering from at the time, it had been in exceptional physical condition. Jethro didn't know much about the woman herself, but he always remembered people that still trie to take care of their pokemon. "Oh... please, just go. I don't want to get you involved." As if to mock his intent to keep the woman out of this. Before he could elaborate, the ground beneath him started shaking. This quite confused and worried Jethro. New York wasn't very seismically active. The ground died down for a moment, then started shaking. He saw lights going out everwhere around him. Streetlights shattered as if by an extreme power surge. Lights went out in the homes around him. The city was thrown into darkness. "Gah! first people fall into my home asking for painkillers, now this? did the big apple suddenly turn insane or something?!" He checked the man's pulse. He seemed stable... even ready to wake up. then suddendly, the man jolted upright, blabbering about creatures of legend... and his own pokemon, before vomiting all over the ground and falling back into unconciousness. Luckily for the man, Jethro had been monitoring the Houndour... or at least A.C. was. The porygon's encyclopedic medical knowledge made it quite a good asisstant for just a situation such as this. The porygon hadn't made a single alarm sound. Just to make sure, Jethro checked the pulse of the houndour as well. It was stabilized, much like its owner. "Alright...can one of you stop standing around and help me carry him? this guy is in no condition to walk and I need to get him to a medical facility... a hospital... anything!" Then Jethro realized. No medical equipment would do him any good, not with the current power outage... The hospitals must be in utter pandemonium right now. He rapidly thought through the possible location that had backup power... The only place close by he could think of was quite a gamble. A regime compound in central park. The place was quite likely to have medicines, portable equipment. The place was usually quite guarded, but maybe he could slip in and out without being noticed with all the chaos the power outage brought with it. As he decided, he saw something in the sky that reminded him of what he had believed to just be wild rumors up until now. An enormous bird, radiant like a lightning bolt and wreathed in arcing electricity. Behind it, a flock of all sorts of other pokemon followed. Jethro had heard things about the wardenclyffe compound in central park. About the things that went on inside. A snippet overheard in passing here, a security pokemon zapped with electricity; with an attached incident report that seemed just a little too open and close to have actually taken place. Yet here he stood, watching a creature of urban legend soaring through the sky... Judging by its angle... it indeed came from central park. "We need to get him to the wardenclyffe compound in central park! It's the only place I can think of right now that has acces to medical equipment in the middle of this pandemonium!" A chittering beeping was heard seemingly in response to Jethro's orders. A.C. stared at its owner in a look that was unmistakenly disapproving, even for its robotic eyes. Despite the awkward bond the pokemon had with its master, there was still quite a bit of loyalty to the regime hardcoded into its very being. Still, Jethro's commands had first priority... at least for now.	♦Name♦ "My name is Bronwyn Wild, but I just go by Brynn. No need for the full name. I hate it, anyway." ♦Gender♦ "Is it that hard to tell? I'm a female, you uncultured swine." ♦Age♦ "21-years of age." ♦Other♦ "I've got combat skills. Grimm, Vi and I train, it's not just on them when it comes to protection between us. I can fight." ♦Personality♦ "I guess you could say I'm your typical loner. Kind of a rebel, as well, honestly. Not the hard-core types, but one all the same. I care deeply, and love purely. Throughout the years of hardships I've faced, I manage to keep a soft spirit and a kind heart. I'm a fighter. I stand up for what's right in the world. Not much that's right about it, now, but.. I don't give up. Nor am I easily intimidated by the Regime, or anyone else. Stubborn, hard-headed, strong-willed.. whatever you may call it. All of the above, I guess. I don't give up easy, that's for sure. I doubt you'll find another girl quite like me." ♦Background♦ "I lost my mother when I was young, and my father. Well, he was never around back in the day, but out of the blue decided to pop back into my life. Come to find out, my father is a high ranking Regime Officer. Makes me hate him even more. I've pretty much been on my own since I was 12-years-old. Luckily when I was 14, nearly 15, I found Grimm. Since then, he and I have thrived pretty well.. for a couple of orphans, anyway. We've stayed out of the Regime's eye for the most part, up until my father mysteriously found us. We only take what we need but we always give back - except for Grimm's pokeball. I'm not giving that back, obviously. I found it on the road, where it must have fallen out of a Regime transport truck." ♦Pokemon♦ "On Regime books, I've got my female Vulpix, named 'V'. What they don't know, is I've also got a second Pokemon. A male Cubone I've named Grimm." ♦Pokemon Background♦ "My Cubone, Grimm has been with me 6, almost 7 years. Grimm and I were truly meant for one another. I lost my mother when I was just 11-years-old, on the brink of turning 12, to liver failure. Come to find out later, she was a heavy alcoholic. Anyway, I was out in the woods moping around while attempting to gather some firewood before dark when I, quite literally, stumbled upon a small Pokemon. I picked up the logs I'd dropped in the process to turn back to the Pokemon to find it was crying, sitting up against a bush. Leaves, branches and scuff marks covered the ground, ugly scars left on tree trunks that now oozed it's lifeblood sap.... The poor Pokemon had tear stains running through the dirt layer on his face mask. His crying grew louder from the moment I gazed his way. I felt sorry for him. I'd heard stories of the Cubone Pokemon, and thinking back on them now, I could relate to it. I got down on one knee, setting aside my scrawny logs to free my hands so I could pull out the bandanna from my back pocket. With it, I held up my hand to show him I had no weapon and I meant no harm. The Cubone's crying stopped almost instantly and he watched me with weary eyes, probably not sure what to do in the moment. Let me in, or run. I'd have chosen the latter if I was him, I wouldn't have blamed him. With a cautious hand, I wiped his mask clean of both tears and dirt. I picked up his club and held it out to him as I murmured, "My mother's gone, too. You'll see yours again, one day." I got up once he took his club back, gathering my things and leaving. To my surprise, a few minutes up the road the very same Cubone was in my path, staring me down with a kind smile. He had to have cut through the forest to beat me there, but there he stood. The Cubone followed me all the way home, and ever has followed me every step of the way since. I am his, and Grimm is mine. How I came across Vee is, well. It's a different story, I'll tell you that. When my father, Rhaeger Cross the Regime Officer reappeared in my life, he taught me quite a bit about how to avoid the Regime and how to properly train my pokemon. Honestly, that's the only thing I'm grateful about him giving me, besides V. Before parting ways, my father handed me a deep red Cherish Ball and told me it was a gift from my mother. I released the pokemon to find a small Vulpix with five tails, hence the name V. Roman numeral for five. Had it not been sent by my mother, I'd have given it back. V remains the only pokemon in my possession on Regime records, thanks to my father. The relationship I have with V isn't as strong as the one I have with Grimm, but each shares mutual respect between trainer and pokemon. I've run into trainers who treat their pokemon much like the Regime do to their 'service pokemon'. Master and Servant. It's disgusting. Pokemon deserve to be treated better. They're much like us. On the run, afraid and alone. Why shouldn't they be treated the same as we'd treat another human being?" ♦Appearance♦ "I have dark brown eyes and the hair to match them. My hair length extends down to my chest and remains straight until it gets humid, then it gets a bit of a wavy curl going on. Standing straight, I peak at about 5'10" and weight approximately 145lbs. Slim, athletic build." ♦Outfit & Pack♦ "Plain black snapback hat. White v-neck, short-sleeve t-shirt. Black, sleeveless vest. Black boots. Black pants. Dark brown bomber jacket. Black sling backpack with included camelbak and side-pouch bottle." 2.0 (Face Claim: Hailee Steinfeld)
3,442	77	33	576	94	Sam Fisher Sam's question hung in the air, unanswered. It seemed multiple members from both sides had intentions much like his own, and many mumbled questions all at once. The result was that nobody got an answer, instead realizing their mistake and opting to study each other, waiting for somebody to make a move. The man who looked like a doctor was a middle aged man, lanky, and seemed to be slightly overwhelmed, even prior to their meeting. The woman with him appeared to be a doctor as well, a pretty woman whose purple hair was now a mess from helping carry the Regime agent between them. At first glance the Regime uniform disturbed Sam, but upon further inspection he noticed that the uniform was in very rough condition. The Regime had strict standards on uniforms, and this one surely would not meet their requirements. It was Shadow Division garb like Sam had seen many times before, but if he wasnt mistaken this particular uniform was also out of date. The Shadow operatives he had run into as of late wore a different variation of this one. The gears in his head continued to turn, but thankfully just as the silence was becoming unbearably awkward, more tremors shook the ground beneath them, although these were considerably less violent than the ones before. With them, Sam and many of the members were able to hone in on the origin of them as smoke poured into the sky from the North. Sam's sense of urgency returned at the sight and he now turned to the doctors, demanding the stage the small alley served as. "My name is Sam Fisher. Im with the Rebellion. I need to know where that smoke is coming from. There could be injured people and pokemon that could use our help. Your soldier is injured, and we of the Rebellion refuse to attack a defenseless and unconscious man." Sam said defiantly, proud of who he was. He had acted fast, knowing full well that he was not only speaking for others, but speaking for perfect strangers. The way he saw it, you were either with the utter atrocity that was the Regime, or you were against them. Neutrality was merely cowardice. He was hoping to receive support, but stepped out on the ledge knowing full well he may do this alone. If that's the way it had to be, then so be it. He had Bo, and that was enough. He had spent years seeking the leaders of the Rebellion to the end of the country and back, to no avail. If they didnt exist, they did now. Sam would make sure of that. He spoke to the entire group now, "Anyone here who wants to come with me is welcome. I intend to help anyone still alive and do whatever I can to further damage the Regime. If anyone knows the way, feel free to lead." Sam said, opening his stance and gesturing his arm back towards the street. "Anyone who is with the Regime...leave now and no harm will come to you." Sam said, somewhat urging the last line out of his lungs. He was merciful to their pokemon, but admittedly struggled with the manner in which he usually dealt with Regime members. Letting them go was not something he did lightly, however he could potentially be severely outnumbered here, not knowing the true allegiance of those with him. He let the words ring through the empty alley, all too aware his hopes for the Rebellion now rested on the shoulders of a group of strangers in a small alleyway in New York City, so very far away from where his journey began.	Name: Sam Fisher Description: Tall and lean. No body markings. Handsome with brown hair and grey eyes. Age: 21 Personality: Sam is a natural born leader. Had the country not gone to hell, he would have been a military man like the rest of his male family members. He often speaks before thinking. He is stubborn. He loves a good arguement and admittedly is bad about thinking hes always right, lucky for him he usually is. He has guts, courage, and a moral calling to defend all those who are innocent and defenseless. He may come on strong but there is not a cruel bone in his body. He would risk his life for a total stranger if the opportunity arose. He has just the right amount of confidence, he is not arrogant. For a reason obvious to all others but him, he is a leader wherever he goes. People just listen to him for some reason, and he cherishes that responsibility. He enjoys being around people but also needs alone time with just his pokemon. Its his time to recharge. Anyone intending to harm a friend of Sam will only do so over his dead body. Background: Sam is a Rebel to the core. He will die before The Regime take him or his friends. He grew up in the midwest of America in a rural area. He has made his way to New York City after hearing rumors of Rebel activity there. His family has long since been captured by the Regime, most likely dead. He has been on his own since he left home after school at the age of 18. His mission is to end The Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Growlithe, nicknamed Bo. Pokemon Background: Sam met Growlithe at a young age while on a camping trip with his father. They were best friends from the moment they met. Sam had no pokeball but didnt need one. After meeting, Bo would not let Sam leave the forest without him. They have been inseparable ever since. Other: N/A
3,443	77	34	2,241	60	Christopher Hawkins "Wait, you too?" said Kale, pausing. "It was a trap. Eve, run." Suddenly, Kale and his Eevee set off in a run, heading towards the city. "What the-" Chris mumbled, realising the turn of events that would make someone thing that they had been lured into a trap. After realising this, Chris ran to catch up with Kale, with Duskull following behind. After a few minutes of running, Chris stopped to catch his breath. He looked around - Kale was nowhere to be seen. Duskull flew up above the trees, but he couldn't see any sign of him either. "I guess we'll have to go on without them," Chris told Duskull. "Skull," Duskull replied. Chris and Duskull could see the city from where they were, and continued walking towards it. However, it looked much darker than it should be. When they got closer, they realised that there had been a power cut. "There could be injuries!" Chris told Duskull, setting off into a run towards the city, with Duskull alongside him, mostly invisible.	Name: Odette Westfall Age: 23 Gender: Female Odette has purple hair, usually pinned up into a bun, and brown eyes. Usually wears a white lab coat, t-shirt, and capris.(new pic in the works!) Personality: Initially shy, Odette opens up to show an outgoing and personable attitude once you get to know her. She is extremely independent and sometimes a little hard headed, but generally means well. History: Odette was born into a glamorous life. Everything she desired was hers, especially pokemon. Her family was one of the few that, while secretly, opposed the way The Regime treated the creatures. She was to be taught to raise them with the respect they deserved. It wasn't to be. On her fifth birthday, her family home was burned to the ground along with her parents and siblings. The one thing she kept was a single pokeball clutched to her chest. Inside, an eevee named Lys, after her mother. Although now an orphan living with a family friend, it didn't take long for the young girl to realize everything she knew about pokemon was wrong. Whatever happened, Lys was there to share Odette's joy, pain, and sadness. On a rather upsetting day, Odette decided to run away from home the city. She couldn't stand the way Pokemon were treated by her family and friends. While out in the middle if who knows where, she was attacked by a wild Pokemon and Lys came to her rescue. After the battle, Lys turned toward her trainer and mewed before being engulfed in a brilliant light. Once the light faded, Lys and Odette went home, both understanding their friendship. Over the years, Odette became infatuated by science and pledged her life to the study of ways to make the life of pokemon easier. Her work was often ridiculed or turned to nasty purpose, causing her to dislike the government even more. Unable to take it any longer, she fled the city with the aid of her pokemon finding solace with the rebels as nothing more than a mysterious tinkerer, afraid of what they would do should they find out what kind of pain her inventions had inadvertently caused pokemon. Pokemon: Espeon pokemon nickname: Lys Pokemon history: Lys comes from a long line of pampered pokemon. She was specifically bred to be given to Odette on her fifth birthday and has a superb pedigree. Since that tragic evening, she has not left her lady's side. Other: N/A
