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<|description|>Louisa Faye * Age: 23 * Gender: Female * Appearance: An tall young woman with short fair hair (apparently cut by herself or otherwise cut badly by someone else), a pale complexion and dull blue eyes. Her build is angular and muscular, with any fat that might have gone towards a charming feminine physique ruthlessly utilized elsewhere. * Personality: Louisa (or 'Lou' as she is more commonly known) is approachable, straightforward, and rational in her demeanor, but internally she is haunted by a constant feeling of malaise and dissonance with regards to the path her life has taken, as if her mind has never quite caught up to the massive and traumatic changes of the last five years (i.e. the world ending, moving to the other side of the world, and becoming an experimental bio-weapon), or as if by some vague yet terrible mistake she has ended up living someone else's story. As a result, she can appear distant, or uninterested, or forgetful, and it can take a while for others to make an impression on her. In a practical sense, this resulted in her scoring below average on the psychometric tests of leadership and psychostability issued during her induction to the mechframe programme. * History: Louisa grew up in an utterly unremarkable and featureless housing development somewhere in the English midlands. At 18, she was working part-time as an agricultural worker, whilst her few friends had left to attend university elsewhere in the country, and looking with anxiety towards a decidedly uninteresting future. Needless to say, her plans of small-town angst were cut short when the Warped appeared, and disaster after disaster after disaster followed. Her family was not among those lucky enough to be at the front of the queue of evacuees awaiting resettlement, and after almost two years of delays and confusion they ended up stuck in a temporary housing settlement when an outbreak of Warped swept through. Louisa was seriously injured, but not fatally, and with the queue of evacuees infront of them substantially shortened by the attack, within a week her family was abled to receive settlement inside the Greater London Fortified Zone. With the medical services under massive strain, Louisa was given rushed and largely inadequate triage surgery for her wounds, and kicked out with little more than a dose of antibiotics and a prayer. Almost miraculously - or, in hindsight, suspiciously - she seemed to recover successfully with incredible speed, and disappeared into the obscurity of the desperate millions clining onto civilization. Two years later, whilst receiving an X-ray for a fractured rib she received whilst working as a labourer on the city walls, she was surprised when a squad of men resembling a SWAT team in business suits unceremoniously black-bagged her and tossed her into emergency military quarantine. It turned out that whatever doctor had triaged her two years previously had not noticed, or at least not considered, the Echidna parasite well-established but apparently dormat in her body. The following months - was it a year now? - passed as a blur, as after threats of jailtime, medical experimentation, and exile were thrown around, Louisa met with a woman representing a Japanese organization launching some kind of scholarship programme targetted at rare parasitized but stable humans. She offered protection, evacuation and specialist training to Louisa, with apparently no strings attached. With weeks of isolation and a lifetime of boredom pressing on her mind, it was the easiest choice she had ever made. --- * Skills: Louisa does not have many party tricks. She had few hobbies before the end of the world, and fewer after. Her main penchant is her raw physical potential, possessing a strong naturally frame trained by (at this point) years of labour and occassional contact rugby with her local evacuee community team. In a professional capacity as a mechframe pilot, this makes her a reliable and competitive training partner. In an everyday capacity, this means she can... get the lids off jars with ease, carry heavy bags, and move furniture without any trouble. * Chi-Mechframe: Grendel + Appearance: + Abilities: The Grendel Chi-Mechframe was developed using a core taken from a monstrous, heavily armoured wyrm-like Warped, inspiring a bulky design with high-density plating. The frame is not designed to be maneuverable or fast, instead opting for sheer mass and defensive capabilities, allowing the user to pull off a high impact charge once or twice to insert them into the center of combat, and then giving them the protection to endure staying in place afterwards. In line with this, Louisa has trained in a static, highly defensive style of combat, opting to tie down enemies, get in their way, and otherwise provide openings for her teammates to do their thing. Grendel comes with an attuned heavy glaive, that can be thrown at short range and recalled to the mechframe. The glaive itself is configurable, extending either to its default glaive-configuration or retracting to form a cleaver sword. In essence, Grendel is uncomplicated and elegant, harnessing the Warped power of a Chi-Mechframe into a classic suit of frontline armour. * Other:: N/A.</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Retreat From the Sea Monster Sydney Harbor | Daytime Teodora nodded, a smile still on her face as she responded to Elise's thanks toward her. "My pleasure. Just doing my job, fufu. Still, as far as our general situation is concerned..." She observed as whatever little damage her beam shots had inflicted upon the massive Warped were already rapidly being fixed, showing the creature's formidable capability in regenerating damage. "Yes. That is most decisively not a good sight at all. I am loathe to admit it, but it looks like we are currently quite outgunned and out of our depth." The comm channel soon came alive with message from the HQ. "This is HQ; the target's location has been verified. Selene, Supplice: disengage the Warped and return to base. Over." "Copy that, HQ. Exactly my thoughts, to be honest." Truthfully there was nothing better to do than to retreat. With Selene's flight capability crippled and Supplice's beam rifle proven to be ineffective against the massive monster, attempting to continue the fight would have been nothing less than a feat of pointless suicide. As reckless and situationally unaware as Teodora can often be, suicidal was more the trait of a certain smaller and rather sadistic girl than that of the Romanian pilot's. "Well then... Let's get out of here without further ado, dear Elise!" Teodora stored her rifle away, allowing her to use both her hands to gently but firmly grip on to Elise. Of the next barrage of lasers that had been fired once more by the monster, she paid little attention to. Instead, she focused on maximum speed while trusting her barrier to protect them from the attacks. All of Supplice's boosters charged up to the maximum output and with a loud roaring boom, intense jet fires exploded out of them to propel both Teodora and Elise to the direction of the harbor away from the hostile entity, leaving behind contrails in their wake.</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimSydney — Coastline With the Warped rapidly being left behind and Teodora flying away at full throttle, Elise took a deep breath and turned her head around to look at the lasers shooting after them. The fact that the monster could send out homing projectiles was most certainly not something that she had expected given the briefing from HQ, but given the targets until then there was likely no reason to need to home in on a target. This by no means made the issue any less irritating to deal with, though. As the pair of Pilots approached the shores of Sydney Harbor—the Opera House barely visible over the horizon—the lasers that had been chasing them slowly began to fade away before finally dissipating. That removed the issue of urgency, of course, but ultimately nothing really changed about their situation. Once Teodora had made landfall, Elise was lowered onto the ground nearby. Though she had seen no injury, a return to The Horizon was all but necessary—as was a discussion about how to deal with the monster where it lurked. A few drones seemed to be flying overhead out to sea already, given the black dots that the young woman barely noticed sailing over the horizon, at least—a sign that their work hadn't all been for nothing. "Eugh... We should head back," the young woman said, disengaging her Chi-Mechframe as she glanced back out towards the ocean. "I expect that we'll have to head back out to try and finish the job next time, so maybe the reconnaissance footage might give us something more to work with." --- Perth — Provisionary Office "Hm..." Sherry listened quietly to Louisa's suggestion before slowly taking a step back with her eyes closed. The woman seemed to be lost in thought for a few moments as she considered the situation, but ultimately there was little else to be said if the people that had been hired to help resolve the situation were willing to stick their necks out so easily. "Well, the least I can do in that case is drive you to the area. Not like I'm some sort of superhero like you three are, after all," she said, pulling out a keyring and spinning it around her finger. "We have a little time before nightfall, at least." Once the three Frame Pilots were ready to leave, Sherry would lead them downstairs and over to a car—a government-issued van, of course; with little fanfare as the four entered, the vehicle slowly revved to life before moving through the roads. The group's destination was, of course, the nearest sewage treatment facility; with a manhole being too dangerous to risk opening up, the safest route (at least in terms of entering the locale) was the wide canal that funneled everything there to be handled. It was a dirty job, of course, and no one present seemed to be happy about being there in the first place, but it was as good a place as any to start. "I think I'd be more of a burden than anything if I followed along with you, sadly," Sherry said, opening the door to the van to let the Pilots out, "so I'll probably be on standby at the office if you need me. I have a simple request, though: please don't destroy the sewers while you're down there, if at all possible. I know that some things might be hard to avoid, but, well..." The woman trailed off before sighing and shaking her head. "Never mind. Good luck out there, you three." @Mole@Laduguer</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Back on Land Sydney Harbor | Daytime "Phew! Well, that was quite something if I do say so myself." Teodora casually exclaimed as she and Elise landed safely back on dry land. Thankfully, the laser projectiles eventually dissipated instead of infinitely pursuing them. That would've made things more annoying, even if Teodora was rather confident that her barrier would be able to absorb a single salvo of the lasers. That said, she was still glad nonetheless that she wouldn't need to actually test that belief for now. She disengaged her Chi-Mechframe as well, with it returning back into its hairband form. "Mmhmm. That make sense. I'd expect so as well. That thing got the jump on us this time... But we'll win the second round, I'm certain!" she added a confident nod to her words as she spoke it. "But indeed... For now, let us return back to base. Got to get Selene's wing fixed, hmm? And some little bit of rest would be much appreciated as well... So, shall we, dear Elise?" she gave a playful wink at the slightly taller and older girl while gesturing to the direction of HQ before then starting to walk away in that direction.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko The sewers...? It would be a lie to say that Hoshiko wasn't apprehensive about going down there. She definitely didn't want to touch the water, or to even spend any more time down there then she could need to. Certainly, this treatment area didn't look gross, but there was no telling what it would be like deeper in. But... It was the difference between life and death for plenty of people. Her personal feelings about the sewer being gross didn't matter nearly as much as human lives. Hoshiko took a deep breath. "Hinotori, ignite!" The familiar sensation of light and heat washing over her body struck, her clothing replaced in seconds by the frame's underlayer, then the armor itself, and then finally the most complex portions that made for much of Hinotori's shape. She took a step towards the sewer entrance. "Okay, it might be super gross down there, but we've got to make sure everyone's safe!" she declared, steeling herself to lead the way into sewer. If there were Warped down there, she'd do everything she could to clear them out! @Laduguer@Mole</s>

<|message|>Louisa Faye As Louisa stood on the threshold watching Hoshiko suit up, she realised she had no idea what a sewer was actually like. In video games and books, it was full of monsters and treasure and that kind of thing, but she had an inkling that might not be reflected in reality. Although, on this occassion, the former was unfortunately likely to be present. Either way, a sewer probably involved a lot of waste of... various kinds, which was obviously bad. But... how bad? One way to find out, I guess. "Grendel, breach!" She struck the heavy plate hanging on her chest, and Grendel began to materialize in its usual web of ethereal and ghostly forms that one-by-one condensed into heavy dark plates of armour. She held up her glaive, which shimmered with a deep iridescent green in the daylight, and retracted it into its sword configuration. Probably wasn't a whole lot of use for a polearm in a sewer, after all. She followed Hoshiko's lead and began to stride towards the darkness. "So... what's our plan here. You two are built for speed and flight, right? Do you reckon you can pull that off in the sewer? I mean..." she paused and looked at the canal entrance, "it seems pretty big right now, right?". "What I'm thinking is if we catch a glimpse of this thing, we need to get on it fast before it has a chance to lose us in the maze of tunnels. And... uh... I'm not going to be so useful for that in Grendel. Of course, if this thing runs towards us rather than away from us, I'm your girl."</s>

<|description|>Fukada Hoshiko * Age: 16 * Gender: Female * Appearance: A bright and chipper young Japanese girl of average height for her age. See below for more detailed physical appearance. * Personality: A cheerful and exuberant, friendly girl. She always tries to see the best in others, and in spite of the dire situation that humanity faces she never seems to let anything get her down. To her, always pushing ahead, always keeping her head up, and always facing forward is the way she treats her life. Hoshiko is friendly to a fault, almost aggressively trying to get to know others and introducing herself with a smile on her face. She is perhaps a little too open at times, and can be a little senseless. She is deeply dedicated to the idea of protecting others and saving people, claiming that the reason she's still alive is because someone saved her, so she should pass it on. However, in spite of this bright exterior, Hoshiko's personality is not all that it seems. Deep down, she nurses a deep sense of survivor's guilt, which compels her to do everything she can to throw herself wholeheartedly into protecting others and making sure no-one else has to suffer. This is often to a dangerous disregard for her own safety. But if she burns out protecting people... is it really so bad...? * History: Hoshiko was an ordinary Japanese girl before the Echidna struck. Even as the crises worsened, her family kept an optimistic attitude, certain that eventually everyone would pull through and that the next day could always be better, an attitude that imprinted itself on her heart. And indeed, it was in this way that they persisted. It seemed this optimistic attitude really was leading to better days, as parts of the world began to recover. Their hometown became a safe haven, not as secure as the big cities but still protected from any major threat. The optimism could only last so long. The semblance of normalcy in her hometown was shattered. Preparing for a school trip to the local natural history museum, which both herself and her best friend Aoki Megumi were very excited about, an attack by a Warped that seemingly appeared from no-where claimed the lives of one of her teachers and many of her peers, leaving any survivors cripplingly injured before it was finally destroyed. Among those injured was Megumi, who suffered a crippling injury to her lower spine that would rob her of the use of her legs. As for Hoshiko, she remembers a sharp, stabbing pain in her chest as a piece of debris punched a hole in her heart. An injury that should have been lethal without immediate medical attention, and yet Hoshiko recovered miraculously the next day. This was because she had been infected, an Echidna parasite entering through the open wound and accelerating her healing process. Now an asymptomatic host of the parasite, Hoshiko struggled with the quarantine. As soon as she was able to, she wanted to... She didn't know what she wanted to do. She felt a hollow space inside of her. And yet, she kept smiling, because that was what had got her through everything before, right? The first thing she did when she was able was to visit Megumi, who was still hospitalized. She learned she would never walk again not long after. When she was scouted, Hoshiko jumped at the chance. She couldn't let anyone else suffer ever again. * Skills: Hoshiko is quite athletic, fast on her feet. She can think quickly, but is rather dense when it comes to school subjects. If you count eating as a skill, Hoshiko is quite accomplished. * Chi-Mechframe: Hinotori + Appearance: "With my two hands, and this frame, I'm going to protect everyone!" + Abilities: Hinotori is a high speed melee offense frame. It utilizes rocket boosters arrayed on the back of the armor to propel Hoshiko rapidly across the battlefield and through the air. her chief weaponry is her hands and feet, which she uses to deliver punches and kicks to her opponents. Her gauntlets and greaves are also equipped with boosters, allowing her to increase the amount of force put into each blow by a considerable amount. Highly maneuverable and capable of rapid pursuit, Hinotori allows for a considerable number of offense options in spite of being limited to punches and kicks. Additionally, by building power into a gauntlet, she can deliver an explosive punch for heavy damage. * Other:: N/A</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimThe Horizon — Dining Area If someone was to ask Elise about how life as a Frame Pilot would have been a year ago, 'surprisingly comfortable' would not have been her first answer. The skybase that she and the other Pilots lived on was essentially a flying cruise ship, as far as she could tell—and all the luxuries that came with that were just so subtly uncomfortable to her at first. Even now, after a year on The Horizon, things still didn't feel quite right. Regardless of if a lot of the cities across the world had returned to something barely resembling normalcy, being able to sit up here with a clear view of the skies as she ate after spending the four before carefully rationing out rice with her father... The only thing Elise could really do now was to accept that her current living situation was both a blessing and a curse, if anything. And so here she was, about to start eating a bowl of ramen in the middle of the skies above Tokyo. The base had made the rounds around the world more than a few times over the course of her time here, and it felt just as fitting to eat local cuisine while they were present anyways. Not like they couldn't while The Horizon was elsewhere in the world, of course, but it was about the principle of the matter... Or something like that. Of course, it wasn't as if working as a Pilot was all about this sort of life—doubly so, given how she was supposed to head out later today on a hunt. A joint effort with the Japanese government in Tokyo to attempt to reclaim parts of the Saitama prefecture, if she recalled correctly; something more important than the usual small skirmishes with weaker Warped to help get them more used to fighting, at least. Hopefully the taste and warmth of the broth would calm her nerves instead of letting her stew in her thoughts any more... Or that the others would finish getting their meals before briefing. A nice chat was always nice to help break the tension in the air, and they did have some time to themselves for the moment.</s> <|message|>PYRALIS CONSTANTINA --Calm Before The Storm-- High above the sky of the Japanese archipelago was none other than the Horizon, a massive sky fortress serving as the mobile headquarters of the stateless organization of the same name, one of the most active contributors in the training and field of Frame Pilots in this bleak apocalyptic era of human history. Although Frame Pilots were the spearhead of the counterattack efforts, a spear wouldn't be complete with its shaft, and thus the skybase was crewed by tireless men and women of various ethnicity and origins all sharing a collective goal of ending the Warped threat and restore order to the ravaged Earth. One of the aforementioned Frame Pilots was Pyralis Constantina, a girl of Japanese descent who was rescued from a Warped attack by a Greek soldier and subsequently adopted by him. It had been a year since Horizon scouted her out as an asymptomatic Echidna carrier and inducted her into the intensive Frame Pilot training program. Although she missed her adoptive father, Pyra knew that she possessed a boon that few others had and she wholeheartedly believed that it'd be grossly irresponsible of her to not use this power to help humanity push back against the Warped menace. Besides, for all the destruction those monsters had wrought, civilizations weren't cut off from each other; global communications endured, and that in turn alleviated the brunette a bit as she could simply contact Papa whenever she wanted. Speaking of Nikolaos, she was just done exchanging text messages with him via her gadget-glasses when a certain person entered; Pyra knew her, how could she not? She was Elise Kim, a fellow Frame Pilot and one that possessed a Chi-Mechframe suited for long-ranged engagements just like hers. Since FPs were so few compared to the whole crew demographic, everyone tended to know everyone else. Seeing - and smelling - the finely-cooked Ramen prompted Pyra to partake in the same activity as she stood up to get herself a bowl of rice topped with thinly-sliced beef, boiled egg, and onions, a gyudon to be authentically accurate. Her order done, she approached the pink-eyed albino, "Hey, Elise, can I join you?" Once the older girl replied, Pyra would sit down across from her then began enjoying her meal. The Japanese comfort food soothing her anxious excitement for the upcoming mission; this would be her biggest operation yet and she needed to perform her best.</s> <|message|>Louisa Faye Louisa Faye Louisa wasn't sure a person's buffet selection was a particularly fair judge of their character, but as she stood examining her plate of beans (plain), rice (plain) and as much tuna (plain) as she could convince the kitchen to give her, she couldn't help but feel like it said something about her character relative to the other Pilots. She wasn't sure how food worked beyond 'maximum carbs, maximum protein', and as one of the oldest Pilots onboard (or so she was told), she felt asking for help would be too embarassing. As a result, her usual approach was to eat when no one else was around. Unfortunately, today that wasn't an option. She had woken up late, spent an extra hour in the physical training facilities, and had only half-changed out of her workout leotard before realising she barely had time to eat before the briefing. Mechframe sortie days were always like this. She got in her head - probably the nerves - and sleeping or working out was all she could do to keep her mind steady. So, now there was no alternative than joining the others. Still... given some of the awful examples of human beings she had to eat with back in the evacuee camps, and given in a few hours they would be fighting tooth and nail with aberrant alien lifeforms... having lunch with her pretty smiling team-mates in the luxury dining lounge aboard The Horizon didn't seem so bad. Walking over to the table where Elise and Pyra were sitting with her plate in-hand, she sat down quickly and smiled. "Good mor-..." Wait, what time was it? "...-I mean, what's good, guys?"</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko Karaage! Rice! A big bowl of ramen! Aaah, this was the best! Her brown hair bouncing with each step, a smile as radiant as the most blinding sunburst on her lips, the wielder of the Chi-mechframe Hinotori practically skipped into the dining area, a tray looking positively overloaded in her arms. Of course, this would hardly be an unfamiliar sight. For Fukada Hoshiko was something of a black hole when it came to food. And what better way to enjoy delicious food then alongside her fellow pilots? Her smile parted into a wide grin as she approached the others. Chatting over a meal was the best, and it felt like a great opportunity to get even closer with everyone. From the very start, Hoshiko's opinion had been that since they were going to work together, it only made sense to make friends and get to know one another. Being cold and super professional or whatever was no good, especially when they were going to live together on Horizon. To that end, she had spent free time trying to get to know everyone as much as she could. Hanging out was the best way to make friends, after all. These six months had been surreal, to be honest. Hoshiko never expected to experience anything like this. To be living in a base in the sky. To be teamed up with a bunch of older girls and use a cutting edge piece of technology. But it was a chance to keep people safe, to make sure no-one ever got hurt again. She had to take that chance. "Hi, everbody!" declared the brunette, cheerfully, immediately sitting down close to the others and setting her tray down on the table as she did. "This is great, isn't it?! I'm so hungry! Itadakimaaaasu~!" The following scene could be described as something of an assault on all that was edible, as Hoshiko began devouring her food at a pace that would have seemed impossible to anyone unfamiliar with her eating habits. "Haaah~" she paused in her rampage against the food world for a moment, a hand to her cheek, "So tasty~!"</s> <|message|>Norika Dulac One would think that in the six months since she'd been on the Horizon, Norika would have gotten used to the thrice-a-day massacres—and no, there was no other word to describe the phenomenon—in the dining hall. One would be wrong. It was like a train wreck that happened every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And that didn't include snacktime. She arrived later than the rest of her colleagues, but still witnessed the carnage unfold. She sighed softly, ordering a small bowl of ramen from the chef. The same question floated through her mind every time Norika saw Fukada devouring food like there was no tomorrow: Where the hell did it all go? She sat a short distance from her comrades. At the moment she couldn't stomach Fukada's overwhelming aura of puppies and sunshine. Norika said a quick prayer before digging in. While Hoshiko opted to inhale anything and everything she could before a mission, Norika restrained her normally gluttonous nature and ate light. Plenty of time to digest a big meal when they got back. Assuming nothing goes pear shaped... Norika thought. She savored the taste. It wasn't anywhere near as good as her mother's cooking, but it was filling. After surviving in a hostile world full of monsters and other humans doing everything in their power to survive, anything was better than squirrel or pigeon grilled over an open fire. Of course, that was when she was lucky... She shook her head, as if to unlodge the memory from her brain, and slurped up the rest of the broth. Meal was out of the way, and now all she had to worry about was the briefing. And doing her best not to strangle Fukada. That was a very important part of getting through the day.</s>