3,444	77	35	2,658	378	Jethro rolled his eyes at the dramatic speech of one of the self-proclaimed rebels. "Can you talk less and move more? I respect people who don't waste time with speeches." He started dragging the unconcious man forward, and to his suprise found a set of hands helping his endeavour, the espeon's owner. "See, she knows what's up... You coming?" Jethro either didn't care or hadn't noticed the treathened demeanours of the others present. They hadn't said anything, or at least anything substantial enough to respond to in the moment. To the luck of Jethro and his companions, the doctor knew the area well. It wasn't that much of a problem for him to find a path towards central park that avoided major roads and security checkpoints. A necesarry skill for someone who sometimes had to move quickly through the city when a patient of his had an emergency. It didn't take long for the group to come upon central park. Moving covertly was quite easy once they were under the cover of the trees and other undergrowth. The air was thick with the crisp smell of ozone. Jethro wondered why, there wasn't that much electrical equpment around here, was there? And then they cleared a bush, and walked into a hellish scene of destruction. Where everyone had expected a single compound, a deep crater in the ground lay. The three or so topside buildings were damaged, one had collapsed completely. Looking down, one could see a vast maze of corridors, storage rooms and monitoring equipment. The facility was in utter chaos. Much of the central superstructure had been blown apart or melted through, likely by an extreme electrical discharge. The outlying corridors had collapsed or were in the process of collapsing. At the bottom stood a ruined device, a containment cell of some kind, shaped just large enough to contain a certain thunderbird. The scene was punctuated by the sparking of ruined capacitors still discharging their residual charge. From everywhere, the wailing of humans and pokemon could be heard, crying out for help. What capable facility personnel remained had set up a triage in one of the two intact topside buildings. It was obvious what security the facility had had been reassigned to search and rescue operations in the rubble of the lower facility. Jethro stared at the scene. His oath as a doctor screamed at him to report to the field hospital, but his sense of self-preservation told him to remain hidden. "Hmm... what are we gonna do now? I was hoping on sneaking in and taking some equipment, but I don't think that's an option now... Anyone have a new plan?"	Name: Indigo Samson Description: Indigo stands tall at 6' 4", with square, black lenses and hair so dark it almost has a blue tinge to it. Age: 22 Personality: Indigo is a tactician above all else, mentally plotting out conversation, battles, and everyday life tasks alike. His observational way of thinking has kept him and his pokémon safe from the Regime, though it has cost him some of his humanity at times. Up to this point, he has not risked his own skin for the life of strangers. He fears capture or worse if he were to attempt to save another's life from the Regime. More importantly, he may lose Maximilian if he isn't careful. He regrets the decisions to remain unseen when strangers were being held captive by the Regime, but remains vigilant to his code in order to continue fighting. He is often kinder to pokémon than he is to people, feeding rations to estranged or wild pokémon from the palm of his hand. Given he had the supplies and time, he would like to establish a pokémon ranch far into the country, away from the struggle of the times. But he regretfully realizes this is a dream that will likely never be in his lifetime. Perhaps he can make that future possible, though, through his actions. Indigo stands stalwart in the face of the oppressive Regime, and would never bow to them under any circumstance. Background: Indigo knew little of the ways of pokémon by the time he set out on his adventure, only one pokéball in his possession and a belief that if he weren't to stand, the Regime would march over not only every revel but every person in the land. The town he grew up in was forced to bow down; Indigo was only able to steal a pokéball through sheer luck and inattentiveness of a rookie guard. Now he strides onward driven, a single pokémon in his possession, a more powerful ally than any he could hope for. Indigo insists on keeping Maximilian within his only pokéball to protect him from surprise attacks by the Regime. Pokemon Name and Nickname if applicable: Nidoran♂, nicknamed Maximilian Pokemon Background: Maximilian was in the back of a Regime convoy when he was discovered: caged, malnourished, but still friendly to the young, approaching Indigo. He was the product of a ruthless yet inattentive officer squadron. Indigo quietly undid the hinges of the cage as the guards had made a stop, and the Nidoran♂ willfully leapt into Indigo's arms. Upon their escape, their bond was eternal, and the two have usurped the Regime's tactics to this day. Where Indigo is the brains, Maximilian is the brawn. Other: N/A
3,445	77	36	2,483	4,750	The Wardenclyffe Compound. Constructed during the years 2223 to 2229 under the false pretense of being a simple, small-scale military outpost meant to better protect the citizens of New York from internal threats, the electric fence and night patrols in Central Park had never done an especially good job of helping Manhattan's citizens feel safe. A highly secure location despite the seemingly questionable need for its existence, its true purpose had always been to house an advanced underground facility designed by Dr. James Hessemer for the explicit purpose of containing the legendary Pokemon, Zapdos, and harnessing its vast power for the sake of the Regime. It was in complete shambles. As Dr. Jenner stepped into view of the still-active spotlights that surrounded the compound's main gate, he could practically taste the destruction in the air. The usual patrols were nowhere to be seen, having either been recalled into the compound or sent off to chase down the escaped Pokemon, but a very small contingent of guards still manned its entrance, glaring suspiciously at him as he approached the gate. Compared to the peacekeepers in the city, their Pokemon were visibly stronger, healthier, and in all likelihood more accustomed to combat - the soldier who approached Jenner did so with a rhydon and sandslash at his sides, both of which had taken up aggressive postures of their own accord the moment they had seen Sabi. The seviper looked down at them both, amused rather than intimidated; she knew how much of a threat she posed to them. "This is a restricted area," the soldier recited once the two humans stood face to face with one another. "Identify yourself immediately." "Dr. Nicholas Jenner," Jenner answered with a hint of poorly-concealed exasperation, unclipping the security badge from his coat and handing it to the man for inspection. "Head of Research at the Seattle National Laboratory for Pokemon Research - before my reassignment, at least, but seeing as my access rights remain untouched and I've known about this facility since before it was even constructed, I'm sure that you can at least allow me to come in as a visitor." The man looked the badge over to his satisfaction before responding, his tone authoritative and humorless. "We're operating on a state of high alert. Visitors already on the premises are to be contained within the secure areas of the facility until the situation is under control, but I have no reason to allow you entry before then." Unamused, Jenner took his badge back and glanced over the man's shoulder, into the crater where the steel interiors of what were supposed to be several underground corridors still glowed red from the heat, their normally hard edges fused into the exposed dirt around them. The shouting of rescue teams attempting to coordinate their efforts as well as the plaintive cries of those in need of their help filled the night. "I can assume," Jenner began, giving the soldier a downward look, "that your communications equipment was sabotaged at the beginning of this attack." The soldier remained silent, unwilling to confirm his assumption - or that the damage had even been caused by a deliberate attack. "...And the auxiliary power is clearly working," the doctor continued, "so whoever did this couldn't reach the generator on... I believe it was level D, yes? But the wiring for the radio tower crosses the hallways on the very first level at least twice, and anyone with access to the facility could plant an explosive there. I take it the other two bombs were used to disable the grounded blast doors that should have come down to fortify the central containment unit and disconnect it from the primary power grid." "Sir," the soldier finally interrupted, "I cannot authorize you to enter the compound until this crisis has been resolved. Please leave or I will have to remove you by force." "I've written papers about how inefficiently this place was designed," Jenner growled. "So why don't you stop wasting my time and contact your superiors so that they can give me whatever permission I need to walk through this gate and restore it to working order, hm?" This time the soldier scowled but hesitated to offer a proper rebuttal, and after a moment of thought, pulled out his personal radio and stepped back enough that the speaker on the other end couldn't be heard. Dr. Jenner watched him impatiently, placing a hand against Sabi's scales as she stared down at him. He had no actual intentions of repairing the facility, even to the limited extent that such a thing was possible; what interested him instead was the information that was stored within. Even if he could no longer realistically meet with the rebel forces responsible for such destruction, the ongoing crisis had still created an unexpectedly convenient cover for him to dig through the prison's data-banks and make off with whatever he liked. The Regime would blame the intrusion upon whomever had sabotaged the facility, and if that information came into rebel hands... He smiled in spite of himself, earning a dubious look from the guard in front of him. That could certainly lead to some very frustrating setbacks for his self-assured employers. "Here," the soldier said after a moment, offering his radio to Dr. Jenner. "Explain what you think you can do and what you'll need to accomplish it." Accepting the device, the doctor raised it to his ear and spoke in a cordial tone, entirely unbefitting of the situation at hand. "Good evening," he said, grinning smugly at the soldier in front of him. "Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to tonight?"	Name: Christopher Hawkins Description: Chris is six foot seven. This means that the average fully grown American man (5'7") only comes up to his shoulders. He has pale skin, and black hair. His body is slightly slim and muscular. Age: 20 Personality: Just like his father, Chris has a short temper. However, he tries hard not to let this get the best of him. Chris is a very kind soul, but this is hidden behind a face that rarely shows his true emotions. He'll show happiness and sadness, etc, but it won't be as out-there as with other people. If he likes you, you'll definitely know it, and if he doesn't, you'll know that, too. Background: Chris is from a family of Regime sympathisers, living on a farm in Arkansas. His father trained him and his brothers to be strong, both mentally and physically. Due to this, he has a strong body, and is smart, too. Thankfully, he wasn't as misogynistic as his father and brothers, and he also doesn't believe that the Regime are the right rulers of America. When Chris was 15, he found a shiny Duskull, which was close to death, hiding in a cellar of a building that his family owned on the other side of the farm, and immediately bonded with it. He took it food and nursed it back to health. During this, he started to learn about looking after, and also breeding, pokemon, which he continued doing even after Duskull was healthy again. When he was 18, he ran away from home with his Duskull in order to help other pokemon, and he now wants to be a pokemon healer and breeder. He is now in New York to try and find rebels that he can help. He is also fascinated with dark and ghost type pokemon. Pokemon name and nickname: A male shiny Duskull, with no nickname. Pokemon background: Duskull was owned by a group of shiny pokemon collectors travelling through Arkansas. When the Regime saw that they had so many shiny pokemon, they captured the people and their pokemon. However, Duskull managed to escape by turning invisible, albeit with injuries, and got to Chris's family's farm. He then hid there until Chris found him.
3,446	78	0	410	377	The citadel was a silent place in winter. Many of the Order had been sent to the north to reinstate order among to kingdoms people. It was a difficult time to end a war and beckon peace through a people who have only known loss. Alastair stood at the balcony watching the remaining members being drilled by their respected masters. Even Daemons had to keep their skills honed, like everyone else. And Obedience was mandatory within the Order. “Sit down Alastair, you needn’t worry yourself yet.” Fredrick beckoned to the chair beside the fireplace. He was eating his breakfast of freshly baked bread and cured beef. His platter was never one of extravagance. He was even wearing his leather armour ready to begin his drills in the next hour. Even the master Templar had his duties above doing the tedious paperwork. Alastair seemed far better for such tasks. “Forgive me Fredrick, but I am not so sure things will be as well planned as we hope. JurlMach has mobilized again, our reports place them a weeks march from the capital of Gjern. I for one do not wish to see this war begin again.” Alastair always wore his iconic mask. His age was kept a mystery to outsiders, even some of the young Warlocks had been tricked into thinking he was the first grand Warlock. It was only due to his garments. They were ceremonial among the order, a way to show them all he was the Keeper of Contracts. No summoning was permitted without his consent. For good reasons too, the last unauthorised summoning had been rather messy. “You worry too much my friend. Only a fool would raise a hand to the Order. Besides, if they did we have the strongest men in the realm.” Fredrick had his doubts though; no bravado would hide that from his old friend. Alastair and he had been brothers in arms for decades now. Alastair hovered over the chair before instead heading to the door. “I have to brief the detachment we shall be sending to negotiate a truce. I shall see you at lunch.” Alastair left the room and the comfort of the roaring flames. His old bones always complained in the cold now. How he hated growing old. The Main hall was always a constant flow of bodies. It linked every barracks to the rest of the complex, a circle with each respective living space in a grid corner, the Templars to the North West, the Warlocks to the North East, and the Daemon kin to the South West. The South East being the citadel entrance. It was a place built more like a church than a fortress. Alastair walked through the hall, Templar members stood on guard, a group of Warlocks passed him discussing the machinations of the elemental arts, debating the unity of their strengths. So much these younglings had to learn. He took a small passage through the myriad of doors and hallways that honeycombed the entire complex before finding his way to one of the small rooms used to assign members their respective groups and orders. None had arrived as of yet, just as he expected. He sat at the large rectangular table and placed his scrolls on the old oak surface. He would await each of them. Today was going to be a long day indeed…	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,447	78	1	557	10	Janette's robe was waving behind her, her footsteps echoing in the empty alley. The people probably were inside the castle and in their homes this early. Still, it was her first time in this town and she was about to be assigned into one of the groups of The Order. She was thrilled, because it was the first time she could be actually fighting for a reason. She had been practicing magic spells and potions for long enough. Or that's what she thought. As she was coming closer to the castle, the alleys seemed to fill up with the morning chatter of the citizens, women gossiping and talking about their families while men were talking about their jobs and things similar to those. For Janette, there had always been a few catcalls here and there, but it was nothing to worry about. After all, she had been considered a fine young lass, and it was common for men, even boys to call her names like 'sugar', 'babe', or so. What was uncommon for here was that no man had turned to face her or call her anything, and that pleased her. At last, she found a place in which not all men were as rotten and spoiled as many she knew. She just might like it a lot in here. This town, as it was, was calm and peaceful, even though the center of many wars was right there. Soon, she was in the castle, walking through the hallways that were full with people. She took off her robe, because it got in her way, and started looking around for the room she was supposed to go to. Stopping around a few times, she didn't seem to find the right one, so she decided that the best possible choice would be to ask someone for directions. "Excuse me, do you know where Alastair the Warlock is?" Was the question she asked everyone who seemed like they would know. After a couple or times she stopped servants around, she got the answer and headed towards the room. Arriving there, she knocked on the door and awaited for an answer.	Name: Janette Rose Race: Human Warlock, Specializes in Water Magic/Bending Age: 27 Gender: Female Description: Janette was born in a rural part of the country, where not many families had settled. Her family there led a quiet life for decades (first her grandparents, and now her parents). When Janette was young nothing seemed to be different from the ordinary human, she seemed just the same like the other girls who were her age. But, just when she entered her early teen years, signs of magic started to show and it was obvious that she had something in herself that not many others had. It was destined for her to be a witch, and to fight like one, and that's when her family decided to send her away to an old warlock who set his goal to teach younger ones and pass down all the knowledge and wisdom he had in himself. When she arrived there, she was greeted by numerous shelves full of jars which contained liquids that she had yet to discover, stacks of books that seemed as though they were older than a century and an old man in a purple robe, who greeted her with the words: "You have to be a tough one, my dear, if you've chosen this path as the one you're going to walk on for the rest of your life." And that, she was. A quick learner with extraordinary stamina, much better than the other girls her age, Janette advanced in the magic field quite quickly. As the old man's only student, he devoted all of his attention to her and soon she was much more than she had been when she arrived there, just months ago. She had been with the old man for 3 years, and that was when she had learnt that her parents left her there for good. They had also left a note to her saying that they're sorry and they really wanted to be with her, but it was just too dangerous. Why, she didn't know, but that was the crucial point that made her devote herself to magic even more. Determined as ever, she left the old man, and with his blessing, stepped on the road to one of the bigger cities. Arriving there, she was greeted with a lifestyle she wasn't used to, one that was much more different than the one she had led for her whole life. She stayed there until the age of 20, when the local guards had found out that she was a magic user. She was taken away and led into a place that contained a number of other young warlocks and witches. Thrown into a strict training program, she advanced even more, even though she didn't know what for. The training program lasted for 5 whole years, covering everything that a warlock who was skilled for combat, close and ranged, needed to know. By the age of 25, she knew more than 100 different potions, knew how to wield a sword and daggers, and of course, throw advanced spells that were given to her and only her as being the one who was best in the group. Janette was a strong woman, and a beautiful one, but she was never interested in love, men and forming families as most of the women were. She was destined to be a witch and make the other great warlocks a step beneath her. She wanted to be the best in her field and she was determined to get to that position. Soon after the end of the training, Janette was called into a place where members of 'The Order' were. Going through some processes, she became a member of it and has been part of it for three years now. Many have been fooled by her beauty, not considering the option that she might be as strong as a man when it comes to battle.