<|message|>Fukada Hoshiko In between inhaling her meal like it would disappear at any moment, Hoshiko caught sight of another one of her fellow pilots entering the dining area. It was Norika! Hoshiko struggled with her surname a little, so she ended up referring to her as Norika most of the time. To be honest, she was surprised there was a younger pilot then herself on the Horizon even after six months. Of course she'd never asked Norika's age, but the girl was so tiny and cute that had to be the case, right? She was pretty prickly, though. Hoshiko honestly wasn't sure how to approach making friends with her, but ultimately she'd decided just to try being nice and friendly towards her. Eventually she'd open up a little as long as things went well! At least, that's how the brunette thought about it. Thrusting one hand into the air, the long errant strand of hair atop her head bobbing from side to side, Hoshiko waved enthusiastically at the other girl, a bright grin on her face. "Hey! Hi Norika-san! How are you?" she called to the smaller girl, enthusiastically.</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>PYRALIS CONSTANTINA --Humanity's Chosen-- "Thanks...~" The brunette replied gratefully in that signature rather quiet tone yet lacking in shyness tone of hers, not all confident people had to express themselves via a loud voice after all. Pyra began enjoying her meal but it didn't take long for more people to join the ever-growing group; another Frame Pilot approached them, as expected due to the joint operation that'd be up in a matter of hours. "Morning, Miss Louisa. Oh, just... making sure that I eat properly before the mission." This particular pilot was Louisa Faye, a noticeably older woman compared to Pyra, amongst - if not the - oldest in their ranks even. Although their time together had been short, Pyra had become accustomed to look at Louisa as a sort of guardian figure of the group, not purely because of her age and life experience, but her personality as well, the fact that her Chi-Mechframe performed the best when situated at the vanguard to take point certainly added to that mentor charm of hers. She was like the glue that held the team together so each of them could perform to the best of their abilities. Returning to the matter of a confidently loud person though, a prime example of one was here; her presence announced to everyone via that shrill voice of hers, whether they like it or not. Such an overbearing presence could be none other than Fukada Hoshiko, one of the youngest pilots out there. If Louisa was the calm and collected parent figure then Hoshika was the exact opposite, that hyperactive younger sibling who might be too childish even for her age. Pyra didn't really mind, but she'd be lying to herself if she couldn't see how others might be annoyed by her. "Hey, Hoshika... y-yeah, enjoy your meal... I think we'll all need it." Speaking of being annoyed, that expression couldn't be more visible on one Norika Dulac's face, a Frame Pilot who was actually Pyra's senior in age yet looked the youngest out of everyone here, much to unfortunately short girl's chagrin. Unlike Hoshiko, the flame-bearing Frame Pilot had enough sense to blissfully ignore the blade-swinging snow-haired pilot's presence, just the way the latter preferred it; too bad that it only took a single pestering golden-eyed cloudcuckoolander to ruin everything though. Ah well, her condolences to Norika. There was another... pilot(?) that she spotted at the corner of her eyes, ah yes, definitely a fellow pilot; Seraphima Drakos was her name if she remembered correctly, a Greek person much like herself. Although in a somewhat ironic twist, Pyra knew her the least amongst everyone present here, but she hoped that would change sooner than later. It'd be nice to have a conversation in her native tongue, that and pilots forming a bond would be beneficial to everyone. "Uhm... I think it's better be safe than sorry, it'll really suck if our performance dips on the field just because of an empty stomach." Pyra responded to both Elise and Louisa, "Makes sense, considering we have our own specialties. Logically, a proper team should have at least one ranged and close combatant each, cover each other's weaknesses and all that." A tried and true strategy, whether in real life or in one of her strategy games. Of course, sometimes you'd have to make do with what you have, but fortunately, Pyra believed they had a good distribution of Chi-Mechframe archetypes. "I think this upcoming mission is as much a test run as it is an actual operation. The best data is gathered from field practice after all, dangerous as it is." The bespectacled girl then curled a small, encouraging smile, "Nevertheless, let's all do our best. The world is depending on us."</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Place(s): The Horizon - Dining Area Time: Afternoon Interaction(s): Practically all the other members --- Mealtime Bonding? Mealtime Bonding~ "Hmm." Standing right in the middle of the way as she entered the Dining Area, the first thing Teodora did was to survey the place, trying to see if there's anything interesting going on. The day had been rather pretty quiet and relaxed so far for her; which was fine, she can appreciate quiet days. Still, it can't hurt to have more interesting things too. Of course, she had high hopes that her wish will soon came true, what's with the briefing going to happen about a certain operation and what's not. "Oh, lookie. There they are~" She was technically kind of late as it seemed like the others had already gathered. But then again, there was still time, so she saw no reason to hurry either. Of course, even if she had been unarguably and without a doubt late, she will still ended up taking it easy anyway. So she started walking, slowly and with a certain graceful flair to her steps typical of the young scion of a top-of-the-class wealthy family. This wasn't even deliberate, it was just how she had became used to with how she conducted herself. In short, being elegant had became a natural sort of body language for her. She didn't immediately head to where the others were gathered, instead taking her time to browse whatever were currently on offer in the Dining Area. After what can be reasonably called by others as a painstakingly casual process of browsing and picking her food, Teodora ended up with just a small plate of vanilla flan and another small plate of chocolate castella. Despite having a great appreciation for the simple joy of eating, she had always been a rather light eater. Nodding to herself, satisfied after a short inspection of both plates, she then started walking to where the others were gathered. "Good afternoon, my dear fellows." She said with her almost-always-present light smile and a small playful bow of the head as she arrived to the table. Taking an empty spot, she put down her plates and took her seat, remaining naturally elegant in her conduct as she did so. "Everyone sure is early. My, some of you had even finished already." With this remark, she specifically took a brief glance at Norika and Hoshiko. She let out a small giggle at the interaction happening between the two girls. Norika obviously looked annoyed at Hoshiko's sunshine energies, while Hoshiko seemed like she's either oblivious to or undaunted by that fact. In other words, the usual. "Fufu..." Then she started her own meal, slowly scoping up and eating small cuts out of her desserts using her spoon. Her smile widened as she put the palm of her left hand onto her left cheek, sighing in bliss and looking very much pleased with the sweet treats. "Quite nice... Oh my, pardon me. Did I miss anything important? Have you girls started on the saucy bits of stuffs already? Hehe~" She finished her words with a small giggle, looking around at the others with the sort of mischievously curious expression as common to her face as her casual smile.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko "That's great, Du... ra... um... Durakku-san!" It was always good to hear Norika was doing well! Sure, she seemed a little strained and distant, but Hoshiko was used to that from the prickly girl. Really, it was just good to hear that such a young girl was still doing fine even though she'd been taken on for something as big as this. It was a little sad to hear she didn't want to be called by her first name still, especially since Hoshiko had been trying her best to get to know her better. But the brunette would at least try her best with the girl's surname! For some reason, even though she'd gotten okay enough at English, she still struggled with it. "I'm doing great too, this food is sooooo goood~" she added, cheerfully, as she proceeded to polish off another heaping amount of food. The crispness of the karaage, the richness of the ramen broth... so delicious! She would go back for seconds if not for the fact that they had to go on a mission soon. "Oh, hey, Teodora-san!" the older girl had just walked in, so of course Hoshiko's hand shot into the air to wave towards her with an exuberant greeting. @Medili</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac Norika had to agree that the food was good. They had it good here in The Horizon. Three meals a day, the safety of several inches of solid titanium and modern weaponry that could tear apart all but the largest of Warped, and the best and brightest in the world to train, heal, and equip them. "That's better," Norika said. "If we get to the point that I allow you to address me by my first name, consider yourself lucky." She sighed, standing up to her full height. "Just because we're on a ship in the sky together doesn't mean you can be this chummy with me. We're coworkers, not friends."</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>PYRALIS CONSTANTINA --Operation Status: Success-- "Infernus, confirming that Skulker Warped has been neutralized, over." With all four Apex Warped slain, it looked like the hardest part of this operation was over, sure it would be folly to underestimate an enemy as unpredictable as the Warped, but Pyra would be lying if she didn't welcome the deescalating biomass assault; the exertion against her Chi-Mechframe and body was getting harder to ignore now, but it was still within tolerable levels. She could reliably keep going, especially if it's just mopping up the small fries; exhaling once, she swiveled around in the air and flew her way back to regroup with Hoshiko. .......... ..... ... Later that night, being one of the flight-capable Frame Pilots, Pyra consciously decided to fly back to Horizon by herself instead of boarding the helicopter, for the specific reason to allow the vehicle more room for those who needed the ride, including but not limited to Frame Pilots and other types of personnel. Landing back at one of the hangar bays, she touched-down before the wings of her boots extinguished themselves. "Infernus, disengage." With the command, her biomechanical armored dress and lance seemingly burned up into nothing in quick sputters of reddish-orange tongues, leaving the brunette clad only in her dark leotard undersuit as Infernus had compacted into its bracelet form. "Nnnmgh..." She stretched her limbs for a moment, sighed in that "runner's high" style, and sauntered her way into the engineering bay, time to return the Chi-Mechframe to Mr. Igor for maintenance and storage. A quick shower and change of clothes later, the off-duty pilot could be found in her casual apparel, relaxing in the mess hall with a glass of multi-flavored parfait in front of her. Her left hand meticulously scooped the sugar-laden comfort food into her mouth while blue eyes focused on the augmented reality UI projected by her red-rimmed glasses, browsing the internet for various stuff; watching relaxing videos, scrolling through funny memes, etc.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko "Paaaaah, great!" Perhaps drinking an entire bottle of water in one gulp wasn't something most people would describe as 'great', but when she'd been fighting Warped that intensely for that long, it sure felt refreshing. The first thing that Hoshiko had done on returning to the Horizon was deactivate Hinotori. The next was to immediately take a nice, long, hot shower. She was all sweaty and dirty and a total mess, so she needed it really bad! The water felt so relaxing after all the intense combat, too. She'd lost count of how many oni she'd punched holes clear through. But she was glad. She was glad she'd been able to help people. That's what was really important. That's why she was here. Now dressed in shorts and a loose orange hoodie, Hoshiko stretched as she entered the mess haul, immediately making a beeline for the nearest snacks. She was pretty hungry.</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Place(s): Back at The Horizon Time: Nighty Night @VitaVitaAR --- Sweet Sweet Victory Literally As soon as the operation was deemed a success and the pilots were given permission to disengage and return, Teodora did exactly that by boosting straight for the hangar bays, not bothering to ride the helicopter as there was not really a need to. Things only kept on getting better after that. As she walked through the ship after returning Supplice to an engineer, there was no lack of staff members greeting and congratulating her for the success. It really made her felt like a big damn hero, and considering the decent number of Warped including the one Boss-level that she fragged, it sure seemed like well deserved acclamation indeed. Definitely could get used to this, being the one cheered on rather than the one cheering on the heroes, fufu~ Her mind was filled with such thoughts even after arriving to her room and taking her time to tidy and clean herself up. A while later, she was once more out of her room, now dressed in one of her usual casual-but-expensive-looking dresses. With a cheerful energy to her every steps, she headed for the mess hall, humming an equally cheerful tune as she did so. Win-ner win-ner chick-en din-ner~... Not that I'll have a chicken dinner, no. Sweets would be a much better choice, as always, hehe~ She soon arrived at the mess hall and immediately looked around the place in her hunt for glorious desserts. Her attention however, were quickly taken by other things instead. Specifically, she noticed Pyralis already relaxing inside the place, seated and enjoying a delightful looking parfait. Like a human-missile locked on to a target, Teodora zero'ed in on the Greek-named Japanese girl. And as soon as she arrived right behind Pyra, she squealed excitedly for two full seconds. Very loudly. At a pretty dang high note in the possible human vocal range. "KYAAAAAA!! Oh my oh my oh my, that looks sooooo good! Where'd you get that?? I want some too!" And then, not even actually waiting for a reply, she skipped off again seemingly already knowing where to get such a parfait. Along the way, she passed by Hoshiko, making her pause briefly. "Oh hi Hoshiko, nice hoodie! Btw you should totally get some parfaits, they looks sooo amazing!" Soon enough, she had gotten her own parfaits. Three different glasses of them, all at a smaller portion, all made up of four different flavors for a grand total of twelve flavors over three parfaits. The toppings of each parfait were also different from one to the other. Then she returned with her desserts to where Pyra sat, taking a seat beside her. She cheerfully looked at Pyra, her arms stretched out toward her parfaits as if to emphasize them to Pyra. "Tada! Fufu, looks amazing right? Kyaaa, this is the awesomest treat after such a successful mission!" Then she started digging in, happily taking small scoops of her parfaits with a big, joyful smile on her face.</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac The day hadn't been very exciting after that. Nothing put up as much of a fight as the centipede Warped. But maybe that was for the best. The boots on the ground didn't have the pilots' fancy toys or training. She had to give the average grunt some respect for going up against such deadly opponents with only traditional weaponry. She remained quiet until back to The Horizon, speaking only once she was in front of Yasuda. "Titania, the dance is over." In a flash of light the Chi-Mechframe collapsed back to its bracelet mode, leaving Norika in the bodysuit from before. She let out a sigh, smiling at Yasuda. "New upgrade worked like a charm, Chiaki," she said. Chiaki smiled back, flashing an A-OK sign with her hands. "Almost felt like I was actually flying." "Maybe sometime down the line," Chiaki said. "As much as I want to cram every single upgrade in there as possible, time and resources are a limiting factor. That and the general bureaucracy from the brass. If it doesn't benefit them directly, odds are they'll fight tooth and nail unless you can convince them that what you need is absolutely necessary." "It's the end of the world," Norika huffed. "You'd think they'd quit sitting around with their thumbs up their arses." "Some things refuse to die. Kind of like someone I know." Chiaki laughed, playfully punching Norika's shoulder. "Go get yourself cleaned up. You've earned it. Plus, I think there's some entrails in your hair." Norika was disgusted to find that her mechanic friend was absolutely correct. She hadn't noticed in the thick of combat, but her hair was spattered with blood and gore from the Warped. She quickly returned to her quarters, changed out of her bodysuit, and showered until the hot water ran out. Once done she toweled off and dressed in an oversized hoodie and shorts before brushing her hair. She stopped when her stomach audibly growled at her. Norika had been distracted up until now, but she was starving. She grimaced. That meant going to the mess hall where the others were. Norika sighed. No other choice. Lord, I don't know if You still listen to us down here, she quietly prayed, but if you are, give me the strength to not try to kill any of my fellow Mechframe pilots. Norika took a deep breath and began heading towards the cafeteria.</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>PYRALIS CONSTANTINA --Opposites Attract...??-- Much unlike her mechframed self, Pyra exuded a completely different presence outside of Infernus; the unflappable stoic gaze of the 'perfect soldier' and that oppressively threatening aura were all but gone, replaced by an introverted geek who was perfectly content to be left to her own devices. The shift went deeper than mere appearances as the brunette's sense of awareness also took a nosedive, now feeling perfectly safe within the hull of Horizon, enjoying a glass of parfait and streams of digital entertainment, not a fiber in her being expected danger to rear its ugly head, any kind of danger, including one that might come from a supposed 'ally'... "...?!!" Thus when Teodora - who was somehow behind her - screeched like an onryo, Pyralis stiffened up like a deer in headlights, goosebumps raised and limbs frozen in place, blue eyes went wide as her pupils constricted in sudden panic. The sheer conflict between feeling safe a nanosecond before and now being 'ambushed' caused her fight or flight instinct to go haywire, resulting in brief petrification; her body wasn't ready to have another dose of adrenaline, not after that intense physical activity of fighting in a warzone, but the glands didn't care so thus flowed the hormone, elevating her heartbeat among other things. Everything that had been said only took a few brief seconds, but it felt like an eternity, a horribly unwelcome one. "...e... eh...?" It was only after that Pyralis consciously realized that it was just Teodora, not a banshee warped, and that the other pilot was being as infuriatingly nosy as usual like an evil version of Hoshiko. The brunette blinked a few times as she took in Teodora's departing form, apparently off to get a parfait of her own. It all came so suddenly that she wasn't sure what or how to feel about this. During her dumbfounded moment, she found herself instinctively taking in her surroundings, noticing that the mess hall was more occupied now; Hoshiko was there scarfing down food that could send an elephant into sugar shock, Seraphima enjoying a meal of more... humane portions, Louisa looking bothered (for obvious reasons), and Norika and Xuan-Yu just arriving. Oh good, there was no Warped here, that inhuman screech really just was Teodora. When the blonde had the gall to cross the line twice and sit beside her, seemingly set on mimicking Hoshiko's 'diet', Pyralis ever so slowly turned her gaze at the slightly older girl, pissed to the bone. Someone like Norika would probably be cussing like a sailor by now, but Pyralis wasn't that person, the opposite in fact, but it just goes to show that even a 'mere' hateful glare from the firebender conveyed more than a thousand profanities could. "Why... did you do that?" She inquired out of morbid curiosity, voice dripping with barely-restrained napalm.</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimThe Horizon — Mess Hall With the battle in Saitama complete, Elise gave herself some time to breathe as the helicopter ferried her and her allies back up to the airship above. This was the first "real" mission that they had been put towards, and their success was more than just a boon towards their egos. A victory, of course, meant a celebration was in order, and the congratulations of the staff as the triumphant Frame Pilots returned showed that they likely thought much the same. First on her to-do list, however, was to wash up; though the others had fought major Warped threats on their own, it was likely that the one that they had fought would have done more mental damage in the long run. There were people flying down all the same to try and carve up their corpses (or what remained of them), and Elise pitied whoever was going to be sent to deal with the centipede and its foul bile-like liquid, but hopefully it wouldn't suddenly spring back to life and murder everyone. That would be... Less than ideal. After spending the time washing herself off in a hot shower and scrubbing anything that had managed to stick to her in spite of how long she had spent flying around, Elise dried herself off and changed into something a bit more casual—a T-shirt and shorts. The day had worn on her (as it likely had everyone, to some extent), but that didn't mean she was thinking of simply passing out and eating later. After making her way to the mess hall to pick something up for herself, Elise found that most of her fellow Pilots had similar ideas in mind; a few were off to the side in a manner reminiscent of her halcyon days in high school gushing over food, but what caught her eye was Xuan-Yu carrying a few boxes of beer on his shoulders. It was no question as to what he was planning on doing, but after the insanity that was today, the half-Korean girl had half a mind to join him. Never mind that he likely wasn't going to drink all of it on his own, of course, but compared to gorging herself on sweets, food and alcohol seemed a lot more appealing. "Do you mind if I tag along?" she asked, casually strolling towards him as she looked at the boxes again, "I can go get some food and snacks, too, if you wouldn't mind."</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko "Heeh?" Hoshiko cocked her head to one side, pausing for a moment in her crusade to consume more food then most people did in a single day. The parfaits did look pretty good. And she loved parfaits. Well, and pretty much anything that was sweet. Or savory. Crispy, juicy, crunchy, tender... Really, Hoshiko just liked food in general. But a moment's consideration left her wondering if she should maybe grab something a little more filling and substantial then just snacks. After all, she was pretty hungry, and at times like these just sweets didn't cut it. She could have more snacks after she ate something a little heartier. She'd had ramen earlier, so maybe something else? Oh, karaage sounded really good. She wasn't sure if there was any today, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. Just as she was about to stand up and ask if she could pick anything up for anyone else, she heard Xuan-yu's voice. The Chinese man was kind of enigmatic to her, he was so different from the rest of their team. Not that she thought he didn't belong or something like that. Simply that his demeanor and attitude always seemed different. Maybe it was because he was... Hoshiko had assumed he was a soldier before, but she'd never really asked him about it. Resolving in her head to change that, she gave the man a smile. "Eh-heheh, I dunno what you mean," she replied. Rolling boulder? Well, eating lots of sugar would give you energy like you were boulder that just kept on rolling and never stopped. That wasn't bad at all, so it's clearly what he meant, right? "I guess having a lot of energy to roll over the warped and never stop is my plan, though..." Hoshiko rose to her feet. "Oh yeah, everyone, do you want anything else? I'm going to run over to get something to eat for dinner, so I can pick more food up if anyone wants anything!" The fact that Hoshiko eating all those snacks then saying she was going to eat even more food had to be a mildly surreal one. Where did it all go? @Medili@PKMNB0Y@Izurich@Laduguer@Mole@JDubs</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac As expected, the rest of the pilots had made their way to the mess hall. That wasn't surprising. Between physical activities and Echidna infections, Chi-Mechframe pilots tended to have higher than average metabolisms. But even so there were some outliers, like Fukada. No human, augmented or not, should have been able to put away that much food, let alone not gain a gram of weight from it. Norika sighed quietly, shaking her head. She'd have to deal with her teammates soon. Best to just grin and bear it. However she was less than pleased with Xuan-Yu's words and actions. She glowered at the man. "Fils de pute!" Norika swore at him. She made her way to the window to order. There was all kinds of smells from what was being cooked. God, it all smelled so good, especially on an empty stomach. Norika had made a promise to herself earlier. She'd survived the mission. Time to eat until she was stuffed. Two big helpings of mild curry and rice to start off with, washed down with a few bottles of Genshi-Cola. She'd never been able to figure out the whole marble-in-the-bottle thing, but she rolled with it. The soda tasted good enough for the trouble. Norika made her way to a table, making sure to sit a little ways from her peers. Close enough for her to hear what they were all saying, but far enough that she wouldn't attract much attention... hopefully.</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimThe Horizon — Hangar Working off of a timer as she was, Elise wasted no time in making her way back to her room and changing into something a bit more suitable for the weather outside. As comfortable as her current clothes were, walking out in a spring night with them—delivering a bunch of goods to the soldiers below, no less—seemed both stupid and tone-deaf. Making sure to don a light windbreaker before she left, the half-Korean girl quickly ran back towards the hangar, where it seemed that Xuan-Yu had decided to not simply set out without her. Of course, Hoshiko's delivery would likely have played a part in that decision, given how she had brought over actual food instead of snacks, but ultimately the reason mattered less to the Pilot than the result in this case. "Sorry for the wait..." she said as she re-entered the room to hear Hoshiko's scream of triumph over... Something or another. With an expression of confusion plain to see on her face, Elise turned towards the source to see the younger Japanese girl in what felt like a somewhat uncomfortable position with the boxes of karaage stacked in her arms. "...Need some help?" Without waiting to see if the girl would even accept (which, all things considered, she likely wouldn't if given the chance), Elise quickly walked over and slid a few boxes off of the stack that Hoshiko was carrying into her own arms before placing them with the rest of the food and drinks that were being prepared. "Good to see I made it, though," she said, deciding to take a seat as the rest of the food was loaded onto the aircraft. "I'm ready whenever you are." --- Once everything had been loaded on and the people who had decided to tag along had entered, the hangar's door would slowly open and allow the aircraft to slowly lift off and depart the ship. Ordinarily, one would have expected the door to have not opened at all and their efforts denied, but it seemed that there was at least one other party sympathetic to what Xuan-Yu had intended to do. The flight towards the secured zone, unexpected as it was, immediately caused a buzz within the JSDF forces below. Though there were still a few patrols milling about, most of the group was concentrated within the camps in the center—likely in part due to the security cameras installed in the region to allow them to monitor the area without worrying about losing good men and women to any stray Warped that had somehow managed to escape the last few sweeps of the region. Once the aircraft was brought closer to the ground, though, the Pilots within would be greeted by a man in his late fourties, his brow furrowed as he stared at the group as his suit and tie were buffetted by the wind. Once it had landed, though, the clearly-irate man decided to simply speak candidly towards the group. "I didn't hear anything from the commander about further reinforcements," he said, glancing at the group and what they were wearing. "Is there something that you need?" "Ah... Well, not that we need, no, but—" Elise began to say, only to be promptly cut off in turn. "Then I would recommend you head back. We are in the middle of a military operation, after all, and so—" "Takemiya-san? Is there a problem?" Just as he had been cut off moments before, the voice of someone else cut through the conversation. The source—a young man with light brown hair—quickly ran over once he saw exactly who the man was talking to. "Oh, you're the Pilots they asked to help with the operation here today, right?" he asked, a bright smile on his face as he looked at the group. "I'm Kougami Akio, a Frame Pilot working for the JSDF. I didn't get to see you guys in action since I was assigned to help with the other offensive to the north, but everyone's been speaking pretty highly of you since I arrived. So... What brings you here?" Compared to the more taciturn response of the other man, Akio's demeanor seemed a bit less standoffish—and given how 'Takemiya-san' had chosen not to respond, maybe this encounter would be in their favor. @VitaVitaAR@Laduguer</s> <|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang Wait, Elise was actually going to get changed? Xuan-Yu rolled his eyes as she turned to leave, still rocking his own t-shirt and sweatpants combination. Maybe he just…won't expect her to be able to pick up any zingers from now on. What a serious kiddo. He scratched his head as she went off, leaving him with Louisa, who also seemed more than a little confused. "Naw, three's a party n all," Xuan-Yu replied. "I'm sure the folks downstairs wouldn't mind seeing another pretty face either." Verdict was still out there whether Lou was pretty, of course, but that wasn't the sort of jab he was planning on throwing right after a fight. Whatever thoughts he had, however, was disrupted by the near-catastrophic entrance of Hoshiko. The older man grimaced at the way she contorted her body in order to stabilize the boxes. At his age, considering his occupation, he was already feeling the youthfulness seep out of his own spine, so to watch that happen, her lower back bending out almost like a 'C' was painful, to say the least. He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding, before helping receive the boxes of fried chicken with Elise. "Careful with your feet, wrecking ball," Xuan-Yu said. "Don't wanna be that top-heavy yet." With the VTOL loaded up and the others ready enough to go, all that remained was the hanger door. There was a spot of tension, of course. A hanging question mark as to whether the door would actually open or not, but Xuan-Yu was willing to take a hit his cross-country brothers: if it didn't open, it would open once Deathstalker kickstarted it. So they descended, the floating elevator taking the most direct route to the airfields that had been cleared out by the Japanese forces beforehand, with Xuan-Yu doing his due diligence with announcing codes and locations beforehand. With new advancements in how scouting functioned in the post-Warped world, security cameras being around the perimeter and surveillance drones being used to establish wider autonomous patrols meant that most who were on-duty and off-duty were more or less concentrated in the same camp. Convenient enough for his own purposes then. Night shifts were shitty enough. And of course, the first person they met was in fact quite shitty! While Elise fumbled with the introduction, Xuan-Yu opened up the back of the aircraft instead, allowing just a whiff of the still-warm chicken to waft out. He poked his head out from behind the VTOL next, a sardonic grin on his face. "Evening motherfuckers. The girls made too much chicken and no one even drinks up there. Airsickness and all, yeah? Anyhow, the big boss had the bright idea to send 'em off to the troops here, and here we are. Also super awkward to have just bounced the moment the operation ended, even with commander's orders n everything, so these lovely ladies here wanted to shake hands and chat with the boys too." He shot a wink at Elise and Louisa. "Anyhow, that's the gist of it. There a kitchen you've got for me to set up and portion things out in? Ain't enough to feed the whole army if it's a first-come-first-served deal, y'see."</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac Norika watched the others. It was good to see that they were in high spirits. Despite their differences, they seemed to gel well. However she still had her doubts about that pretty-boy Xuan-Yu. While Fukada was someone Norika might lose her temper with, she seemed kind enough. Maybe a little stupid, but kind. Xuan-Yu was definitely the type she'd "accidentally" shoot out in the field if he pushed her buttons enough. The others, though, seemed to be good eggs. Kim, Faye, and Constantina were solid and dependable; she hadn't worked with Drakos enough to form an opinion; and though Constanza rubbed Norika the wrong way, she could tolerate her antics. She ate slowly, wondering if she could get access to any of her teammates' files. It would be a concise way of getting to know about them more, and she wouldn't have to paste a fake smile on her face to talk with them. Definitely sounded like a win-win to Norika. "You'll never make friends thinking like that." Her mother's voice. Words came back on occasion, usually when Norika didn't want them to. But in this case she had a point. Once dinner was wrapped up, she'd go to the most approachable first.</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Attack of the Sea Monster Sydney Harbor | Daytime @PKMNB0Y "Mmhmm. Huge is right. My, I think it's even bigger than a blue whale. No, definitely bigger. Also definitely fitting to be called a sea monster." Teodora said as she looked downward toward the underwater silhouette of the gigantic creature, hovering in place at a slightly higher altitude than the other two of her teammates. She continued observing the creature along with Pyra and Elise, noticing the numerous blue balls around the same time as Elise did. It was around that time as well that Teodora realized that they probably shouldn't be gathering motionless above the creature like this. The creature was a Warped after all, and there had never been such thing as a non-hostile Warped as far as Teodora can recall. "Btw..." "...There's no way it noticed us, right?" Teodora's own words was cut short as she heard Elise muttering, the white-haired girl seeming to realize the same thing. "I think it's hostile! Evasive maneuvers!" Attacks were launched by the creature immediately after that in the form of multiple beams of laser, mostly aimed at Selene. By reflex, Teodora performed her own evasive movement, dashing to the side as her eyes continued following the trajectory of the beams. Thus, she saw when the beams flew past Elise harmlessly; except for one which curved back around as Elise pulled out her sniper rifle and took aim at the creature, oblivious to the danger. The boosters of Supplice's wings were already charging by then as Teodora again got into moving by reflex, knowing that it was too late to warn Elise about the attack. As the laser struck one of Selene's wings and causing Elise to plummet toward the ocean, Supplice were already in motion, boosting toward her. "Already on it, Infernus!" Teodora replied to Pyra as she stored back her rapier before then grabbing Elise by the waist as Elise and Selene passed safely through Supplice's energy barrier; Elise's biological marker and Selene both already registered as Friendly in Supplice's IFF system just like with practically all Chi-Mechframes and staff members of the Horizon. "Are you alright, dear Elise?" asked Teodora to the sniper as she continued grabbing Elise around the waist using her right hand. She then turned her gaze toward the creature under water, aimed her beam rifle at it, and then let loose a rapid burst of three beam shots flying toward it.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko There was a rustling ahead. Something was moving in a patch of plant-life that had sprouted in a particularly damaged portion of the facility. Something alive. The plants swayed back and forth, and the creature within stirred more as it was approached. There was a dark, hunched shape, with a long tail and two small arms, twitching and fidgeting slightly as it slowly turned its head to face the frame pilots... ... And then sprang from the foliage. The startled wallaby bounded away with considerable speed, having never expected to see human beings of any sort in this place. It seemed it had been feeding on the plants in a relatively sheltered area. Its little paradise had been disturbed by the pilots investigation, but it had been too stubborn to leave until it was approached more closely. Far more concerning, however, was what was entangled in the plant it was eating. The bones were bleached white, but still recognizable. There wasn't a single scrap of flesh remaining on them, perhaps obviously due to the environment. But the skeletal remains were intact enough to know that it was human, and to see the way the skull had clearly been pierced by something incredibly sharp, and the ribcage seemed to be sliced open, cut at odd angles. The person who had died here was doubtlessly especially unlucky. But to those who had seen the dead before, such a sight was perhaps not especially disturbing. The fact that all the birdsong had suddenly ceased may have been moreso. @JDubs</s> <|message|>Louisa Faye _______________________________________________________________ Louisa leaned over Hoshiko's shoulder and inspected the map along with Sherry, raising an eyebrow as she followed the blue lines running across the map with her gaze. She nodded slowly as the pattern sunk in and smiled at Seraphima as she made her exultation. "That's definitely what you would call a clue, yeah. Okay, so... maybe there's something to be said for the virtue of paperwork after all." She took her hand off Hoshiko's shoulder and folded her arms. "We can put my plan on the drawing board then. No need to put Hoshiko in danger if we can be more confident about where this thing-- uh... or these things are." She spoke as she wandered back over to the window. "Maybe we can suit up and handle this the old fashioned way. It looks like this thing has some aversion to coming out during the day. So, if we get into the sewers before nightfall and cover as much ground as we can, we might have a better chance of both encountering it and cornering it." She cleared her throat. "And uh... catching it before it kills again, obviously."</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimSydney — Coastline With the water rapidly growing closer as her body spiraled out of the air, Elise gritted her teeth and braced for the worst—— Only for the timely arrival of Supplice to save her from what would have likely been a gruesome death in the ocean below. A nearly-instinctual sigh of relief left the young woman's lips as she allowed her body to relax in her companion's grip before the sound of more lasers breaking through the water reminded her of her current position. "Thanks for the assist," the half-Korean girl said, nodding her head as she turned her attention towards her Chi-Mechframe. "...I don't think I'm flying again 'til that wing gets looked at." Though the opening salvo had since subsided, the returning fire from Supplice seemed like it had done surprisingly little—which, given the size of the Warped, might have been expected. As more beams flew through the air, Selene took a moment to examine the waters where the Warped had been struck. And disconcerting as it was to see, even the small amounts of damage that had been inflicted by the beam rifle were being recovered, missing pieces of fleshlike form being regenerated at an alarmingly fast pace. "...Of course it regenerates," Elise sighed as she looked back up towards Teodora before a call came in through their communications channel. "This is HQ; the target's location has been verified. Selene, Supplice: disengage the Warped and return to base. Over." "...Well, I suppose there's nothing else to be done. Sorry, but you might have to lug me back the whole way," the white-haired girl said as the lights below began to intensify once more. And at once, another barrage of lasers broke through the water, piercing through the skies and curving back around, almost as if to chase after the two Frame Pilots flying through the sky.</s> <|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang It was a corpse, but at least it had the courtesy to look presentable. Bleached bone shone white in the shafts of light that still managed to penetrate the dilapidated roof of the facility, all signs pointing towards a Warped that possessed an exceptionally sharp blade or some sort of pressurized projectile that emulated an edge. It was humid enough, at least, that some waterjet-spewing plant monstrosity was an option. Or a turtle. "Found a dead 'un," Xuan-Yu spoke in comms. "If whatever killed them was still here, Dulac, we're dealing with a real keen fellow." The birds were silent, but he had not heard them fly off either. Was it danger? Or just surveillance? The man reached for his Stinger Blade, drawing out the cloaked weapon with nary a sound. "Pick up anything from those leftovers?"</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac "Stuff's too old and faded to read," Norika said. "Something about supply shipments and research and development. Can't make anything else out. Wonder what they were doing here?" A corpse. Unsurprising, to say the least. It would be more surprising not to find any bodies somewhere likely to have Warped. "I'm moving towards your location." She could track him down with Titania's heads-up display without much problem. When she found Xuan-Yu he had his blade drawn. Her eyes were drawn to the body. The bones were bleached white, and the skull was punctured. The state of the ribcage wasn't much better. Norika hoped that, whoever this was, their death had been as quick and painless as possible. "Find anything else? Or just our unfortunate friend here?"</s>

<|description|>Norika Dulac * Age: 18 * Gender: Female * Appearance: Casual wear. On the shorter end of the spectrum at 142.24 centimeters (or 4'8"), Norika is often mistaken for being younger than she actually is. She is of a petite build, and inherited several of her father's traits, including his hair and eye color, as well as his complexion. She's quite proud of her locks, and does her best to maintain them, even though shorter hair would be more practical in combat. One of Norika's most noticeable traits is her eyebrows, though usually it's better not to bring them up. She has semicircles of scars on her stomach and back from the fangs of a Warped. Off-duty, Norika often wears comfortable clothes that don't hinder her movement. One of her trademarks is wearing hoodies (often oversized). She doesn't wear these for warmth; for some reason wearing them calms her down. * Personality: Usually appearing cool and aloof, Norika prefers to be alone or with as few people as possible; if given the choice, though, she would prefer to spend time with animals (except for snakes). She is distrustful of other humans, and if approached by someone her first thought is, "What do they want from me?" Despite her appearance, Norika has something of a short temper, and has little patience for others. This carries over into combat; to say that she isn't a team player is an understatement. While some Mechframe soldiers look at fighting the Warped as just a job, Norika takes a sort of grim satisfaction or pleasure in combat. She is a skilled fighter, and enjoys toying with her enemies a bit too much. Several times it's gotten to the point that she's been injured in combat or reprimanded by her superiors, and several skybase psychiatric personnel who have interviewed her and examined her records have requested that they be informed of her mental condition on a weekly basis. * History: Born and raised in the United Kingdom, Norika lived a fairly normal life with her parents. Her father was a medical doctor native to England, while her mother was a biologist originally from Japan working in a wildlife sanctuary in England. Despite their busy work lives, Norika's parents did their best to be there for their daughter on top of providing for whatever she needed. However that all changed when the Warped appeared. Despite the travel bans to affected nations put in place, they still made their way to the United Kingdom. For three years she and her parents moved around to try and avoid the Warped, but it was never enough. Two years ago, the family was attacked by a group of large, serpent-like Warped. Despite receiving a bite and Echidna infection, Norika survived, though her mother was killed. After that her father began to change, becoming a shadow of his former self. Though he continued to do everything he could for Norika, he began acting recklessly, and Norika feared being left alone. A day before Norika was discovered by a military patrol, he met his end at the hands of a group of other survivors desperate to survive. Once safe behind walls and guns, she was quarantined for fear that she would turn. When it was clear that Norika's body had reacted to the Echidna infection like the First Frame Pilot, she was allowed to go to Japan to live with her grandparents, though under constant surveillance. When approached by a certain group looking for Chi-Mechframe pilots, Norika's grandparents were completely against letting her join. However Norika went with them anyway, determined to end the threat presented by the Warped. * Skills: In her time outside of the safety of the walls, Norika has learned to survive by any means necessary. Before her mother's death at the hands of the Warped, she taught Norika how to analyze an opponent for weaknesses and exploit them. While still unfamiliar with much of the flora and fauna native to Japan, Norika is knowledgeable of edible and medicinal plants and fungi from the UK. Thanks to some teaching from her father, she has a certain degree of first-aid skills. Like other Chi-Mechframe users, she has been trained in different forms of combat, and she excels in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. * Chi-Mechframe: Titania + Appearance: The Titania Chi-Mechframe was created from the Core of a lizard-like Warped with nearly supernatural reflexes. This was translated to the design, with a sleek frame that allows for ease of movement. The headpiece projects a heads-up display highlighting Warped signatures while offering a certain degree of protection against attacks to the face and head. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania now projects wings made from energy. + Abilities: Due to the Core used in its creation, Titania increases the user's speed and agility to an incredible degree, as well as offering a small increase to strength. While the Titania Chi-Mechframe is relatively fragile in comparison to its peers, it excels in hit-and-run tactics. The frame has a built-in weapons on each forearm, which can function as both a sword and shield. Thanks to a recent upgrade, Titania is capable of powered gliding. With these traits, Norika is often in the thick of fights, getting in close for an attack and backing off; though ill-advised, she'll often "dance" around her enemy and inflict lighter injuries over time. This has led to incidents where Titania has been extensively damaged after taking a hit that Norika didn't see coming. For mid-ranged combat she is equipped with a high-caliber revolver that fires semi-armor piercing, high-explosive (SAP-HE) rounds; due to the size of these rounds, she's often limited in how many she can carry. Major attack techniques include Luna Blitz, Fairy Dance, and Comet Skewer. * Other: + Besides her eyebrows, Norika's two sore spots are her height and her bust; bringing either of these up is likely to get an angry reaction out of her. + Norika can easily be bribed with things she likes, be it treats, books, or anything else she needs or wants. + On that note, she's a bit of a glutton. Unfortunately for her, her metabolism is so high that it never goes anywhere. + Ethnically, Norika is 1/4 British, 1/4 French, and half Japanese. + She always sets aside some of the money she earns to send to her grandparents.</s> <|message|>Eun-hye (Elise) Kim Elise KimSydney — Coastline With the Warped rapidly being left behind and Teodora flying away at full throttle, Elise took a deep breath and turned her head around to look at the lasers shooting after them. The fact that the monster could send out homing projectiles was most certainly not something that she had expected given the briefing from HQ, but given the targets until then there was likely no reason to need to home in on a target. This by no means made the issue any less irritating to deal with, though. As the pair of Pilots approached the shores of Sydney Harbor—the Opera House barely visible over the horizon—the lasers that had been chasing them slowly began to fade away before finally dissipating. That removed the issue of urgency, of course, but ultimately nothing really changed about their situation. Once Teodora had made landfall, Elise was lowered onto the ground nearby. Though she had seen no injury, a return to The Horizon was all but necessary—as was a discussion about how to deal with the monster where it lurked. A few drones seemed to be flying overhead out to sea already, given the black dots that the young woman barely noticed sailing over the horizon, at least—a sign that their work hadn't all been for nothing. "Eugh... We should head back," the young woman said, disengaging her Chi-Mechframe as she glanced back out towards the ocean. "I expect that we'll have to head back out to try and finish the job next time, so maybe the reconnaissance footage might give us something more to work with." --- Perth — Provisionary Office "Hm..." Sherry listened quietly to Louisa's suggestion before slowly taking a step back with her eyes closed. The woman seemed to be lost in thought for a few moments as she considered the situation, but ultimately there was little else to be said if the people that had been hired to help resolve the situation were willing to stick their necks out so easily. "Well, the least I can do in that case is drive you to the area. Not like I'm some sort of superhero like you three are, after all," she said, pulling out a keyring and spinning it around her finger. "We have a little time before nightfall, at least." Once the three Frame Pilots were ready to leave, Sherry would lead them downstairs and over to a car—a government-issued van, of course; with little fanfare as the four entered, the vehicle slowly revved to life before moving through the roads. The group's destination was, of course, the nearest sewage treatment facility; with a manhole being too dangerous to risk opening up, the safest route (at least in terms of entering the locale) was the wide canal that funneled everything there to be handled. It was a dirty job, of course, and no one present seemed to be happy about being there in the first place, but it was as good a place as any to start. "I think I'd be more of a burden than anything if I followed along with you, sadly," Sherry said, opening the door to the van to let the Pilots out, "so I'll probably be on standby at the office if you need me. I have a simple request, though: please don't destroy the sewers while you're down there, if at all possible. I know that some things might be hard to avoid, but, well..." The woman trailed off before sighing and shaking her head. "Never mind. Good luck out there, you three." @Mole@Laduguer</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Back on Land Sydney Harbor | Daytime "Phew! Well, that was quite something if I do say so myself." Teodora casually exclaimed as she and Elise landed safely back on dry land. Thankfully, the laser projectiles eventually dissipated instead of infinitely pursuing them. That would've made things more annoying, even if Teodora was rather confident that her barrier would be able to absorb a single salvo of the lasers. That said, she was still glad nonetheless that she wouldn't need to actually test that belief for now. She disengaged her Chi-Mechframe as well, with it returning back into its hairband form. "Mmhmm. That make sense. I'd expect so as well. That thing got the jump on us this time... But we'll win the second round, I'm certain!" she added a confident nod to her words as she spoke it. "But indeed... For now, let us return back to base. Got to get Selene's wing fixed, hmm? And some little bit of rest would be much appreciated as well... So, shall we, dear Elise?" she gave a playful wink at the slightly taller and older girl while gesturing to the direction of HQ before then starting to walk away in that direction.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko The sewers...? It would be a lie to say that Hoshiko wasn't apprehensive about going down there. She definitely didn't want to touch the water, or to even spend any more time down there then she could need to. Certainly, this treatment area didn't look gross, but there was no telling what it would be like deeper in. But... It was the difference between life and death for plenty of people. Her personal feelings about the sewer being gross didn't matter nearly as much as human lives. Hoshiko took a deep breath. "Hinotori, ignite!" The familiar sensation of light and heat washing over her body struck, her clothing replaced in seconds by the frame's underlayer, then the armor itself, and then finally the most complex portions that made for much of Hinotori's shape. She took a step towards the sewer entrance. "Okay, it might be super gross down there, but we've got to make sure everyone's safe!" she declared, steeling herself to lead the way into sewer. If there were Warped down there, she'd do everything she could to clear them out! @Laduguer@Mole</s> <|message|>Louisa Faye _______________________________________________________________ As Louisa stood on the threshold watching Hoshiko suit up, she realised she had no idea what a sewer was actually like. In video games and books, it was full of monsters and treasure and that kind of thing, but she had an inkling that might not be reflected in reality. Although, on this occassion, the former was unfortunately likely to be present. Either way, a sewer probably involved a lot of waste of... various kinds, which was obviously bad. But... how bad? One way to find out, I guess. "Grendel, breach!" She struck the heavy plate hanging on her chest, and Grendel began to materialize in its usual web of ethereal and ghostly forms that one-by-one condensed into heavy dark plates of armour. She held up her glaive, which shimmered with a deep iridescent green in the daylight, and retracted it into its sword configuration. Probably wasn't a whole lot of use for a polearm in a sewer, after all. She followed Hoshiko's lead and began to stride towards the darkness. "So... what's our plan here. You two are built for speed and flight, right? Do you reckon you can pull that off in the sewer? I mean..." she paused and looked at the canal entrance, "it seems pretty big right now, right?". "What I'm thinking is if we catch a glimpse of this thing, we need to get on it fast before it has a chance to lose us in the maze of tunnels. And... uh... I'm not going to be so useful for that in Grendel. Of course, if this thing runs towards us rather than away from us, I'm your girl."</s> <|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang "Hm." A monstrosity composed of thousands upon thousands of individual parts, possessed, perhaps, with extraordinary senses that allowed it to detected his location even when cloaked. Well, slugs didn't necessarily have eyes, after all, so that worked out, in the worst way possible. Xuan-Yu's face twisted into an almost-exaggerated frown. This was perhaps the worst sort of opponent for both himself and Dulac. Which meant... "We're going down, kiddo." ...mucking and sleuthing about was pointless. As tentacles shot out towards them, Deathstalker emerged from the ether, crimson augments pulsating with consolidated power, and unleashed an axe-kick that smashed straight through the dilapidated flooring of the hallway. The mission objective, after all, was on the lower levels of the building, which meant that the first floor was 100% not anything worth investigating! Hell, fuck the second floor down too! "Dulac, blast it!"</s>