3,448	78	2	245	26	The Citadel, a massive labyrinth with an overwhelming collection of knowledge and power. Herunes took an eager deep breath, the air soft and soothing. Though this is what his senses told him, he held his hands up, admiring his attire. Though he made sure that mirrors where out of sight... and that any reflection from glass or steel was out of sight. He put on his adoring smile and walked out. He wasn't eager to wait around for any other possible new comers. Daemons although his kind, he done his best to avoid having much conversation with. As he stepped into the hall, he made a few points such as a painting being moved, or an armour set on the guards altered slightly. He listened deep into air, he closed his eyes. He felt strong presence of the people around him, minds so powerful that Herunes had no hope of manipulating, though Herunes has no intention of betraying such a powerful order or even the circle... Though their current state in the world gives him great interest. A templar had stood outside the Daemon kin dorms, walking up to Herunes he took a glance at him and pointed him to a narrow hallway 'You're expected by the grand master' The voice chuckled through the armour. Herunes didn't reply, he only gave the man a slight bow and moved down the hallway. He walked into the room, brushing off his attire, he liked his clothes, Not very often does he feel so well dressed. He found himself in the room with the a man in robes and a mask to cover his face. It only made him smile a little more to know that this could only be the Grand Master. Herunes made his way to a chair and took his seat. He gave the man quick scan, He knows what he's doing... how I love meeting the more powerful... He then pulled out a small book on which he had on his self, nothing more than a book of poems.	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,449	78	3	2,513	714	Jason looked at the castle which he was being reassigned to. He could hear the sound of the town as it started to get busy and he could hear the sounds of morning drills for the order's forces stationed here. He walked down the street passing a group of girls that were about 16. He heard something about "he is cute" and "nice butt". It made him smile he never really got into the whole relationship scene because his whole life was about training. He soon came to the outside walls of the castle and it was busy there was people everywhere. He didn't want to just shove people so he waited patiently as he slowly made his way threw the crowd. He heard some guys whistling, but didn't see to whom and he really didn't care. He sighed it seemed every step he took he had to take two steps back, because some rude people was just charging threw. Once he finally got threw he went into the castle and looked around he saw some guards but it seemed abandoned at the moment. "Everyone must be at morning drills" he said to himself. He then started to look around for where he was supposed to meet Alastair the Warlock. He could never figure out how mere people could wield abilities over the elements. It just seemed inhuman to him for people that strong to exist. He soon wondered down a hall and saw a woman (Janette) as she was waiting outside a door. "Excuse me miss do you know where I can find Alastair the Warlock?" He asked politely not sure if she would respond to him or not.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,450	78	4	557	10	Janette jolted her head at a voice that was probably talking to her. She then saw a man standing next to her with an unreadable expression on his face. Janette was never one to check men out, because she was busy, but right now, she might as well, so she glanced downwards and examined the man quickly, and then fixated her gaze on the man's eyes. It was quite the sight, but she had seen many better looking men than this one. This one, he wouldn't even be considered a man... just a mere boy, looking for a thrill. "Right here, in this room, as I've been told. Janette." - she extended her arm to greet him. "Are you here for the applications?" She asked in return, tilting her head slightly.	Name: Janette Rose Race: Human Warlock, Specializes in Water Magic/Bending Age: 27 Gender: Female Description: Janette was born in a rural part of the country, where not many families had settled. Her family there led a quiet life for decades (first her grandparents, and now her parents). When Janette was young nothing seemed to be different from the ordinary human, she seemed just the same like the other girls who were her age. But, just when she entered her early teen years, signs of magic started to show and it was obvious that she had something in herself that not many others had. It was destined for her to be a witch, and to fight like one, and that's when her family decided to send her away to an old warlock who set his goal to teach younger ones and pass down all the knowledge and wisdom he had in himself. When she arrived there, she was greeted by numerous shelves full of jars which contained liquids that she had yet to discover, stacks of books that seemed as though they were older than a century and an old man in a purple robe, who greeted her with the words: "You have to be a tough one, my dear, if you've chosen this path as the one you're going to walk on for the rest of your life." And that, she was. A quick learner with extraordinary stamina, much better than the other girls her age, Janette advanced in the magic field quite quickly. As the old man's only student, he devoted all of his attention to her and soon she was much more than she had been when she arrived there, just months ago. She had been with the old man for 3 years, and that was when she had learnt that her parents left her there for good. They had also left a note to her saying that they're sorry and they really wanted to be with her, but it was just too dangerous. Why, she didn't know, but that was the crucial point that made her devote herself to magic even more. Determined as ever, she left the old man, and with his blessing, stepped on the road to one of the bigger cities. Arriving there, she was greeted with a lifestyle she wasn't used to, one that was much more different than the one she had led for her whole life. She stayed there until the age of 20, when the local guards had found out that she was a magic user. She was taken away and led into a place that contained a number of other young warlocks and witches. Thrown into a strict training program, she advanced even more, even though she didn't know what for. The training program lasted for 5 whole years, covering everything that a warlock who was skilled for combat, close and ranged, needed to know. By the age of 25, she knew more than 100 different potions, knew how to wield a sword and daggers, and of course, throw advanced spells that were given to her and only her as being the one who was best in the group. Janette was a strong woman, and a beautiful one, but she was never interested in love, men and forming families as most of the women were. She was destined to be a witch and make the other great warlocks a step beneath her. She wanted to be the best in her field and she was determined to get to that position. Soon after the end of the training, Janette was called into a place where members of 'The Order' were. Going through some processes, she became a member of it and has been part of it for three years now. Many have been fooled by her beauty, not considering the option that she might be as strong as a man when it comes to battle.
3,451	78	5	2,513	714	Jason saw how this woman was looking him over he didn't mind or did he care what she thought. He decided to not check her out because he didn't want to look like he was looking at her like a piece of meat. He then listened to her keeping his expression blank. "I am not applying I was transferred here and got to get registered. My name is Jason" he said as he met her hand in greeting her. He wondered if she was just signing up or if she was like him. "You must be a student of magic" he said as he looked at her mainly the way she was carrying herself. It gave her away more than she actually knew. He was wanting to ask how one can use magic, but didn't want to ask though. He wasn't wanting a whole history lesson on the magical arts.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,452	78	6	901	1,545	Iabor walked the hold halls of the castle, this was the fourth reemergence he knew the castle halls wall. As he'd been down these halls more times then he dared try to count, he walked to Allistair's office with minimal effort navigating through the crowds. As people just bounced off of him when they tried to push past, he would help those that fell from bouncing off him. His long white hair swaying behind him as he walked, it was well groomed and was as white as the freshly fallen snow outside. He soon stopped seeing two people already waiting there, he stopped to lean against the wall near the door where it opened. He didn't really make any attempt to talk to the two, as he didn't wish to interrupt their conversation. He let loose a long tired yawn his helmet made it echo slightly, he hadn't really slept that well before coming back. As he'd had to do some serious maintenance on his armor to make it look brand new which made him burn through the midnight hours.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,453	78	7	2,762	43	The last of the Templar recruits fell on the ground with a satisfying THUD. Azmun was now the only one standing in the make-shift arena, while 4 Templars were either struggling to stand on all fours all were simply lying on the snowy ground. The daemon was not smiling, in spite of his apparent victory, he wanted more, he wanted something better. "Alright, alright, that's enough." an older Templar with a few gray hairs spoke from the side which made Azmun turn his gaze and mutter "No." he then turned to completely face the trainer "I want more. I want better." That made the old Templar frown and sigh "Forget it Daemon. The purpose of training is exactly that, train. Not to amuse you. Now get moving and let me get back to my job" Azmun could feel rage flowing through him How dares a human speak to me like that?! he thought and nothing would have made him happier than to rip his head off with his bare hands, eat his skull and burn the rest....but he didn't. He couldn't.Must remember the Contract. he recalled and with a long hard breath he calmed his nerves, dropped the blunted swords from his hands, letting them fall on the snowy ground, turned around and left with long, quick strides. His Contract was clear and dare not break it. Under his human form he didn't look very different from any other Templar, long dark brown hair, a stern and hard face with a bit of a stubble, he even wore some of their hard leather armor and while walking through the training yard he took the liberty of taking a pair of steel longswords and sheathed them on his belt. As he was about to walk away from the weapons rack he was stopped by the voice of another Templar, he sighed, this one will probably start to "scold" him about taking their weapons. He was wrong. This one actually told him something that made him smile "You're one of the Daemons right?" Azmun wasn't exactly sure how they could tell, but it didn't really matter. "You better head inside, the Master of Contracts asks for your presence". Azmun didn't waste any second longer to talk to the lad, he strode right past him and headed inside. The Daemon was smiling a small grin, if the Master of Contracts was calling for him then he must have a task which means he might get the battle that he craved for all day. Azmun had a hunch where Alastair might be waiting for him so he quickly headed through the hallways of the citadels, pushing his way through the crowd focused on reaching his destination. Eventually he reached the room in question...only to see that he was a bit late as there already were 3 other people standing there. One he recognized one, Iabor, his helm and long white hair were unique to him and hard to miss, but the other two were new faces to him, just 2 humans. Azmun sighed deeply and then approached the 'white knight' with a tap on his shoulder "I assume I'm not the only one called here for duty then? Any idea what this is about?" Azmun was still grinning, he prayed for battle,	This looks interesting, I'd like to give it a shot. Hope my CS is good enough, if anything needs changing then just let me know. Name Azmun Race Demon Age 211 Gender Male Bio Azmun is a demon of chaos with a dark hide as strong as iron and mastery over the element of fire. A cloud of flames seems to always envelop him, threatening to consume any who might get to close. These flames are volatile and grow more and more violent by Azmun’s anger until they unleash under the form of a flame blast, scorching anything in a 10m radius around him. His body constantly generates these flames for him to manipulate as he sees fit. However his formidable ability is only usable when in his true demonic form, while in his human form he has no control over the element but is still immune to its effects. As a human, Azmun is a highly skilled warrior with a super-human prowess for combat and versatile with virtually any weapon that falls in his hands though he mostly prefers wielding a sword in each hand. He is usually summoned during war times and set as a vanguard in battles where he can unleash his full potential and turn any foes to smoldering piles of ash. The words used to summon him are : “I call thee, Spawn of Chaos and Flame!” to which he answers “Who must burn?”