<|message|>Norika Dulac A chill ran up Norika's spine. Everything going quiet had been a bad sign. However she didn't expect... whatever the hell this thing was. A bunch of worms or slugs, formed into a larger creature. She'd seen some reports of Warped like this, but she'd never encountered one herself. Her techniques wouldn't work on something like this, but she'd have to try. "Dulac, blast it!" She didn't need to be told twice. Norika raised her weapon and aimed before squeezing off two shots. The huge rounds were designed to embed in armor and flesh before exploding. But when the target was composed of millions of tiny slugs, all they did was pass through the writing mass of flesh before embedding and detonating in the wall behind it. The Warped's limbs retracted into its body before massive tentacles shot towards Norika and Xuan-Yu. Norika leaped backwards. "Any more bright ideas?" she asked sarcastically.</s>

<|description|>Teodora Constanza AGE 19 GENDER Female APPEARANCE A young woman of Romanian descent. Teodora stands at 164cm (5′4) tall, which is of average height for a young adult female of her heritage. She is of slender build, with only slight muscle tone as a result of her training as a Chi-Mechframe pilot. Out of her formal duty uniform or Chi-Mechframe, her physicality does not look like that of a soldier at all (because she still technically isn't). Having a slightly pale complexion, long flowing locks of light blond hair framed her face, accentuating her vivid red eyes well. An eager smile showing curiosity fueled by mischief is often shown on her face, and at a time when this smile grows wide enough, a pair of longer than usual canine teeth can be seen in her mouth. Belonging to a particularly wealthy family, in her daily life Teodora tends to wear long-sleeved European style dresses that hinted at said wealth (although this was done less because of a deliberate intent to show off and more out of a habit that goes all the way to her childhood). This typical getup is usually accompanied with an equally intricate looking hair band and a pair of long, usually black overknee socks. In short, she usually looks like a rich and confident young woman (because she is). PERSONALITY CONFIDENT | HAPPY-GO-LUCKY | MISCHIEVOUS Teodora's personality as a person is most easily defined by the self-assured aura that she seems to exude almost all the time. This confidence, which at times definitely stumbles into the scale of being overconfident, in turn fueled her relaxed and happy-go-lucky attitude regardless of the trouble or obstacle that she might be facing at any given time. While she is also not at all arrogant and is very unlikely to intentionally brag, this confidence can nevertheless be too much to handle by others, resulting in intersocial discord that is often one sided due to Teodora not even realizing or caring that she's being despised by the individual(s) in question. Furthermore, while she had recently matured from doing full on childish mischief, some degree of mischievousness remains within her. At best, this tendency may provoke her into playfully teasing others with a light jab or two, which might even be appreciated by those that are not averse to such playfulness. At worst however, she had been witnessed to treat even real time combat situations as if some amusing games, thus potentially severely endangering herself and others. In conclusion, while her personality is in general not a cause of concern out of the battlefield, it very much represents an operational risk inside of one. A firm guidance from an on-field leader figure, which Teodora fortunately generally accepts readily, is practically essential in ensuring that potentially hazardous consequences does not come to pass during field missions. HISTORY Of Romanian heritage, Teodora was born to a very successful business magnate father and an equally successful xenobiologist mother. As such, Teodora lived an entitled life of abundance for virtually all her life, never truly exposed to the typical hardships faced by people of middle and lower classes of socioeconomic status. That her parents pretty much spoiled her due to Teodora being an only child did not help the situation. It was thus quite fortunate that Teodora never really developed the arrogance and callousness that are typical of a spoiled child from a wealthy family, instead 'merely' developing a form of very strong self-assured, very relaxed, and somewhat mischievous characters. It was this fact that made her generally likeable to the people that she interacted with as a child, although on the flip side this tendency of being liked had perhaps contributed into furthering her personality in turn as if an endless loop of positive reinforcement feedback. Even when things started to become dire and nearly the whole world became a ruined one, Teodora and her family had it much much better than most. While the family nevertheless lost incalculable amount of assets as many of Mr. Constanza's international business ventures went down in flames like most others, they still had more than enough to continue living a good life within the relative safety of Tokyo, especially because the family also possessed some businesses within the city itself. Teodora herself quickly adapted to life in the Japanese capital and went on to continue living her happy-go-lucky life without a care in the world. And yet, despite her very good life, she shared one thing in common with most other people who ended up becoming a Chi-Mechframe pilot. That one thing was an accident, although in Teodora's case it was pretty much entirely her own fault. On that one day of the accident, she had visited the laboratory where her mom worked as one of those researchers that were researching the enigmatic Warped to better understand them. Echidna specimens were among the samples being researched there. For the most part, strict security procedures made it very unlikely for any sort of accident to happen within the laboratory. Unfortunately, even the most stringent measures can still fail due to human errors; especially if said errors were then unknowingly exploited by an overly curious and mischievous seventeen years old teenager. Long story short, Teodora was rewarded with an Echidna infection for her mischievousness. Brief chaos ensued, although fortunately Teodora ended up being the only victim of the accident. Soon after, people were immediately divided in heated debates about how to treat the now infected girl. Many were pragmatic, with a few even downright suggesting to turn her into a sample for experiment despite the fact that she was still very much alive and unmutated. In the end, it was her parents' clout and influences that won the day. She ended up merely being confined in an isolated yet very comfortable chamber where her condition were monitored closely twenty four hours a day. In the end, fortune smiled yet again to the girl, as soon it became clear that she was an asymptomatic carrier of the parasite. Unsurprisingly, the offer then eventually came. This offer became a chance that Teodora ended up taking on very eagerly despite some misgivings by her father. In the end however, with her mother actively supporting the decision and her father once more giving in to the wish of his ever spoiled beloved daughter, Teodora shortly after started her training to be a Chi-Mechframe pilot. Notably, however, the reason for her acceptance was not out any sense of duty or a higher calling to act on the opportunity that her unusual condition had bestowed upon her. She did not decide to become a Chi-Mechframe pilot because she wanted to save the world, nor out of a hatred of the Warped. No. In her own words, her reason was because "It all sounds super interesting! And I'm sure I'll perfectly ace it... Whatever 'it' might be!" And now, some time had passed since the day that she started her training as a pilot. The young wealthy scion of the Constanza family continued her happy-go-lucky life that had became spiced with things that were most definitely far from boring. SKILLS Throughout her life, despite being very much spoiled and living a very entitled life, Teodora nevertheless proved to be a young talented individual with her own set of notable skills: - Fencer: Teodora is an adept fencer, with years of training since she were as young as 6 years old under several different master fencers hired by her parents to be her instructor. - Gunner: A skill she cultivated slowly over many years from frequent visits to exclusive shooting ranges accompanying her father. She's far from an expert gunner, but she's able to shot as decently as any other well trained individual. - High Bearing: Living her entire life as a high class citizen, Teodora is very much well attuned to the social intricacies of the socioeconomical elite. - Multilingual: Teodora is fluent in Romanian, English, and Japanese. CHI-MECHFRAME SUPPLICE ABILITIES Named after the symphony 'Marche Au Supplice' (March to the Scaffold), Supplice was built around the core of a peculiar bird-like Warped. The Warped itself was rather middling in its overall raw capabilities. It was formidable in that it had no particular weakness, and yet at the same time none of its parameter was particularly high. It was somewhat strong, somewhat fast, somewhat agile, and somewhat durable, yet that was it. A jack of all trades but master of none. Still, there was one thing that discerned it and made it unique. It had an energy barrier which when fully breached allowed it to launch a single stream of large and powerful beam attack. It was like a last resort ability, energy from the breached barrier was transferred back inside the creature which then were able to unleash that energy as an attack. Supplice imitated this Warped's capabilities. It is a balanced multipurpose frame possessing: - Above average parameters in strength, speed, agility, and resilience augmentations; lacking a weak point yet also lacking any particular powerful parameter. - Flight, emulated via a pair of jet-powered wings. - Beam attacks in the form of a beam rapier, a single beam blade on each wing, and a medium range beam rifle. - Energy barrier of above average durability. In the event of this barrier being breached, Supplice will be able to use the barrier's energy to launch either a large, powerful beam wave from the rapier or a large, powerful stream of beam from the rifle. Note that the barrier cannot regenerate by itself; like damage to the Chi-Mechframe itself, it will need to be fixed back at base during maintenance. - Additionally, Supplice also comes equipped with a small combat knife, and its rifle is capable of firing standard ammunition. These emergency measures are both significantly inferior to the standard beam attacks but nonetheless made to be effective against the Warped. The peculiar energy halo that can be seen floating above the head piece of the frame served two functions: 1. As a kind of anchor for the floating wings, keeping them in relatively the same location relative to the frame body itself. 2. As indicator for the energy barrier. Upon the energy barrier being breached, the halo will turn bright red. NOTES: - Personal color code: #CCCCFF - Teodora is a massive sweet-tooth, with her favorite dessert being macarons. - She have a pet male doberman which she named "Vlad Tepes". - One should be aware that agreeing to go shopping for clothes with her will usually entail at least 6 hours spent in half a dozen different boutiques. - She likes to eat, but is a rather light eater. Thus, she eats slowly, enjoying each bite of her food. - She will give people she interacted with nicknames. It's just a matter of when. - As far as dislike goes, being a bootlicker is a quick way to lose some points with Teodora. Changelog: - 26th February 2022: ① Added additional info in NOTES. ② Added Leitmotif. ③ Added details in Chi-Mechframe section about Supplice's halo.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko "That's great, Du... ra... um... Durakku-san!" It was always good to hear Norika was doing well! Sure, she seemed a little strained and distant, but Hoshiko was used to that from the prickly girl. Really, it was just good to hear that such a young girl was still doing fine even though she'd been taken on for something as big as this. It was a little sad to hear she didn't want to be called by her first name still, especially since Hoshiko had been trying her best to get to know her better. But the brunette would at least try her best with the girl's surname! For some reason, even though she'd gotten okay enough at English, she still struggled with it. "I'm doing great too, this food is sooooo goood~" she added, cheerfully, as she proceeded to polish off another heaping amount of food. The crispness of the karaage, the richness of the ramen broth... so delicious! She would go back for seconds if not for the fact that they had to go on a mission soon. "Oh, hey, Teodora-san!" the older girl had just walked in, so of course Hoshiko's hand shot into the air to wave towards her with an exuberant greeting. @Medili</s> <|message|>Norika Dulac Norika had to agree that the food was good. They had it good here in The Horizon. Three meals a day, the safety of several inches of solid titanium and modern weaponry that could tear apart all but the largest of Warped, and the best and brightest in the world to train, heal, and equip them. "That's better," Norika said. "If we get to the point that I allow you to address me by my first name, consider yourself lucky." She sighed, standing up to her full height. "Just because we're on a ship in the sky together doesn't mean you can be this chummy with me. We're coworkers, not friends."</s>

<|message|>Teodora Constanza Place(s): The Horizon - Dining Area Time: Afternoon Interaction(s): Small one with Hoshiko & Norika --- Teodora returned Hoshiko's wave with a much much less exuberant wave of her own. "My, as full of guts as ever, Hoshiko. Always quite delightful to see. And I see that you're getting along very, very well-" her mischievous expression as she said so made it clear that she's making a jab at them, "-with the ever so charming and delectable Domnișoară (Miss) Dulac. Very good. Fufu~" She had always found the interactions between Hoshiko and Norika to be amusing. At times quite rather adorable in fact. "Quite adorable, you two." And of course, Teodora being Teodora, she saw nothing wrong with stating as much openly. In a way, she was perhaps the worse among the seven girls in not recognizing that her words or conducts might cause others to dislike her. She was simply too self-assured and content with herself; painfully so. And just like that, with her smile still plastered to her face, she continued eating her desserts again. Soon enough, she was done with the small meal and after a small act of taking care of her dental hygiene, leaned back contentedly on her seating.</s>

<|description|>Teodora Constanza AGE 19 GENDER Female APPEARANCE A young woman of Romanian descent. Teodora stands at 164cm (5′4) tall, which is of average height for a young adult female of her heritage. She is of slender build, with only slight muscle tone as a result of her training as a Chi-Mechframe pilot. Out of her formal duty uniform or Chi-Mechframe, her physicality does not look like that of a soldier at all (because she still technically isn't). Having a slightly pale complexion, long flowing locks of light blond hair framed her face, accentuating her vivid red eyes well. An eager smile showing curiosity fueled by mischief is often shown on her face, and at a time when this smile grows wide enough, a pair of longer than usual canine teeth can be seen in her mouth. Belonging to a particularly wealthy family, in her daily life Teodora tends to wear long-sleeved European style dresses that hinted at said wealth (although this was done less because of a deliberate intent to show off and more out of a habit that goes all the way to her childhood). This typical getup is usually accompanied with an equally intricate looking hair band and a pair of long, usually black overknee socks. In short, she usually looks like a rich and confident young woman (because she is). PERSONALITY CONFIDENT | HAPPY-GO-LUCKY | MISCHIEVOUS Teodora's personality as a person is most easily defined by the self-assured aura that she seems to exude almost all the time. This confidence, which at times definitely stumbles into the scale of being overconfident, in turn fueled her relaxed and happy-go-lucky attitude regardless of the trouble or obstacle that she might be facing at any given time. While she is also not at all arrogant and is very unlikely to intentionally brag, this confidence can nevertheless be too much to handle by others, resulting in intersocial discord that is often one sided due to Teodora not even realizing or caring that she's being despised by the individual(s) in question. Furthermore, while she had recently matured from doing full on childish mischief, some degree of mischievousness remains within her. At best, this tendency may provoke her into playfully teasing others with a light jab or two, which might even be appreciated by those that are not averse to such playfulness. At worst however, she had been witnessed to treat even real time combat situations as if some amusing games, thus potentially severely endangering herself and others. In conclusion, while her personality is in general not a cause of concern out of the battlefield, it very much represents an operational risk inside of one. A firm guidance from an on-field leader figure, which Teodora fortunately generally accepts readily, is practically essential in ensuring that potentially hazardous consequences does not come to pass during field missions. HISTORY Of Romanian heritage, Teodora was born to a very successful business magnate father and an equally successful xenobiologist mother. As such, Teodora lived an entitled life of abundance for virtually all her life, never truly exposed to the typical hardships faced by people of middle and lower classes of socioeconomic status. That her parents pretty much spoiled her due to Teodora being an only child did not help the situation. It was thus quite fortunate that Teodora never really developed the arrogance and callousness that are typical of a spoiled child from a wealthy family, instead 'merely' developing a form of very strong self-assured, very relaxed, and somewhat mischievous characters. It was this fact that made her generally likeable to the people that she interacted with as a child, although on the flip side this tendency of being liked had perhaps contributed into furthering her personality in turn as if an endless loop of positive reinforcement feedback. Even when things started to become dire and nearly the whole world became a ruined one, Teodora and her family had it much much better than most. While the family nevertheless lost incalculable amount of assets as many of Mr. Constanza's international business ventures went down in flames like most others, they still had more than enough to continue living a good life within the relative safety of Tokyo, especially because the family also possessed some businesses within the city itself. Teodora herself quickly adapted to life in the Japanese capital and went on to continue living her happy-go-lucky life without a care in the world. And yet, despite her very good life, she shared one thing in common with most other people who ended up becoming a Chi-Mechframe pilot. That one thing was an accident, although in Teodora's case it was pretty much entirely her own fault. On that one day of the accident, she had visited the laboratory where her mom worked as one of those researchers that were researching the enigmatic Warped to better understand them. Echidna specimens were among the samples being researched there. For the most part, strict security procedures made it very unlikely for any sort of accident to happen within the laboratory. Unfortunately, even the most stringent measures can still fail due to human errors; especially if said errors were then unknowingly exploited by an overly curious and mischievous seventeen years old teenager. Long story short, Teodora was rewarded with an Echidna infection for her mischievousness. Brief chaos ensued, although fortunately Teodora ended up being the only victim of the accident. Soon after, people were immediately divided in heated debates about how to treat the now infected girl. Many were pragmatic, with a few even downright suggesting to turn her into a sample for experiment despite the fact that she was still very much alive and unmutated. In the end, it was her parents' clout and influences that won the day. She ended up merely being confined in an isolated yet very comfortable chamber where her condition were monitored closely twenty four hours a day. In the end, fortune smiled yet again to the girl, as soon it became clear that she was an asymptomatic carrier of the parasite. Unsurprisingly, the offer then eventually came. This offer became a chance that Teodora ended up taking on very eagerly despite some misgivings by her father. In the end however, with her mother actively supporting the decision and her father once more giving in to the wish of his ever spoiled beloved daughter, Teodora shortly after started her training to be a Chi-Mechframe pilot. Notably, however, the reason for her acceptance was not out any sense of duty or a higher calling to act on the opportunity that her unusual condition had bestowed upon her. She did not decide to become a Chi-Mechframe pilot because she wanted to save the world, nor out of a hatred of the Warped. No. In her own words, her reason was because "It all sounds super interesting! And I'm sure I'll perfectly ace it... Whatever 'it' might be!" And now, some time had passed since the day that she started her training as a pilot. The young wealthy scion of the Constanza family continued her happy-go-lucky life that had became spiced with things that were most definitely far from boring. SKILLS Throughout her life, despite being very much spoiled and living a very entitled life, Teodora nevertheless proved to be a young talented individual with her own set of notable skills: - Fencer: Teodora is an adept fencer, with years of training since she were as young as 6 years old under several different master fencers hired by her parents to be her instructor. - Gunner: A skill she cultivated slowly over many years from frequent visits to exclusive shooting ranges accompanying her father. She's far from an expert gunner, but she's able to shot as decently as any other well trained individual. - High Bearing: Living her entire life as a high class citizen, Teodora is very much well attuned to the social intricacies of the socioeconomical elite. - Multilingual: Teodora is fluent in Romanian, English, and Japanese. CHI-MECHFRAME SUPPLICE ABILITIES Named after the symphony 'Marche Au Supplice' (March to the Scaffold), Supplice was built around the core of a peculiar bird-like Warped. The Warped itself was rather middling in its overall raw capabilities. It was formidable in that it had no particular weakness, and yet at the same time none of its parameter was particularly high. It was somewhat strong, somewhat fast, somewhat agile, and somewhat durable, yet that was it. A jack of all trades but master of none. Still, there was one thing that discerned it and made it unique. It had an energy barrier which when fully breached allowed it to launch a single stream of large and powerful beam attack. It was like a last resort ability, energy from the breached barrier was transferred back inside the creature which then were able to unleash that energy as an attack. Supplice imitated this Warped's capabilities. It is a balanced multipurpose frame possessing: - Above average parameters in strength, speed, agility, and resilience augmentations; lacking a weak point yet also lacking any particular powerful parameter. - Flight, emulated via a pair of jet-powered wings. - Beam attacks in the form of a beam rapier, a single beam blade on each wing, and a medium range beam rifle. - Energy barrier of above average durability. In the event of this barrier being breached, Supplice will be able to use the barrier's energy to launch either a large, powerful beam wave from the rapier or a large, powerful stream of beam from the rifle. Note that the barrier cannot regenerate by itself; like damage to the Chi-Mechframe itself, it will need to be fixed back at base during maintenance. - Additionally, Supplice also comes equipped with a small combat knife, and its rifle is capable of firing standard ammunition. These emergency measures are both significantly inferior to the standard beam attacks but nonetheless made to be effective against the Warped. The peculiar energy halo that can be seen floating above the head piece of the frame served two functions: 1. As a kind of anchor for the floating wings, keeping them in relatively the same location relative to the frame body itself. 2. As indicator for the energy barrier. Upon the energy barrier being breached, the halo will turn bright red. NOTES: - Personal color code: #CCCCFF - Teodora is a massive sweet-tooth, with her favorite dessert being macarons. - She have a pet male doberman which she named "Vlad Tepes". - One should be aware that agreeing to go shopping for clothes with her will usually entail at least 6 hours spent in half a dozen different boutiques. - She likes to eat, but is a rather light eater. Thus, she eats slowly, enjoying each bite of her food. - She will give people she interacted with nicknames. It's just a matter of when. - As far as dislike goes, being a bootlicker is a quick way to lose some points with Teodora. Changelog: - 26th February 2022: ① Added additional info in NOTES. ② Added Leitmotif. ③ Added details in Chi-Mechframe section about Supplice's halo.</s> <|message|>Norika Dulac "Stuff's too old and faded to read," Norika said. "Something about supply shipments and research and development. Can't make anything else out. Wonder what they were doing here?" A corpse. Unsurprising, to say the least. It would be more surprising not to find any bodies somewhere likely to have Warped. "I'm moving towards your location." She could track him down with Titania's heads-up display without much problem. When she found Xuan-Yu he had his blade drawn. Her eyes were drawn to the body. The bones were bleached white, and the skull was punctured. The state of the ribcage wasn't much better. Norika hoped that, whoever this was, their death had been as quick and painless as possible. "Find anything else? Or just our unfortunate friend here?"</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko The only way to proceed through the rest of the building was down the crumbling, damaged hallway. Here and there were clawmarks, or places where the scaffolding had seemingly melted from intense heat. Whatever had occurred here had most certainly been swift and violent. The previously-loud forest had gone utterly silent. And the pilots were about to learn why. There was a strange sound, something like a heavy and wet object being dragged along a rough surface. A slimy, slopping sound from behind them. A long arm reached from the foliage. It was pitch black, and on close examination one would be able to discern that its entire surface was writhing. It was covered, or perhaps entirely composed, of thousands upon thousands of black, sluglike creatures, and it twisted in a fashion impossible for something supported by bone as it placed one human-like hand upon the ground. The thing that lurched from the forest was supported by at least five more of these limbs. Whatever was beneath the writhing, sluglike creatures was impossible to see, if there was even anything within the mass in the first place. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them. The only thing that broke up this undulating 'skin' was a pair of bright, circular red eyes, which rolled about slightly before fixing squarely on both pilots. Each of this limbs retracted into its body, its mass writhing and growing for a moment as the black slugs squirmed over it. Then they exploded back outwards, at least a dozen tentacles composed of the squirming creatures surging down the hall towards the pilots. @JDubs</s>

<|message|>Teodora Constanza Retreat From the Sea Monster Sydney Harbor | Daytime Teodora nodded, a smile still on her face as she responded to Elise's thanks toward her. "My pleasure. Just doing my job, fufu. Still, as far as our general situation is concerned..." She observed as whatever little damage her beam shots had inflicted upon the massive Warped were already rapidly being fixed, showing the creature's formidable capability in regenerating damage. "Yes. That is most decisively not a good sight at all. I am loathe to admit it, but it looks like we are currently quite outgunned and out of our depth." The comm channel soon came alive with message from the HQ. "This is HQ; the target's location has been verified. Selene, Supplice: disengage the Warped and return to base. Over." "Copy that, HQ. Exactly my thoughts, to be honest." Truthfully there was nothing better to do than to retreat. With Selene's flight capability crippled and Supplice's beam rifle proven to be ineffective against the massive monster, attempting to continue the fight would have been nothing less than a feat of pointless suicide. As reckless and situationally unaware as Teodora can often be, suicidal was more the trait of a certain smaller and rather sadistic girl than that of the Romanian pilot's. "Well then... Let's get out of here without further ado, dear Elise!" Teodora stored her rifle away, allowing her to use both her hands to gently but firmly grip on to Elise. Of the next barrage of lasers that had been fired once more by the monster, she paid little attention to. Instead, she focused on maximum speed while trusting her barrier to protect them from the attacks. All of Supplice's boosters charged up to the maximum output and with a loud roaring boom, intense jet fires exploded out of them to propel both Teodora and Elise to the direction of the harbor away from the hostile entity, leaving behind contrails in their wake.</s>

<|description|>Xuan-Yu Lang 5'8 | 139 lbs | 25 y/o | Male --- PersonalityWhat was a Chi-Mechframe but a superweapon, to be turned against civilization once the Warped were wiped? What was a human, but a vessel to be fit into the cogs of the state? What was he, but a bastard adrift, sustained by directionless spite and anchored by burdens, obligations, and debts? Xuan-Yu is anchored by a persistent, weary hollowness, one alleviated only by the emotions he draws out of others to fill in his cute, cynical mask. Unlike those who've managed to survive the ruination of the world with their psyche intact, the invasion of the Warped and the measures that nations took to preserve themselves had revealed to him the nature of power and humanity, pushing him into the quagmire that his psychology persists in today. The youth with dreams of independence after graduation had been shattered into glass, leaving naught more but an empty vessel ringed with sharp edges. He knows now his worth, the price of a pound of his flesh, the limits of what his efforts could bring. There were only so many people he could hold in his hands, and to overreach, to overestimate, would mean losing more and more. Pressure mounts incessantly, even as Xuan-Yu exudes a surface-level apathy, and the provocations that dance along his tongue exist as the hot vapors that shriek out from a rusted engine. Sarcastic wit and an acerbic outlook are both things he has plenty of, and he's always poking and prodding, seeing how far he could go with verbalized stress relief, but in the end, Xuan-Yu is undoubtedly a professional. He will get his work done, with the diligence and focus of a conscript, a volunteer, a Frame Pilot. If all it took was a pound of his flesh to make a place in the world for the few he cares for, then Xuan-Yu would do what he must. It was what was beaten into him for the last five years, after all. HistoryWho cared for the story of an individual, when it is through the movement of governments that one's fate was decided? The Warped apocalypse came like a tide, every soldier sent to stall them turned to flesh or host, every country scrambling to secure their own borders or sacrificing their sovereignty to obtain security from larger neighbours. And in the chaos of imminent extinction, so came opportunity for land grabs. Islands, once protected by legislation and convention, were devoured by continental superpowers, turned into fortresses and safehouses for the wealthy and influential, all while metropolises converted themselves into barracks, taking in refugees and sending out conscripts. All for the glory of the fatherland, all for the sanctity of the motherland. And China, seeing opportunity while the States grappled with their domestic concerns, positioned themselves as the final line of defense for humanity's hope, shielding the cloistered experimental facilities of Japan with the bodies of the millions that it could no longer feed. Mountainous terrain and massive river systems stalled the progress of both the Warped and civilians alike, while forward cities were set up solely as massive sarcophagi to distract the monstrous horde for days, months, perhaps even a year. They all fell though, as supplies concentrated on city-fortresses that "had value". There was no space in humanity's survival for humanity, and individual tragedies had no place in national triumphs. For humanity would triumph through the sacrifice of the masses, just as it always had. But miscalculations remained, and in wartime, it was the generals, not the ministers, who held the greatest powers. Those conscripted to fight for their cities, for their families, gained a pride of their own. What did they care for the directives of Beijing, when it was their commanders who tolled for them, when it was their relatives who fought beside them? A sense of pride in their own army, in their own city, spawned the first of many military factions, as those who fought on the frontlines decided that it was best to position themselves for the next stage of the war. Alliances formed between the city-states on the frontlines of the Warped War, while fallen cities were subsumed by those still standing. And what of those refugees, seeking shelter from the Warped, willing to do whatever necessary to ensure that they had a seat in a world with scarcer and scarcer resources? They fought at the vanguard, obviously. Fought with the lowest pay, the fewest benefits, in the most dangerous scenarios, their will buoyed only by the promise that their families could live as second-class citizens in the militarized cities. Human generosity was in short supply, rations were in shorter supply. Whatever crime against humanity was at play here was simply accepted as a consequence of having to face down the apocalypse. Xuan-Yu was one such refugee, one such conscript, one such volunteer. Filled with spite towards the army that he had signed his life away to, yet unable to do anything to resist whatever order was sent his way. He travelled where they wanted him to be, fought where they wanted him to fight, and bled where they wanted him to bleed. For fatherland, infertile and scorched? For motherland, broken and skeletal? No, just for a handful of lives, just a letter or two sent when his deployments coincided with the movements of the army's messengers. And when an operation in an isolated region of China went horribly wrong, causing mass Echnida infections amongst the soldiers, Xuan-Yu found himself alive where others died. Found himself a Frame Pilot, when the military distrusted his personality, his status, too much to invest anything in him. They were under no illusions of how they've abused those like him, and he had made no effort to hide his hatred of them either. Still, he was a collared, mangy beast, and when an international organization of great repute scouted him, the army was more than willing to let him go. After all, losing a common soldier in exchange for a king's ransom was no-brainer of a deal, and any potential betrayal was out of the question when they still had a firm grip on his leash. SkillsXuan-Yu, like most young men with all four of his limbs and no severe physical defects, has been conscripted during the beginning of the war to fight for the national security of his country. An infantryman, but one that hasn't been offered much in the way of proper training, he knows his way around living in a warzone, maintaining his Type 81 AR, and applying emergency medical treatment in substandard environments. He was an experienced gymnast, specializing in the physically demanding and artistically lacking Floor Exercise. He was a bright student who studied business, back when academics meant something for one's success. He was a hobbyist violinist, as many youths were back then, but few luthiers of noteworthy skill survived, and his skills did not merit any particular attention from the associations that hoarded what instruments remained. He speaks Mandarin with a Guangdong accent, can use Cantonese curses, and is proficient in Japanese and Korean. Chi-Mechframe: Deathstalker AppearanceA pitch-black armored body suit with fluid-filled tubing stretching out from its back and scarlet flexors peeking out where the human body's joints are, Deathstalker was craft of a massive scorpion-based Warped hunted down within the plains of Inner Mongolia. While the monster itself possessed terrifyingly powerful melee strikes, could camouflage itself to appear invisible to the naked eye, and generated poisons so noxious that it could dissolve flesh like cotton candy, it was ultimately detected through radar systems and obliterated by wide-range bombardment. Such is the fate of all assassins. Against indiscriminate destruction, it mattered little whether they truly knew you were there or not. AbilitiesDeathstalker possesses above average physical capabilities in exchange for eschewing all ranged weapons, energy-based attacks, and defensive measures, with particularly exceptional strength and speed. While its Warped inspiration is that of a scorpion, the artificial flexors on the limbs operate more like that of a pistol shrimp's, able to lock into place before snapping out at supersonic speeds. It is from this that the Chi-Mechframe's destructive potential is manifested, allowing the Stinger Blade, a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable sword, to rip through hardened armor like its nothing at all. However, repeated usage of these 'Burst Strikes' will undoubtedly damage the human beneath, and while leg strikes are roughly three times as powerful as arm strikes, they take much longer to recover between each individual strike as well. Sustained combat is not the Deathstalker's forte, and an opportunistic mind would make better use of this Chi-Mechframe than a true-blooded warrior. The Deathstalker's optical camouflage has seen some improvement compared to its Warped inspiration as well. Drawing in visuals of its surroundings, the Chi-Mechframe is able to project an illusory field over its surface, subsequently melting into the background and allowing it to operate undetected at roughly 60% of its physical capabilities. While this camouflage can be easily seen through with auditory or olfactory means, the small size of the Chi-Mechframe makes it nigh-undetectable on radar and the frame itself can synchronize with the environment's temperatures, confounding infrared detection. Still, the performance of any physical attack would require optical camouflage be removed and energy reallocated towards more martial purposes, at least against the Warped. Poison synthesis and generation, however, was the quality that suffered the most during the translation from Warped Core to Chi-Mechframe. While the original poisons could caused catastrophic damage to biological matter with a single drop, the poisons that Deathstalker cultivates are debilitating but rarely lethal. Rather, it would be more accurate to consider it an anesthetic when used against the Warped, numbing their sense of touch and perhaps reducing or even completely shutting down their fine motor control. In the very best case scenario, localized paralysis can set in, but even then, such paralysis does not last long. Officially speaking, this poison's efficacy, dubbed Red Kiss, has not been confirmed upon human subjects.</s> <|message|>PYRALIS CONSTANTINA --The Land Down Under-- @Medili After the misunderstanding was cleared, things surprisingly progressed quickly for the two frame pilots of opposite temperaments. The fact that Teodora went out of her way to explain everything and apologize cemented all but one path for Pyra to go to, anyone - including herself - could see that it'd be Pyra's fault now if she maintained her hostile disposition towards the older girl, not to mention delusional. If Teo was willing to accommodate her noise preference, then the least Pyra could do was do the same in return so they could meet at a sweet spot in the middle. Although it'd still be difficult for Pyra to be naturally comfortable around such boisterous people compared to being by herself, at least she and Teodora are cool now. That said, the event turned out to be the best as Pyralis found herself being assigned in the same squad as Teodora and Elise this time around. Although the brunette was willing to postpone any personal beef with her squadmates during missions, it'd make things a lot easier if she didn't dislike any of them in the first place. Looking out towards the deceptively calm waters of the Sydney Harbor, the sea reflected in her blue eyes, the Japanese-Greek was well-informed that twas' a mere ruse for something sinister was lurking underneath the waves, this thalassophobia-inducing leviathan of the deep. Therein lied one conundrum that Pyra had about this particular assignment. Her Chi-Mechframe was designed around incendiary attacks... and this creature was submerged in the ocean; although Infernus' flames were no ordinary fire, the fact remained that her weapons would be less effective against submerged targets. To make the most use of her dragonfire, she had to employ fast-moving projectiles, such as jets of flames to give the attack enough oomph to pierce through the water without letting the cold liquid doused too much of its power. This meant techniques such as Agni Enfilade and similar long-ranged arcing projectiles would be unwise to pick over its more direct fire counterparts such as Infernal Buster. Regardless, she had a job to do and right now, it was scouting; an artilleryman needed to locate her target first before firing after all. Taking a step forward, Pyralis held out her left arm, where the wristband was latched onto her wrist. "Infernus, ignite!" A short baptism of fire later, an armored dress formed over the brunette's black leotard and a dragonlance on her left arm. Infernus immediately vaulted off the railings as feet-wings of flames carried her diagonally up into the air. "Conducting a scan on the perimeter now, over." Pyra reported as she began to do exactly that. She didn't expect this to be easy, but wasn't that why Horizon assigned three flight-capable Frame Pilots to the task?</s> <|message|>Norika Dulac She'd missed her opportunity. Norika had beat around the bush and failed to interact in any meaningful way with her fellow pilots. She'd tried, but each attempt had ended in some awkward conversation. "Nice weather we're having." "Been a long day." "Hey, you gonna finish that?" That last one had been spectacularly embarrassing. Asking Fukada if she was going to finish a snack was like asking if the sun was going to set in the west. But life went on. Birds flew and fish swam. The Horizon left Japanese airspace and headed for a new location. And now, here she was in the middle of Australia with Xuan-Yu Lang. Definitely not how she wanted to spend her day, but orders were orders. She'd remained silent when the orders were handed down, but once in the privacy of her quarters Norika had let loose a string of curses that would have made a sailor take notice. To say she wasn't very keen on this whole mission was an understatement. Once suited up and armed, Norika did her best to maintain a cold exterior. Now, standing in front of some kind of abandoned facility, she was in a slightly better mood. The dry heat sucked, but the mission ahead seemed promising. Norika flipped her revolver open and began inserting rounds wider than her thumb into the cylinder. "Can I trust you to watch my back without tripping me?" asked Norika. Her tone had an icy edge to it. She still hadn't let their little interaction a few days ago go.</s>

<|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang "Please." And as always, the Chi-Mechframe responded, pulling Xuan-Yu beyond the reaches of humanity, dissolving his physical form into an existence that light could no longer catch. Even in what accounted as 'Northern' Territory, Australian weather was the murky and unpleasant, the dry heat and the lack of shelter making it the sort of situation that caused an abandoned facility look almost like a welcoming place to be. Less welcoming was the fact that he was put on babysitting duty with a girl seven years younger temporally, and twelve years younger physically. He cast a glance towards Norika, already looking so tense and serious that it looked like a mockery of both those descriptors, before throwing out a nasty sneer at her comment. Oh wait, no need to bother with facial expressions. She can't even see him now. "Yeah, go for it," Xuan-Yu replied, making his steps loud enough to show that he was headed into the facility already. "Just don't blame me when you end up tripping over yourself, Dulac. Heard coordination's pretty difficult when you're still growing." Really, this was the definition of a one-man job. Was ol' Sandy feeling punitive, putting a sadist on a stealth mission and expecting him to leash her in?</s>

<|description|>Xuan-Yu Lang 5'8 | 139 lbs | 25 y/o | Male --- PersonalityWhat was a Chi-Mechframe but a superweapon, to be turned against civilization once the Warped were wiped? What was a human, but a vessel to be fit into the cogs of the state? What was he, but a bastard adrift, sustained by directionless spite and anchored by burdens, obligations, and debts? Xuan-Yu is anchored by a persistent, weary hollowness, one alleviated only by the emotions he draws out of others to fill in his cute, cynical mask. Unlike those who've managed to survive the ruination of the world with their psyche intact, the invasion of the Warped and the measures that nations took to preserve themselves had revealed to him the nature of power and humanity, pushing him into the quagmire that his psychology persists in today. The youth with dreams of independence after graduation had been shattered into glass, leaving naught more but an empty vessel ringed with sharp edges. He knows now his worth, the price of a pound of his flesh, the limits of what his efforts could bring. There were only so many people he could hold in his hands, and to overreach, to overestimate, would mean losing more and more. Pressure mounts incessantly, even as Xuan-Yu exudes a surface-level apathy, and the provocations that dance along his tongue exist as the hot vapors that shriek out from a rusted engine. Sarcastic wit and an acerbic outlook are both things he has plenty of, and he's always poking and prodding, seeing how far he could go with verbalized stress relief, but in the end, Xuan-Yu is undoubtedly a professional. He will get his work done, with the diligence and focus of a conscript, a volunteer, a Frame Pilot. If all it took was a pound of his flesh to make a place in the world for the few he cares for, then Xuan-Yu would do what he must. It was what was beaten into him for the last five years, after all. HistoryWho cared for the story of an individual, when it is through the movement of governments that one's fate was decided? The Warped apocalypse came like a tide, every soldier sent to stall them turned to flesh or host, every country scrambling to secure their own borders or sacrificing their sovereignty to obtain security from larger neighbours. And in the chaos of imminent extinction, so came opportunity for land grabs. Islands, once protected by legislation and convention, were devoured by continental superpowers, turned into fortresses and safehouses for the wealthy and influential, all while metropolises converted themselves into barracks, taking in refugees and sending out conscripts. All for the glory of the fatherland, all for the sanctity of the motherland. And China, seeing opportunity while the States grappled with their domestic concerns, positioned themselves as the final line of defense for humanity's hope, shielding the cloistered experimental facilities of Japan with the bodies of the millions that it could no longer feed. Mountainous terrain and massive river systems stalled the progress of both the Warped and civilians alike, while forward cities were set up solely as massive sarcophagi to distract the monstrous horde for days, months, perhaps even a year. They all fell though, as supplies concentrated on city-fortresses that "had value". There was no space in humanity's survival for humanity, and individual tragedies had no place in national triumphs. For humanity would triumph through the sacrifice of the masses, just as it always had. But miscalculations remained, and in wartime, it was the generals, not the ministers, who held the greatest powers. Those conscripted to fight for their cities, for their families, gained a pride of their own. What did they care for the directives of Beijing, when it was their commanders who tolled for them, when it was their relatives who fought beside them? A sense of pride in their own army, in their own city, spawned the first of many military factions, as those who fought on the frontlines decided that it was best to position themselves for the next stage of the war. Alliances formed between the city-states on the frontlines of the Warped War, while fallen cities were subsumed by those still standing. And what of those refugees, seeking shelter from the Warped, willing to do whatever necessary to ensure that they had a seat in a world with scarcer and scarcer resources? They fought at the vanguard, obviously. Fought with the lowest pay, the fewest benefits, in the most dangerous scenarios, their will buoyed only by the promise that their families could live as second-class citizens in the militarized cities. Human generosity was in short supply, rations were in shorter supply. Whatever crime against humanity was at play here was simply accepted as a consequence of having to face down the apocalypse. Xuan-Yu was one such refugee, one such conscript, one such volunteer. Filled with spite towards the army that he had signed his life away to, yet unable to do anything to resist whatever order was sent his way. He travelled where they wanted him to be, fought where they wanted him to fight, and bled where they wanted him to bleed. For fatherland, infertile and scorched? For motherland, broken and skeletal? No, just for a handful of lives, just a letter or two sent when his deployments coincided with the movements of the army's messengers. And when an operation in an isolated region of China went horribly wrong, causing mass Echnida infections amongst the soldiers, Xuan-Yu found himself alive where others died. Found himself a Frame Pilot, when the military distrusted his personality, his status, too much to invest anything in him. They were under no illusions of how they've abused those like him, and he had made no effort to hide his hatred of them either. Still, he was a collared, mangy beast, and when an international organization of great repute scouted him, the army was more than willing to let him go. After all, losing a common soldier in exchange for a king's ransom was no-brainer of a deal, and any potential betrayal was out of the question when they still had a firm grip on his leash. SkillsXuan-Yu, like most young men with all four of his limbs and no severe physical defects, has been conscripted during the beginning of the war to fight for the national security of his country. An infantryman, but one that hasn't been offered much in the way of proper training, he knows his way around living in a warzone, maintaining his Type 81 AR, and applying emergency medical treatment in substandard environments. He was an experienced gymnast, specializing in the physically demanding and artistically lacking Floor Exercise. He was a bright student who studied business, back when academics meant something for one's success. He was a hobbyist violinist, as many youths were back then, but few luthiers of noteworthy skill survived, and his skills did not merit any particular attention from the associations that hoarded what instruments remained. He speaks Mandarin with a Guangdong accent, can use Cantonese curses, and is proficient in Japanese and Korean. Chi-Mechframe: Deathstalker AppearanceA pitch-black armored body suit with fluid-filled tubing stretching out from its back and scarlet flexors peeking out where the human body's joints are, Deathstalker was craft of a massive scorpion-based Warped hunted down within the plains of Inner Mongolia. While the monster itself possessed terrifyingly powerful melee strikes, could camouflage itself to appear invisible to the naked eye, and generated poisons so noxious that it could dissolve flesh like cotton candy, it was ultimately detected through radar systems and obliterated by wide-range bombardment. Such is the fate of all assassins. Against indiscriminate destruction, it mattered little whether they truly knew you were there or not. AbilitiesDeathstalker possesses above average physical capabilities in exchange for eschewing all ranged weapons, energy-based attacks, and defensive measures, with particularly exceptional strength and speed. While its Warped inspiration is that of a scorpion, the artificial flexors on the limbs operate more like that of a pistol shrimp's, able to lock into place before snapping out at supersonic speeds. It is from this that the Chi-Mechframe's destructive potential is manifested, allowing the Stinger Blade, a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable sword, to rip through hardened armor like its nothing at all. However, repeated usage of these 'Burst Strikes' will undoubtedly damage the human beneath, and while leg strikes are roughly three times as powerful as arm strikes, they take much longer to recover between each individual strike as well. Sustained combat is not the Deathstalker's forte, and an opportunistic mind would make better use of this Chi-Mechframe than a true-blooded warrior. The Deathstalker's optical camouflage has seen some improvement compared to its Warped inspiration as well. Drawing in visuals of its surroundings, the Chi-Mechframe is able to project an illusory field over its surface, subsequently melting into the background and allowing it to operate undetected at roughly 60% of its physical capabilities. While this camouflage can be easily seen through with auditory or olfactory means, the small size of the Chi-Mechframe makes it nigh-undetectable on radar and the frame itself can synchronize with the environment's temperatures, confounding infrared detection. Still, the performance of any physical attack would require optical camouflage be removed and energy reallocated towards more martial purposes, at least against the Warped. Poison synthesis and generation, however, was the quality that suffered the most during the translation from Warped Core to Chi-Mechframe. While the original poisons could caused catastrophic damage to biological matter with a single drop, the poisons that Deathstalker cultivates are debilitating but rarely lethal. Rather, it would be more accurate to consider it an anesthetic when used against the Warped, numbing their sense of touch and perhaps reducing or even completely shutting down their fine motor control. In the very best case scenario, localized paralysis can set in, but even then, such paralysis does not last long. Officially speaking, this poison's efficacy, dubbed Red Kiss, has not been confirmed upon human subjects.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko Hoshiko wasn't sure what to think. She didn't understand any of this at all. Warped were attacking people within the city walls. Killing them. A somewhat grim expression was on the girl's face as she considered that information once more. These people were supposed to be safe, and yet there were being killed in terrible ways. A part of her wished she already knew, so that she could have intervened before anyone got hurt. A part of her hated that it took this long for her to know. The brunette took a deep breath, shoulders sagging. "I don't really know what's going on, but..." she paused for a moment, glancing over the information again, "We have to stop it before anyone else gets hurt, so I'll do my best!" Hoshiko raised one fist and clenched it in the air for emphasis, nodding to herself. But it quickly dawned on her that she had no idea where to start. She had to do something, but where did she even begin? "Um... you said you needed addresses?" she asked, grabbing a map and spreading it out, "Tell me where they are and I'll start marking them down!" Indeed, as soon as she was instructed, Hoshiko would begin to mark each address with a red X. @Mole@Laduguer</s> <|message|>Norika Dulac Norika had to bite her lip, otherwise she'd call the man's mother something... unflattering, to say the least. She drew her revolver and moved towards the door. There were signs of Warped around, but nothing indicating a major outbreak or something she couldn't handle solo. Still, it was always good to have an extra pair of eyes watching your back. She just wished it was literally anyone other than Xuan-Yu Lang. She moved inside the building, taking in her surroundings. The place was being reclaimed by nature. Grass, bushes, saplings. But no sign of animal life, other than a rat sitting on the front desk grooming itself without a care in the world. Had the local rodents forgotten their fear of Man this quickly? It wouldn't surprise her. Norika lowered her weapon slightly. "No visual contacts." @ERode</s>

<|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang Ah, humid heat. Now this was nostalgic. His lungs drowned gradually with every breath, and his hair stuck to his inflamed cheeks, the heat that accompanied the moist vapours such that even in the shadow of the research facility, one could not escape that pervasive warmth. Xuan-Yu rolled his shoulders back as he scanned about, coming to the same conclusion as Dulac: nothing hostile, nothing yet. He stepped over the virulent roots and the foliage, imprints in the moss and grass the only sign of his passing, before bounding gracefully over the receptionist's desk. It had only been a handful of years. Though humidity, vermin, and vegetation could do work enough to destroy any chance one would have of recovering the electronics on the ground floor of the building, perhaps there were documents within the cabinets. A map of the place would be a start, certainly. Maybe keys left behind, so they didn't have to bust down any doors unnecessarily.</s>

<|description|>Xuan-Yu Lang 5'8 | 139 lbs | 25 y/o | Male --- PersonalityWhat was a Chi-Mechframe but a superweapon, to be turned against civilization once the Warped were wiped? What was a human, but a vessel to be fit into the cogs of the state? What was he, but a bastard adrift, sustained by directionless spite and anchored by burdens, obligations, and debts? Xuan-Yu is anchored by a persistent, weary hollowness, one alleviated only by the emotions he draws out of others to fill in his cute, cynical mask. Unlike those who've managed to survive the ruination of the world with their psyche intact, the invasion of the Warped and the measures that nations took to preserve themselves had revealed to him the nature of power and humanity, pushing him into the quagmire that his psychology persists in today. The youth with dreams of independence after graduation had been shattered into glass, leaving naught more but an empty vessel ringed with sharp edges. He knows now his worth, the price of a pound of his flesh, the limits of what his efforts could bring. There were only so many people he could hold in his hands, and to overreach, to overestimate, would mean losing more and more. Pressure mounts incessantly, even as Xuan-Yu exudes a surface-level apathy, and the provocations that dance along his tongue exist as the hot vapors that shriek out from a rusted engine. Sarcastic wit and an acerbic outlook are both things he has plenty of, and he's always poking and prodding, seeing how far he could go with verbalized stress relief, but in the end, Xuan-Yu is undoubtedly a professional. He will get his work done, with the diligence and focus of a conscript, a volunteer, a Frame Pilot. If all it took was a pound of his flesh to make a place in the world for the few he cares for, then Xuan-Yu would do what he must. It was what was beaten into him for the last five years, after all. HistoryWho cared for the story of an individual, when it is through the movement of governments that one's fate was decided? The Warped apocalypse came like a tide, every soldier sent to stall them turned to flesh or host, every country scrambling to secure their own borders or sacrificing their sovereignty to obtain security from larger neighbours. And in the chaos of imminent extinction, so came opportunity for land grabs. Islands, once protected by legislation and convention, were devoured by continental superpowers, turned into fortresses and safehouses for the wealthy and influential, all while metropolises converted themselves into barracks, taking in refugees and sending out conscripts. All for the glory of the fatherland, all for the sanctity of the motherland. And China, seeing opportunity while the States grappled with their domestic concerns, positioned themselves as the final line of defense for humanity's hope, shielding the cloistered experimental facilities of Japan with the bodies of the millions that it could no longer feed. Mountainous terrain and massive river systems stalled the progress of both the Warped and civilians alike, while forward cities were set up solely as massive sarcophagi to distract the monstrous horde for days, months, perhaps even a year. They all fell though, as supplies concentrated on city-fortresses that "had value". There was no space in humanity's survival for humanity, and individual tragedies had no place in national triumphs. For humanity would triumph through the sacrifice of the masses, just as it always had. But miscalculations remained, and in wartime, it was the generals, not the ministers, who held the greatest powers. Those conscripted to fight for their cities, for their families, gained a pride of their own. What did they care for the directives of Beijing, when it was their commanders who tolled for them, when it was their relatives who fought beside them? A sense of pride in their own army, in their own city, spawned the first of many military factions, as those who fought on the frontlines decided that it was best to position themselves for the next stage of the war. Alliances formed between the city-states on the frontlines of the Warped War, while fallen cities were subsumed by those still standing. And what of those refugees, seeking shelter from the Warped, willing to do whatever necessary to ensure that they had a seat in a world with scarcer and scarcer resources? They fought at the vanguard, obviously. Fought with the lowest pay, the fewest benefits, in the most dangerous scenarios, their will buoyed only by the promise that their families could live as second-class citizens in the militarized cities. Human generosity was in short supply, rations were in shorter supply. Whatever crime against humanity was at play here was simply accepted as a consequence of having to face down the apocalypse. Xuan-Yu was one such refugee, one such conscript, one such volunteer. Filled with spite towards the army that he had signed his life away to, yet unable to do anything to resist whatever order was sent his way. He travelled where they wanted him to be, fought where they wanted him to fight, and bled where they wanted him to bleed. For fatherland, infertile and scorched? For motherland, broken and skeletal? No, just for a handful of lives, just a letter or two sent when his deployments coincided with the movements of the army's messengers. And when an operation in an isolated region of China went horribly wrong, causing mass Echnida infections amongst the soldiers, Xuan-Yu found himself alive where others died. Found himself a Frame Pilot, when the military distrusted his personality, his status, too much to invest anything in him. They were under no illusions of how they've abused those like him, and he had made no effort to hide his hatred of them either. Still, he was a collared, mangy beast, and when an international organization of great repute scouted him, the army was more than willing to let him go. After all, losing a common soldier in exchange for a king's ransom was no-brainer of a deal, and any potential betrayal was out of the question when they still had a firm grip on his leash. SkillsXuan-Yu, like most young men with all four of his limbs and no severe physical defects, has been conscripted during the beginning of the war to fight for the national security of his country. An infantryman, but one that hasn't been offered much in the way of proper training, he knows his way around living in a warzone, maintaining his Type 81 AR, and applying emergency medical treatment in substandard environments. He was an experienced gymnast, specializing in the physically demanding and artistically lacking Floor Exercise. He was a bright student who studied business, back when academics meant something for one's success. He was a hobbyist violinist, as many youths were back then, but few luthiers of noteworthy skill survived, and his skills did not merit any particular attention from the associations that hoarded what instruments remained. He speaks Mandarin with a Guangdong accent, can use Cantonese curses, and is proficient in Japanese and Korean. Chi-Mechframe: Deathstalker AppearanceA pitch-black armored body suit with fluid-filled tubing stretching out from its back and scarlet flexors peeking out where the human body's joints are, Deathstalker was craft of a massive scorpion-based Warped hunted down within the plains of Inner Mongolia. While the monster itself possessed terrifyingly powerful melee strikes, could camouflage itself to appear invisible to the naked eye, and generated poisons so noxious that it could dissolve flesh like cotton candy, it was ultimately detected through radar systems and obliterated by wide-range bombardment. Such is the fate of all assassins. Against indiscriminate destruction, it mattered little whether they truly knew you were there or not. AbilitiesDeathstalker possesses above average physical capabilities in exchange for eschewing all ranged weapons, energy-based attacks, and defensive measures, with particularly exceptional strength and speed. While its Warped inspiration is that of a scorpion, the artificial flexors on the limbs operate more like that of a pistol shrimp's, able to lock into place before snapping out at supersonic speeds. It is from this that the Chi-Mechframe's destructive potential is manifested, allowing the Stinger Blade, a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable sword, to rip through hardened armor like its nothing at all. However, repeated usage of these 'Burst Strikes' will undoubtedly damage the human beneath, and while leg strikes are roughly three times as powerful as arm strikes, they take much longer to recover between each individual strike as well. Sustained combat is not the Deathstalker's forte, and an opportunistic mind would make better use of this Chi-Mechframe than a true-blooded warrior. The Deathstalker's optical camouflage has seen some improvement compared to its Warped inspiration as well. Drawing in visuals of its surroundings, the Chi-Mechframe is able to project an illusory field over its surface, subsequently melting into the background and allowing it to operate undetected at roughly 60% of its physical capabilities. While this camouflage can be easily seen through with auditory or olfactory means, the small size of the Chi-Mechframe makes it nigh-undetectable on radar and the frame itself can synchronize with the environment's temperatures, confounding infrared detection. Still, the performance of any physical attack would require optical camouflage be removed and energy reallocated towards more martial purposes, at least against the Warped. Poison synthesis and generation, however, was the quality that suffered the most during the translation from Warped Core to Chi-Mechframe. While the original poisons could caused catastrophic damage to biological matter with a single drop, the poisons that Deathstalker cultivates are debilitating but rarely lethal. Rather, it would be more accurate to consider it an anesthetic when used against the Warped, numbing their sense of touch and perhaps reducing or even completely shutting down their fine motor control. In the very best case scenario, localized paralysis can set in, but even then, such paralysis does not last long. Officially speaking, this poison's efficacy, dubbed Red Kiss, has not been confirmed upon human subjects.</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Back on Land Sydney Harbor | Daytime "Phew! Well, that was quite something if I do say so myself." Teodora casually exclaimed as she and Elise landed safely back on dry land. Thankfully, the laser projectiles eventually dissipated instead of infinitely pursuing them. That would've made things more annoying, even if Teodora was rather confident that her barrier would be able to absorb a single salvo of the lasers. That said, she was still glad nonetheless that she wouldn't need to actually test that belief for now. She disengaged her Chi-Mechframe as well, with it returning back into its hairband form. "Mmhmm. That make sense. I'd expect so as well. That thing got the jump on us this time... But we'll win the second round, I'm certain!" she added a confident nod to her words as she spoke it. "But indeed... For now, let us return back to base. Got to get Selene's wing fixed, hmm? And some little bit of rest would be much appreciated as well... So, shall we, dear Elise?" she gave a playful wink at the slightly taller and older girl while gesturing to the direction of HQ before then starting to walk away in that direction.</s> <|message|>Fukada Hoshiko The sewers...? It would be a lie to say that Hoshiko wasn't apprehensive about going down there. She definitely didn't want to touch the water, or to even spend any more time down there then she could need to. Certainly, this treatment area didn't look gross, but there was no telling what it would be like deeper in. But... It was the difference between life and death for plenty of people. Her personal feelings about the sewer being gross didn't matter nearly as much as human lives. Hoshiko took a deep breath. "Hinotori, ignite!" The familiar sensation of light and heat washing over her body struck, her clothing replaced in seconds by the frame's underlayer, then the armor itself, and then finally the most complex portions that made for much of Hinotori's shape. She took a step towards the sewer entrance. "Okay, it might be super gross down there, but we've got to make sure everyone's safe!" she declared, steeling herself to lead the way into sewer. If there were Warped down there, she'd do everything she could to clear them out! @Laduguer@Mole</s> <|message|>Louisa Faye _______________________________________________________________ As Louisa stood on the threshold watching Hoshiko suit up, she realised she had no idea what a sewer was actually like. In video games and books, it was full of monsters and treasure and that kind of thing, but she had an inkling that might not be reflected in reality. Although, on this occassion, the former was unfortunately likely to be present. Either way, a sewer probably involved a lot of waste of... various kinds, which was obviously bad. But... how bad? One way to find out, I guess. "Grendel, breach!" She struck the heavy plate hanging on her chest, and Grendel began to materialize in its usual web of ethereal and ghostly forms that one-by-one condensed into heavy dark plates of armour. She held up her glaive, which shimmered with a deep iridescent green in the daylight, and retracted it into its sword configuration. Probably wasn't a whole lot of use for a polearm in a sewer, after all. She followed Hoshiko's lead and began to stride towards the darkness. "So... what's our plan here. You two are built for speed and flight, right? Do you reckon you can pull that off in the sewer? I mean..." she paused and looked at the canal entrance, "it seems pretty big right now, right?". "What I'm thinking is if we catch a glimpse of this thing, we need to get on it fast before it has a chance to lose us in the maze of tunnels. And... uh... I'm not going to be so useful for that in Grendel. Of course, if this thing runs towards us rather than away from us, I'm your girl."</s>

<|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang "Hm." A monstrosity composed of thousands upon thousands of individual parts, possessed, perhaps, with extraordinary senses that allowed it to detected his location even when cloaked. Well, slugs didn't necessarily have eyes, after all, so that worked out, in the worst way possible. Xuan-Yu's face twisted into an almost-exaggerated frown. This was perhaps the worst sort of opponent for both himself and Dulac. Which meant... "We're going down, kiddo." ...mucking and sleuthing about was pointless. As tentacles shot out towards them, Deathstalker emerged from the ether, crimson augments pulsating with consolidated power, and unleashed an axe-kick that smashed straight through the dilapidated flooring of the hallway. The mission objective, after all, was on the lower levels of the building, which meant that the first floor was 100% not anything worth investigating! Hell, fuck the second floor down too! "Dulac, blast it!"</s>