3,454	78	8	901	1,545	Iabor was half way to falling asleep when he felt a tapping on his shoulder, making him rouse to look at the man with dark brown hair. A man he knew well as Azmun, the demon of destruction. He had seen the daemon around often training the rookie templars, he had often thought of challenging the daemon to a friendly spar. Though each time decided against it, as he thought of the possible mass destruction of property the two would cause. "Yeah though I can't let you have all the fun with whatever it is..... Yeah I have no idea why we're here, though you know the deal with Allistair. When he calls you come," Iabor said chuckling lightly. He looked towards the others, he hadn't seen them around before now. Which was odd seeing as he knew just about everyone that worked in the castle. "Hey Azmun have you seen those two around before," He asked motioning his head towards Jannette, and Jason.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,455	78	9	245	26	Herunes overhears a conversation from behind one of the doors, he senses the presence of two humans and two daemons. He recognised none of them, he sighed and closed his book, the dust showed how old it was as it fired up into the air. He leaves it on the table and slides the chair out whilst standing up. He takes another deep breath, and goes to the door to open it. He is soon greeted with two young humans, a woman and a man. Then there were the two daemons at the back, he recognised them both now. Although he made no obvious note of this, he just smiled at them all. 'You can come in, Alaistar is expecting us...' he then walks back to his seat, 'You know... you all could have just walked in...' He sits back down and gets back to his book, returning to his silence. He flicks through the pages and gives of a little chuckle...	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,456	78	10	410	377	Make yourself comfortable Herunes. Alastair ran his finger over the thick book before him, sliding away the lock and opening the pages. It was the log of every contract ever recorded in the order. The book itself seethed with the magic of decades of warlock power. A powerful ward had been placed upon it, one that only the Keeper of Contracts knew the password for. No one could hope to tamper with this book without invoking an untimely end. "We should have a few others joining us shortly, I wonder where they have all gotten to..." Alastair flicked his wrist and shut the book tight before leaning back in his oak chair. He stroked at an invisible beard upon his mask and then looked over to the door. Even with a mask on he was obviously not enjoying the cold breeze the now open doorway brought into a room that was bellow ground. Only the lamps and the small slither of window at the top of the walls behind him gave any light in an otherwise freezing meeting chamber. "And close that door behind you!"	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,457	78	11	47	40	Strike! ...Parry! ...Advance! ...Pirrouette! ...Thrust!... Xai'an called out commands to the young warriors she had been authorized to train in the basics of largescale warfare. The Order, it seemed, was clever enough to use demonic forces to it's every advantage. In training the squires, Xai'an was overseen by several ranking Templars who looked on from above, ready to intercede should she attempt anything beyond the call of proper instuction in form or strategy. Pragmatic as The Order was, they weren't fools. At least not at this stage. From what the Daemon had gathered, they were not always so clever. Fortunately for them, they had learned much of how to handle and interact with Daemons. "...Parry! Riposte! Tumble! Shield Retreat! ...Hold! Swords in sheaths, all of you." She had put them through their paces for over three hours now. It was time for pactical application. "Giles of Westenbury, Leanna of Sindra, to the front!" The Templars to be ran forward in full weighted training armor. "HOLD!" Echoed the command from one of the Templar overseers above. "Lord Everet will continue this lesson! Instructor, the Grand Warlock requires your presence at once!" Xai'an bowed and gave an affirmative signal to the overseers. She then looked over the uncertain students, amused at the nature of battle and the psychology of mortals. She would wager that Lord Everet might learn more from these young ones than they would from him. "Giles and Leanna, stay at the front. I'm sure Everet would appreciate your assistance." In truth, she was sure he would resent the implication. Yet she was still within the bounds of her orders. She was training these ragged youths to be proper warriors. And it would be important for them to learn how to recognize incompetence in their commanding officers.	Name: Xai'an Race: Daemon Age: 113 Gender: Female Bio: Xai'an is a being of physical prowess and tactical thinking. A warrior, a huntress, a destroyer and a torturer. The flesh fascinates her. The applications of pain and pleasure are a delightful distraction. But such sadistic experiments and interrogations are merely a hobby that she occassionally enjoys. Warfare, Conquest and Assasination; those things are her true calling. With a viscious lance, curved like a reaper's scythe, that extends at will from her right arm she cuts down all opposition with precision, agility and a mind constantly thinking ahead of her enemies. And though she has been known to favor stealthy and deceptive tactics, she is no stranger to applying direct force. However, her clan of Daemons are subterranean and lack wings. She can perform astounding feets of agility and balance, but flight is something she can never achieve on her own. To her benefit however is that she is quite adept at "seeing" without her eyes. Sound, scent and subtle vibrations are louder to her than they are to other types of Daemon. Mostly, she is summoned by those who lack the strength or stamina to succeed in combat. The eternal scholars who ignore the bodies they've been given or the elders who've lost the best of their physical power seeking to fight through her. It is even rumored that she was called to Assassinate a king's eldest sons by his youngest in exchange for the prince's soul, only to then be summoned by that very prince's cousin who added his own sould to her collection so that he could rule the kingdom while he lived. Yet the validity of that rumor remains arguable.
3,458	78	12	2,762	43	Azmun glanced at the two humans Iabor pointed out to him. Only after a brief look he returned his gaze to the white knight "Never seen them around here before...and I've been around for quite a while." Azmun was contracted a few years ago, though it was not the first time. He was summoned plenty of times before, sometimes for revenge, other times for defense but every time he was summoned for war and battle and couldn't care less about the context. This time was no exception and he has long gotten used to remain under the power of the Contract for so long. He still recalled how he was Contracted into the service he is now as well as the conditions of his Contract. Though he considered them a bit excessive he supposed they were necessary, humans can be quite squishy and easy to burn sometimes. Azmun chuckled lightly to himself and glanced once more in the direction of those two humans. He took a quick breath through his nose and then muttered "Green" he then turned his gaze back at Iabor "I doubt they've ever been in a real live battle. Those two ought to be so green they probably piss grass." A small wicked grin then made its presence known on his face "I'm actually a bit curious to see how they would do if say...someone were to behave..." he placed one hand on the pommel of one of his sheathed swords "..unfriendly.." he finished hinting to a malicious intention. Azumn waited a few seconds just to see Iado's reaction before he chuckled lightly "Just kidding. Relax, my Contract doesn't permit me to kill..or even grievously harm others while in these Headquarters...unless ordered to, of course." Both their attentions shifted to the door to the room suddenly opening, behind they saw Herunes, another daemon Azmun was familiar with. He respected him, but didn't care much for his mind tricks or his sense of fashion, why wear something unless it helps you fight better? It just didn't make sense to him. Regardless, it isn't his place to judge and chose which of his brethren come into service. His role is to kill and is happy with that. The group of people soon passed through the door and one could hear Alastair's shout of closing the door. Azumn shut the door behind him as he was the last one to enter. Each of the people soon found themselves seats at the large table and so did Azmun, seating himself between Iabor and an empty seat. The daemon then looked at the Master of Contracts, So this is one of the big-shots around here huh? an obviously old man in fancy robes with a mask, not very intimidating if judged by appearance but to those with the senses to feel it, he was just oozing with the magical energies of a powerful Warlock. Not bad... Azmun ultimately judged. After a few moments of silent wait, Azmun sighed and spoke up "I assume we are still waiting for someone to arrive?" he said as he glanced over the empty seats around.	This looks interesting, I'd like to give it a shot. Hope my CS is good enough, if anything needs changing then just let me know. Name Azmun Race Demon Age 211 Gender Male Bio Azmun is a demon of chaos with a dark hide as strong as iron and mastery over the element of fire. A cloud of flames seems to always envelop him, threatening to consume any who might get to close. These flames are volatile and grow more and more violent by Azmun’s anger until they unleash under the form of a flame blast, scorching anything in a 10m radius around him. His body constantly generates these flames for him to manipulate as he sees fit. However his formidable ability is only usable when in his true demonic form, while in his human form he has no control over the element but is still immune to its effects. As a human, Azmun is a highly skilled warrior with a super-human prowess for combat and versatile with virtually any weapon that falls in his hands though he mostly prefers wielding a sword in each hand. He is usually summoned during war times and set as a vanguard in battles where he can unleash his full potential and turn any foes to smoldering piles of ash. The words used to summon him are : “I call thee, Spawn of Chaos and Flame!” to which he answers “Who must burn?”
3,459	78	13	410	377	A few more of for this task, but I shall begin briefing you and fill them in as they arrive... Alastair kept himself in a casual manor. He was old and permitted such privileges. It was that of risk irritating the most powerful member of the Warlock circle. Not a wise thing to do in any given situation. His hand motioned over the table, a breeze blowing the papers on the desk to each of the men and women seated. He spoke over any of the questions and mumbling between the group, wishing to be done with this briefing and permitted to get back to his daily work. The winter months meant he had to over see many of the supplies and be sure no one was pilfering. It happened, even in the order, and was something that he disciplined sharply during such cold days. Rationing was serious business for the Order during war, and the land had seen plenty of it over the decades. "As some of you may have heard, Jarlmach has mustered its armies at the border of Gjern, the trading capital of the East. The treaty we have overseen there has been tenuous at best and we can not afford to have another king grow hungry for power. With much of our Order to the north we have lost sway..." Alastair paused and stood to grab a large parchment on the book shelf behind him, giving a groan of old age arthritis before shuffling back to the table and unfurling an old map. Gjern was just a large black blob resembling a city wall and a few houses inked within, but its position near the great lake of Ustergraht meant not only did it supply all trade from the local provinces, it linked the East directly to the main roads leading to the northern kingdoms. It was a lynch pin of a city, always sort after by those who intended to invade the north. "Gjern may not be as grand as it once was but its military importance over the Ustergraht river is significant beyond words. There are no other safe crossings for miles and miles, and the dangerous currents make any attempt by boat a nightmare. You must convince the King to explain himself and turn back. If he does not..." Alastair sat back in his seat and took a deep breath. "...then you must do so by force."	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,460	78	14	960	145	The Citadel, what a wondrous place filled to the brim with beating hearts and panted breaths. Malvo sat at an old wooden desk stained and worn with age on it laid a small raven laying completely still save for the slightest movements of its breast, it was obviously dying. Malvo passed his gloved hand over the bird which gave a choked caw and kicked a few times before righting itself. "Pretty little thing" Malvo murmured in his low cool voice as he scratched it on the back of its head. "Come along sweetie, we must be off" he said as he stood and the little raven flew up and perched on the edge of the broad rim of his hat. Malvo gave his room one last look over, The walls were lined with holes where his ravens made their nests, even now several pairs of their uniquely intelligent eyes stared back at him watching and listening. Ravens were the only things that would willingly be near him for any amount of time and he enjoyed the company but he was needed elsewhere and so he would go. The Templar outside of his room kept his distance from Malvo pressing against the wall to maximize the separation between them. "The Order calls for you Daemon" he said "You must answer." Malvo nodded to the Templar who turned and began to lead him through the halls to where he was needed. When they cut through the main hall he was given a wide berth, many had heard of what he had been capable of and they feared contracting something from him. If only Malvo thought as they cut through the crowd but alas the contract forbids me granting my gifts freely. Finally the Templar guided him to a door and stopped "This is as far as I have you" he told Malvo a little relief in his voice. "I bid you good day and good health" Malvo said giving a bow to the Templar who looked confused at the Daemons parting words. Malvo strode into the room and made his way to his chair quitely. He was a little confused at the presence of so many others and decided it would be best to wait to hear from Alastair himself. Malvo took his customary seat as far from everybody else at the table as space could allow and reached into a pocket in his robes and took out some breadcrumbs which he fed to Little One who pecked at them with great delight.	Name: "Dr." Malvo Race: Daemon Age: 132 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Malvo is a creature of disease, the very air around him becomes foul with every labored breath he takes. His crooked form seems unnatural to human eyes and only makes his demonic origins even more apparent. His very breath is laden with sickness and a thick black smog of bacteria and viruses exudes from the nostrils of his mask. Rather ironically his power over sickness and death means that he has become a favorite summon for medics and doctors as they use his abilities to purify wounds and speed the healing process, not to mention his familiarity with the human body means he is useful for operations. He does not care why he is summoned only that he is able to ply his trade when he is, whether that be helping a doctor treat the poor victims of a plague or assisting a wealthy land owner by starting one. He is not outwardly mean or cruel and instead is very soft spoken and almost kind, He does not see the diseases he creates and spreads as bad or evil but as gifts he is giving the world and in doing so making it stronger. His vindication in his beliefs is reflected in the words used to summon him. "Preacher of Pestilence, Hear my call" and his answer is always the same "The Doctor is in."