<|description|>Xuan-Yu Lang 5'8 | 139 lbs | 25 y/o | Male --- PersonalityWhat was a Chi-Mechframe but a superweapon, to be turned against civilization once the Warped were wiped? What was a human, but a vessel to be fit into the cogs of the state? What was he, but a bastard adrift, sustained by directionless spite and anchored by burdens, obligations, and debts? Xuan-Yu is anchored by a persistent, weary hollowness, one alleviated only by the emotions he draws out of others to fill in his cute, cynical mask. Unlike those who've managed to survive the ruination of the world with their psyche intact, the invasion of the Warped and the measures that nations took to preserve themselves had revealed to him the nature of power and humanity, pushing him into the quagmire that his psychology persists in today. The youth with dreams of independence after graduation had been shattered into glass, leaving naught more but an empty vessel ringed with sharp edges. He knows now his worth, the price of a pound of his flesh, the limits of what his efforts could bring. There were only so many people he could hold in his hands, and to overreach, to overestimate, would mean losing more and more. Pressure mounts incessantly, even as Xuan-Yu exudes a surface-level apathy, and the provocations that dance along his tongue exist as the hot vapors that shriek out from a rusted engine. Sarcastic wit and an acerbic outlook are both things he has plenty of, and he's always poking and prodding, seeing how far he could go with verbalized stress relief, but in the end, Xuan-Yu is undoubtedly a professional. He will get his work done, with the diligence and focus of a conscript, a volunteer, a Frame Pilot. If all it took was a pound of his flesh to make a place in the world for the few he cares for, then Xuan-Yu would do what he must. It was what was beaten into him for the last five years, after all. HistoryWho cared for the story of an individual, when it is through the movement of governments that one's fate was decided? The Warped apocalypse came like a tide, every soldier sent to stall them turned to flesh or host, every country scrambling to secure their own borders or sacrificing their sovereignty to obtain security from larger neighbours. And in the chaos of imminent extinction, so came opportunity for land grabs. Islands, once protected by legislation and convention, were devoured by continental superpowers, turned into fortresses and safehouses for the wealthy and influential, all while metropolises converted themselves into barracks, taking in refugees and sending out conscripts. All for the glory of the fatherland, all for the sanctity of the motherland. And China, seeing opportunity while the States grappled with their domestic concerns, positioned themselves as the final line of defense for humanity's hope, shielding the cloistered experimental facilities of Japan with the bodies of the millions that it could no longer feed. Mountainous terrain and massive river systems stalled the progress of both the Warped and civilians alike, while forward cities were set up solely as massive sarcophagi to distract the monstrous horde for days, months, perhaps even a year. They all fell though, as supplies concentrated on city-fortresses that "had value". There was no space in humanity's survival for humanity, and individual tragedies had no place in national triumphs. For humanity would triumph through the sacrifice of the masses, just as it always had. But miscalculations remained, and in wartime, it was the generals, not the ministers, who held the greatest powers. Those conscripted to fight for their cities, for their families, gained a pride of their own. What did they care for the directives of Beijing, when it was their commanders who tolled for them, when it was their relatives who fought beside them? A sense of pride in their own army, in their own city, spawned the first of many military factions, as those who fought on the frontlines decided that it was best to position themselves for the next stage of the war. Alliances formed between the city-states on the frontlines of the Warped War, while fallen cities were subsumed by those still standing. And what of those refugees, seeking shelter from the Warped, willing to do whatever necessary to ensure that they had a seat in a world with scarcer and scarcer resources? They fought at the vanguard, obviously. Fought with the lowest pay, the fewest benefits, in the most dangerous scenarios, their will buoyed only by the promise that their families could live as second-class citizens in the militarized cities. Human generosity was in short supply, rations were in shorter supply. Whatever crime against humanity was at play here was simply accepted as a consequence of having to face down the apocalypse. Xuan-Yu was one such refugee, one such conscript, one such volunteer. Filled with spite towards the army that he had signed his life away to, yet unable to do anything to resist whatever order was sent his way. He travelled where they wanted him to be, fought where they wanted him to fight, and bled where they wanted him to bleed. For fatherland, infertile and scorched? For motherland, broken and skeletal? No, just for a handful of lives, just a letter or two sent when his deployments coincided with the movements of the army's messengers. And when an operation in an isolated region of China went horribly wrong, causing mass Echnida infections amongst the soldiers, Xuan-Yu found himself alive where others died. Found himself a Frame Pilot, when the military distrusted his personality, his status, too much to invest anything in him. They were under no illusions of how they've abused those like him, and he had made no effort to hide his hatred of them either. Still, he was a collared, mangy beast, and when an international organization of great repute scouted him, the army was more than willing to let him go. After all, losing a common soldier in exchange for a king's ransom was no-brainer of a deal, and any potential betrayal was out of the question when they still had a firm grip on his leash. SkillsXuan-Yu, like most young men with all four of his limbs and no severe physical defects, has been conscripted during the beginning of the war to fight for the national security of his country. An infantryman, but one that hasn't been offered much in the way of proper training, he knows his way around living in a warzone, maintaining his Type 81 AR, and applying emergency medical treatment in substandard environments. He was an experienced gymnast, specializing in the physically demanding and artistically lacking Floor Exercise. He was a bright student who studied business, back when academics meant something for one's success. He was a hobbyist violinist, as many youths were back then, but few luthiers of noteworthy skill survived, and his skills did not merit any particular attention from the associations that hoarded what instruments remained. He speaks Mandarin with a Guangdong accent, can use Cantonese curses, and is proficient in Japanese and Korean. Chi-Mechframe: Deathstalker AppearanceA pitch-black armored body suit with fluid-filled tubing stretching out from its back and scarlet flexors peeking out where the human body's joints are, Deathstalker was craft of a massive scorpion-based Warped hunted down within the plains of Inner Mongolia. While the monster itself possessed terrifyingly powerful melee strikes, could camouflage itself to appear invisible to the naked eye, and generated poisons so noxious that it could dissolve flesh like cotton candy, it was ultimately detected through radar systems and obliterated by wide-range bombardment. Such is the fate of all assassins. Against indiscriminate destruction, it mattered little whether they truly knew you were there or not. AbilitiesDeathstalker possesses above average physical capabilities in exchange for eschewing all ranged weapons, energy-based attacks, and defensive measures, with particularly exceptional strength and speed. While its Warped inspiration is that of a scorpion, the artificial flexors on the limbs operate more like that of a pistol shrimp's, able to lock into place before snapping out at supersonic speeds. It is from this that the Chi-Mechframe's destructive potential is manifested, allowing the Stinger Blade, a sturdy but otherwise unremarkable sword, to rip through hardened armor like its nothing at all. However, repeated usage of these 'Burst Strikes' will undoubtedly damage the human beneath, and while leg strikes are roughly three times as powerful as arm strikes, they take much longer to recover between each individual strike as well. Sustained combat is not the Deathstalker's forte, and an opportunistic mind would make better use of this Chi-Mechframe than a true-blooded warrior. The Deathstalker's optical camouflage has seen some improvement compared to its Warped inspiration as well. Drawing in visuals of its surroundings, the Chi-Mechframe is able to project an illusory field over its surface, subsequently melting into the background and allowing it to operate undetected at roughly 60% of its physical capabilities. While this camouflage can be easily seen through with auditory or olfactory means, the small size of the Chi-Mechframe makes it nigh-undetectable on radar and the frame itself can synchronize with the environment's temperatures, confounding infrared detection. Still, the performance of any physical attack would require optical camouflage be removed and energy reallocated towards more martial purposes, at least against the Warped. Poison synthesis and generation, however, was the quality that suffered the most during the translation from Warped Core to Chi-Mechframe. While the original poisons could caused catastrophic damage to biological matter with a single drop, the poisons that Deathstalker cultivates are debilitating but rarely lethal. Rather, it would be more accurate to consider it an anesthetic when used against the Warped, numbing their sense of touch and perhaps reducing or even completely shutting down their fine motor control. In the very best case scenario, localized paralysis can set in, but even then, such paralysis does not last long. Officially speaking, this poison's efficacy, dubbed Red Kiss, has not been confirmed upon human subjects.</s> <|message|>Teodora Constanza --- Respite Sydney Harbor | Daytime Teodora had separated from Elise after they returned to the airship's engineering bay together to return their respective Chi-Mechframe. Elise's Selene looked to be in significantly worse state compared to the much or less undamaged Supplice, what's with Selene having a large hole on one of its wings courtesy of the Warped's curving homing laser. "Guess we won't be out to sortie again for a bit then. But hey, looking at it positively, that means more time to rest and prepare!" she said as she left Elise with the engineers, giving her fellow pilot one last hand wave as she did so. Still in her pilot suit, she took a bit of time after that to wind down by looking out of the ship through one of the indoor observation bays, enjoying the quiet and the rather pleasant sight. If only there aren't any Warpeds around, this would just be like any other peaceful day, huh?... she mused silently. Her time in the observation bay didn't last long however, as she soon received a notification that her presence had been requested in the command room. Thus, with one more deep breath and a sigh, she left the observation bay and headed where she needed to be. Elise was already there when she arrived, along with Ms. Morrison. She gave them both a nod with a smile on her face, then her eyes flicked toward the screen showing the drones footage. "Indeed, Ms. Morrison. Rest, and preparations. We pretty much lost the first round to that creature, after all... But at least we've now seen some of its tricks and behaviors." Then she listened to Morrison's words and mirrored Elise's response to it. "Understood, maam. Nightfall, huh. Perfect, lots of time to both rest and prepare then." My, jellyfish-based... That explained the transparency and the ridiculously fast regeneration... she mused internally at the piece of information. "I wonder what would the best way to take it down... Oh you know, maybe it have something to do with those... orb things that were swimming inside its body. Like its cores of some sort?" she looked at Elise and then Morrison after saying that, wondering if they had similar idea with her about the orbs being the creature's weakness.</s> <|message|>Louisa Faye _______________________________________________________________ Louisa cast a sidelong glance at her two companions as the repugnant and ferrous smell of blood began to become more discernable over the already unpleasant sensory environment of the sewer. She continued carefully pacing along, as quietly as she could, but the heavy weight of Grendel did not lend itself well to stealth even at the best of times, and she winced at every grinding noise of her plated feet against the concrete. She opened her comms, speaking quietly to her teammates. "Okay - Drakos, Fukada... do you think you can sneak up and pounce on this thing? It can't be f--" She was interrupted by a scream that pierced through the dense, cloying atmosphere. She felt a flood of adrenaline, and tactical considerations of organizing an ambush were replaced by basic instinct. With a heavy leap, she broke into a thundering sprint as she charged along the sewer tunnel in direction of the scream. "Screw it -- let's go!"</s>

<|message|>Xuan-Yu Lang There was a laughtrack that played in Xuan-Yu's head as Norika took what he said…and then missed so hard that she tried to shoot the Warped instead of the second floor. Well, that's how it worked with psycho-kiddos, he supposed. Gravity took hold either way, and the black-clad pilot descended, the greenery giving way to metallic artifice. Up above, the slug hive swirled still, its senses seeming to not have picked up on that massive gap in the flooring. Good. It was time to get moving. The gashes were a symbol of trouble, while the doors to the side lead to rooms that looked too unsecured to carry anything of value. In places like this, rather than designated shelters, the greatest bulkheads would likely be where the most valuable experimental subjects were, no? And if he were a scientist running away… "Rightwards." Xuan-Yu picked up his pace. They were on a clock now, and he had no intention of scrapping with the slug monster if he could help it.</s>

<|description|>Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood "The rich wouldn't mind a couple of billions leaving their pockets." Gender: Female Race: Caucasian Nationality: American with British parents. Age: 22 Occupation: Artist/Hacker Family: Father: Magnus Harwood- Construction Worker- Alive Mother: Edith Smith-Harwood- Teacher- Alive Vehicle: Mahir Supron FS3 Equipment: Scalpel, Nomad .357 Magnum Revolver, Cyberdeck Cybernetics: Kiroshi Optics, Mediaware Cellular Phone,Cyberfinger Probe Link, Tool Hand, Cybermodem, Cybernectic Brain. Skills: Maggie has expert knowledge of hacking into electrical systems and computers, handing and firing weapons, throwing knives, and the two martial arts of Jeet Kun Do and Kickboxing. Personality: Maggie is loud and brass wanting to be the center of attention, either it is good or bad she will do anything for people to notice her. She loves to fight and is willing to instigate one with strangers, However, she knows when she would not have a fighting chance against someone. Using a tough-as-nails attitude to push people away from her, She rarely connects to people on an emotional level using her brassiness to deter others from getting close to her. The only time she is willing to get close to someone is if it is her family or someone she can trust enough to get close to. -Prideful -Generosity -Short Tempered -Courageous Likes/Dislikes: Likes: -Hacking -Painting -The occult -Reading Dislikes: -Corpos -Cowards -The police -Pop music Backstory: Maggie was born in Nova City, her family once lived in the suburbs of the city. At a young age, Maggie became interested in drawing and painting. A loner as a child and teenager, she did not have many friends. Spending most of her time painting, and learning to use computers as a hobby. Joining an art college when she got out of high school. During this time after attending classes, she would take part in meetings with a group called "Cain's Hammer" This group gained enough followers including Maggie, to start hacking corporate buildings and stealing whatever information they could get. Selling this information to the media, or as random to get money from a rich person. Maggie went under the username "Acid Burn." Graduating college a few years later, but leaving Cain's Hammer to join another group called Black Sun. Working with a small group of hackers to steal money from corporations and banks. Maggie would give her share of the money to the poor. Selling her drawings and paintings to help make ends meat. Finding that people in need deserved it more, than the rich business CEOS to go some place tropical.</s> <|message|>Suzy Chen Suzy Calmly having herself seated on an operation table, Suzy awaited the medtech preparing his stuffs to begin the surgical maintenance on her. She knew that the man who owned this workshop had his knacks in this trade. A VIP appointment had been made, especially for this young woman, allowing Suzy to personally meet the cyber-surgeon face to face, and for him to directly treat the delicate stuffs Suzy had inside her. The cybernetics implants Suzy had herself embedded were some serious stuffs, a perfect grade of high rarity. It required a person of special skills to take care of its maintenance. Having all the set of her cybernetic implants inside her stomach cavity, Suzy had her shirt raised to allow some parts of her midriff exposed. The porcelain skin she had on the surface of her abdomen looked so human, unless for the interface socket on her navel and some neon indicators that looked like a pair of colorful beauty spots beside it. Suzy had never thought to ever put any cybernetic implants to augment her physical performance. She loved the natural aesthetics of her body, sculpted from the disciplined routine of exercise, dieting, and beauty cares. The mechanical part Suzy had was closer to a necessity rather than purpose. "You're ready?" Gecko asked, the medtech who owned this workshop and all the equipment inside it. Without any words nor delay, Suzy's abdominal implant received her own brain signal that demanded it to expose its inner part. The sequence was quite complicated, but it had a resemblance as if a flower bud bloomed out of her navel. Some exposed internal parts jutted out around the center of Suzy's midriff, along with a hollowed cavity of her stomach where her implants were positioned. Gecko followed, with him flexing the mechanical fingers of his right hand. Soon enough, each of his fingers got separated from the digits, transforming into mechanical apparatus of micro-sized scalpels, clamps, graspers, and many other things necessary for a surgery connected to his hand through tendril-like cables. The medtech quickly utilized those gadgets to operate on Suzy's abdominal implants in unison. "Gasp! Uuuh!" Suzy let her groan of agony among the twitches and shudders her muscles made, reacting to the apparatus being inserted to her. "Hold on, princess, you're the one asking me not to apply any anaesthesis… do you need something to hold or bite?" "Quiet, Gecko!" "You're also the one who gave me an idea of keeping your nerve ends intact with all these implants." "I said, be quiet, just do your maintenance, ouch!" "Just a little bit more, it seems that no replacement of component is necessary, they're still fine… I like the way you keep your body fat percentage under control, princess, some people would possibly got their fat clumping around their delicate cyberwares." "I don't know if that's a compliment." "Hardware check done" said Gecko as he retracted the tendril-like cable from Suzy's cybernetic implants. The young woman's abdomen returned to as it was before, with the cavity closing and the jutting out parts retracted inside. The spots around Suzy's umbilical socket turned on, indicating that the operating system of her cyberware had just booted up. "Now it's for the firmware check, this might tickle a bit, princess" said Gecko as he plugged a cable pin into Suzy's umbilical socket. Suzy twitched, reacting to the ticklish sensation when the Gecko pushed his the cable plug, then relaxed herself as the monitor beside her showed a diagnosis run for her system. "Seems fine, no reports for runtime error, no bad sector, and reasonable amount of computing resource utilization… you're still good for action." Gecko then finished the sequence and plugged the cable out of Suzy's umbilical port. "Thanks, Gecko," said Suzy as she exhaled, relieved that the process was finally concluded. "It's always my pleasure to help you, princess… anyway, I guess we can move on to your other request." "Now you're the fixer." Suzy said as she lowered her shirt to cover her exposed part and stepped down from the operating table. "As much as I can, well look at this, you might find this one interesting, Suzy." Suzy looked at the holographic monitor Gecko showed her. There was a dossier of what looked like to be a man who had been heavily modified in cybernetics. "Praying Mantis… a mercenary?" Suzy asked as she scanned the profile. "A soloist, an assassin for hire." "You're sure he's connected to the Conglomerate?" "Well, I hired some net-runners and they managed to pluck this dossier from the lawmen's database; we found this interesting fella under the case handled by this particular Hiro Nishida, though he lacked the necessary data to profile him; and what the detective had missed, I found a way to discover it." "You infiltrated what?" "I have my confidence the people I hired are not that sloppy, these lawmen won't be able to track them to us." "That's relaxing, I don't want to directly get in conflict with the local enforcers." "You can always settle down like me, open a business firm with less risk." "You know I can't do that, as long as this Conglomerate still have their grasp in this city." "To each their own, princess, as always." "I like to have you as my ally, Gecko, thanks… now there's this Praying Mantis I need to take care about, and this lawman officer Hiro Nishida who might notice if this person would suddenly be gone." "Be careful, princess, don't rush, the true monster you're facing is… big."</s> <|message|>Leigh Okada Leigh Okada The grey skies that had rolled in had brought rain, almost enough of it to drown out the ever bustling noises of Nova City, almost. It was days like this she loved to spend all day on the balcony of the studio she rented. Living above the place she worked had its benefits, especially in one of the city's most notorious districts. It was a small place and unlike what she was used to in the past, but it was comfortable. She preferred it over the glitz and glamour of the various luxury hotels, the only thing she missed was sharing the room with someone. Sharing rooms with her sister were what made the places they stayed bearable and it was the only quality time she felt she could spend with her only kin. In this city, good moments are rare which meant take what you can get. Leigh stared out into almost night colored sky as she let her mind drift while the rain droplets berated the uncovered areas of the building landing on the metal and making a soft clanking noise. She closed her eyes and took in all the sounds, the roaring of the cars that drove by, the sound of the neighbors tv that could heard from across the way talking about a woman who had been murdered. Nothing ever stayed peaceful for too long and it was hard to stay surprised at any violent crimes in Nova. At least the shop was closed for the day. The murder somewhat stayed on her mind as she continued to let her thoughts drift, yet to someone who lived here, it seemed like nothing to worry about. It was most likely gang related, the various gangs were always at each other's throats. It was always disputes over territory.</s>

<|message|>Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood Paying for her drink, she took a few sips while scanning the area for her handler. At first not find anyone that would fit the description in the email. Finding she was being stared at by someone, turning her head to glare at the japanese american man looking at her. "Whatcha lookin at.." She said with a grimace, She had strange feeling coming from this man. She assumed he was a corpo or worst case scenario a cop. So she would have to make her leave quickly. Finishing the content of her drink, before walking away from the bar. Noticing a man wearing the exact outfit mentioned in the email. Walking over towards the booth, sitting in front of the man. "Hell is empty And all the devils are here." He nodded his head before responding, "Follow me to a private booth." And with that, the man walked away from the booth. Maggie followed suit making sure she was not being followed. Walking with the well-dressed man into the booth, with the man shutting the door behind them. "So can you give me the deets on the job? What is security like? Who else is gonna be with me on the job?" The man smiled folding one leg over the other, "You will be meeting the rest of the team tonight, they will be arriving shortly. There will be one more netrunner that will help you break into the building, and you will be escorted by two mercs." This sounded to Maggie like it was going to be quite dangerous. But stealing from a multi-billion-dollar company was never a piece of cake. "The security is going to be very tight, which is why I need you and another well-known runner that could break down their wall." Well she had come to meet this guy, so she could not back out of the job now. "And what kind of info are we getting that they would put heavy security to protect it?" The man shook his head, "I'm not going to discuss that just yet, only when the others come." When the others did come, they were given further information on the job. Maggie soon left the booth with the other net runner, someone named "Lilith Cutburn" which Maggie assume was not her real name. But hackers like them had to keep their identities hidden from the public. The two were walking out of the club and towards Maggie's van, The other runner wanted to discuss how they could get through the building's security.</s>

<|description|>Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood "The rich wouldn't mind a couple of billions leaving their pockets." Gender: Female Race: Caucasian Nationality: American with British parents. Age: 22 Occupation: Artist/Hacker Family: Father: Magnus Harwood- Construction Worker- Alive Mother: Edith Smith-Harwood- Teacher- Alive Vehicle: Mahir Supron FS3 Equipment: Scalpel, Nomad .357 Magnum Revolver, Cyberdeck Cybernetics: Kiroshi Optics, Mediaware Cellular Phone,Cyberfinger Probe Link, Tool Hand, Cybermodem, Cybernectic Brain. Skills: Maggie has expert knowledge of hacking into electrical systems and computers, handing and firing weapons, throwing knives, and the two martial arts of Jeet Kun Do and Kickboxing. Personality: Maggie is loud and brass wanting to be the center of attention, either it is good or bad she will do anything for people to notice her. She loves to fight and is willing to instigate one with strangers, However, she knows when she would not have a fighting chance against someone. Using a tough-as-nails attitude to push people away from her, She rarely connects to people on an emotional level using her brassiness to deter others from getting close to her. The only time she is willing to get close to someone is if it is her family or someone she can trust enough to get close to. -Prideful -Generosity -Short Tempered -Courageous Likes/Dislikes: Likes: -Hacking -Painting -The occult -Reading Dislikes: -Corpos -Cowards -The police -Pop music Backstory: Maggie was born in Nova City, her family once lived in the suburbs of the city. At a young age, Maggie became interested in drawing and painting. A loner as a child and teenager, she did not have many friends. Spending most of her time painting, and learning to use computers as a hobby. Joining an art college when she got out of high school. During this time after attending classes, she would take part in meetings with a group called "Cain's Hammer" This group gained enough followers including Maggie, to start hacking corporate buildings and stealing whatever information they could get. Selling this information to the media, or as random to get money from a rich person. Maggie went under the username "Acid Burn." Graduating college a few years later, but leaving Cain's Hammer to join another group called Black Sun. Working with a small group of hackers to steal money from corporations and banks. Maggie would give her share of the money to the poor. Selling her drawings and paintings to help make ends meat. Finding that people in need deserved it more, than the rich business CEOS to go some place tropical.</s> <|message|>Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood Maggie along with Lilith was hacking into the server, Maggie was having some trouble with fighting the ICE programs with some Attacker programs. Lilith was providing help by using Defender programs to help from Maggie's brain getting fried. Maggie's avatar in the system was moving lower down levels of the server. Collecting more information and downloading it on her deck. The more information she was downloading and skimming over, the more she was intrigued by what Project E13 was. Nevertheless, she was on the clock and needed to get the information and leave. In the lower levels of the server space, Maggie collected the last of the information. She was sure that their employer was going to pay them handsomely. The blonde-haired merc was pacing around the room outside of the server room, scanning the room while keeping his rifle at the ready. Not noticed the police just yet. "Are you two done? I have a feeling we're not alone." The other merc soon joined him, leaving the two hackers to be alone. "Not yet we need to download the rest of the data." Maggie yelled out making her presence known to the cops. The level-headed merc noticed something on the other side of the room, although he chalked it up to his mind playing tricks on him. Maggie and Lilith soon came out of the server room, "We got the info, now let's get the hell out of here before the cops come." And with that, the group headed back towards the loading docks.</s> <|message|>Hiro Nishida --- & --- Not yet we need to download the rest of the data. "Shit, they're almost done!" Nina frantically whispered to Emma upon hearing Maggie's voice call out. "What do we do, Emma?" Emma couldn't find a response, nervously watching the group as they began to pull out from the servers. Finally, she made her decision. "Fuck it! Let's go!" Quickly she darted from her cover, raising her revolver towards Maggie's gang, shouting as loud as she could, "Nova City Police! Drop your fucking weapons, now!" Nina soon joined her, albeit timidly shuffling out from behind the wall with her pistol trained on the group as well. "O-oh uh...what's up, Mags?" She giggled softly, her porcelain cheeks glowing a neon shade of fuchsia. "Look, I know this is totally embarrassing right now, but if you could just...you know...tell your crew to drop their guns, that would be cool." "Better let me handle this, Lita Ford." Emma quipped, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the group. "You heard what I said, assholes! Drop the weapons now and put your hands behind your heads! Move it! You too, script kiddie!" Emma aimed her gun at Maggie while barking out orders, "On the ground! Now!" --- --- youtube.com/watch?v=U_DCqMxwH4Q Meanwhile, Hiro's car came to a stop outside the Venus District. Typical of a Friday night the entire place was packed, sidewalks and streets crowded with eager young men, and even some women, standing outside the litany of sordid establishments as they ogled licentiously at the merchandise on display, all bathed in hues of vibrant crimson and magenta emanating from the blinking and flashing neon signs and larger than life holograms of strippers and working girls dancing ever so sensually to lure their lecherous clientele into their webs. Hiro sat in his vehicle for a moment, merely taking in the scenery with a perturbed look in his eyes. The whole thing just reminded him of what he endured as a child, the very hell his drug addicted mother dragged him through when she got involved with this place. Not to mention how it took her life. Hiro grimaced at the sight of signs loudly proclaiming: "GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS!" "PEEP SHOW!" "LIVE NUDES!" "VR PLEASURE DOMES!" It all just made the detective sick to his stomach. "This better be worth it." Internally he sighed, preparing himself before stepping out of his car and slamming the door shut. Flicking away his cig, the detective shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and trudged across the street, momentarily spooked by some idiot in a corvette speeding past him. Hiro grit his teeth and shook his head, then he continued along until he was right in the thick of the crowd. A few elbow bumps and scrutinizing gazes later and he was ambling through the entrance of a bordello, immediately his nostrils assaulted by the smell of sex, sleaze, and too much perfume and cigar smoke. He glanced about the room, noticing all the women either lounging about in various states of undress or tending to clients. His gaze soon came upon an African-American man in a darkly lit booth, wearing a gaudy looking fur coat and a pair of rose-tinted aviators. On each side of him on the velvet couch he lounged across were two rather striking Asian girls, one of them languidly staring up at the man and stroking his bare chest. Hiro didn't even have to scan him to know who he was. "Must be a dream come true for you, Big V." Nishida scoffed as he approached the pimp. "All these lovely ladies at your beckoned call." Victor took a drag off the thick cigar between his lips, blowing a puff of acrid smoke Hiro's way before flicking ashes onto the burgundy carpet. "I thought I told your chief we payed up this month, Nishida." He bitterly proclaimed. "So why you come down here fuckin' with me, huh? "Relax, Victor." Replied Nishida. "I'm not here to extort you or your girls. I came here to speak to one of them. I believe her name is Sweetie." "Oh, is that so?" Said Victor intriguingly, tilting his shades down a little to reveal his luminous cybernetic eyes. "You here about that girl that was murdered, aren't you? Yeah, Hayworth her name. Jenna Hayworth. She fooled around with Sweetie a couple of times. I even watched 'em get down and dirty once." A rather lewd grin parted the pimp's lips, followed by a snicker. "Sure, you can talk to her...for usual fee." "Hmph! Now you're the one extorting me." Hiro retorted, reaching into his coat pocket and fishing out his wallet. "Here." Coldly, he slapped a few bills on the table in front of Victor, his eyes narrowed in disdain. "Then we have a deal, my man." Victor laughed, reaching out his large, muscular hand to shake Hiro's. He then hollered towards the back of the bordello. "Hey yo, Sweetie! Get your fine ass out here and see to this man, bitch!" --- Upon his call, Sweetie emerged from behind the draped red velvet curtains, garbed only in a silk Japanese kimono that was left partly open to give a generous peek at her unmentionables. Her sparkling, sapphire eyes fell upon Hiro in a languid gaze, her plump lips curling into a decadent smirk. ~"Well well..."~ She purred placing a hand on her perfectly round hip and giving Hiro a brief look over. ~"You're certainly easy on the eyes. Here for a little action, hunny?"~ Hiro cocked his eyebrow, briefly scanning the woman up and down. He noticed the slight indentions in her bare legs, indicating some sort of cybernetics. His brow furrowed with a suspecting look towards her. "You're not a human, are you Sweetie?" The detective inquired, though the answer was obvious to him. Sweetie batted her eyelashes and giggled softly in reply, ~"What gave it away, sugar?"~ Her smooth, sultry voice. It sounded like a melody to the detective, more akin to a siren's sweet, seductive song luring men to their unfortunate demise. Thankfully, he was able to block such melodies out and ignore her lustful advances. ~"It doesn't matter."~ Cooed Sweetie as she approached him, casually slipping one of her dainty hands up and down his chest while the other played with his black tie. ~"Soon, you'll find out I'm more woman than you could ever dream"~ "Thanks, but no thanks Sweetie." Callously the detective responded, pushing Sweetie away with a brief nudge. He watched as the cyberdoll stumbled backwards, a mix of bewilderment and disappointment momentarily on her synthetic face before she collected herself and resumed her sensual demeanor. ~"What's the matter, baby?"~ Sweetie snickered with a teasing grin. ~"You're not queer, are you?"~ "No, I'm not." Bluntly Nishida replied readjusting his coat and tie. "I'm not here for pleasure." Then he flashed his badge. "Special Detective Hiro Nishida. I'm here to speak to you about Jenna Hayworth." Sweetie froze immediately, her face twisting into a grim expression. ~"Not here."~ She whispered in the detective's ear, her slender fingers wrapping around his hand grasping tight. Nervously she glanced over her shoulder at Victor, the pimp eyeing her closely with a suspicious glare over his shades. ~"Follow me."~ Without another word, Sweetie pulled Hiro away behind the curtains, then down the hall to one of the available rooms.</s>

<|message|>Magdalene "Maggie" Harwood Maggie froze for a moment watching the two policewomen pointing guns at her. It is not uncommon for police to be pointing guns in her direction. But usually, they were not so close that she could smell the lead from the barrel. "There's four of us and two of you, and we got the heavy fire to turn you into a paste." The blonde-haired merc spoke up with a confident grin. "If you wanna get turned into swiss cheese, by all means keep running your mouth," Lilith spoke up while rolling her eyes. Maggie meanwhile was silent, using her netdeck to save the information about E13 in her cybernetic brain. Slowly putting down her deck on the floor, slowly raising her hands behind her head. The level-headed merc did the same, knowing that he could escape easier from jail than in a coffin. "Just put your hands up kiddo, don't wanna see the reaper do ya?" This and having the two police officers pointing their guns at him, was enough for him to surrender. Maggie waited for the policewomen to put the cuffs on her, she knew as well that she would be able to beat this and walk free. She had enough eddies to bribe the commissioner and to also help Lilith walk. As she was being escorted to the police car with Lilith, Maggie leaned her over towards her. "Alice has taken the red pill, her mind is expanding." Whispering to her while being shoved into the cruiser. This was code in the hacker world for someone who has information in their cybernetic brain. Lilith nodded her head, the plan was if the group walked free they were going to give the information to their employer. Or at the very least just herself and one of the mercs. She hoped that the older and wiser merc would be able to get out of this without being behind bars.</s>