3,461	78	15	901	1,545	Iabor raised a brow at Azmun when he set his hand on his swords, he knew what the contracts meant for Daemons. So he didn't make any move for his own weapon on his back, seeing as he'd just make an ass out of himself. Instead he withdrew himself, and laughed at Azmun's comment about Janette, and Jason pissing green. When Allistair told them to come in he did so immediatly not wishing to waste the elders time. Though he looked at the mind daemon with a great look of distrust, as he personally felt those that could tamper with ones mind were not to be trusted; Whether they were under contract or not. He quickly took a seat in between three empty seats slightly sitting back, and listening to the elders words. He soon asked," Alistair are you suggesting death, if the king is unwilling to back down, or explain himself?" He wished to know just how much force they were to use on the king of Jelmarch, as he didn't wish to see a land without it's leader. As that would leave the city in a state of great turmoil, something else that the order could not afford. His thoughts then turned to the land of Gjern, as he'd been to it once in it's heyday he'd found it to be a bustling city with life with great trade, and found himself quite the fortune then selling some of his armors, and trinkets. As he never made swords or weapons for anyone, but those that worked with the order. Though he used some of that fortune to obtain better metals, and make better weapons for the templar that truly needed them. While the rest he set aside in case of emergency. When he saw a funny little man known as Malvo walk in his brow raised in interest, his eyes soon wandering to the crow.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,462	78	16	2,513	714	Jason had ignored the daemons and especially when the one said he was so green his piss was green. He wasn't knew to combat at all or ridicule for his age. He just went into the room when they were told and sat in the first seat he found. He then listened to everything that was said and asked still being silent. He figured the others will have the same questions as him and ask them. Though one question did arise why did they need us humans? They have plenty of daemons he looked around a little uneasy as he knew this wasn't going to be fun. A king has an army to guard them and he knew if they were hostile then they will attack. He started to sheath and unsheathe his sword just barely it was a little tick he had when he was feeling nervous like he was right now. He then saw Malvo come in it just made his nerves that much worse. why so many? He asked himself he knew of at least 4 daemons. The man in armor and has white hair he didn't know if he was a daemon or human at this point.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,463	78	17	245	26	A king who has grown hungry for more power.... interesting Herunes has seen many people destroyed by their un-sated thirst of power and control. On the very few occasions, even Herunes finds himself compelled to follow such seductive desires. Herunes places the book to the side keeping it open and reads over the paper. He looks around him analysing those in the room, he felt as he may as well pay them some modest attention if he is to be working with them. Perhaps find an ally among them... though that was stretching it. 'This gathering of people must mean it is quite a serious task indeed. And you say more are to arrive?' He leans back on his chair and chuckles 'Has the order gotten so desperate that they need such a collection of minds working together?' Herunes ignored the concept of negotiate or kill. He understood that very well and had little caring for either outcome, he was here for the enjoyment of the events. The souls rewarded being only the bonus... In a sudden strike of interest he turns to the young templar whom name he doesn't know, his young yet almost expressionless look is quite amusing... 'What's the matter templar, don't you care to show at least a little bit of emotion to us all? Trying to make yourself seem unbreakable...' Herunes grins 'Only leaves yourself with no-one to trust you...' Trust is something that not many people share for Herunes. He has preferred it that way as well... He then slides out a book mark from one of his pockets and slides it on the book and closes it gently, followed be putting the book back into his coat. 'Perhaps we should all get to know one another... it may well prove useful for when we...' He chuckles 'Work together.'	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,464	78	18	2,762	43	Azmun swiftly took the paper that the old Warlock handed him and looked it over, paying more attention to Alastair's debriefing of the mission. He grinned. There was clearly to be a battle ahead in this mission and Azmun for one was eager to get it started, he was looking for a real actual battle for days now. His attention shifted to the door behind him as he saw yet another daemon pass through it and take a seat at the table, as far away from anyone else as it permitted. This one was known as Malvo, a demon of pestilence. Azumn didn't care much for Malvo's ways of spreading disease and infections though he did admit that while it unsavory it may be quite effective. He looked around the room and started counting, 2, 3, 5 and 6 with him. There were 6 of them to be sent in this mission, 4 of them daemons and he had a feeling that this was not everybody. That just made him wonder if the task was truly so crucial or if the battle to come would be that great? The later would be rather welcoming he ultimately judged. Iabor was the first to speak out after the debriefing, apparently he would be aiming to complete this task with as few bloodshed as possible. How noble... Azmun knew better than to believe that this can actually be resolved peacefully. This king knows damn well what he is doing and its very unlikely that he will change his mind. Killing the king and removing the army by force is the easiest and simplest of solutions. Aye, ser. Death Azmun answered to Iabor's earlier question If negotiations fail, and trust me they do so more often than not, then we simply remove both the king and his troops from the city by force.. He grinned ..Deadly force He finished with a brief chuckle. If it were up to him, they wouldn't be wasting time trying to talk to this power-hungry human, but ultimately its not his decision. If in the end it is decided that they should try and resolve this peacefully then so be it Let them try. It will come to blood, steel and flame either way. Some things never change and war is one of them. Herunes then spoke out, pointing out their numbers and wondering how come the Order is willing to send so many for this task. Azumn simply shrugged to that. He didn't knew but didn't much care either. Whatever the Order's plans were he was simply eager to leave these headquarters and bloody his blade. His Contract must be fulfilled after all, the sooner the better. Herunes then suggested that they know a little more about each other if they are to go on the field together. Azumn grinned and concurred "Aye, agreed. We should start with the newcomers" he said briefly indicating towards Jason and Janette "I have been around here for quite a long time and have never seen you before. Introductions would be nice, I'd like to know who's going to have my back on the battlefield when it comes to that"	This looks interesting, I'd like to give it a shot. Hope my CS is good enough, if anything needs changing then just let me know. Name Azmun Race Demon Age 211 Gender Male Bio Azmun is a demon of chaos with a dark hide as strong as iron and mastery over the element of fire. A cloud of flames seems to always envelop him, threatening to consume any who might get to close. These flames are volatile and grow more and more violent by Azmun’s anger until they unleash under the form of a flame blast, scorching anything in a 10m radius around him. His body constantly generates these flames for him to manipulate as he sees fit. However his formidable ability is only usable when in his true demonic form, while in his human form he has no control over the element but is still immune to its effects. As a human, Azmun is a highly skilled warrior with a super-human prowess for combat and versatile with virtually any weapon that falls in his hands though he mostly prefers wielding a sword in each hand. He is usually summoned during war times and set as a vanguard in battles where he can unleash his full potential and turn any foes to smoldering piles of ash. The words used to summon him are : “I call thee, Spawn of Chaos and Flame!” to which he answers “Who must burn?”
3,465	78	19	47	40	The Citadel always somehow gave the impression of being busy and crowded, even with so many of the Order away on duty. Something about winter always seemed to draw mortals closer together, as if for more than just warmth. Xai'an walked through these lively halls amused by the. Endless echoes of posturing, gossiping, boasting and questioning. When she finally entered the room a Deamon, whom she'd never worked with but had seen aroun the great building, was speaking. "-like to know who's going to have my back on the battlefield when it comes to that" "Xai'an, of the Chiroi who haunt the lightless depths, for one." She responded as she entered. Her posture was all business and she could easily have been described by proud and stern from her voice and her walk. Although most mortal men would have given more focus to her body itself, those same men would have shuddered at their own thoughts had they seen what she truly looked like. She looked over the others in attendence as she walked to a seat close to the Grand Warlock. Malvo she knew by reputation. Herunes she had interacted with within the Citadel itself on occasion. The others were all strangers to her.	Name: Xai'an Race: Daemon Age: 113 Gender: Female Bio: Xai'an is a being of physical prowess and tactical thinking. A warrior, a huntress, a destroyer and a torturer. The flesh fascinates her. The applications of pain and pleasure are a delightful distraction. But such sadistic experiments and interrogations are merely a hobby that she occassionally enjoys. Warfare, Conquest and Assasination; those things are her true calling. With a viscious lance, curved like a reaper's scythe, that extends at will from her right arm she cuts down all opposition with precision, agility and a mind constantly thinking ahead of her enemies. And though she has been known to favor stealthy and deceptive tactics, she is no stranger to applying direct force. However, her clan of Daemons are subterranean and lack wings. She can perform astounding feets of agility and balance, but flight is something she can never achieve on her own. To her benefit however is that she is quite adept at "seeing" without her eyes. Sound, scent and subtle vibrations are louder to her than they are to other types of Daemon. Mostly, she is summoned by those who lack the strength or stamina to succeed in combat. The eternal scholars who ignore the bodies they've been given or the elders who've lost the best of their physical power seeking to fight through her. It is even rumored that she was called to Assassinate a king's eldest sons by his youngest in exchange for the prince's soul, only to then be summoned by that very prince's cousin who added his own sould to her collection so that he could rule the kingdom while he lived. Yet the validity of that rumor remains arguable.
3,466	78	20	901	1,545	'No one to trust you, Know one another.' Herunes words echoed through Iabor's mind over, and over again. His hand tensing slightly as he narrowed his eyes behind his helmet, he had wanted to reveal what he was for the longest time. But, he'd been so afraid of what would happen to him. He didn't want to become like the other daemons, his head dipping in shame. As he had thought of some of the daemons as close friends, among them being Azmun. Soon his train of thought was broken as Azmun began to speak, he tilted his up to him grateful for the reprieve from his inner thoughts. "That may be, but we cannot leave that kingdom without some form of leadership. Or else they'll fall into a state of decay, and ruin that will take years for them to get out of. We need to think on who would replace the king if we were to remove him. Not to mention the soldiers that would replace the ones we remove as well. By no means do I have any qualm about removing the king from power. But, I do have one with leaving a kingdom without a leader. I will not sit idly bye while a kingdom suffers for an action we take,," Iabor said as he leaned back in his seat his arms crossing over his chest again. The more the daemon's talked about warfare the least he liked being one of them. The thought of admitting what he was burned him, but he knew that he'd have to. As the burden of carrying this lie for so long was beginning to burn him inside. He'd wake up at night in a sweat, in fear of what would happen, yet at the same time he felt a deep relief of not having to live with the constant lie. He began to grow irritated again his hands clenching his arm in thought, was what punishment he received worth the relief of not carrying around the burden of such a heavy lie? He soon coughed clearing his throat as he shook his head, Soon his gaze fell upon the Grand Warlock, his eyes were filled with such a great sadness. 'What am I to do? Live as I am, a templar living a horrid lie? Or as a daemon, and punished for my crime of deciet?' Iabor thought.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,467	78	21	410	377	settle yourself Labor... Alastair wavered his hand while leaning forward to rest one arm on the oak table. They had already begun discussing the outcome of the task before it had even begun. Such vibrant belief that victory was assured, it made him smile under his mask. "As Labor as rightly said however, we can not kill their king. We failed to foresee such a travesty in the Northlands and now our forces are stretched thin to install order over a realm now ready to rip out its own throat." Alastair raised the paper up for them to see it. A dark parchment with the mark of three kings at its base along with the Order seal. "This document is a treaty among the kingdoms that have sworn a truce. You are to present it to their lord and expect him to follow its wishes accordingly." Alastair turned to Xai'an and handed the parchment to her. "I will leave this in your care my dear..." he was quite aware of what she was beneath the guise. Alastair was one of the few who did not care about physical appearance. He worse the mask both for ritual and security. The Master Warlocks identity was unknown to all but the highest of officials, something that had saved his life on more than one occasion. "The king must be subdued, not killed. His men are collateral however..."	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,468	78	22	245	26	Herunes starts to murmur a dry giggle in the background, 'I'm sure this will go all according to plan...' his dry sarcastic tone ends as he then looks over to Xai'an 'Let us hope one has the care for such important documents eh? I have no objections to this choice...' Herunes was one for having a great deal of respect for Xai'an in many ways, she shares far more desires and beliefs upon the mortal realm than perhaps he would have expected... one of the only daemons he's considered remembering. How interesting, I wonder what more events shall transpire of our working together... this may prove somewhat... fun. However, I must not be distracted with this enjoyment for to long as part of my contract is for me to discuss some business with a certain....friend. Herunes cracked his knuckles in excitement only to be surprised by the feeling, it felt odd... he's never really used to having a body.. and considering he is trapped in it he may as well explore its properties. Herunes reaches down into an almost hidden pocket and pulls out a gem stone on the end of a silver necklace and places it around his neck, engravings on it so unique that there aren't others like it. 'If it were possible, I should like to be excused for just a moment, I have someone expecting me rather soon...' He smiled as he rubbed his necklace This should help you recognise me...old friend.	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,469	78	23	960	145	Malvo had passively listened to the conversation between his new-found allies with mild interest as he fed Little One. What illustrious company i've been invited to keep he thought as Little One finished its breakfast. Malvo decided to speak up "The treaty is all well and good but in the end it is a piece of parchment" Malvo said as he slowly shifted forward in his seat "Do we have a plan for the eventuality that the good king decides to ignore it?" It has been ages since I've been allowed to spread my gift here in the mortal realm Malvo thought as he stared at the map How divine the agony I could bring to the people of this kings land Malvo found himself almost shuddering with anticipation. The more observant members of the room might notice the slight glint of greenish light flicker behind the lenses of his mask before he managed to calm himself.	Name: "Dr." Malvo Race: Daemon Age: 132 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Malvo is a creature of disease, the very air around him becomes foul with every labored breath he takes. His crooked form seems unnatural to human eyes and only makes his demonic origins even more apparent. His very breath is laden with sickness and a thick black smog of bacteria and viruses exudes from the nostrils of his mask. Rather ironically his power over sickness and death means that he has become a favorite summon for medics and doctors as they use his abilities to purify wounds and speed the healing process, not to mention his familiarity with the human body means he is useful for operations. He does not care why he is summoned only that he is able to ply his trade when he is, whether that be helping a doctor treat the poor victims of a plague or assisting a wealthy land owner by starting one. He is not outwardly mean or cruel and instead is very soft spoken and almost kind, He does not see the diseases he creates and spreads as bad or evil but as gifts he is giving the world and in doing so making it stronger. His vindication in his beliefs is reflected in the words used to summon him. "Preacher of Pestilence, Hear my call" and his answer is always the same "The Doctor is in."
3,470	78	24	2,513	714	Jason sighed as he looked around as some of the daemons were talking to him but was it ok if he actually talked to them? He wasn't used to being around daemons and they all seemed to be higher ranks than him. What should I do? He asked as he looked around the room. He was glad the conversation moved off him again. They were to take a treaty to the King and make sure he agrees to it. Sounded easy enough but then again it might not be easy. He looked at Herunes as he said he had to go soon and wondered where he was going. He then cleared his throat but nothing came out. come on say 'my name is Jason Blades I have been trained ever sense I could remember' come on you need to get your name known among the group. He shook his head as he just couldn't do it for some reason. Though he was curious about who the others were though because he never seen them before. He looked at Labor mostly he was curious about him. Though he waited for anyone else wanting to throw out their names.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,471	78	25	2,558	6	The snow crunched underfoot as Kaedas made his way to the Citadel. His black hood pulled up to shelter his face from the cold. As he got closer and closer to the gate he lowered his hood; revealing his long, black hair and his bluish-white eyes. The Templars standing guard at the gate looked at him and scowled 'Your late, whelp! one of them shouted 'The Grand Warlock has called all templars, warlocks and daemons to his chambers. Kaedas acknowledges this with a nod and lengthens his stride. A few minutes later he is standing outside the Grand Warlock's office and raps twice on the solid oak door.	Name: Kaedas Race: Human Age: 29 Gender: Male Bio: Kaedas is the son of a merchant, from a family not blessed with magical ability - Until Kaedas developed his powers at the tender age of eight. His father was so proud an wanted his only son to become a templar and bring glory to the family name. But Kaedas had other ideas... he trained himself and developed his skills to the point where he could safely cast a few basic spells and thoroughly understood Daemon lore. He soon caught the attention of the Order and has been trained as a full-fledged warlock. His skill and power grew and so did his ambition. It may take him years but he has his mind set on becoming the next Master Warlock.
3,472	78	26	2,762	43	Xai'an, of the Chiroi who haunt the lightless depths, for one. The answer came from a newcomer and made Azmun turn his head to see a woman entering the room. He grinned. Normally he wouldn't consider a female to be a worthy combatant, however this one claimed to be part of the Chiroi and if it is true then she has Azmun's respect. He recalled seeing her on occasion in the courtyard, training the new recruits. He sensed she was a daemon but only now does he know what kind of daemon she is. How intriguing... he thought and then stood up from his chair facing Xai'an "Then I, Azmun of the Chaos Flame welcome your blade. At my side as well as against mine own" he grinned and then seated himself back as the topic of their task continued. It turns out that killing the king was out of the question as the rest were afraid of leaving a kingdom in turmoil. Azmun sighed deeply at hearing that. Kings come and go like the leaves from a tree, if a kingdom and their people will be plunged into chaos if their leader is killed then it simply means they were weak and deserve their fate. were his thoughts but he decided to keep them to himself as there wasn't really anything he could do against it if the Master of Contracts specifically stated that the king is to not be killed. This was one of the few times that Azmun cursed the Contract he was under. In the end they had to persuade the king to surrender by what was written in a treaty signed by the 3 kings. Xai'an was the one trusted to carry the contract which would probably also make her the quote-un-quote leader of this merry band of hell-spawns. No objections came from Azmun in this regard, he would gladly leave diplomacy to whoever fancied himself or herself more skilled. Herunes excused himself from the rest for whatever reasons, Jason kept his silence which only reinforced and confirmed Azmun's beliefs at how green this boy-templar is. Malvo however asked a valid question, what should they do if the king decides to ignore the treaty and back down on his word. Azmun chuckled loudly to that."I will start burning his limbs one after the other until he swears whatever oath we want him to swear. he then hinted at Xai'an "..or perhaps the lady may grace us with a demonstration the famous Chiroi torture methods. he then returned his attention to Malvo "Or, maybe you could teach him why doctors are so important to have around my good sir. Azmun then spread his arms wide as if asking for a hug and stated in a smug and confident tone "We are Daemons who can conjure up pain and suffering the likes these mortals cannot imagine. I doubt 'negotiation' will be an issue."	This looks interesting, I'd like to give it a shot. Hope my CS is good enough, if anything needs changing then just let me know. Name Azmun Race Demon Age 211 Gender Male Bio Azmun is a demon of chaos with a dark hide as strong as iron and mastery over the element of fire. A cloud of flames seems to always envelop him, threatening to consume any who might get to close. These flames are volatile and grow more and more violent by Azmun’s anger until they unleash under the form of a flame blast, scorching anything in a 10m radius around him. His body constantly generates these flames for him to manipulate as he sees fit. However his formidable ability is only usable when in his true demonic form, while in his human form he has no control over the element but is still immune to its effects. As a human, Azmun is a highly skilled warrior with a super-human prowess for combat and versatile with virtually any weapon that falls in his hands though he mostly prefers wielding a sword in each hand. He is usually summoned during war times and set as a vanguard in battles where he can unleash his full potential and turn any foes to smoldering piles of ash. The words used to summon him are : “I call thee, Spawn of Chaos and Flame!” to which he answers “Who must burn?”
3,473	78	27	901	1,545	Understood Allistair, I will ensure the task is completed with as minimal blood shed as possible. Also after out meeting I'd wish to speak with you in private about something. If that would be all right my lord, Iabor said his voice stable, and calm. Though there was a great fear inside him. He was attempting to relax, but a small tremble came through the only ones that'd be able to see it would be those sitting right beside him. He had made his decision, he would reveal who he truly was to the grand warlock; and pray for leniency. But, it was something that he had felt he needed to do. He couldn't go out living this lie any longer, and he wished to start a new era. One where not all daemons were feared, simply because of what they were. He felt it was his duty to do this, and he would not allow his cowardice to get in his way any longer. This was a new lifetime, and perhaps his last as he'd become older, his life was coming towards a close. He would not let something weigh so heavily upon his soul any longer, he wished to leave behind no secrets. After he thought about it he had nothing to fear, he had done marvelous things for the Order. Soon he became stilled, and he fully leaned back letting the others talk among themselves, especially Azmun.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,474	78	28	2,513	714	Jason caught a glance from Azmun and it made him burn inside. He hated that look but he couldn't speak. Say it, say it, SAY IT! He screamed in his head then sighed. But before he could talk Azmun said "We are Daemons who can conjure up pain and suffering the likes these mortals cannot imagine. I doubt 'negotiation' will be an issue." It just made him freeze again. He was never around daemons but it freaked him out for some reason. He then heard Iabor speak he wondered what was up with him but then just shrugged it off. He then went to internally fighting with himself to introduce himself. After a while he choked it out "my name is Jason Blades" he said. He figured it was obvious about what he did sense he had a sword. He looked down knowing the ridicule will start soon.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,475	78	29	245	26	As Herunes started to get up and head to the door, he smiled at Azmuns speech and stopped half way as he made his way to the door. Though what caught his attention most is the young templar spoke allowed, the one who had been silent and expressionless finally decided to...give us his name. Oh so now he speaks as I leave... such a shame... perhaps a room full of daemons is getting to him? Herunes went over to the door opening it, he found another warlock standing there as the others did before. Quickly Herunes smile dropped as he gave a long sigh 'You're late....very late. Warlock.' His tone turned bitter, Herunes despised later-comers... he often lets it slip if they arrive in style or had reason. But this one wasn't even seen at the castle before now... which frustrated Herunes. He barged passed the warlock and walked on into the hallways. After moments of walking a guard rushed over to Herunes. 'Your 'Friend' is here to see you' The guard obviously sceptical of daemons having friends among mortal world. 'I had expected as much, give me his location and I shall go to him' Herunes coldly replied. 'Uh he's outside the city... we ain't letting him inside.' The guard responded with almost an angered tone. 'Very well, you may go now' and so he did. Herunes understood very well why his friend wasn't allowed inside... he didn't look well... never has. Probably because he's half dead... As he got outside of the gates he only then started to feel the cold sharp air press down on him, he liked it, though he got frustrated with the wind blowing his hair in his face so he tucked it in his clothes. Off to the side near a dying tree he saw a tall man leaning up against it, no taller than Herunes... they even looked similar. His hair was long and white, his skin pale as the snow surrounding him. His eyes glowed a frightening orange. He wore a black robe around his body. Herunes smiled 'It has been too long Sepherus, i'm glad to say that one hundred years has not killed you...' reaching out his arm for a shake. Sepherus reached out his arm to greet and the sound of bones cracking in the shoulder echoed off into the clearing 'It was not an easy hundred years waiting on your return... though fear not.... our plan is still in place.'	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,476	78	30	2,558	6	'My apologies for my late arrival, Grand Master' After being let into the room by what appeared to be a daemon, Kaedas bowed his head slightly in the Grand Master's direction. 'I was away from the Citadel when your summons came and have only just been informed of this meeting.' A chill ran down Kaedas' back; he'd never been in the same space as so many daemons in his life, the thought of what this creatures could do to him was unsettling, to say the least. He moved over to the back wall, leaned against it and let his gaze roam around the room, taking in all the daemons, templars and warlocks, and finally fixating on the Grand Master; who would now have his full attention.	Name: Kaedas Race: Human Age: 29 Gender: Male Bio: Kaedas is the son of a merchant, from a family not blessed with magical ability - Until Kaedas developed his powers at the tender age of eight. His father was so proud an wanted his only son to become a templar and bring glory to the family name. But Kaedas had other ideas... he trained himself and developed his skills to the point where he could safely cast a few basic spells and thoroughly understood Daemon lore. He soon caught the attention of the Order and has been trained as a full-fledged warlock. His skill and power grew and so did his ambition. It may take him years but he has his mind set on becoming the next Master Warlock.
3,477	78	31	960	145	The raven sat perched on the branch staring down at the two at the bottom of its tree, Its intelligent black eyes peering through the branches. As the two met it watched and listened intently scuttling down its branch to get a better view. Finally when it had seen and heard all that it had wanted it silently took off flying back to the Citadel bearing news for its master. Alighting on the lofty windowsill it peered through the glorified crack in the wall at it's masked master sitting in the room below. Malvo let his gaze wander to the window and saw the raven waiting patiently for him, with a slight nod Malvo stood "If that is all then I shall excuse myself to prepare for the journey" he stated in his soft way as he turned on his heel and left. The raven on the windowsill flew off as its master left circling the great Citadel for a moment before flying in through the small hole that served as its entrance to Malvos personal room. Malvo was escorted back through the Citadel by yet another Templar who seemed just as keen to be rid of him as the other. Upon arriving at his room the Templar opened the door for him and closed it quickly behind him. Malvo looked at the raven perched on his desk pecking at the remains of an old bread crust "Well" Malvo asked as he strode over to his desk and took a seat Little One hopping off to join the other raven in pecking at the crust "What did you learn?" The raven perched on Malvos outstretched arm and peered into its masters eyes the slightest flicker of greenish energy swirling deep in its eyes as the information was relayed between the two. "Good girl" Malvo said as the transfer finished and he stroked the raven with a gloved finger as it cooed appreciatively "Now go get some rest" he finished as he gently pushed the raven off and it flitted over to one of the many nests in his wall. "I want you all ready for the journey so don't stay up to late" he called to the rest of the ravens who cawed an acknowledgement back. I shall gather my things Malvo thought as he began collecting various bottles and vials filled with strange substances and placing them carefully in a large leather bag along with several small but severely sharp knives and a wicked looking hand-saw which he ran a hand down lovingly before placing in the bag. Finally his most prized possession the large brass and glass syringe which was held in its own small wooden case branded with the sign of his clan was placed lovingly in the bag which he snapped shut and placed next to the door. With his packing complete Malvo walked over to the largest nest in the room pieced together from branches, bones and the occasional piece of clothing he could steal. With a resounding ripping sound two large wings erupted from his back as his mask twisted and elongated into a jagged beak and his gloves melded into bony but wickedly sharp claws. In just a moment Malvo had shed his human form and stood looking like a cross between a raven and a man. Flexing his wings Malvo felt a sense of relief, he found it refreshing to change forms after being in one for a while. Perching in the giant nest Malvo wrapped his wings around himself and settled in for a nice rest before he had to set off on his mission, Little One perching on his bony shoulder and nuzzling into his neck as it too slept.	Name: "Dr." Malvo Race: Daemon Age: 132 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Malvo is a creature of disease, the very air around him becomes foul with every labored breath he takes. His crooked form seems unnatural to human eyes and only makes his demonic origins even more apparent. His very breath is laden with sickness and a thick black smog of bacteria and viruses exudes from the nostrils of his mask. Rather ironically his power over sickness and death means that he has become a favorite summon for medics and doctors as they use his abilities to purify wounds and speed the healing process, not to mention his familiarity with the human body means he is useful for operations. He does not care why he is summoned only that he is able to ply his trade when he is, whether that be helping a doctor treat the poor victims of a plague or assisting a wealthy land owner by starting one. He is not outwardly mean or cruel and instead is very soft spoken and almost kind, He does not see the diseases he creates and spreads as bad or evil but as gifts he is giving the world and in doing so making it stronger. His vindication in his beliefs is reflected in the words used to summon him. "Preacher of Pestilence, Hear my call" and his answer is always the same "The Doctor is in."