<|description|>Melody Lady of Clan Yalla Age: 20 Physical description: * 5'6", 125# * Physically fit, strong. * Beautiful hour glass figure with modest, firm breasts and ever-pert nipples; as are the women of the Noble and Royal Classes, her body is free of hair below her neck, carefully and frequently shaved from her by a trusted slave girl. * Stunning, green-hazel eyes. * Brunette hair, nearly always worn as in the image (except private and/or intimate moments). * * Tattoos: + Face: the pattern designates the Tribe from which she came. + Body: a Snake-Dragon tattoo, the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un; it begins as a thrice-forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum. * Various scars (to be described later). Personality: * Strong, confident, driven. * Intelligent and well educated. * Sexually? Not yet stated. * Compassionate but also willing to kill, punish, enslave, etc., when she finds it necessary. History: * Coming.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody couldn't prevent a smile from spreading her lips at the barbarian's gesture to the little girl, instructing her to hide her eyes as he prepared to bare his all to his captor. She couldn't help but wonder whether he did so because he was lacking and feared the girl might point and giggle ... or was hung like a stallion, which would haunt the girl once she'd reached womanhood, leaving her wondering why her future husband was instead the one who was lacking. In truth, once the new slave had shed his minimal amount of remaining clothing and was standing before her naked, Melody found herself fairly impressed. She mused, "Your father should be proud to have passed on such a mighty sword." The man was conspicuously diverting his eyes from Melody. She understood this, of course; he could hate her for what she and her warriors had done to his village and people all he wanted, but nature would not prevent his body from reacting if he was to look upon her as she was. Melody gestured to one of the slaves to bring her a robe. Before the girl reached her, though, Melody was already rising from the tub; a rivulet of water streamed down her body, washing downward over her womanly curves. Would the barbarian slave lift his eyes to take in the sight? Would he see that -- like the women of the Noble Class -- Melody's body was free of hairs below her neck, carefully shaved from her flesh by the girl now delivering the robe? Would he catch sight of the Snake Dragon tattoo -- the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un -- that began as a thrice forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum? She wouldn't know whether or not Kengetar glanced at her as she herself had turned her attention to the slave girl giving her a hand out of the tub. They worked to drape the silk gown over her still wet body, then tie it at the waist. When she turned back to the man, the thin cloth did very little to hide the shape of her bosom. "Kapiten Broon," she said as she eyed the naked slave from head to foot and back up again. When the man acknowledged her, Melody gestured him to pull the knife from his hostage's throat. The little girl opened one eye, then the other; she glanced toward the man standing naked in the middle of the tent but then turned her attention firmly to the woman in the colorful and -- because of her wet skin -- body-clinging gown. Melody said in a tender voice, "Come to me sweetheart. It's okay, no one is going to hurt you." Broon's expression conspicuously relayed to Melody his discomfort with releasing hold of his insurance that the barbarian wasn't going to do anything ... rash. But Melody gestured the knife from the girl's neck, took up the platter of food, and moved closer to the pair. She leaned in, held the platter of treats out, and asked, "Are you hungry, sweetheart? It's okay. You can take one. You are not in trouble ... and no one is going to hurt you. I promise." The girl was hesitant but finally reached out to take a chunk of cheese. She didn't immediately put it into her mouth, but when she finally did her face lit up with delight. Melody explained, "They call it Djathë i ëmbël ... sweet cheese. Would you like more?" Again hesitant, the girl nodded and reached out -- this time with both hands -- to snatch up four or five pieces in each eager set of fingers. Melody laughed, warning her, "Don't put so many into your mouth that you choke, sweetheart." The girl stuffed two more pieces into her chomping mouth, glanced toward her Tribesman, then back to Melody. The Lady of Clan Yalla reassured her, "Nothing is going to happen to him either, sweetheart. He has something of great value that makes him important to me ... just like you do. Do you know what it is that you have that makes you important to me?" The little girl shook her head, and Melody rose to height again. She handed the platter to her Tent Slave, then walked over to stand before the Sedent male, easily within his reach, easy pickings if he were to decide to reach out, grasp her by the neck, and snap it with what Melody could see were strong, capable hands. "Leverage," she said, looking into the man's eyes. She looked to the girl again, asking with a sweet voice, "Do you know what leverage it, sweetheart?" Again the girl shook her head; her lower jaw was moving up and down as she chomped on yet another piece of cheese. Melody looked back to her new slave again, explaining, "It's something I have that assures me that your friend here will do as I ask." She hesitated a moment, then in a soft voice meant just for him, Melody said in a reassuring voice, "All of your people ... the survivors I mean ... they will be well cared for ... feed well ... giving shelter ... protected from harm. Your men will not be executed simply because they are men. Your women will not be raped simply because they are women. I can make you this promise because my men are faithful to me and will do as I say, without question." Melody backed just a bit, let her eyes fall to take in the Sedent's manhood again, then began an unhurried walk around him as she continued: "We are traveling to the Capital City--" She meant the Capital of Yalla, of course, and didn't feel a need to actually explain that. "--where I would normally sell the lot of your people into slavery. Customarily, they would be sold to a multitude of buyers who would then take them to far distant lands. Your tribe would be no more. It would cease to exist. An abandoned campfire; ashes and smoke into the wind." Behind the man now, Melody took in the view of his muscular and equally scarred backside as well. The barbarian had seen a great deal of violence in his life, as had she. Perhaps I will have a chance to hear your stories...? She continued her slow stroll: "However ... I will make you a promise. Serve me without question ... show me loyalty ... let this little ... unfortunate incident that has happened between our peoples here today be forgotten ... and I will keep your people together. Your tribe will be preserved." By now she was once again in front of the barbarian, once again vulnerable to his attack should he choose to make it. She looked him in the eyes, then looked to the little girl. Smiling sweetly, Melody told the slave, "Take food to the Sedents. Let them eat and drink. Do not be stingy. Feed them until their bellies are full." To Broon she said, "Have the Brown Tent erected and move the Sedents to it for shelter. Find them blankets and let them build a fire." "I'll put a man on it, m'lady," the Captain said, looking to the door and preparing to call for a guard. But Melody cut him off, saying, "You do it, Kapiten." Broon gave Melody a concerned look, but she waved him off, looking back to the new slave again as she said, "I think I'm safe here, Kapiten. At least ... for the moment. I don't think our new friend is in a hurry to kill me. I think he might want to eat and drink first. Then he can break my neck or cut out my entrails." Broon wasn't eager to leave his Lady alone with the barbarian, but he knew better than to disobey her. Reluctantly, he gestured the little girl and -- after Melody asked to be left alone -- the Tent Slaves to follow him. A moment later, there were only the two of them left. Melody stepped back, putting some space between them, make a conspicuous sniffing sound as she looked at his body, and smiled. "You should bathe," she said softly, not meaning to imply that he stunk to high heaven or anything like that. Melody swept a hand toward the bathtub, saying, "If you don't mind that I used it before you..." She didn't know what he might do now that they were alone: would he take the sure opportunity to snap her neck like a twig; would he grasp her and take her hostage, as she and her warriors had his people; would he bend her over her clothing trunk and rape her to death as was done to so many female hostages following bloody battles; or -- as Melody hoped -- would he take the opportunity to slip into the tub of still-warm water and shed his flesh and hair of the blood, dirt, and grime?</s> <|message|>Kengetar They were both exposed now, and as she circled him it felt like they were in some primal state. A vision suddenly came to him of her as a lioness and he as a wounded buffalo, both probing for a weakness in the other, waiting for the moment to tear the other to shreds. He knew that a buffalo could overcome a lion by standing its ground and charging at the last moment, and he reasoned that he would, too. "What game is this?" he spat, tracking her with his eyes, but not moving. "You have defeated us utterly. You can take what you want, and do as you wish. Why do you now curry favor with honeyed words and gifts? And who am I that you should parley with me? Why do you not speak to our chieftain or our master of the hunt, or their sons if they are already slain?"</s> <|message|>Melody "What game is this?" the barbarian spat. He spoke of the utter defeat of his people and questioned Melody's intentions. "Why do you not speak to our chieftain or our master of the hunt, or their sons if they are already slain?" Melody couldn't know whether or not the men of whom he spoke were dead. Knowing how few men had survived, though, told Melody that they likely had perished. That didn't matter, though; Melody had no interest in speaking with any of the men. "That little girl," she began as she turned to retrieve more hot water from the large pot over the fire. "I told her that she had something that was important to me: leverage." She carried the steaming pitcher to the tub and dumped it, turning to refill it again. "You have something important to me as well." Melody conspicuously glanced down to the barbarian's still dangling manhood, then back up to his eyes. She smiled, then chuckled. She said only, "No." Dumping more water into the tub and checking the temperature with her fingertips, Melody explained in a very calm, matter-of-fact tone, "I have someone I want you to kill for me, someone to whom I do not have access. A woman. A woman--" Again Melody glanced to his groin before looking up again and adding, "--who likes men like you." She turned for yet one more pitcher to warm the tub as she continued, "I will take you and your people to the Capital City ... to the slave market. There, I will ensure that this woman finds you on the sale block ... ensure that she buys you. Once you are alone with her, you will slit her throat ... you will cut out her heart and bring it to me." More water spilled into the tub, and Melody promised, "And in exchange, your tribe will be sold as a single block to a Master who I know will keep them together ... will keep them safe and healthy ... until you can buy them back with the money that you will earn while in my service." Melody looked to the tub again, gestured him toward it, and said, "Please. I need you bathed and clean so that I can judge with certainty that you are the man for this mission. Or ... you could go ahead and kill me now, after which Kapiten Broon will kill you and what remains of your tribe. The choice is yours. Oh, and please ... what is your name?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar The plan that she outlined sounded preposterous to him, but right now playing along with her mad plot was the only thing keeping him and his people alive, whether it be a lie or no. "My name is Kengetar," he muttered in answer to her previous question. At the same moment, he suddenly moved to the tub, though he made sure to keep himself on the side of it opposite from Melody. He did not know her name, or care to ask. Kengetar did not step into the tub to bathe. To him, bathing was a communal affair, and was done in a natural body of water more often than not. Instead, he leaned over the side of the tub and dunked his head in, snorting and bobbing like a horse. Next he plunged in his arms, and scrubbed them, then splashed water over his shoulders and back, careless of the water he was splashing onto the rug. Between scrubbings, Kengetar stole a glance over at Melody. He had to admit, she was beautiful... physically at least. And her lascivious glances were making him nervous. He hunched over the tub a little farther. The clear steaming water was quickly turning murky from all the caked mud and blood Kengetar had washed off into it, and he was hardly half done.</s>

<|message|>Melody Melody smiled in humor at the barbarian's version of bathing, chucking softly when some of the water he was wrecklessly splashing about found its way onto her robe. He was coming clean to a degree, but on only a portion of his body. Melody knew he wouldn't get it done to the level she required this way. She moved to the tent's door flap, calling for Haanya and a second servant, Frandy.  She spoke to them in the Old Language, after which -- without hesitation -- they gathered up some soft, plush rags and moved to the barbarian to bathe him. They didn't know if he would allow them to help, but if he did, they would get to work with the rags and their Lady's soap. This was not new to the pair, as they'd performed this duty for other guests of their Lady in the past.  They would leave the barbarian squeaky clean, even below his belt line which, of course, was now imaginary with Kengetar standing there naked. Melody didn't know much about the Sedent culture, but she thought she'd once heard something about bathing being a communal activity; she'd never heard about the natural body of water aspect of it though, asking, "Would you be more comfortable if I brought in some others...? Then, unsure whether communal meant multigender, she added, "... some of the women perhaps?"</s>

<|description|>Melody Lady of Clan Yalla Age: 20 Physical description: * 5'6", 125# * Physically fit, strong. * Beautiful hour glass figure with modest, firm breasts and ever-pert nipples; as are the women of the Noble and Royal Classes, her body is free of hair below her neck, carefully and frequently shaved from her by a trusted slave girl. * Stunning, green-hazel eyes. * Brunette hair, nearly always worn as in the image (except private and/or intimate moments). * * Tattoos: + Face: the pattern designates the Tribe from which she came. + Body: a Snake-Dragon tattoo, the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un; it begins as a thrice-forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum. * Various scars (to be described later). Personality: * Strong, confident, driven. * Intelligent and well educated. * Sexually? Not yet stated. * Compassionate but also willing to kill, punish, enslave, etc., when she finds it necessary. History: * Coming.</s> <|message|>Melody As ordered, Broon reported to his Lady's tent to make his report; Melody had ordered that the Sedents be giving freedom of movement between it and other locations of need, such as the now-destroyed village's well or the shit pit, and the four guards stationed outside the tent and conspicuously watching these comings and goings had been giving the Captain frequent reports on what they saw. But it was a mix of men, women, and children not officially on guard duty but who were inconspicuously keeping an eye on the barbarians who provided Broon -- and through him Melody -- with the best intelligence on the group. "There are reports of a great deal of secretive chatting between Kengetar's people," Broon told her, "and on a couple of occasions, the perimeter guards have had to turn back Sedents who were ambling toward the forest." "Were they trying to escape, Kapiten?" Melody asked, looking for clarification. "Or were they simply wishing to hunt fresh food ... or, perhaps, find a private place to take a shit?" Broon smile and even chuckled a bit. There were, in fact, two Shtëpi muti ... 'shit houses' on the perimeter of the former village, away from the residential buildings such that the smell didn't wash over the town during high winds. The nearest of them had caught fire, though; the other was now off limits as it was on the other side of the community's ruins and, therefore, out of sight of the Yallan Guards. "I believe they were likely testing the perimeter established by my warriors, m'lady," Broon said. Then he smiled, adding, "Or perhaps looking for a private place to shit." He donned a more serious expression as he continued, "We dug a pit and put a tent around it to replace the Shtëpi muti. I will make sure that the Sedents are informed that they, too, may use it." "I will go with you, Kapiten," Melody said. "I have other business with Kengetar and his people." She rose from the pillow bed on the tent's carpeted floor where she'd been resting to step into her boots and donned a heavy cloak; a chill was becoming ever worse with each passing hour that was uncommon for this far southern region. The two of them headed for the biggest of the Yallan tents, and upon reaching it, Melody immediately noticed several unfortunate things about it: First, it was far too small for the number of Sedent survivors. There was virtually no walking room between the clusters of people, who she presumed were grouping of families or friends. Second, there was only one fire -- below the smoke hole in the center, of course -- and it simply wasn't sufficient to keep warm all of the tent's inhabitants. Melody knew it was only going to get colder, too, and she feared that those sleeping near the tent's wall might become too cold during the night and, quite possibly, die from hypothermia. Third, despite having supplied food and water to the Sedents, Melody saw none of either now; the group had already devoured and drank all that her troops had delivered to them. And finally, throughout the tent, Melody could see and in some cases hear the suffering of those who had been injured during the attack. Broon had reported earlier that an old man and a young woman had already perished from wounds inflicted during the fight, and less than 10 hours had passed since the first blood had spilled. She turned to her Captain and the two men with him, Broon's Oficerë më të vegjël; there was no real Common Tongue translation for the Old Language phrase, with the closest meaning being Lesser or Junior Officers, sometimes simply called Juniors. After some quickly dictated orders, the Juniors immediately hurried off. "M'lady, please," Broon said softly but with obvious concern when Melody began to enter the tent. When she looked to him for clarification, he glanced at the Sedents -- some of whom were looking at Melody with dagger eyes -- and said in whisper, "I'm not sure you should be here without more security." Melody looked to those crowded throughout the tent and wondered if perhaps Broon wasn't correct; Kengetar hadn't broken her neck when he'd been alone with her, but he'd had a reason for not doing so, which had been to learn if maybe there wasn't a good reason for delaying such revenge until later. He had delayed, of course, but would his people have the same restraint? She caught sight of a squatting woman clutching an obviously cold toddler in her arms, and she knew she couldn't simply turn and leave the tent without making some sort of attempt to help the situation. She unhooked the chain that held together the collar of her cloak, peeled it from her shoulders, moved to the woman, and -- after asking, "May I?" -- draped the thick, war, fur-lined cloak over her. Melody tucked the garment around the woman, smiling as she said, "You keep this as long as you need it. It is now yours." One of the Juniors who'd rushed off returned now, leading two slaves who carried a goat carcass between them on a pole; it still smoked from having just come off from over a roasting fire, and while it was missing one entire hind quarter, the rest of the meat was there for the consuming. The slaves jammed the ends of the pole into the dome-shaped tent's supports, letting the animal dangle over the dirt floor at about chest high. Melody gestured to the Junior for his knife, and after slicing off a hand-sized chunk of the remaining rear leg, she offered it out to the nearest child. "I uritur?" she asked the boy, and then unsure if she was using his Tribe's language correctly, expanded on her question in Common, "Are you hungery? Eat. Please." The boy took the meat and eagerly sunk his teeth into it. Melody cut free another chunk of goat and offered it to a little girl who hurried up to her with a smile and outstretched hands. Melody laughed at the child's eagerness, warning, "Është e nxehtë ... it is hot." It only took a moment for a line of hungry Sedents to begin forming. Melody had other tasks she wished to pursue, so she offered the knife out to one of Kengetar's female neighbors. She hesitated, uncertain; Melody used it to partially cut another chunk of meat but left the blade in the animal's carcass, gesturing to the woman while telling her, "You cut." As Melody backed away, the woman moved in, and soon she was cutting slices of delicious, red meat. The Clan Yalla leader turned to the Junior and ordered, "Bring me chickens, ducks, and geese ... five each. And bread. And water.." When the young officer gave her a look that she interpreted as For them, the enemy, the prisoner? Melody growled, "Do it ... or I'll feed you to them instead." Melody looked for Kengetar; when she found him, she found herself taking in his once-again scantily clad body, reminiscing on the view he'd offered her in her own tent earlier in the day. When they were together again, she said, "My tent is warm and dry with a carpet floor. I want all of the children moved there, where they will be protected from the cold. Send which ever women feel they need to go as well. "And my Healer and my Kirurg are both on their way here to tend to the wounded." She didn't know if the man knew the Old Language word for surgeon, so she translated it for him. She continued, "I am having a floor and a second layer of tarp put over another tent to make it warmer and cleaner ... for the injured. They should not be here, Kengetar." She gave him an opportunity to respond to what she'd done so far and to either accept or refuse what he offered before finishing, "My Kapiten tells me that survivors have been seen by our scouts in the woods. Sedents, I mean, of course ... your people. You are welcome to invite them into the camp if you wish. Or, if this frightens them ... if they won't trust me like you do--" Melody looked for Kengetar's reaction to her presumption that he trusted her but continued without waiting for a response, "--you may feel free to venture to the forest's edge to speak with them ... to make whatever arrangements you wish for them. They may stay in the forest ... join us ... built a camp of their own on the other side of the village. I will provide them with food if they need it." She smiled to the man, hoping that what he had to say after all of this would only strengthen what she thought was becoming a bond of sorts between them.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar nodded. His face was no longer in a perpetual scowl, and something of an imperceptible smile crept onto his lips. He began relaying her words to the chief. He assented that those with children would be kept in the single tent, and said he would allow healers into this one. Kengetar took a few people who were uninjured with him to the forest outskirts of the town. They all gave out the coded cry for safety, hoping that any survivors who had fled into the woods would hear it and return. They could do no more. Kengetar returned to the large tent. The healers had arrived, so he allowed one of them to clean the wound at the back of his head, and apply a salve to it. Finally feeling exhaustion from his wound and the day's events, he laid out on his side in the tent to rest. He wondered idly where that woman was going to be now, since she had donated her tent.</s>

<|message|>Melody "I will sleep here, of course," Melody told her Captain when sometime later he asked her the same question Kengetar had been thinking. "I will be safe, Kapiten. They are just children." "How old were you when you took your first life, m'lady?" Broon asked, his tone respectful. She didn't answer. He said, "I'll post guards in the tent to ensure--" "You will not," Melody cut in. She smiled to her Captain: "I will be fine." Broon left with several end-of-day orders, and Melody made her way about her tent, reassuring the children and the women watching over them that all would be well. Some returned her kindness; others did not, their faces showing their fear, hatred, or both. Eventually, with torches extinguished and only candles lighting its interior, the tent fell into near silence as its occupants fell asleep. Melody had given up her own bed to several children orphaned by the morning's attack. She herself laid down in a corner with Haanya and one of the Healers; she rested her head on a pile of clothes and -- having distributed all of the bedding -- wrapped herself in her cloak, which was insufficient against the cold that would deepen through the night. Melody's last memory of the evening was hearing a soothing lullaby being sung by one of the Sedent females. Hours later, she awoke with a start to Haanya shaking her at the shoulder. In the low light, Melody eventually focused her eyes on the issue: a Sedent woman pointing a knife at her chest. The woman growled in her Tribe's dialect, and while she didn't understand all the words, Melody understood that she was being blamed for the death of the woman's mother in yesterday's attack. Melody slowly rose to a sitting position. "Please ... before you kill me ... will you let me give my cloak to one of the children?" Melody asked softly. "I do not want it to be soiled with my blood as they sleep in it ... for warmth." The knife wielding woman looked confused. Melody pulled the cloak from where she'd been using it as a blanket and handed it to a second Sedent. Melody continued, "My mother, too, was murdered. I want revenge on the woman responsible for my mother's death ... just as you want revenge on the woman responsible for your mother's death ... revenge on me." Melody was fully sitting up now; the blade's tip had made physical contact with the flesh of one of her breasts. "I will not stop you from getting your revenge ... here, now." Melody glanced toward Haanya, then the healer, directing, "No one will try to stop you, and no one will harm you for doing this. It is justice. Do you know this word...?" A Sedent woman who was watching the drama unfold translated, "drejtësia." "Yes, drejtësia," Melody repeated. "You may have your justice now, here. Or ... You can let me live long enough for me to get my own revenge first. And then ... you may kill me without any harm coming to you or your people." The knife-wielding woman glanced downward to find a slow rivulet of blood running from the point of the knife down the Yalla Lady's bosom. She pulled the knife back, and after a moment, she turned it, offering the hand end to Melody; the Yallan moved slowly to take control of the weapon, then handed it to the second Sedent, who hid it in her own bedding. Haanya pressed a cloth to the wound on her Lady's bosom as Melody herself was telling the Sedent, "You will have your justice, and no one will harm you for taking it ... if you will allow me to get mine, too. I promise." The former would-be-assassin broke down in tears and sobbed. Melody took her into her arms, and after a long moment they laid down together; the second Sedent covered them both with Melody's cloak, and after some time had passed, the tent returned to its calm as if nothing untoward had occurred. Somewhere in the near darkness, a southern lullaby was again being sung softly... Morning: Outside her tent, Melody found Kengetar and told him to pick those who would be feigning enslavement for our mission. She could see the confusion in his eyes and clarified: only those willing to volunteer to pretend to be captured would be going to the Capital, while the rest of the tribe would remain here. She explained that most of the captured stock animals -- the ones not killed, roasted, and eaten last night by the hungry Clan Yallans, obviously -- were being returned to the Tribe; she also tossed Kengetar a small purse of mostly silver, telling him with a solemn tone, "It cannot make up for what happened here yesterday, but ... nothing ever will. "I want to be moving within the hour," Melody told Broon. She looked to Kengetar, asking, "Are you ready?"</s>

<|description|>Melody Lady of Clan Yalla Age: 20 Physical description: * 5'6", 125# * Physically fit, strong. * Beautiful hour glass figure with modest, firm breasts and ever-pert nipples; as are the women of the Noble and Royal Classes, her body is free of hair below her neck, carefully and frequently shaved from her by a trusted slave girl. * Stunning, green-hazel eyes. * Brunette hair, nearly always worn as in the image (except private and/or intimate moments). * * Tattoos: + Face: the pattern designates the Tribe from which she came. + Body: a Snake-Dragon tattoo, the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un; it begins as a thrice-forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum. * Various scars (to be described later). Personality: * Strong, confident, driven. * Intelligent and well educated. * Sexually? Not yet stated. * Compassionate but also willing to kill, punish, enslave, etc., when she finds it necessary. History: * Coming.</s> <|message|>Kengetar That Night: As Kengetar was drifting away to sleep, an arm grabbed his bicep and a voice hissed into his ear, "What is this? This isn't part of the plan. She has our women and children!" the chief whispered angrily. Kengetar moaned. "She's changing the game. But if she's put herself in a tent with all our children, she'll be dead by sunrise." It was only half a joke. "And besides, there's nothing we can do. Playing along for now is the only thing keeping us alive. We'll see what tomorrow brings and plan again." "For all our sakes, you'd better be right," the chief said, and slipped away. Kengetar drifted to sleep, but his dreams were haunted by a three-tailed snake with a woman's face. Morning: Kengetar was surprised to see Melody looking so well rested after a night with the children. He was even more surprised to hear that the whole tribe would not be travelling with her, it would only be him and a few other volunteers. He returned to the tribal tent and explained the situation and asked for volunteers. The chieftain gave Kengetar a nonplussed look, and Kengetar shrugged. In the end, only two males, younger than Kengetar, were willing to join, hoping that this would be the adventure that gained them their first tattoos. Kengetar and the two boys prepared quickly. Each of them was given a pair of shoes, a leather vest, and some food that had been spared from last night. Within an hour, they were ready. Kengetar and the two boys joined the caravan as it headed out.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody was surprised and, to be honest, a bit disappointed to learn that only 3 of the Sedents had volunteered to make the trek to the Capital with Clan Yalla. She had dismissed the idea of selling the attack's survivors into slavery, of course, but still she would have preferred to have a more realistic number of barbarians to present at the slave market. Scouts were sent north from the still smoking remnants of Kengetar's village to look for other tribal dangers, and an hour later, the caravan began to pull out; half of the mounted warriors led the procession; behind them were a half of the footbound warriors; then came the women, children, injured, and aged (some on foot, some on wagons or carts); and taking the rear were the rest of the warriors on foot. Melody had explained to Kengatar that, as was the custom for slaves on the way to market, he and his two volunteers would be on foot, surrounded by the first Company of warriors on foot. "You will have bindings on your wrists but not your feet, and those bindings will be loose ... to allow you to discard them if we come into danger. Kengetar, it is important to me that you appear to be a captive and yet know without doubt that you are not!" The last thing Melody did before she mounted her horse was have her servant, Haanya, sling a worn, dirty cape around Kengetar's shoulders and tie the leather thong under his chin. Melody explained, "I know you are accustomed to the weather of your own land and likely don't need this..." Then, stepping closer, Melody gestured to Broon for a Sedent dagger and slipped it into the bound waist band of Kengetar's loincloth. She suddenly felt her face blushing and turned her head in the hopes of preventing him from seeing it; Melody had had a sudden recollection of the barbarian's impressive manhood from the night before, and knowing that it was well within her easy reach should she decide to partake of it caused her no end of frustration and embarrassment. "The cape is to hide this," she explained, no longer facing Kengetar as she moved to her horse. She didn't look to him again until she thought she'd gain control of her complexion, telling him, "My Kapiten things arming you is a grave error. I am hoping otherwise." She was about to turn to get the procession moving when suddenly there was a great deal of excitement coming from the direction of the Sedents who were remaining behind. As she watched, a group of hurrying survivors with bags over their shoulders or in their arms hurried toward Melody; they included three women, one older but seemingly spry male, and a teenage boy and similarly aged girl. They were calling out in a combination of their own Dialect and Common, and Melody very quickly deduced that they intended to join and support Kengetar, who Melody was coming to understand had made quite an impression on the tribe with his heroic sacrifice. When the group got closer, Melody realized that one of the women was the one who'd drawn blood from her bosom with a knife earlier this morning. She make eye contact with the woman, smiled, and made a familiar gesture of welcome before asking, "Why have you chosen to accompany us?" The woman pulled the top flap of her backpack open just enough to reveal the blade that could very well have killed Melody the night before and explained in her broken Common, "No seek revenge if not with you." Melody's smile widened; the woman donned the pack and added before joining the other Sedents, "If seek revenge." Melody gave the woman a respectful nod, looked about herself for sign that they were ready to set out, and gave Broon a familiar look. The Captain called out loudly, "North!" And with that, the caravan was underway... Just short of noon: The procession followed a trail in a northeasterly direction throughout the morning; it might have been a road once upon a time, but in many places Mother Nature had done it damage with the runoff of rain, the growth of plant life, and the falling of trees. Often the procession had to be halted to clear the way or aid the carts over collapsed, uneven, or simply rough ground. At times, Melody had contemplated turning back to the road that had taken her to Kengetar's village; it was entirely suitable for the carts and much easier for those on foot. But that direction would have added another five or six days to the mission to the Capital. Just before high sun, though, the scouts backtracked to inform their Lady that a very recent, rain-driven landslide had obliterated the road entirely; there would be no going this way with the wheeled vehicles. Melody ordered camp struck for the night and scouts sent out to look for dangers. She told Broon to raise only four of the many tents: hers for herself and the Sedent women and children, a smaller one for the Sedent men, a similarly sized one for Broon himself and his Yallan Juniors, and -- because the sky was threatening to pour more rain upon them -- a fourth one, just a lean-to, for setting up a kitchen for the group as a whole.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar left the two boys with the others of his tribe. He was glad that he wouldn't have to take care of them himself. However, two of the stragglers who came along was Elbara, and... her husband, Tomor. He hoped this wasn't going to make anything difficult. He was also annoyed by the sudden stop the caravan had made. There was still many hours of daylight left, but this small roadblock was able to stop them completely. Kengetar slipped off his wrist bindings, gave a notice to Tomor, the elder male, and walked off, determined to find some drier ground. He knew that this was potentially the territory of enemies, but Kengetar was well trained in stealth. Keeping himself low to the ground and stepping lightly, he was sure that he would be able to notice someone else well before they noticed him.</s>

<|message|>Melody The little clearing in which they pitched camp was barely large enough for the four tents and a central fire pit; the carts were left in a line on the trail they'd traveled, and those not assigned to a tent used the limbs of the trees of the surrounding forest to erect simple lean-tos out of their tent covers. Broon approached Melody after the tents were erected to inform her that sentries had been posted and scouts had been dispatched. "And Kengetar?" she asked, knowing that her Captain was sensitive about the barbarian having not only so much freedom but a weapon as well. "He slipped off into the forest a few minutes ago," he said, showing no more concern that he already had been. "I believe he is looking for a way around the slide." "Or making contact with some Sedent relatives who will sneak out of the trees in the night to slice our throats?" Melody asked wryly, raising a questioning eyebrow. When the officer only stared at his Lady, she told him, "Feel free to keep an eye on the Sedents, Kapiten. But you are forbidden to take any action against them without my expressed permission. Do you understand? You are primed to not trust Kengetar, and I do not want that to lead to a misunderstanding that will deny me my revenge." "Yes, m'lady," Broon said, saluting before being dismissed. Melody's Captain hadn't been the only Yallan keeping a close eye on Kengetar, though, the reason for this person's attention had nothing to do with whether or not the man might want to slip away or slit a throat. Frandy had done her part in setting up her Lady's tent before telling the more senior tent slave that she needed to tend to her Moonblood issues. Haanya gave the younger servant a confused look; the two women worked so closely together that Haanya knew almost to the day when Frandy was next expected to bleed, and today was most definitely not that day. Still, she said only, "Hurry back. There is still midday meal to prepare." Frandy milled about the spontaneously erected camp, searching for the barbarian with the impressive manhood, only to learn from overhearing her Lady and the Captain's conversation that the man had slipped off into the woods to scout ... or run? She hurried back to the first cart, the last place anyone talking about Kengetar had seen him. Acting as if she was only searching the cart for goods until no one was looking her way, Frandy suddenly turned and sprinted into the undergrowth. She hesitated to look for prying eyes, saw none, and hurried off into the forest, following a deer trail she hoped would get her to the man who made her so warm and tingly in all the right places.</s>