3,478	78	32	410	377	Very well Iabor, but it will need to be after my next briefing. I have a great many things to sort through today and that does not include personal problems. Alastair was not normally short tempered, but his work had almost tripled with so many masters away from the order. The North lands were proving a considerable drain on their resources and he had begun to feel the burden more than most. He had months of paperwork to catch up on, supplies to log and payments to be made. It was not all glamour to be a Warlock of such high stature. "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." he rose from his seat with a slow creak of old age, bowing his head to each member respectively. It was at this point the door opened again, Kaedas walking through and apologizing for being late. If it were not for the mask Alastair would have looked outraged at the man. "You arrive just as we finish young Warlock. I have no time to fill in anyone who drags behind, let the others explain the task you face." He turned again to Iabor as he brushed past the Warlock and stood at the door. "Well templar? I do not have all day!" with that he left the room, marching with scrolls in hand down the hall to the next meeting chamber where the nobles were to meet in order to discuss funding for the Order in return for fighting the demon spawn. His mood was already turning bitter, and now he had to play nice with milk drinking fools. Politics was an ugly game...	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,479	78	33	901	1,545	Iabor seemed to faintly chuckle as Allistair called him young, it was filled with nerves though he soon sighed out growing silent. Iabor quickly stood following the elder warlock out, his under armor making the sounds of stretching leather as all of Iabor's muscles became tensed, then relaxed his eyes narrowing. He ignored the young warlock for the most part as he walked past him, as he hadn't the time to dawdle. Because if he took to long then he'd have to wait, if he waited his cowardice could get to him. If that happened he would not let himself finally get the burden of his lying about his daemon heritage off his chest. Something he would not, and could not allow to happen, his helmet shining from the passing lights as he followed the warlock into the room where the nobles would gather for their meeting. As soon as he entered he locked the door, as he didn't want anyone walking in before he could finish explaining himself to the warlock. He took slow paces to the center of the room before stopping, and saluting proudly before they fell to his side. His hands shook as he sucked in a deep breath of air to focus himself. "Allistair, I am not who you think me to be. I have been a part of this order for two hundred, and thirty years. I joined the order at twenty years old, and have been posing as my own son off and on. The rest of the time when I was in hiding I produced weapons for the order. Along with armor, and other protective trinkets for humans in mass production. For you see I am a daemon," Iabor said all of which on short nervous breaths. As his whole body was trembling, he was scared of what the elder would have ordered done to him. Which made it hard to breath, and he soon removed his helmet revealing his deep purple eyes. In an attempt to breath easier. He held it easily at his stomach looking down at it for a second, before looking back at the warlock. "I am a monster, and I am a coward. For I have hid this from everyone, I have even attempted to flee from it. But, this day I am done running, do what you will to me. Though know this, I have spent all of my life on earth I was born here, and raised by a human mother. I have lived as a human, raised to have human thoughts and beliefs. In return I have dedicated my life to protecting the human race, something by no means I regret. Even if I am to die this day I am happy," he said letting a small smile spread energy began swirling around him. His body was soon enveloped by the energy, and soon two wings spread out flapping dispersing the energy. Standing in Iabor's place was a tall white demonic dragon with a black stomach, and throat. It's three tails swishing behind him as his feathered wings folded against his body, he would not lie he felt so free it felt amazing. His purple eyes glowing a solid color as they narrowed as Iabor looked Allistair in the eyes. "I am still the man you know me as Allostair. Just I've done far more then you thought," Iabor said bowing his head his eyes closing.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,480	78	34	410	377	Alastair stood, emotions impossible to understand beneath that mask and ritual trappings. He was an enigma wrapped in a shroud of secrets at this point, and it was impossible to say whether he was surprised or not by anything Iabor said to him as he simply listened. He did not even flinch as the boy told him who he was. Boy hardly spoke right for Iabor anymore, he was an old Daemon by all accounts, perhaps this was why he came to speak his peace, before his time was up for these realms. Alastair moved to the table after a long silence, placing his book of contracts on the surface and drawing out a few parchments that lay in his satchel. Some were letters, some maps, others were documents of supplies and taxes that were all signed and stamped with the mark of different lords and kings. All relevant to the meeting he would be holding in the next hour. Still he seemed to ignore Iabor and his words, not recognizing him in anyway for quite some time. The Templar might as well have been a ghost at this point, no act raising the attention of the old Keeper. "You are a fool boy..." Alastair finally spoke in a silent and tired manner, still not turning to acknowledge Iabor standing in the room with him. "You would have done well to remain silent, to die with that secret in your heart. Instead you tell me, the Keeper of Contracts, of what you are..." At last Alastair turned to the man standing before him, arms pressed against the table as he leaned over his papers. "Tell no one..." his gaze returned to the papers in front of him, all a motley mess of agreements he was to sort before the others arrived. "...and get out." He had not raised his voice to Iabor, but his silent tone said all that their was to be said at this time. He was well within his rights to kill the Templar Daemon for what he had admitted being. Daemon outside of Contracts were hunted as much as their base demon spawn cousins. Yet Alastair had stayed his hand, though quite obviously at great mental restraint. "When you are done with this mission Iabor...do not come back..." The last words he spoke echoed through the room. He would not speak this secret to any of the Order, but the Daemon would never again be allowed within its walls. This was their silent agreement, and Iabor had to now accept that.	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,481	78	35	901	1,545	Iabor looked at the gran warlock, and sighed before putting on a smile. Soon shifting back into his human form, and put his helmet on chuckling oh so softly. His breathing was steady and calm. "If that is what you wish. I will obey, but know this. I live without regrets can you honestly say the same," Iabor said. He then walked out of the room, slowly shutting the door behind him. He walked down the hall, He helped people who bounced off of him up off the ground as always. Once in his room, he punched the stone wall sending tiny cracks spider webbing all along it. He threw his helmet at the bed letting his long white hair fall over his face, his pupils narrowed into slits like a snakes. He was infuriated that the Grand Warlock would deny him the right to remain a templar, after everything he'd done for them! He may have been a daemon, but he felt as human as anyone else. "Damn it," he said over, and over again. His whole body was shaking as he hit his fist against the wall lighter, and lighter till he relaxed. He began to pack everything, not wanting to leave anything behind that was his. When the task was done he sat down on his bed, and set his helmet on his lap looking at it as he roamed through his own memories. He really did regret nothing, now that he'd had the time to fully calm down. He'd lived a full life, and a happy one. He'd made friends, made a difference in the world. He soon leaned back on his bed, and shut his eyes with a tired yawn. Quickly falling asleep as the ordeal was now over, and he would finish this mission with his head held high.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,482	78	36	2,513	714	Jason sighed as he stood up and looked around the room before he walked out the wooden door. He needed to get familiar with this facility a little bit before he leaves. His foot steps resounded as he walked. He looked around then decided to start at the training grounds. He was sorta looking for someone that could give him some details about this place. He saw three distinct squads training Templars to the far north, Daemons to the west, and witches/warlocks to the east. I might as well talk to a Templar he said in his mind. Jason walked over tot he training Templars and looked at the instructor. "Hello my name is Jason Blades I was just sent here and I am to be on a mission tomorrow. I would like to know if I can get some information on this facility if you do not mind." He said with a slight bow as a show of respect. He always knew to show respect to those that are higher rank then yourself.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,483	78	37	410	377	Do I look like a dam guide!? The instructor spat, waving his fist so sharply he nearly hit Jaden in the face. "Get lost boy! I have real men to train!" The instructor turned away and resumed bellowing commands to the group of men under his teaching. The cries came from all around Jaden. LEFT! RIGHT! PARRY! COUNTER!" The whole ground was a bustle with the Templars who would soon reinforce those already stationed in the North lands. The Warlocks were shouting their own drill commands. Small groups learning to wield their spells in battle. A stray bolt of ice smashing against the plate mail of one of the instructors who began shouting foul things about controlling idiots. It was a tense place to train that was unforgiving to those who were not used to the daily life of the Order. "Don't mind him boy. Gerald gets angry with everyone but the commanders..." the voice of an old man came from behind. He was wrapped in a cloak to shield himself from the cold but his frame was still bulky despite the age he looked. "Well lad, let's have a look at you!" He commanded, smacking the base of his spear to the ground as the cloak fluttered over his leather armour. ((Hope you like him Titan. He'll be your personal instructor))	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,484	78	38	2,513	714	Jason nodded as he got into a fighting stance and drew his sword. "If that is what you wish sir" he said. He then waited for a second looking the older man in front of him over. He was a master of longer range combat so if he gets in close he was at more of an advantage. Or at least he hoped he was. He then came at the man going to strike with a short slash at the chest. It wasn't the best attack but he was only gauging what the man could do.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,485	78	39	410	377	Hardel side stepped and bowed low, far lower than a man of his age should have been able to do so. The moment Jaden came past he span and gave the young Templar a firm kick in the rear. "Too basic boy!" He span the spear and slammed the shaft down onto the frozen ground. His hood had come off duringthe movements to reveal a tightly knotted white maim that had been tucked under the cape, his ears partly pointed revealing an Elvish origin almost unseen by men. Even among the Order, Elvish were a rarity, even the half breeds. "Again, and faster!"	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,486	78	40	2,513	714	Yes sir... Jason said he never expected Hardel to move so fast and his ears where what drew his attention. They weren't normal and niether is this man before him. He wanted to ask about them but didn't want to sound rude or get hurt. because he did so. He then thought about what to do next. He was obviously slower then Hardel and less trained. He then came at the man again with a stabbing motion that was faster than his last attack. He was still testing to see what was the best way to attack this man.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,487	78	41	901	1,545	Iabor twisted, and turned in his sleep soon he fell off his bed hitting the floor. He groaned out in a great deal of annoyance, and stood up he grabbed his helmet and put it on. The door opened with a creaking noise, and he walked out slowly he went for a walk around the grounds. He saw the green collar taking on Hardel, and he felt a piercing bitter tinge of jealousy. He sighed out as he watched the two duel, as it was more than a little entrancing to see the old man move the way he did. Soon he took a seat on one of the benches his arms crossing as he leaned back.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,488	78	42	245	26	The day has been long, but as Herunes watched Seph walk off he couldn't do nothing but think long and hard about what's next. Now... onto my problem... He looked down at his hand, he surged some of his power... the green and black must slowly crept over Herunes skin.. but in a sudden surge it retracted and Herunes fell to his knees in agony... Damn you warlock... The enchantment to restrict Herunes form was indeed powerful, it limited Herunes greatly as most of his powers dwell from his true form. He slowly got up and brushed the snow of his clothes, the pain still flowing through his arm, making it shake ever so slightly, it felt like needles digging into his arm, he turned and hastily made his way into the castle. Herunes smile was gone, there are moments where even Herunes can't bring himself to smile, but that never really means he's angry, just serious, a quote Herunes once heard and he will always remember, told to him by a jesters dying breath: 'A smile is not just on the face, but in the mind... find it in your mind... and you need not show it on your face.' It was hardly anything poetic in anyway, but... memorable enough for Herunes to right it down in his book. He felt a sudden change in the air around him, it broken him out of his train of thought. Who... what? He turned to the hallway towards the training grounds. He walked in, trying to locate its source. He saw Jason sparring with an un-usually fast man An elf... inpure.... luckily Seph isn't here... As he watched longer he saw it, something was different about this man, he stared at the mans face before disappearing again back into the hallways. Herunes never forgets a face, nor the mind lay hidden behind it. After endless walking Herunes finally made it into the main library, usually visited by warlocks. Herunes hoped that the one he was after was still alive...	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,489	78	43	410	377	Hardel twisted and dived on the frozen grounds. The light fall of snow had began to appear again as the two sparred in the training yard.For every thrust Jason made Hardel span and struck the boy on the arm of leg. Shouting at him "AGAIN!" and retaking his stance of standing at the ready like a suit of armour in the cold. Whenever Jason would slow, Hardel would go on the offensive. When Jason countered, Hardel would flow seemlessly into his defensive dives and parrying strikes that threw the young Templar off his balance and always ending with Hardel hitting him hard on the arm of leg with the butt end of his spear. The man was as illusive as a ghost. He had completely ignored the fact that near every Templar and Warlock was now standing and watching the two fight it out in the central ground. The final strike that nearly hit Hardel was struck away, but not by his spear. Jason had gotten too close this time for such a counter. Instead, Hardel held out his hand and cried out, in a tongue that flowed like music into the wind, a single word that sent Jason hurtling back to fall on the hard frozen ground. The impact alone would have no doubt left him breathless. there was Hardel, standing over the young boy as he leaned on his spear. "Never expect a single weapon, for the hidden blade is the one that will kill you." He held out his hand for Jason to lift himself off his feet. "Come boy, you shall be my student. This I command of you." The voices began to raise around them. Hardel had not taken a student in decades, he had helped train others but never taken one on has his own, not since the death of his son and his family. It was something that all knew never to speak of, but now they could not help themselves. Hardel raised his gaze to the instructors. He did not need to say anything with his eyes glaring at them. They simply took him for what he meant and began yelling at their own students to return to their training. "What is you're name boy?" -----The Library----- The great library of the Citadel was not quite as great as some would have been lead to believe. It was just a vast hall that lead to smaller rooms, each wall covered in old books and scrolls with shelves arrayed along the floors to allow additional books to be housed. It was a difficult place to walk through, and breathe for that matter. The air was thick with dust, the large candles arrayed by each shelf end half melted away from being lit day after day. The few Warlock students that had been studying quickly vanished to see the commotion their friends had spoken of outside in the training grounds. all save two Warlocks remained in the library now. One, a young man who seemed too interested in the particular book covering the history of the kingdoms, and the other an old woman. Her pale blue eyes shot up as Herunes entered her domain. "What can I do for you Daemon?" she said loudly, her voice carrying through the hall. She was no doubt a once beautiful woman, but those days had past her now. Her lover was gone, her dreams of adventure spent and her joints now causing her too much pain in the cold air to even try and go outside the walls this time of year. Yet she worked tirelessly to catalog all the books they had in her library. She carried a large pile of old tomes, placing them on one of the slim benches that ran through the centre of the library and taking a small number of them before vanishing down one of the alleys, emerging once more with a fresh selection. "Cursed students. They may be gifted in body but not of the mind. How hard is it to return something to its proper place?" she spat at no one inparticular, scratching her head before turning to face Herunes once again. "Well Daemon, I said what is it?"	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,490	78	44	245	26	'Ah my dear Iris, it seems time has taken upon you as it has to the kingdom around you' He walked up to her, the closer he got the more he could see her face, 'Harsh it has been' Herunes smiled as he lifted one of the books from her grasp and placed it in its proper place 'Yet I see your mind still carries on...' the smiled upon his face vanished again. 'My recent summon has bound me to this....form...' He took a seat at one of the tables, 'And I have no intention of bringing anything up with the Circle as I know they could not care less... and so I have came to someone...I can trust' Iris one of the few who can look deep into Herunes eyes and remain calm, which depending on the person... means trustworthy or enemy. He lifted up his arm and made a quick demonstration of his case, he let his magic flow over his hand but as before it retracted and left his arm in pain, he tried to keep it subtle as possible, only making it sound as if it were loud whispers. 'I can still feel the minds of those around me but my power of bringing forth illusion to reality is little to nothing...' His eyes enveloped in black as he clenched his fists 'The person who did it of course isn't the problem, it's the source of the enchantment which is bothering me... I must find it... and clear it at once.' He then puts his hands over his eyes in agony, regretting his release in anger...	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,491	78	45	2,513	714	Jason took Hardel's hand standing up then bowed "I am Jason Blades" he said. He never had a personal instructor before. "If I may ask sir what are you?" He asked he never seen a human like him before. He then looked around and saw how everyone was looking for a second. Did he do something impossible? He had no clue at all as he dusted himself off from all the snow he now had on him. And he couldn't believe he used magic hidden blade he repeated in his mind.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,492	78	46	410	377	((I'll make this post but hen we really should wait for the others to get a chance.)) "Jason. I shall speak with the Commander, but from today you will be my squire." Hardel spoke like the stern trainer he had proven himself to be. He was one of the few members in the Templar ranks that could wield magic without being forced to convert to Warlock. Hardel truly had a great influence over the Order without wishing it. "I am an Elf boy. Well, only a half Elf, but that blood runs through my veins as much as any other." He replaced the hood over his head to keep off the cold sensation that left his ears feeling unpleasantly numb. "Damnable cold. I prefer spring. At least things are not so bloody frozen..." The old man in him was showing himself as he wrapped up and held the spear close to his shoulder. "Follow me, boy. The sooner we have this made official, the sooner we can continue your lessons." Hardel began a marching pace to the Commanders solar. It was a gruelling walk through the Templar barracks and up to the top tower over looking the training grounds. Anyone who suffered from bad knees would have been hard pressed to climb so many steps. It left many men winded after the climb. Hardel wrapped on the door and stood awaiting a reply. "Remember boy, say and do nothing unless spoken to. Lord Fredrick is a proud man and respects order." "Enter!" a voice called out from behind the door, Hardel pushing his way inside and standing with his head bowed to a man in mail and leathers who stood over a hot fireplace sipping wine while reading reports from the front. "It is good to see you old friend..." Hardel said with a smile. "Hardel! You old bastard, I thought you were still south of here." Fredrick slammed the goblet and letters on the table beside a chair across from the fire before walking up to embrace his old friend. "Too long my friend, too long..." Fredrick turned to see Jason. "...and who is this?" Hardel intervened. "This is Jason Blades. I am here to discuss his apprentership." Fredrick seemed taken back by it for a moment. Not sure if he was hearing the words quite right. "Are you sure Hardel? This is not some game you are playing is it?" Hardel gave a harsh cough of dissaproval. "Certainly not. I sparred with the boy. He's a bloody fool as he is, but he has potential. It is about time I took a squire once more...." Fredrick stood with a wary look on his face. Clearly their was history Jason was not privy to. The commander paced over to look Jason in the eyes as though inspecting a new filly and checking its value. "Tell me boy, Jason was it? What do you think of becoming a squire to Sir Hardel?"	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,493	78	47	901	1,545	After the fight, Iabor slowly stood up with a yawn. The fight had been informative about the young boys potential, it made him feel like the world was going to be in safe hands after all. He walked around the perimeter of the castle grounds one last time before calling it a night, and heading off to bed.	Name: Iabor Race: Daemon Age: 250 Gender: male Iabor's demon form is 15 feet high on his hands, and feet; while 16 feet while standing upright. With a neck reaching to about half a foot. Coming in with a weight of a whopping 1000 pounds of pure muscle. He has three tails that are about 4 feet long with hidden spines all along them that can shoot out at his enemies, and two huge smooth horns that start at the top of his head, and shoot straight back with a slight curve pointing up at the ends. He has a long head with a muzzle his lips look, and feel like hard curved teeth, inside is another set a little further back that makes him look like he has two sets of teeth. He has several markings on his face including the dark outline around his eyes that goes straight back before curling under, and pointing out in between the curves are sort of curved charm dots. His skin is smooth, and scaled most of his body is a snow white color, while his stomach down to in between his back legs is a ridged pure black color. His massive paws have three curved talon like toes, while his hands also have three thick fingers with an opposable thumb that end in curved talons. He has a wingspan of 2133cm, and are as soft as a baby chicks feathers. Human Form Bio: Iabor was born a Daemon in the human world, his own mother did not wish to keep him. On the day of his birth he was abandoned to die out in the cold, he was the perfect little monster with teeth, and scales as white as snow. With wings so fluffy and soft the only one to show Iabor any kindness was a young woman, she wrapped him up in a bundle of soft cloth. Their belly was large heavy with pregnancy of her own, instead of worrying about herself she took Iabor with her to her home in the woods on the outskirts of the village. She fed Iabor scraps of meat, and milk helping the young daemon to grow. One thing Iabor was quick to notice was that the woman had no husband. On the day of his sisters birth, Iabor managed to shift into his human form for the fist time. The woman was surprised by this, but was happy as she would raise both of them to be just people. Iabor grew up being picked on not only because of his hair, and eyes. But, because they called his adopted mother a whore. Which caused him to more often then not to get into fights, more often then not he was chased away by the men of the village. As he grew he began to developed great control over the basic elements. One rainy day, his mother his sister, and himself traveled to the city the wind and the slick road saw them hurtling off the cliff. Before they struck the floor Iabor shifted into his demon form a massive beast with white scales, and huge horns that flowed from his brow to the sky his snout massive with revealed teeth, his purple eyes glowed as he flew the carriage they traveled in back up to the road. He was the size of a horse, though as gentle as a summer breeze. His tail swished as he roared out the skies clearing as if by command. It was then that his mother understood, that Iabor was a daemon of incredible strength, one that could bring great change to the world. It was ten years after his mothers death of old age, that the event with the demons occurred. His sister who'd grown older looking then his brother thought of what the villagers would do, so she quickly attempted to hide Iabor. Though he refused to go into hiding, he decided to fight for the humans. Even though those in the village hated him, he knew their were others like his adopted mother and sister. So using his skills over metal he created a suit of armor, and sword as to hide his true identity. Before leaving to join the fight the villagers came when Iabor was training alone in the woods. They destroyed everything they tore his sister from her home. Cursing her as a warlock, they didn't give her a fair trial before burning her at the stake. Iabor came running when he saw the smoke, his eyes widened behind his helmet, and he roared in anger shifting into his demon form the cowards ran he chased them down. He tore those he caught apart, the only reason he stopped was because he heard his families voices. They told him to keep his promise, and he agreed in return they joined him he would never be alone again. Over the years Iabor kept his face hidden, all the while not using any of his elemental abilities. Which as he grew older began to diminish in place of pure physical strength, every human lifetime he'd vanish from the battlefield as to ensure he would not be detected. Not wishing for a repeat he would work in a secret forge providing the humans with strong weapons to slay demons with. All the while practicing his elemental magics so they wouldn't completely disappear. During the great war Iabor made himself a prominent member of the Templar, and has plans of revealing his true form.
3,494	78	48	2,558	6	Kaedas wandered through the Citadel, his cloak protecting him from most of the cold. The Grands Warlock's reaction was exactly as he'd expected. Still, the dismissive tone grated on his every nerve. As he watched the trainees sparring in the snow-covered yard he felt a strange longing; before he discovered his magical abilities his father had trained him in fencing and the art of war, he had thoroughly enjoyed his lessons. Not that he wanted to be powerless, but he found the act of swinging a sword somewhat relaxing. As he stepped from the archway and into the training yard, all action stopped and heads turned toward him. 'Don't mind me' he said 'I merely find swordplay entertaining and would love to watch' He brought his hands up to and lowered the hood of his robes. He sensed the trainees' unease as they met his ghostly eyes. A smirk crossed his face and he stood there with his arms crossed. 'Well, let's see what the Templars' newest recruits can do.'	Name: Kaedas Race: Human Age: 29 Gender: Male Bio: Kaedas is the son of a merchant, from a family not blessed with magical ability - Until Kaedas developed his powers at the tender age of eight. His father was so proud an wanted his only son to become a templar and bring glory to the family name. But Kaedas had other ideas... he trained himself and developed his skills to the point where he could safely cast a few basic spells and thoroughly understood Daemon lore. He soon caught the attention of the Order and has been trained as a full-fledged warlock. His skill and power grew and so did his ambition. It may take him years but he has his mind set on becoming the next Master Warlock.
3,495	78	49	410	377	----Library---- "I see..." Iris gave a short stare as Herunes attempted to draw on his darker form only to falter at the last moment. "I would guess some kind of binding incantation..." she continued sorting through her books and filing them one by one, brushing past the old Daemon as she did so. "About time someone put you in your place. You play with people's mind too often when summoned Herunes." Iris had learned the damaging effect of Herunes mind bending, how he could make you feel a despair that no human should face. If it were not for her own history of what life had thrown at her she may have been more fearful of the Daemon. But why should someone who lost everything care about losing one last shred of sanity. "I care little if you have no power or a sudden fetish for rat droppings" she began while pacing the shelves with a bony finger outstretched as to locate a specific tome. "but you are less than useless without that meddling you do. Ah..." Iris pulled out a small and shriveled leather bound book no larger than her hand in width and only a few inches in height. It was a rather uninteresting book to look at, until she opened the pages that is. The first words on the old fading paper that looked as though it would crumble under her touch, were elvish symbols. "One of our oldest books from the first teachings. I can't say it will have anything useful but it covers a few of the old ways in binding magic." Iris held the book to Herunes, eyes looked at him as if she had just stepped on something. "And make sure you bring this one back in one piece."	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,496	78	50	245	26	As the pain slowly faded from his eyes he calmed down and took the book held out to him and flicked through it carefully, he had respect for literature and its value. Elvish Herunes sighed I shall get Sepherus to read it for me... He closed the book and rested it deep within his garments, it stuck out a bit but nothing too showing. He then looked up at Iris amused at her comment 'Come now Iris, what makes you think I would give up on what makes coming to this place so worth while...' His grin had finally returned, he felt somewhat in control again. 'Now, tell me Iris, what else has happened in the past many years since my return home?' His interest was at this point overwhelmed with questions, though he only wished to ask them to certain people. Sepherus wasn't one to ask considering he isn't allowed in any major cities, and his other acquaintances are miles away. He also enjoyed Iris' cold reception, the way she speaks the way she lives the remainder of her life, all to fascinating. In truth she was just another piece of his grand amusement, but rather this time its like a Warlock befriending their test subject, growing to become like a favourite among the many. Iris compared to Sepherus is a hard one for Herunes to consider, considering they are of different species. Iris, he sees the previous horror and broken past that haunts her every second of the day, yet she keeps such a face where no-one would suspect a thing. Ironically she's like the book the back of her library, forgotten and doing nothing but gathering dust. 'Do you remember Sepherus Iris?' Forgetting he already asked her a question, his deep thought had gripped him in a mindful hold, sitting there leaning over the table. He saw Sepherus as his blade, he proved rather useful in dispatching many threats that lay too close to Herunes himself, his blades coated in his very own black blood, a poison so rich if gotten into the body it would kill within minutes. Herunes giggled at the thought...	Herunes Species: Daemon Age: 247 Gender: Male Human Form Demon Form Bio: It's very rare warlocks summon Herunes, not for lack of intelligence or power, but for his trickery. A warlock who summons Herunes must be strong willed to look him in the eye and stare deep within madness, this usually requires the strong willed or the already insane mind. He can be unpredictable if taken lightly, he may be slim but his smile resembles a dark evil that has a sensational thirst for...what? Madness? Corruption? Chaos? Death? Other than souls, nothing seems to be a certainty on what interests Herunes. His strength in his human form comes from a fair amount of skill in mind manipulation, in sacrifice to physical prowess of a knight, he has the ability to make even the hardened warrior go mad and curl in fear, he stares deep into the minds of others learning of their haunting nightmares and past, this requires time however and can only be done through an extended time of his presence. Herunes however is looked down towards by other Daemons, as his ability to transform into his true-form has been restricted by his summoner, she had learned so much of Herunes that she was totally prepared. Though to Herunes advantage, his summoner, a decaying old woman of a warlock, seeking vengeance on a necromantic clan, has fallen to arrogance and does not tell anyone of her secrets. So all he needs is to complete her task, and out live her inevitable fate. Words of summon give away to his power...'I summon thee, dark lord of madness and horror' "You have summoned me.... but how long can you last...?"
3,497	78	51	2,513	714	Jason stood there silent as Hardel had instructed him. There was clearly history between the two and in Hardel's own life that he wasn't aware of. He mentally sighed as he listened but then saw as Fedrick came over to him and looked him in the eyes. He then said "Tell me boy, Jason was it? What do you think of becoming a squire to Sir Hardel?" "Yes sir it is Jason and I would be honored to be Sir Hardel's squire." He said knowing that Hardel told him to speak when when spoke to. He was wondering about the mission they were to go on tomorrow will Hardel tag along? He asked himself as he continued to look into Fedrick's eyes. He was hoping he could go to sleep soon. He had walked a far distance and not to mention he had sparred with Hardel for what seemed like forever.	Name:Jason Blades Race: Human Age: 23 Gender: Male Description: Bio: Jason was born to two Templar knights who fell in love even though it was forbidden among them to do so. They had Jason in secret and raised him to be a knight as well. Though they never really wanted it for him, but they knew having the skills would save him in the future. When he was ten the commander found out and his parent's where punished. He was thrown into the training program as his parents were sent on missions mostly for recon. By his thirteenth birthday he was one of the best among his group. But when his parents didn't return from a mission did he realize that the world he was told about was true. Death, sorrow, greed, and destruction was all that was left. After that day he vowed to be as great as his parents and to try and change the world somehow. He trained hard and mastered in short ranged weapons mainly swords. He never leaves without one on his hip and a dagger in a boot. (I just now saw the link DX)
3,498	78	52	410	377	Lord Fredrick gave the boy a stern glare as if trying to find some hidden tinge to an otherwise polished blade. After a moment of persistent stares he stood taking in a deep breath and walking back to his fireplace. "I have no grounds to deny you this title. You may instruct him as you see fit Hardel" Fredrick kept his eyes on the dancing flames as he spoke, the room falling back to silence for a time as he stood ignoring them. "We shall take our leave then..." Hardel make to bow and gestured to Jason that he too was to leave the room. Fredrick's hand swung up to halt them. "The boy may leave, you I would ask to star Hardel. I must speak with you on something..." from his voice this was something Jason was not meant to be privy to nor should he wish to pry. Hardel bowed his head and waited for the boy to leave and close the door before facing the Commander. Fredrick looked over to him, a concern in his eyes. "This is a bad idea Hardel." Hardel shifted on his feet, clearly unhappy with where this discussion was going. "I see no reason why that would be. The boy has promise." "You know dam well why you have chosen him, Gods even I am no blind fool when to the resemblance." Fredrick had raised his voice, clearly not truly for the idea of Jason becoming Hardel's apprentice. Hardel responded with equal shouts of his own. "You would rather I hid away for the next decade before I die?" "DAM IT MAN HE IS NOT YOU'RE SON!" The room went silent. Only the popping wood on the fireplace made any noise. Hardel was staring at Fredrick with a detesting gaze. He would have looked as though he was about to cry if he were any other man. It was Fredrick that looked away, finally breaking the silence. "I am sorry Hardel. This boy may look like Arden bu-" "Never speak of this again Fredrick. If you wish to remain my friend, you will never mention his name..." Hardel took his own leave, opening the oak door and walking out of the solar before closing it behind him. Fredrick stood for a time before sitting down, resigned on his words, to continue sipping his wine. It had lost the taste he had enjoyed only moments ago...	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?
3,499	78	53	410	377	---THE NEXT MORNING--- The blizzard had set in only last night. Half the training programs had been cancelled due to the severity of the storm, but the party had to leave now if they wished to intercept the army before it reached their destination. Whatever that may be. Hardel stood with his thick furr cloak wrapped tightly over his frame, Alistair beside him wearing his robes with a simple cloak draped over them. The cold wind was stabbing at any bare flesh it could find with needles of ice. A gust swept over Hardel's face forcing the man to blink and wipe away some of the slush in his beard. "The gods seem to be trying to make thing difficult Alistair! Are you sure it is wise to send them now?" "If we delay any longer then we will never reach them in time! Besides, Daemons do not care for most gods!" "I was thinking more on those born of this world!" Hardel grunted and stepped back into the gate house, the howling winds were blowing through the stone building making it sound as though the entire citadel was inhabited by wailing banshees. A horrid noise to be sure. "Where are those dam students?!" Hardel spat. He had decided to accompany them for now, to see how Jason fared in real combat. Why Alistair was here to see them off too was beyond his knowledge. He had some reason to speak with them he assumed. Not that it was his business anyway.	Name: YliyRace: Demon!Age: 170Gender: FemaleDescription: is a demon of sound, her songs are so perfect to the ear it causes insanity, and she constantly has a air of happiness around her, the complete opposite of what she actually is. She has the ability to summon doors which when opened shows a way to an endless void, she usually uses this to cough remove Cough peopleSorry if it's not good, I don't mind if she's not accepted You need to use the img with around it to make the image show Totts, It'l show you how at the bottom of the screen. I did look at the image regardless and the bio is nice. The only thing I might pick at is her door summoning. Does that just lose people or are they thrown into a labyrinth in which they must find the way out of some limbo realm?

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