<|description|>Melody Lady of Clan Yalla Age: 20 Physical description: * 5'6", 125# * Physically fit, strong. * Beautiful hour glass figure with modest, firm breasts and ever-pert nipples; as are the women of the Noble and Royal Classes, her body is free of hair below her neck, carefully and frequently shaved from her by a trusted slave girl. * Stunning, green-hazel eyes. * Brunette hair, nearly always worn as in the image (except private and/or intimate moments). * * Tattoos: + Face: the pattern designates the Tribe from which she came. + Body: a Snake-Dragon tattoo, the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un; it begins as a thrice-forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum. * Various scars (to be described later). Personality: * Strong, confident, driven. * Intelligent and well educated. * Sexually? Not yet stated. * Compassionate but also willing to kill, punish, enslave, etc., when she finds it necessary. History: * Coming.</s> <|message|>Melody Earlier: Frandy got excited when she thought she caught sight of Kengetar moving through the shadows of the thick woods ahead of her. She called out softly at first, then louder: "Kengetar...? Kengatar! It is me ... Frandy ... come to be of service to you." By that, of course, the young and rather promiscuous slave girl meant sexual service. It meant nothing to her that she'd only met the man yesterday; it meant nothing to her that he was, by Yallan definition, a barbarian. Frandy simply wanted to pull her dress up and Kengetar's loin cloth off and find some escape from her dull life of service. That wasn't going to happen, though. She was suddenly screaming out in surprise, then fear, as she was grasped about her torso by powerful hands. In just seconds, the man she'd assumed was Kengetar emerged from the woods, and Frandy got her first look at a new sort of barbarian. The Roki were not the Sedent; Frandy knew that in an instance from their clothes, their tattoos, and their treatment of her. The Sedent -- even after the Yallans had destroyed their village and killed many of their people -- had not raised a hand against their attackers/captors, despite their reputation for being barbarous people. Frandy couldn't know whether or not the tales of them had been stretched; she couldn't know whether or not they were biding their time, waiting for the right time to attack, to kill all the Yallans, to eat them from the inside out like so many tales from the civilized world seem to portray them. But these barbarians, they frightened Frandy to no end. She screamed out in terror as one arm and hand grasped her painfully about her belly and the other arm and hand held her higher, with grasping fingers digging into her tit in a way no man had before this. She continued screaming out in terror, knowing that she was about to be raped, beaten, raped, killed, raped, and finally eaten. And then, suddenly, it was over: Kengetar was there. Frandy didn't see her barbarian kill the first Roki, and she was too deep in shock to really understand that the other ferocious animal had simply ran away in fear. Later, when she recalled of the moment, she thought she remembered Kengetar saying "Boo!" But ... no, that was ridiculous, right? Did he really frighten away a barbarian rapist with a word from a mother-infant peekaboo game? When she realized that it was over, Frandy set her eyes on her savior and tried to smile in joy, though, honestly, she wasn't entirely sure whether or not the expression had actually manifested. He asked her, "Why did you come out here alone? Don't you know it's dangerous?" Frandy didn't immediately recognize that she was being chastised for her dangerous silliness. She was about to confess that she'd come into the woods to find him ... to flirt with him ... to seduce him. Then, she realized that she was being dressed down for her ignorance of how dangerous these lands could be. She lied to him instead: "Melody sent me to find you. She says you have to come back." Frandy had no idea that after a full day of interactions, Kengetar would not have heard her Lady's name or even used it on occasion. But, when she'd recall this moment, Frandy would realize that the actual name Melody was only rarely is ever spoken. Melody was m'lady; that was what people of all natures called her. She explained who Melody was an introduced herself, and a moment later Kengetar was helping her to her feet. She smiled, once again near to the man who had previously been naked and oh-so-impressively-so the last time they were this close. A chill of sexual excitement ran up her spine, and she was in the process of considering what words to use to tell the barbarian that he could have her, here and now and repeatedly ... when suddenly she was over his shoulder and being carried out of the forest. "Don't talk until we're back at camp," Kengetar said as he headed down the trail. Frandy understood immediately that this wasn't part of some mating ritual; the barbarian was doing the least barbaric thing she could imagine, taking her home, untouched and still fully dressed. How disappointing; and what more, how embarrassing. Before she knew it, Frandy was on her feet again at the edge of the camp ... and after telling Kengetar where m'lady could be found, once again all alone. She watched the object of her sexual fantasies hurry off toward Melody's tent, where he rapped on the tarp covered wooden frame, waited, then entered. In her now-dark fantasies, she imagined her Mistress laying there on her soft, thick bedding in a practically see through silk gown, lifting it for the convenience of the barbarian who had already stripped off his loin cloth and was hurrying forward to find his joy. In reality, Melody was sitting with Broon, his Juniors, and Groya, the Elder who typically spoke for the non-military men and the women and children of the tribe in times of concern. The group had been near the end of their meeting as it happened, and after Melody dismissed them, she looked up to Kengetar and asked in a somewhat unenthusiastic, almost bothered tone, "What can I do for you?" Melody had many things on her mind and, of course, she hadn't asked for the Sedent's presence after all,</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar snorted. How was she going to act bothered when she had called him? "It's unwise to send your servants to leash me while I'm solving your problems," he said accusatorily. "She almost died, by the way. You're welcome for that, too."</s> <|message|>Melody Melody had no idea as to what Kengetar was speaking, of course, and she didn't particularly enjoy his tone. If he had been one of her people and had talked to her like that, she would have called Broon in to have the man strung up for lashing, castrating, or worse. Instead, she stood to face him, saying, "First ... I did not send for you ... leash or otherwise. Second, I appreciate that you saved the life of one of my servants, which ever one it was." Melody actually had an idea that Kengetar was speaking about Frandy. The girl was promiscuous and indiscriminate about who man she allowed inside her ... or even if it was a man who was involved in her search for sexual satisfaction. As she began a slow walk toward the barbarian, Melody called out, "Kapiten!" In a flash, the ever dutiful Broon was inside the tent, saluting and saying as usual, "Yes, m'lady." Melody didn't address him but instead simply moved up close to Kengatar and growled in barely above a whisper, "And third ... if you ever speak to me in that manner again ... I'll have your balls cut off ... stewed ... and fed to your people ... before I have them executed as well." She gave Kengetar a moment to respond, unsure whether that response would be words or the sinking of his dagger into her chest. Presuming he didn't kill her or simply excuse himself from her tent and from her duty, Melody would ask him to explain himself.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar's blood was now running hot, and consequences were far from his mind. Moments like this were of his major faults, where the frustrations of days past would explode out at whoever he felt was the last to aggrieve him. "Nice bluff, but you won't," he shot back. "All this time you've been playing at the conquering warlord, but all you Yallans are soft." Without stopping for a breath, he shot into another insult. "There's no explanation for your victories but luck, since none of you have the skill or courage to do things by yourself. And we Sedents don't threaten a man's family when we have a grudge. We take them head on, because we're not afraid of a fight." Kengetar seethed, waiting for a response, whether it be a volley of angry words or a physical attack. He was doubly armed now, and felt confident.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody's heart was pounding by the time Kengetar finished. Was it anger or fear or a combination of both? At the same time, though, she was feeling a third emotion: regret. She looked to Broon, who by now had his second hand wrapped about the handle of his sword and the weapon pulled out of its sheath just enough to loose it from the tension that prevented it from falling out in the case of a fall or other disorienting situation. She asked and -- when the man didn't move -- repeated, "Kapiten, will you excuse us?" As the reluctant officer turned and unhurriedly departed -- moving only barely out of the tent and keeping a crack in the flap's opening to watch the happenings inside the tent -- Melody turned and paced about slowly a moment, considering her response. In a much softer voice than before, she said, "It was not a bluff, Kengetar. I am not playing at conquering warlord ... for two reasons. First, I have made no attempts to conquer anything in Sedent territory. "The incident yesterday ... it was tragic and regretful. If I had been with the party that initially rode to the camp to speak with your leaders, the massacre -- and yes, I admit, it was a massacre, a regretful massacre on the part of my people -- if I had been present, it would not have happened. "I made a mistake in not preventing my force from attacking you," she continued, her tone sincere. "I ... I reacted spontaneously; my people were attacked, so ... I returned the favor. I spoke with a Sedent woman today, a woman I believe you know ... Elbara. She says she was within earshot of the exchange between your people and mine. She says each side said some things that were ... inciting. She claims the fight was the fault of the Sedent, but ... I think she believed that was what I wanted to hear. I must admit this: I sent the wrong men to speak with your Chief ... and people died." She hesitated a moment, then addressed more of what Kengetar had said. "Yallans may not be Sedents, but they are soft. I have no way to prove this to you at the moment other than to put one of my warriors in the Fighting Circle opposite yours. I won't do that ... not here, not now." Her lips spread a bit before she added, "Maybe after the Capital." She began walking back toward the man again, addressing one last point that she felt had to be made. "You are my guest, Kengetar ... you and your people ... not hostages or slaves or prisoners of war. And I will treat you like guests, as opposed to the other possibilities." Now, close to him and looking up into his pale grey eyes, she said in a low but firm tone, "But I am the leader of Clan Yalla. My people look to me for guidance, support, and -- when the time calls for it -- courageous and unflinching leadership onto the battlefield. They will not follow me if they think I am weak ... and you, here tonight, chastising me with my Clan's most important officers and Elders within ear shot simply cannot happen again ... whether I am right or whether I am wrong makes no matter. If you cannot show me the respect in front of the others that those others show me..." She hesitated again, stepped back, and swept a hand toward the tent's exit, finishing, "...then I regretfully ask you to return to your people ... and to your village. I will seek my revenge on my own. I will die in doing so, of course. But in contrast to how you may think of me ... I'm not afraid of a fight."</s> <|message|>Kengetar "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar sucked in a breath. There was no turning back. "Then prove it." He clenched his fists, ready for the hit that was sure to come.</s>

<|message|>Melody "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar asked. Melody stared down the man for a moment, unsure of where he was taking this. "Then prove it," he added, clenching his fists. The Yallan smiled at the Sedent, then chuckled. "You must be joking." But it was obvious that Kengetar was dead serious. Still with her eyes on him, Melody tilted her head toward the tent flap, knowing that Broon was just outside and likely already crouched and ready to attack to protect his Lady. "You will not enter this tent under any circumstances, Kapiten. Is that understood?" The flap opened a bit more and the confused voice of Broon asked, "M'lady...? Are you sure? What are--" "Is that understood, Kapiten?" Melody repeated as she reached to her waist to unbuckle the belt that held her coin purse and, particularly, her dagger's sheath. She looked her Captain in the eye and stressed again, "Is that understood?" Broon was on the verge of disobeying Melody for the first time since he'd first been assigned to her in her late single digits ages. The little girl had wanted to peruse the stands in the marketplace of a town famous for kidnappings of girls of all Classes, and to prevent this, Broon had given her the same treatment Kengetar had given Frandy earlier. But after looking to the Sedent to see if he, too, was discarding his weapon as Melody had just done, he saluted his Lady and said before closing the flap, "I am your servant, m'lady. But, if he scars you, it will be my honor to do the same and more to him once this ... idiocy is concluded." Melody waved him away, looked to Kengetar, and raised her own clenched fists as she took a single step closer. Smiling wide, she asked with humor, "You're not afraid of getting your ass kicked by a girl are you ... barbarian?"</s>

<|description|>Melody Lady of Clan Yalla Age: 20 Physical description: * 5'6", 125# * Physically fit, strong. * Beautiful hour glass figure with modest, firm breasts and ever-pert nipples; as are the women of the Noble and Royal Classes, her body is free of hair below her neck, carefully and frequently shaved from her by a trusted slave girl. * Stunning, green-hazel eyes. * Brunette hair, nearly always worn as in the image (except private and/or intimate moments). * * Tattoos: + Face: the pattern designates the Tribe from which she came. + Body: a Snake-Dragon tattoo, the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un; it begins as a thrice-forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum. * Various scars (to be described later). Personality: * Strong, confident, driven. * Intelligent and well educated. * Sexually? Not yet stated. * Compassionate but also willing to kill, punish, enslave, etc., when she finds it necessary. History: * Coming.</s> <|message|>Kengetar "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar sucked in a breath. There was no turning back. "Then prove it." He clenched his fists, ready for the hit that was sure to come.</s> <|message|>Melody "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar asked. Melody stared down the man for a moment, unsure of where he was taking this. "Then prove it," he added, clenching his fists. The Yallan smiled at the Sedent, then chuckled. "You must be joking." But it was obvious that Kengetar was dead serious. Still with her eyes on him, Melody tilted her head toward the tent flap, knowing that Broon was just outside and likely already crouched and ready to attack to protect his Lady. "You will not enter this tent under any circumstances, Kapiten. Is that understood?" The flap opened a bit more and the confused voice of Broon asked, "M'lady...? Are you sure? What are--" "Is that understood, Kapiten?" Melody repeated as she reached to her waist to unbuckle the belt that held her coin purse and, particularly, her dagger's sheath. She looked her Captain in the eye and stressed again, "Is that understood?" Broon was on the verge of disobeying Melody for the first time since he'd first been assigned to her in her late single digits ages. The little girl had wanted to peruse the stands in the marketplace of a town famous for kidnappings of girls of all Classes, and to prevent this, Broon had given her the same treatment Kengetar had given Frandy earlier. But after looking to the Sedent to see if he, too, was discarding his weapon as Melody had just done, he saluted his Lady and said before closing the flap, "I am your servant, m'lady. But, if he scars you, it will be my honor to do the same and more to him once this ... idiocy is concluded." Melody waved him away, looked to Kengetar, and raised her own clenched fists as she took a single step closer. Smiling wide, she asked with humor, "You're not afraid of getting your ass kicked by a girl are you ... barbarian?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar dropped his cape, bow, quiver, and knives to the floor, and stepped forward. "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he said, grinning. He raised his fists, and waited for the first blow. When none came, he threw a false jab at her face with his left arm to gauge her reaction. She dodged, but there was no follow-up. Emboldened, he threw another false jab to the face with his left, then used his right to throw an uppercut punch to her toned stomach.</s> <|message|>Melody As she watched Kengetar shed his gear, Melody suddenly realized that her heart was pounding. When was the last time she'd been in a Luftë me grushta ... a fist fight? And with a man, no less! "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he taunted her, raising his fists again. Melody loosened her body a bit, shifted her feet, inched just a tab bit forward as her head and upper torso tensed up. Kengetar threw the first punch, to which Melody nimbly avoided. She smiled wider, then chuckled; Melody knew that he hadn't been trying to hit her but had been gauging whether or not she actually knew what she was doing. He repeated the jab at her head with one hand, then swung the other upwards toward her belly. In a flash, Melody blocked the punch while simultaneously spinning almost all the way around; her other hand, still clenched in a fist, swung through the air as if it were a mace on the end of a chain, contacting the Sedent's jaw solidly but not with enough force to do much other than make him stagger ... and possibly mad? Melody regained her stance again, smiled, and laughed. She decided it was time for her to do some taunting: "Maybe I should go get Elbara to stand in for you ... barbarian. She looked to have a little bit of true warrior in her." Her confidence was building, though whether that was a good thing or not was questionable. She surge forward quickly with a goditje e mesme e lartë, a mid-high rounding kick that she'd learned in her martial arts training as a child. It didn't connect with Kengetar, though, missing his lower rib cage by just an inch. That wasn't the worst part though: she hadn't considered the carpeted floor beneath her feet, which was over unleveled ground, and the maneuver left Melody off balanced and leaning well into the man's reach.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar was sure that his blow would land, but somehow she had blocked it and hit him in the face with the same, fluid movement. He wasn't sure how she managed that, but when she mentioned Elbara, he suddenly saw red. "Don't you speak about her!" he yelled. He angrily threw his entire weight behind his next punch, aimed at her mouth. She tried to step back to avoid, but some irregularity in the floor slowed her, and Kengetar's wild lunge struck her. Now they were both off balance, and they fell to the floor together. Kengetar shot both arms out, one to break his fall, and the other to grab Melody.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody's head jerked back as Kengetar's fist glanced off her jaw and cheek. His momentum took him into her, and the both of them were soon hitting the floor. Kengetar tried to grasp Melody as they were slamming to the carpet covered dirt, but again her quickness prevailed; she rolled away from him and once again slashed the back of her hand at him, catching Kengetar square on his nose. The pain shooting through his face and head must have been disorienting, because Melody was able to pop back to her feet and assume a fighting stance while he was only just righting himself to look up at her. His nose was bleeding; she lifted a hand to her mouth to find it bleeding as well. "So, are we done yet?" Melody asked with a laugh that send red spittle out onto the carpet. She stepped closer and offered a hand, asking, "Or are we going to continue this until one of us actually gets hurt?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar stood up and looked at the foreign gesture. The rage had passed. He didn't even remember why they were fighting now. A bit sheepishly, he stretched out his hand to meet Melody's.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody took Kengetar's hand, gripping it tightly and smiling, pleased that he'd decided they'd had enough. She reached her other hand up to her lip, then held her bloody fingers out before her. "That hurt," she said playfully to the man who'd caused the injury. Speaking about someone drawing her blood, Melody said, "Not the first time ... probably not the last." She released Kengetar's hand and looked toward the tent flap. "Kapiten!" Broon, who had been waiting anxiously nearby, hurried in; he held his sword in his hand, ready to avenge what ever harm had been done to his Lady. But instead of finding her signaling such an act on his part, Melody casually gestured him to remain calm. "Gather your best ten men, Kapiten," she told him. "Equip them for a hike overland ... through the forest to the Bay Road." She was speaking of the road that connected the fishing villages of the Southernmost Bay to the Capital City. It wasn't a road traveled much by Yallans anymore. It was patrolled by barbarian tribes who had a tendency of kidnapping travelers, ransoming those who came from money, and selling into slavery those who didn't. She looked to Kengetar again. "We would have a better chance of surviving in these hostile woods if we were joined by those who knew them. And, of course, there is still the matter of the task you have agreed to complete ... and, of course, the payment I will make once you have completed it."</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar wiped his nose, and looked down at the red puddle that formed in his hand. He held his head back and pinched his nose with his finger and thumb. He felt the salty blood ooze down his throat. "It's not necessary to split our forces," he said, voice pitched into a nasal honk. "There is a path that leads back onto dry land. It could be widened with a day's work."</s> <|message|>Melody Melody considered Kengetar's plan a moment; she didn't like the idea of sending the children, women, and non-warrior males back the way they'd come with only a partial guard, so the Sedent made sense. "Fine, we'll do it your way," Melody responded; she tried to sound reluctant but failed to contain the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. To Broon, she said, "Put a third of your men on watch, a third on performing camp work ... hunting, fire wood, and such." "And the rest, m"Lady?" the Captain asked. She looked to Kengetar. She said with humor in her voice, not wanting the Sedent to think she actually thought of him as such anymore,"Put them under the barbarian's command. Kengetar, use then as you will: scouting, making tools, labor, whatever you need."</s> <|message|>Kengetar Broon and Kengetar looked at each other, both equally shocked. Kengetar had never expected to be given command of anything. Giving a shrug, he left the tent and took up his command. After adding his Sedent volunteers to his Yallan force, he led them to the trail he had found. Each of them was armed with an axe or some sort of cutting tool, and set to hacking. They were making good progress, but once the rain began to pick up, the Yallans lagged. Southern tribesmen were inured to the sudden rains of the region, but Kengetar realized that the lowered visibility was a problem. The Roki hunter might return with allies, and he wanted to see them coming. So Kengetar called the work off for the day, and hoped that the trail would still be passable after the rain ended. Fortunately, the trail was still there after the cleansing rain, and work resumed without incident. By the afternoon, the trail had been cleared wide enough for the caravan to pass through.</s>

<|message|>Melody Melody had instructed the elder of her two Lady's Maids, Haanya, to send Kengetar down to the lake's edge when he and his men finished their work on the trail; she had had some of her things taken to the bank to make her comfortable for a bath and evening of relaxation away from the camp. She'd expected the work to extend all the way to sunset, though, possibly even lasting until tomorrow or even the day after that. She'd had no idea that Kengetar's workers would clear the trail so unbelievably soon and break for the day. Because of this, when Haanya led the Sedent down the slope trail to the lake -- not realizing the mistake she was making -- Melody, Frandy, Elbara, and a dozen other women of either Yallan or Sedent origin were still bathing in the lake; they were all naked and in depths that exposed little of their bodies, all of them, or some measure in between; and more than just bathing, they were singing and laughing and playing and splashing and generally having a good time, with little evidence of the differences and recent history between the women of the two enemy Tribes. Melody had, of course, expected that the women would be finished with their bathing, dressed, and either back to their duties if they had any or relaxing on the blankets spread on the grassy shore, drinking wine and eating a variety of foods already on the blankets. That, of course, wasn't how things turned out. Haanya had only directed Kengetar to the path, as opposed to leading him there as instructed; her old slave feet and back hurt, and she hadn't wanted to descend the slope, let alone ascend it afterward. Thus, when Kengetar took the last little bend in the trail and the forest parted to reveal the lake, it revealed far more to him than had been intended. Not by any reason at all, Melody was the first to see Kengetar step out on the rise over the little bulge in the lake in which the fun was being had. She stared up at him for a long moment without any effort to hide herself from him; the Sedent had already seen her curvy, tattooed, and scarred body in the full, so it wasn't like he was seeing anything new about her. She did, however, begin a slow walk through the knee-high water to retrieve her robe and slip it around her, for appearances sake. Suddenly, one of the other naked women shrieked, then pointed at the barbarian. The reaction by the others was varied: some ran for their own clothing, some dropped downward into the water, hiding their womanly curves; others used their hands and arms to hide their breasts and groins as best they could; and still others simply stood there in the water, either staring at the handsome, fit warrior as if in invitation to him to take in all he could or continuing to splash water on their bodies to rinse away the suds from the expensive soap that Melody had offered one and all. From the shore upon which she'd arrived, Melody couldn't help but notice that Elbara did nothing to hide herself from Kengetar. The Yallan Lady had come to the conclusion that there was some sort of history between the two Sedents. She contemplated asking Elbara for clarification of the glances the two often shared, but so far she hadn't done so. When Kengetar looked her way, Melody gestured him to join her on the dozen or so pillows laid out upon a blanket that also featured food and drink.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Barely conscious, Kengetar found himself being forced to his feet and led away from the huddled circle of wounded captives by a large Northerner. As he was brought unsteadily to his feet, a second Northman locked a pair of iron shackles around his ankles, with a chain and a second pair of shackles ready for his wrists. As he tried to reach down and throw off his imprisoner, the first Northerner grabbed his arms and whispered in his ear words that chilled his blood. "If you do anything we don't tell you to," he hissed, "anything at all, the children of your rathole village will have their own entrails for gibbets." Stunned by the threat, Kengetar allowed the shackles to be placed upon him. He was then brought to the rear of one of the invaders' carts and forced to unload their baggage, like the rest of his people who were still standing. It was slow going. Kengetar was still bleary, and each time he dropped something or slowed down, the guard that had been assigned to him would threaten him and smack the backs of his legs with the flat of a sword. But despite his pain and shame, Kengetar refused to show any sign of weakness to his captors, except for the occasional stumble or fall that he was unable to control. Kengetar remembered that the battle had begun with arrows shot at the Northerners' messengers, but after they had returned with the full horde and broken through the village wall, he and the other bravos tried to retreat back towards the houses. Kengetar had been one of the last to abandon his post however, and was slower than some of his kin, and when a rider overtook him and struck him on the back of his skull with a club, he lost consciousness. Once he had awakened, the battle was already over. Kengetar knew the wound had brought forth blood, but the chains he now wore made it impossible for him to raise his hands and check if it had stopped bleeding. He caught glances around him, and was disgusted by what he saw. The houses were burning, and his people were now chained out in the rain. He saw the treasures of his people being passed around as booty, and their livestock being slaughtered to fatten their destroyers. He heard the weeping of the women and children, and he could very well guess what their fate would be after the invaders tired of them. After Kengetar had stumbled too many times and dropped too many loads, it became obvious that Kengetar was no longer suited for unloading carts. So Kengetar was then set to the impossible task of finding dry wood for burning on the muddy ground. The chain connecting his wrists and knees forced Kengetar to get down on all fours to grasp through the muck. He still didn't understand what made him special compared to the other captives. He had clearly been set apart from all his kin and the guard that watched him hadn't taken his eyes off him once, when other guards were left in charge of a handful of slaves each. The cold rain dripped down Kengetar's hair and around the contours of his face, hiding his tears. Anger and hatred blazed in his heart. He swore to himself to find a way to escape and free his people. Even the threat of the children's lives didn't hold him back, as he was sure that death would be a more merciful fate for them than whatever these monsters had in store for them.</s> <|message|>Melody Almost an hour after entering it, Melody emerged from the conflagration that once was the barbarian clan's village, her face tattoos almost imperceptible beneath the soot and ash that the on again, off again sprinkles had smudged upon her skin. A dozen men and twice as many women were either following her or waiting for her at the community's edge; they'd pillaged the buildings not afire or risked entering those that had been to salvage as many items of value as they could. "Take it all to the tent, Kapiten" she instructed her senior military officer as he arrived. "I'll be in my tent, which I assume is standing...?" "It is, m'lady," the man named Broon acknowledged. "It will still be some time before the fire is--" She waved off the remainder of his news and gestured him back to his duties. The Captain passed Melody's instructions to the others, directing them to a large tent that was just moments away from being fully erect and secured. Broon gave sharp glares to those pillagers who might be contemplating keeping the more valuable items for themselves. Unlike many cultures where battlefield loot was kept by he or she who'd discovered it, Clan Yalla was well disciplined to deliver every coin, cloak, candlestick, and chamber pot to a specified location for disbursing by Melody herself. The division of the spoils would have to wait, though; the smoke and soot were becoming annoying, and all Melody wanted was to strip out of her filthy field clothes and wash herself clean. "M'lady!" an older woman, Haanya, called out with surprise when she saw Melody enter the tent. She rushed from the crackling, still growing fire assist her Mistress out of her weapons belt, cloak, leather armor, and layers of outer and inner clothing, all the time chastising her quietly for walking into the burning village. "You are the Lady, m'lady. You have people to do these dangerous things. Why you go into fire and get your clothes dirty and face dirty and hands dirty and..." Melody had ceased listening to the old woman long ago, having heard it all before. The Lady as Haanya had called her had never been a stand back and watch the action type of leader. Sure, she hadn't engaged directly in today's fighting, but that was only because she'd hoped there wouldn't be any. More often than not, the leader of Clan Yalla was right in the violent mix of things, as the dozen or so scars gracing her body from the back of her neck to her belly to both arms and her left leg would attest. Haanya -- who because of her age and years of service to Melody -- felt far more comfortable with chastising her Mistress than did the typical slave, and one of her more often spoken complaints was that the 20 year old woman was far too young -- and beautiful -- a woman to be displaying so much dëme të shëmtuara -- ugly damage -- on display when she undressed for a bath ... or for a man. "Men like scars," Melody told the woman for the umpteenth time when again she got dressed down while literally dressing down for a bath. "They are a measurement of life experiences." Haanya guffawed: "On another man, yes, m'lady; not on a woman. You should be sitting in an elegant chair wearing satin and jewels while men kneel before you, laying gold and silver at your feet in the hopes of seeing your unscarred body naked in the marital bed he hopes to share with you upon your wedding night, not riding a horse into battles for which you have men who will gladly give their lives for you." Melody laughed loudly, moving across to the wood cask tub into which three slave girls had been dumping pitchers of hot water. She ran a hand across the surface, finding its temperature perfect. As she stepped carefully into the almost too hot water, she said to Haanya yet again, "Those men of whom you speak, the ones who will gladly give their lives for me ... how long would they continue to do so if I did not show them that I, too, was willing to give my life for them?" As the woman better than twice Melody's age began a long, rapid rant in her first language, she moved to behind her Mistress and began the time-consuming task of loosing her small-of-the-back length hair from its braids until finally it was fully freed. Melody only laid back into the water and let the heat envelope her. Haanya delivered a platter of cut up meats, cheeses, fruits, and more to a little table to her Mistress's left; she put a large glass of thick red wine on the matching but oppositely place table. "Call the Kapiten, please, Haanya," she said as her head fell back and her eyes closed; the steaming water was already having the expected effect. The slave woman did as told, and Broon arrived shortly thereafter; he saluted with his head bob and fist to his armored chest, showing no reaction to clearly being able to see his Lady's dark, pert nipples just barely above the already dirty water. "That slave you put to work..." "Yes, m'lady," he confirmed recalling which man about whom she spoke. "He is gathering wood for your fire." "Bring him to me," she instructed. "I wish to talk to him." The Captain only stared for a moment. Only now -- and just for a brief moment before again looking up -- did he let his gaze fall conspicuously to her display of womanly perfection: "Now, m'lady? Would you like to finish your--" "Now, Captain," Melody insisted. "And ... I need you to do something else for me, too." She gave Broon his second instruction and the man departed. Melody slipped down beneath the water's surface, ran her hands through her hair as it floated in the water, then lifted her head above the surface and smoothed it back away from her face. A guard entered, followed by the Sedent barbarian and yet another guard. Melody had returned to her previous position; once again, the brown nubs decorating her firm, young round breasts were visible just above the gently moving water. A moment later, the Captain returned as well; he manhandled an uncooperative yet obviously frightened Sedent girl of perhaps 6 years of age off to one side of the tent. Melody looked to the two guards and said, "You may leave. But first ... unshackle my newest slave." They didn't move, but when their Mistress repeated her orders and threatened the removal of their left nuts if they didn't obey, they each hurried to get the shackles off the man before hurrying out of the tent. Melody gave the barbarian a slow, up and down survey, then said to him in a polite tone, "Take your clothes off. I want to see all that I will be selling at the slave market come Full Moon." He didn't seem to enthusiastic to do as Melody requested, so she glanced Broon's way. The Captain pulled his knife and held it tightly against the little girl's neek. Melody said with a soft, almost loving tone, "Please."</s>

<|message|>Kengetar When Kengetar was shoved into the big tent, still muddy and bloody, he was prepared for the worst. When he saw the young girl enter shortly after him, his sense of trepidation grew. But when the naked woman in the tent ordered his shackles to be removed, and his guards to leave, his fear turned to confusion. He looked at the woman, who was apparently some sort of leader to these reavers, and appraised her with his distant, gray gaze. The woman was enclosed about by what was, by his tribe's standards, decadent opulence. The large tent was carpeted and hung with tapestries. There were slaves to prepared to pour hot water into a private bath, within reach of which was rich food and drink. By all conventional wisdom the person who dwelt in such surroundings could only be soft and weak. But that's not what he saw. The woman languorously lying in the tub was muscled and scarred, and like Kengetar, her body was marked according to her peoples' customs. While her marks were different from the Sedents', they were similar enough that Kengetar could still read them. The marks around her forehead, nose, and lips stated that she was of a warrior caste, much like Kengetar. Kengetar's analysis was halted, when the woman impetuously ordered him to take his clothes off! His hackles raised at being ordered to do anything by someone who was not his elder. Immediately, Kengetar began calculating ways he might take his revenge. His first thought was to attack her and attempt to drown her in the tub, but he realized that even if he somehow succeeded, he would not be able to stop the remaining guard from slashing the neck of the girl, then slaying him in turn. So, he realized that he would have to play along for now. He turned to the young girl and ran his hand down over his eyes in a mimic gesture, while mothing the word "close." Once he was sure the girl had shut her eyes tight, he turned back to face this foreign woman and removed his clothes. Since the Sedents lived in the far South, where the climate was often warm, its people had no call to wear much clothing. Kengetar only had a loincloth and a pair of soft leather shoes, after his piecemeal armor had been taken from him while he was unconscious. After removing these bits, Kengetar looked straight ahead, with his arms by his sides. He would not show any vulnerability to this woman, even in his sorry state. He deliberately avoided looking at her perfect chest or her entrancing eyes so that his body would not betray him. His chest and arms were lined with the mementos of previous trials, whose scarflesh were ghostly white against his already pale skin. Where the scars were absent, his skin had remained smooth and unblemished.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar had been listening attentively. Most of the names were meaningless to him, except for Tella-Un. According to legend, Tella-Un was a sacred land where the Gods made their dwelling on the fiery mountaintop of Un, and was the center of the world. Though many of the names meant little, Kengetar understood the situation perfectly. In times past, a chieftain of his tribe had once insisted on taking multiple wives, and it had ended in much the same way. The feuds it had sparked were legendary, and grudges were held to this day over it. When Melody placed her hand atop his, he started at, but did not withdraw from the unexpected contact. He looked directly into her eyes, and held the contact. There was no madness or deceit there, only sincerity and... Deep in her eyes, like a distant star, shined a light that was not wholly sane. He liked it. Kengetar still did not understand why she could not challenge and duel Gwenneth herself, and the promises of treasure and exodus still seemed like a wild dream, but given he was her captive, it did not seem he had much choice. He turned his hand palm up and squeezed her hand. Her hand was warm, but calloused from hard riding and combat. As he slipped his hand away, their different roughnesses caught on each other, prolonging the contact. He rose to his feet, and still looking into her eyes, said, "Yes, I will do this for you." Kengetar said nothing more, for his word was his bond.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody hadn't expected Kengetar to actually clutch his hand, even if the moment had been short. Again, as she had when first she'd seen his impressive manhood dangling before him, Melody found her mind overwhelmed by lewd thoughts of things she could be doing with him other than eating, drinking, and telling stories. But their hands separated, and Melody forced the lustful thoughts out of her brain. "Yes, I will do this for you," She smiled slightly, responding only, "Good." Melody stood and moved to the tent's door flap, speaking to someone beyond it. She returned, and a moment later Broon entered. She told him, "Kapiten, please escort our guest to one of the Sedent tents." She looked to the officer, asking, "How many are erected?" Broon's face filled with an expression of confusion. "They are all erected, m'lady ... for your people." "I think we can spare one tent, can't we Kapiten?" Melody asked; of course, she really wasn't asking. Broon nodded. Melody turned to Kengetar again. She studied him a moment, during which she found herself thinking This is either the greatest idea I have ever had or the worse ... and if it's the latter ... I have not long to live. "You are free to return to your people, Kengetar," Melody said, adding with emphasis, "Without shackles." She looked to her Captain; he once again sported that confused expression. She ordered, "You will remove the bindings on the Sedent, Kapiten ... now." As expected, Broon didn't immediately react, but after a long moment, he dutifully nodded and saluted, saying before he turned and left, "Yes, m'lady." Melody looked to the barbarian again, turned sideways to him, and gestured a hand politely toward the tent's exit.</s>

<|message|>Kengetar Kengetar nodded and exited through the flap. Outside, there were still dying flutters of activity as camp preparations ceased. The village had been completely transformed. About the burned out husks of wooden dwellings, tents had sprung up like fungus around carcasses. Eventually Kengetar found the large tent where his people had been herded into. He recognized it for being the one with guards posted at each corner. It was high, long, and brown. Inside, his people were huddled together in darkness. As he entered, people looked up at him with gaping mouths, amazed to see him enter cleaned and dressed in finery. As Kengetar stepped his way through the crowd, looking for the chief, he saw that people were already organized in a circle in the center, having a hushed conversation in the Sedent dialect. Good, Kengetar thought. A Council's already started. This makes it simpler. He stepped into the circle and sat down as astonished onlookers cleared him a space. The chief, dignified in his many tattoos and immaculate topknot, carefully regarded Kengetar before speaking. "Kengetar," he said slowly. "We thought you had been killed. And when we were all unshackled and brought into this tent, well, we feared the worst. But you seem to have been at some venture. Tell us your tale, for everything learned may help us reach a decision." "I was not dead, merely wounded during the assault," said Kengetar, trying to control his emotions. Displaying emotion at a Council meeting was a faux pas. "When I awoke, I was put to labor on certain meaningless tasks until I could barely stand. After this was done, I learned that I had been selected by their leader, a woman, no older than me, and brought to her tent." As Kengetar spoke, a woman who had managed to smuggle a comb was straightening out his tangled hair. He took a breath before speaking again. "She told me that she needed me for her plot of revenge in some familial feud. I did not understand the specifics of it all. She promised me wealth and the freedom of the Sedent tribe in exchange for cooperation. I was bathed, fed and clothed, and sent here." The chief interrupted before Kengetar could launch into the next part of his speech. "But why can she not seek revenge herself? Why pick you, and why make these promises and give you such treatment?" he asked. "As to your first question, I can but guess. There may be something in the ways of Northerners that prohibits doing one's own work. As to your second..." Kengetar hung his head bashfully. "I believe she is, uh, smitten with me." There were chuckles and smirks at this statement, and an arm of someone on his right gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. Kengetar disliked being at the center of such sport, but he allowed the moment of levity to pass, and loosen the tension in such dark times. The chief, however, remained impassive. Kengetar took the lull in the conversation to launch into the next part of his speech. "Her plan requires us all to travel with her, and pose as slaves!" Immediately the jocular air in the tent soured, as the listeners scoffed in disgust. "I am not naive! I know that her promises of freedom seem unbelievable!" Kengetar pleaded. "But right now, playing along is the only way to prolong our lives! And thus far, she has at least made a show of keeping to her promise. We can use this time to regain our strength and prepare. I will stay close to her, and learn and gain what I can for you. If I learn that there is no hope for our release, I will signal by calling twice as the crying dove, and once as the sea hawk. Then the plan of escape will be in your hands." The chieftain said nothing for a while, frowning and stroking his chin. He did not like accepting any plan that he did not come up with himself, but he did not see any other option. "Very well," he said. "We shall put it to a vote. All who agree with Kengetar's plan, raise your hands." Around the tent, hands went up. The chief counted them; there were far more hands up than down. "And are there any voices who oppose this plan?" he asked. No hands went up, and no voices spoke out. No one had any better ideas. "Very well. We put our fates in your hands, Kengetar," he said. Kengetar relaxed. The Council disbanded. Others who were listening during the meeting, came up to him and asked questions, which he tried his best to answer. He also went around and gave away the articles of clothing he was given to those who needed it most. They could be used to warm the cold, or bind the wounded. At the end of it Kengetar was back down into nothing but a loincloth.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar nodded. His face was no longer in a perpetual scowl, and something of an imperceptible smile crept onto his lips. He began relaying her words to the chief. He assented that those with children would be kept in the single tent, and said he would allow healers into this one. Kengetar took a few people who were uninjured with him to the forest outskirts of the town. They all gave out the coded cry for safety, hoping that any survivors who had fled into the woods would hear it and return. They could do no more. Kengetar returned to the large tent. The healers had arrived, so he allowed one of them to clean the wound at the back of his head, and apply a salve to it. Finally feeling exhaustion from his wound and the day's events, he laid out on his side in the tent to rest. He wondered idly where that woman was going to be now, since she had donated her tent.</s> <|message|>Melody "I will sleep here, of course," Melody told her Captain when sometime later he asked her the same question Kengetar had been thinking. "I will be safe, Kapiten. They are just children." "How old were you when you took your first life, m'lady?" Broon asked, his tone respectful. She didn't answer. He said, "I'll post guards in the tent to ensure--" "You will not," Melody cut in. She smiled to her Captain: "I will be fine." Broon left with several end-of-day orders, and Melody made her way about her tent, reassuring the children and the women watching over them that all would be well. Some returned her kindness; others did not, their faces showing their fear, hatred, or both. Eventually, with torches extinguished and only candles lighting its interior, the tent fell into near silence as its occupants fell asleep. Melody had given up her own bed to several children orphaned by the morning's attack. She herself laid down in a corner with Haanya and one of the Healers; she rested her head on a pile of clothes and -- having distributed all of the bedding -- wrapped herself in her cloak, which was insufficient against the cold that would deepen through the night. Melody's last memory of the evening was hearing a soothing lullaby being sung by one of the Sedent females. Hours later, she awoke with a start to Haanya shaking her at the shoulder. In the low light, Melody eventually focused her eyes on the issue: a Sedent woman pointing a knife at her chest. The woman growled in her Tribe's dialect, and while she didn't understand all the words, Melody understood that she was being blamed for the death of the woman's mother in yesterday's attack. Melody slowly rose to a sitting position. "Please ... before you kill me ... will you let me give my cloak to one of the children?" Melody asked softly. "I do not want it to be soiled with my blood as they sleep in it ... for warmth." The knife wielding woman looked confused. Melody pulled the cloak from where she'd been using it as a blanket and handed it to a second Sedent. Melody continued, "My mother, too, was murdered. I want revenge on the woman responsible for my mother's death ... just as you want revenge on the woman responsible for your mother's death ... revenge on me." Melody was fully sitting up now; the blade's tip had made physical contact with the flesh of one of her breasts. "I will not stop you from getting your revenge ... here, now." Melody glanced toward Haanya, then the healer, directing, "No one will try to stop you, and no one will harm you for doing this. It is justice. Do you know this word...?" A Sedent woman who was watching the drama unfold translated, "drejtësia." "Yes, drejtësia," Melody repeated. "You may have your justice now, here. Or ... You can let me live long enough for me to get my own revenge first. And then ... you may kill me without any harm coming to you or your people." The knife-wielding woman glanced downward to find a slow rivulet of blood running from the point of the knife down the Yalla Lady's bosom. She pulled the knife back, and after a moment, she turned it, offering the hand end to Melody; the Yallan moved slowly to take control of the weapon, then handed it to the second Sedent, who hid it in her own bedding. Haanya pressed a cloth to the wound on her Lady's bosom as Melody herself was telling the Sedent, "You will have your justice, and no one will harm you for taking it ... if you will allow me to get mine, too. I promise." The former would-be-assassin broke down in tears and sobbed. Melody took her into her arms, and after a long moment they laid down together; the second Sedent covered them both with Melody's cloak, and after some time had passed, the tent returned to its calm as if nothing untoward had occurred. Somewhere in the near darkness, a southern lullaby was again being sung softly... Morning: Outside her tent, Melody found Kengetar and told him to pick those who would be feigning enslavement for our mission. She could see the confusion in his eyes and clarified: only those willing to volunteer to pretend to be captured would be going to the Capital, while the rest of the tribe would remain here. She explained that most of the captured stock animals -- the ones not killed, roasted, and eaten last night by the hungry Clan Yallans, obviously -- were being returned to the Tribe; she also tossed Kengetar a small purse of mostly silver, telling him with a solemn tone, "It cannot make up for what happened here yesterday, but ... nothing ever will. "I want to be moving within the hour," Melody told Broon. She looked to Kengetar, asking, "Are you ready?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar That Night: As Kengetar was drifting away to sleep, an arm grabbed his bicep and a voice hissed into his ear, "What is this? This isn't part of the plan. She has our women and children!" the chief whispered angrily. Kengetar moaned. "She's changing the game. But if she's put herself in a tent with all our children, she'll be dead by sunrise." It was only half a joke. "And besides, there's nothing we can do. Playing along for now is the only thing keeping us alive. We'll see what tomorrow brings and plan again." "For all our sakes, you'd better be right," the chief said, and slipped away. Kengetar drifted to sleep, but his dreams were haunted by a three-tailed snake with a woman's face. Morning: Kengetar was surprised to see Melody looking so well rested after a night with the children. He was even more surprised to hear that the whole tribe would not be travelling with her, it would only be him and a few other volunteers. He returned to the tribal tent and explained the situation and asked for volunteers. The chieftain gave Kengetar a nonplussed look, and Kengetar shrugged. In the end, only two males, younger than Kengetar, were willing to join, hoping that this would be the adventure that gained them their first tattoos. Kengetar and the two boys prepared quickly. Each of them was given a pair of shoes, a leather vest, and some food that had been spared from last night. Within an hour, they were ready. Kengetar and the two boys joined the caravan as it headed out.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody was surprised and, to be honest, a bit disappointed to learn that only 3 of the Sedents had volunteered to make the trek to the Capital with Clan Yalla. She had dismissed the idea of selling the attack's survivors into slavery, of course, but still she would have preferred to have a more realistic number of barbarians to present at the slave market. Scouts were sent north from the still smoking remnants of Kengetar's village to look for other tribal dangers, and an hour later, the caravan began to pull out; half of the mounted warriors led the procession; behind them were a half of the footbound warriors; then came the women, children, injured, and aged (some on foot, some on wagons or carts); and taking the rear were the rest of the warriors on foot. Melody had explained to Kengatar that, as was the custom for slaves on the way to market, he and his two volunteers would be on foot, surrounded by the first Company of warriors on foot. "You will have bindings on your wrists but not your feet, and those bindings will be loose ... to allow you to discard them if we come into danger. Kengetar, it is important to me that you appear to be a captive and yet know without doubt that you are not!" The last thing Melody did before she mounted her horse was have her servant, Haanya, sling a worn, dirty cape around Kengetar's shoulders and tie the leather thong under his chin. Melody explained, "I know you are accustomed to the weather of your own land and likely don't need this..." Then, stepping closer, Melody gestured to Broon for a Sedent dagger and slipped it into the bound waist band of Kengetar's loincloth. She suddenly felt her face blushing and turned her head in the hopes of preventing him from seeing it; Melody had had a sudden recollection of the barbarian's impressive manhood from the night before, and knowing that it was well within her easy reach should she decide to partake of it caused her no end of frustration and embarrassment. "The cape is to hide this," she explained, no longer facing Kengetar as she moved to her horse. She didn't look to him again until she thought she'd gain control of her complexion, telling him, "My Kapiten things arming you is a grave error. I am hoping otherwise." She was about to turn to get the procession moving when suddenly there was a great deal of excitement coming from the direction of the Sedents who were remaining behind. As she watched, a group of hurrying survivors with bags over their shoulders or in their arms hurried toward Melody; they included three women, one older but seemingly spry male, and a teenage boy and similarly aged girl. They were calling out in a combination of their own Dialect and Common, and Melody very quickly deduced that they intended to join and support Kengetar, who Melody was coming to understand had made quite an impression on the tribe with his heroic sacrifice. When the group got closer, Melody realized that one of the women was the one who'd drawn blood from her bosom with a knife earlier this morning. She make eye contact with the woman, smiled, and made a familiar gesture of welcome before asking, "Why have you chosen to accompany us?" The woman pulled the top flap of her backpack open just enough to reveal the blade that could very well have killed Melody the night before and explained in her broken Common, "No seek revenge if not with you." Melody's smile widened; the woman donned the pack and added before joining the other Sedents, "If seek revenge." Melody gave the woman a respectful nod, looked about herself for sign that they were ready to set out, and gave Broon a familiar look. The Captain called out loudly, "North!" And with that, the caravan was underway... Just short of noon: The procession followed a trail in a northeasterly direction throughout the morning; it might have been a road once upon a time, but in many places Mother Nature had done it damage with the runoff of rain, the growth of plant life, and the falling of trees. Often the procession had to be halted to clear the way or aid the carts over collapsed, uneven, or simply rough ground. At times, Melody had contemplated turning back to the road that had taken her to Kengetar's village; it was entirely suitable for the carts and much easier for those on foot. But that direction would have added another five or six days to the mission to the Capital. Just before high sun, though, the scouts backtracked to inform their Lady that a very recent, rain-driven landslide had obliterated the road entirely; there would be no going this way with the wheeled vehicles. Melody ordered camp struck for the night and scouts sent out to look for dangers. She told Broon to raise only four of the many tents: hers for herself and the Sedent women and children, a smaller one for the Sedent men, a similarly sized one for Broon himself and his Yallan Juniors, and -- because the sky was threatening to pour more rain upon them -- a fourth one, just a lean-to, for setting up a kitchen for the group as a whole.</s>

<|message|>Kengetar Kengetar left the two boys with the others of his tribe. He was glad that he wouldn't have to take care of them himself. However, two of the stragglers who came along was Elbara, and... her husband, Tomor. He hoped this wasn't going to make anything difficult. He was also annoyed by the sudden stop the caravan had made. There was still many hours of daylight left, but this small roadblock was able to stop them completely. Kengetar slipped off his wrist bindings, gave a notice to Tomor, the elder male, and walked off, determined to find some drier ground. He knew that this was potentially the territory of enemies, but Kengetar was well trained in stealth. Keeping himself low to the ground and stepping lightly, he was sure that he would be able to notice someone else well before they noticed him.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar was already on his way back. He had found a small trail that was relatively dry, and rejoined with the main footpath after not too much distance. True, it was too small for the carts, but with a day's work, the undergrowth on the sides of the trail could be cleared away and there would be enough space for the carts to role by. And it was also true that he had been forced to avoid a pair of Roki Tribe hunters, but he seriously doubted that the caravan as a united force would be under threat. Of course, with the threatening rain, it was only a guess if it would still be usable after today. This wouldn't even be an issue if we were using boats, thought Kengetar. Suddenly, he heard a scream that was quickly cut off, from a direction that was nearer to camp. Concerned, he crept towards the source of the sound. The source of the sound came into view in a clearing just off the trail. It was the two Roki hunters from before, and they were evidently pleased with their catch. In their arms they held their struggling captive, which Kengetar recognized as the young servant belonging to the caravan's leader. He didn't know what had possessed her to go out into the forest alone, but it was a stupid decision. No tribe in the South was as dangerous as the Sedents, but anyone found out alone in the wilderness was fair game. The girl would likely be sold to slavers traveling North, if she was lucky. Kengetar crept closer, unnoticed even as he drew close enough to the back of one hunter to touch him and drew his knife. Almost casually, he stepped into the clearing and slipped his knife between the ribs of the hunter. As the hunter fell, Kengetar threw back his cape, flashing his predatory grin and tribe-identifying tattoos. "Boo," he said quietly. The other hunter backed off and began to run, nearly dropping his bow, the girl and his fallen comrade forgotten. Kengetar didn't chase him. He doubted that his knife would be any match against his bow, but if he acted confident, the hunter might be convinced that there were other Sedents hidden nearby, and wouldn't stop running until he was halfway back to his tribe. He then turned his attention to the servant girl lying where she had been dropped by the hunters. Not seeing any obvious injuries on her, he picked her up and asked, "Why did you come out here alone? Don't you know it's dangerous?" "Melody sent me to find you," she lied, thinking fast. "She says you have to come back." "Who's Melody?" Kengetar queried. "My mistress," she said. "I'm Frandy, by the way. Thank you for rescuing me." She pressed her head and arms into Kengetar's muscular chest in a way that was a bit too sensual to be merely appreciative. Kengetar sighed. Evidently there was some trust that Melody had withheld from him. But the softness of Yallans was quickly becoming apparent, and aggravating. He picked up the fallen hunter's bow, quiver, and knife. No sense in letting them go to waste, after all. Frandy was going to be a problem, though. Her uncareful steps could easily lead more unwelcome guests to them, and that would be a death sentence. There was simply no helping it, unless... Frandy yelped as Kengetar roughly lifted her and slung her over his shoulders, and gripped her arms and legs like she was a slain deer. "Don't talk until we're back at camp," Kengetar said, and took off jogging down the trail. When Kengetar got back to camp and planted Frandy back on the ground, it was already beginning to drizzle. She stood looking embarrassed for a while, then said, "Mistress is in the women's tent, I have to cook the midday meal, thankyougoodbye," then ran off to the cooking tent. Kengetar shrugged, then went to the women's tent and impatiently rapped on the flap.</s> <|message|>Melody Earlier: Frandy got excited when she thought she caught sight of Kengetar moving through the shadows of the thick woods ahead of her. She called out softly at first, then louder: "Kengetar...? Kengatar! It is me ... Frandy ... come to be of service to you." By that, of course, the young and rather promiscuous slave girl meant sexual service. It meant nothing to her that she'd only met the man yesterday; it meant nothing to her that he was, by Yallan definition, a barbarian. Frandy simply wanted to pull her dress up and Kengetar's loin cloth off and find some escape from her dull life of service. That wasn't going to happen, though. She was suddenly screaming out in surprise, then fear, as she was grasped about her torso by powerful hands. In just seconds, the man she'd assumed was Kengetar emerged from the woods, and Frandy got her first look at a new sort of barbarian. The Roki were not the Sedent; Frandy knew that in an instance from their clothes, their tattoos, and their treatment of her. The Sedent -- even after the Yallans had destroyed their village and killed many of their people -- had not raised a hand against their attackers/captors, despite their reputation for being barbarous people. Frandy couldn't know whether or not the tales of them had been stretched; she couldn't know whether or not they were biding their time, waiting for the right time to attack, to kill all the Yallans, to eat them from the inside out like so many tales from the civilized world seem to portray them. But these barbarians, they frightened Frandy to no end. She screamed out in terror as one arm and hand grasped her painfully about her belly and the other arm and hand held her higher, with grasping fingers digging into her tit in a way no man had before this. She continued screaming out in terror, knowing that she was about to be raped, beaten, raped, killed, raped, and finally eaten. And then, suddenly, it was over: Kengetar was there. Frandy didn't see her barbarian kill the first Roki, and she was too deep in shock to really understand that the other ferocious animal had simply ran away in fear. Later, when she recalled of the moment, she thought she remembered Kengetar saying "Boo!" But ... no, that was ridiculous, right? Did he really frighten away a barbarian rapist with a word from a mother-infant peekaboo game? When she realized that it was over, Frandy set her eyes on her savior and tried to smile in joy, though, honestly, she wasn't entirely sure whether or not the expression had actually manifested. He asked her, "Why did you come out here alone? Don't you know it's dangerous?" Frandy didn't immediately recognize that she was being chastised for her dangerous silliness. She was about to confess that she'd come into the woods to find him ... to flirt with him ... to seduce him. Then, she realized that she was being dressed down for her ignorance of how dangerous these lands could be. She lied to him instead: "Melody sent me to find you. She says you have to come back." Frandy had no idea that after a full day of interactions, Kengetar would not have heard her Lady's name or even used it on occasion. But, when she'd recall this moment, Frandy would realize that the actual name Melody was only rarely is ever spoken. Melody was m'lady; that was what people of all natures called her. She explained who Melody was an introduced herself, and a moment later Kengetar was helping her to her feet. She smiled, once again near to the man who had previously been naked and oh-so-impressively-so the last time they were this close. A chill of sexual excitement ran up her spine, and she was in the process of considering what words to use to tell the barbarian that he could have her, here and now and repeatedly ... when suddenly she was over his shoulder and being carried out of the forest. "Don't talk until we're back at camp," Kengetar said as he headed down the trail. Frandy understood immediately that this wasn't part of some mating ritual; the barbarian was doing the least barbaric thing she could imagine, taking her home, untouched and still fully dressed. How disappointing; and what more, how embarrassing. Before she knew it, Frandy was on her feet again at the edge of the camp ... and after telling Kengetar where m'lady could be found, once again all alone. She watched the object of her sexual fantasies hurry off toward Melody's tent, where he rapped on the tarp covered wooden frame, waited, then entered. In her now-dark fantasies, she imagined her Mistress laying there on her soft, thick bedding in a practically see through silk gown, lifting it for the convenience of the barbarian who had already stripped off his loin cloth and was hurrying forward to find his joy. In reality, Melody was sitting with Broon, his Juniors, and Groya, the Elder who typically spoke for the non-military men and the women and children of the tribe in times of concern. The group had been near the end of their meeting as it happened, and after Melody dismissed them, she looked up to Kengetar and asked in a somewhat unenthusiastic, almost bothered tone, "What can I do for you?" Melody had many things on her mind and, of course, she hadn't asked for the Sedent's presence after all,</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar snorted. How was she going to act bothered when she had called him? "It's unwise to send your servants to leash me while I'm solving your problems," he said accusatorily. "She almost died, by the way. You're welcome for that, too."</s> <|message|>Melody Melody had no idea as to what Kengetar was speaking, of course, and she didn't particularly enjoy his tone. If he had been one of her people and had talked to her like that, she would have called Broon in to have the man strung up for lashing, castrating, or worse. Instead, she stood to face him, saying, "First ... I did not send for you ... leash or otherwise. Second, I appreciate that you saved the life of one of my servants, which ever one it was." Melody actually had an idea that Kengetar was speaking about Frandy. The girl was promiscuous and indiscriminate about who man she allowed inside her ... or even if it was a man who was involved in her search for sexual satisfaction. As she began a slow walk toward the barbarian, Melody called out, "Kapiten!" In a flash, the ever dutiful Broon was inside the tent, saluting and saying as usual, "Yes, m'lady." Melody didn't address him but instead simply moved up close to Kengatar and growled in barely above a whisper, "And third ... if you ever speak to me in that manner again ... I'll have your balls cut off ... stewed ... and fed to your people ... before I have them executed as well." She gave Kengetar a moment to respond, unsure whether that response would be words or the sinking of his dagger into her chest. Presuming he didn't kill her or simply excuse himself from her tent and from her duty, Melody would ask him to explain himself.</s>

<|message|>Kengetar Kengetar's blood was now running hot, and consequences were far from his mind. Moments like this were of his major faults, where the frustrations of days past would explode out at whoever he felt was the last to aggrieve him. "Nice bluff, but you won't," he shot back. "All this time you've been playing at the conquering warlord, but all you Yallans are soft." Without stopping for a breath, he shot into another insult. "There's no explanation for your victories but luck, since none of you have the skill or courage to do things by yourself. And we Sedents don't threaten a man's family when we have a grudge. We take them head on, because we're not afraid of a fight." Kengetar seethed, waiting for a response, whether it be a volley of angry words or a physical attack. He was doubly armed now, and felt confident.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody's heart was pounding by the time Kengetar finished. Was it anger or fear or a combination of both? At the same time, though, she was feeling a third emotion: regret. She looked to Broon, who by now had his second hand wrapped about the handle of his sword and the weapon pulled out of its sheath just enough to loose it from the tension that prevented it from falling out in the case of a fall or other disorienting situation. She asked and -- when the man didn't move -- repeated, "Kapiten, will you excuse us?" As the reluctant officer turned and unhurriedly departed -- moving only barely out of the tent and keeping a crack in the flap's opening to watch the happenings inside the tent -- Melody turned and paced about slowly a moment, considering her response. In a much softer voice than before, she said, "It was not a bluff, Kengetar. I am not playing at conquering warlord ... for two reasons. First, I have made no attempts to conquer anything in Sedent territory. "The incident yesterday ... it was tragic and regretful. If I had been with the party that initially rode to the camp to speak with your leaders, the massacre -- and yes, I admit, it was a massacre, a regretful massacre on the part of my people -- if I had been present, it would not have happened. "I made a mistake in not preventing my force from attacking you," she continued, her tone sincere. "I ... I reacted spontaneously; my people were attacked, so ... I returned the favor. I spoke with a Sedent woman today, a woman I believe you know ... Elbara. She says she was within earshot of the exchange between your people and mine. She says each side said some things that were ... inciting. She claims the fight was the fault of the Sedent, but ... I think she believed that was what I wanted to hear. I must admit this: I sent the wrong men to speak with your Chief ... and people died." She hesitated a moment, then addressed more of what Kengetar had said. "Yallans may not be Sedents, but they are soft. I have no way to prove this to you at the moment other than to put one of my warriors in the Fighting Circle opposite yours. I won't do that ... not here, not now." Her lips spread a bit before she added, "Maybe after the Capital." She began walking back toward the man again, addressing one last point that she felt had to be made. "You are my guest, Kengetar ... you and your people ... not hostages or slaves or prisoners of war. And I will treat you like guests, as opposed to the other possibilities." Now, close to him and looking up into his pale grey eyes, she said in a low but firm tone, "But I am the leader of Clan Yalla. My people look to me for guidance, support, and -- when the time calls for it -- courageous and unflinching leadership onto the battlefield. They will not follow me if they think I am weak ... and you, here tonight, chastising me with my Clan's most important officers and Elders within ear shot simply cannot happen again ... whether I am right or whether I am wrong makes no matter. If you cannot show me the respect in front of the others that those others show me..." She hesitated again, stepped back, and swept a hand toward the tent's exit, finishing, "...then I regretfully ask you to return to your people ... and to your village. I will seek my revenge on my own. I will die in doing so, of course. But in contrast to how you may think of me ... I'm not afraid of a fight."</s> <|message|>Kengetar "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar sucked in a breath. There was no turning back. "Then prove it." He clenched his fists, ready for the hit that was sure to come.</s> <|message|>Melody "You're not afraid of a fight?" Kengetar asked. Melody stared down the man for a moment, unsure of where he was taking this. "Then prove it," he added, clenching his fists. The Yallan smiled at the Sedent, then chuckled. "You must be joking." But it was obvious that Kengetar was dead serious. Still with her eyes on him, Melody tilted her head toward the tent flap, knowing that Broon was just outside and likely already crouched and ready to attack to protect his Lady. "You will not enter this tent under any circumstances, Kapiten. Is that understood?" The flap opened a bit more and the confused voice of Broon asked, "M'lady...? Are you sure? What are--" "Is that understood, Kapiten?" Melody repeated as she reached to her waist to unbuckle the belt that held her coin purse and, particularly, her dagger's sheath. She looked her Captain in the eye and stressed again, "Is that understood?" Broon was on the verge of disobeying Melody for the first time since he'd first been assigned to her in her late single digits ages. The little girl had wanted to peruse the stands in the marketplace of a town famous for kidnappings of girls of all Classes, and to prevent this, Broon had given her the same treatment Kengetar had given Frandy earlier. But after looking to the Sedent to see if he, too, was discarding his weapon as Melody had just done, he saluted his Lady and said before closing the flap, "I am your servant, m'lady. But, if he scars you, it will be my honor to do the same and more to him once this ... idiocy is concluded." Melody waved him away, looked to Kengetar, and raised her own clenched fists as she took a single step closer. Smiling wide, she asked with humor, "You're not afraid of getting your ass kicked by a girl are you ... barbarian?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar dropped his cape, bow, quiver, and knives to the floor, and stepped forward. "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he said, grinning. He raised his fists, and waited for the first blow. When none came, he threw a false jab at her face with his left arm to gauge her reaction. She dodged, but there was no follow-up. Emboldened, he threw another false jab to the face with his left, then used his right to throw an uppercut punch to her toned stomach.</s> <|message|>Melody As she watched Kengetar shed his gear, Melody suddenly realized that her heart was pounding. When was the last time she'd been in a Luftë me grushta ... a fist fight? And with a man, no less! "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he taunted her, raising his fists again. Melody loosened her body a bit, shifted her feet, inched just a tab bit forward as her head and upper torso tensed up. Kengetar threw the first punch, to which Melody nimbly avoided. She smiled wider, then chuckled; Melody knew that he hadn't been trying to hit her but had been gauging whether or not she actually knew what she was doing. He repeated the jab at her head with one hand, then swung the other upwards toward her belly. In a flash, Melody blocked the punch while simultaneously spinning almost all the way around; her other hand, still clenched in a fist, swung through the air as if it were a mace on the end of a chain, contacting the Sedent's jaw solidly but not with enough force to do much other than make him stagger ... and possibly mad? Melody regained her stance again, smiled, and laughed. She decided it was time for her to do some taunting: "Maybe I should go get Elbara to stand in for you ... barbarian. She looked to have a little bit of true warrior in her." Her confidence was building, though whether that was a good thing or not was questionable. She surge forward quickly with a goditje e mesme e lartë, a mid-high rounding kick that she'd learned in her martial arts training as a child. It didn't connect with Kengetar, though, missing his lower rib cage by just an inch. That wasn't the worst part though: she hadn't considered the carpeted floor beneath her feet, which was over unleveled ground, and the maneuver left Melody off balanced and leaning well into the man's reach.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar was sure that his blow would land, but somehow she had blocked it and hit him in the face with the same, fluid movement. He wasn't sure how she managed that, but when she mentioned Elbara, he suddenly saw red. "Don't you speak about her!" he yelled. He angrily threw his entire weight behind his next punch, aimed at her mouth. She tried to step back to avoid, but some irregularity in the floor slowed her, and Kengetar's wild lunge struck her. Now they were both off balance, and they fell to the floor together. Kengetar shot both arms out, one to break his fall, and the other to grab Melody.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody's head jerked back as Kengetar's fist glanced off her jaw and cheek. His momentum took him into her, and the both of them were soon hitting the floor. Kengetar tried to grasp Melody as they were slamming to the carpet covered dirt, but again her quickness prevailed; she rolled away from him and once again slashed the back of her hand at him, catching Kengetar square on his nose. The pain shooting through his face and head must have been disorienting, because Melody was able to pop back to her feet and assume a fighting stance while he was only just righting himself to look up at her. His nose was bleeding; she lifted a hand to her mouth to find it bleeding as well. "So, are we done yet?" Melody asked with a laugh that send red spittle out onto the carpet. She stepped closer and offered a hand, asking, "Or are we going to continue this until one of us actually gets hurt?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar stood up and looked at the foreign gesture. The rage had passed. He didn't even remember why they were fighting now. A bit sheepishly, he stretched out his hand to meet Melody's.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody took Kengetar's hand, gripping it tightly and smiling, pleased that he'd decided they'd had enough. She reached her other hand up to her lip, then held her bloody fingers out before her. "That hurt," she said playfully to the man who'd caused the injury. Speaking about someone drawing her blood, Melody said, "Not the first time ... probably not the last." She released Kengetar's hand and looked toward the tent flap. "Kapiten!" Broon, who had been waiting anxiously nearby, hurried in; he held his sword in his hand, ready to avenge what ever harm had been done to his Lady. But instead of finding her signaling such an act on his part, Melody casually gestured him to remain calm. "Gather your best ten men, Kapiten," she told him. "Equip them for a hike overland ... through the forest to the Bay Road." She was speaking of the road that connected the fishing villages of the Southernmost Bay to the Capital City. It wasn't a road traveled much by Yallans anymore. It was patrolled by barbarian tribes who had a tendency of kidnapping travelers, ransoming those who came from money, and selling into slavery those who didn't. She looked to Kengetar again. "We would have a better chance of surviving in these hostile woods if we were joined by those who knew them. And, of course, there is still the matter of the task you have agreed to complete ... and, of course, the payment I will make once you have completed it."</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar wiped his nose, and looked down at the red puddle that formed in his hand. He held his head back and pinched his nose with his finger and thumb. He felt the salty blood ooze down his throat. "It's not necessary to split our forces," he said, voice pitched into a nasal honk. "There is a path that leads back onto dry land. It could be widened with a day's work."</s> <|message|>Melody Melody considered Kengetar's plan a moment; she didn't like the idea of sending the children, women, and non-warrior males back the way they'd come with only a partial guard, so the Sedent made sense. "Fine, we'll do it your way," Melody responded; she tried to sound reluctant but failed to contain the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. To Broon, she said, "Put a third of your men on watch, a third on performing camp work ... hunting, fire wood, and such." "And the rest, m"Lady?" the Captain asked. She looked to Kengetar. She said with humor in her voice, not wanting the Sedent to think she actually thought of him as such anymore,"Put them under the barbarian's command. Kengetar, use then as you will: scouting, making tools, labor, whatever you need."</s>

<|message|>Kengetar Broon and Kengetar looked at each other, both equally shocked. Kengetar had never expected to be given command of anything. Giving a shrug, he left the tent and took up his command. After adding his Sedent volunteers to his Yallan force, he led them to the trail he had found. Each of them was armed with an axe or some sort of cutting tool, and set to hacking. They were making good progress, but once the rain began to pick up, the Yallans lagged. Southern tribesmen were inured to the sudden rains of the region, but Kengetar realized that the lowered visibility was a problem. The Roki hunter might return with allies, and he wanted to see them coming. So Kengetar called the work off for the day, and hoped that the trail would still be passable after the rain ended. Fortunately, the trail was still there after the cleansing rain, and work resumed without incident. By the afternoon, the trail had been cleared wide enough for the caravan to pass through.</s>

<|description|>Kengetar Bravo of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians Age: 20 Physical Description: * 5'9", 150# * Physically fit, strong. * Inverted triangle body type. Lean and healthy. * Aloof, pale gray eyes. * Dark hair, kept uncut and unstyled. * Various scars. Personality: * Independent, impulsive, haughty. * Cunning, but completely uneducated. * Very emotional, with bad coping skills. When feeling an extreme emotion, he will bottle it up until he unleashes it in a single outburst. * Disdainful of those not of his tribe. It was his tribe's custom not to respect any outsider's property, person or laws that they could not enforce. History: Kengetar is a young man of the Sedent Tribe Barbarians, who have gone countless generations unconcerned with the rise and fall of the Yalla Republic or any other nation thanks to there remote Southern location. The Sedents are a brutal tribe, and xenophobic to boot. Adulthood in the Sedent Tribe is achieved by ritual tests of pain endurance and participating in raids upon their neighbors. The Sedents are protected from reprisals by their fierce fighting ability as well as their fearsome reputation. Kengetar remains in an awkward stage in life, as he is now considered an adult, but has not yet married or settled into a profession. This is in part because he has not yet performed a deed noteworthy enough for honor, but also because his unfettered emotions have cause elders in his tribe to consider him too impatient for a trade, and too dangerous to be let alone with their daughters.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar dropped his cape, bow, quiver, and knives to the floor, and stepped forward. "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he said, grinning. He raised his fists, and waited for the first blow. When none came, he threw a false jab at her face with his left arm to gauge her reaction. She dodged, but there was no follow-up. Emboldened, he threw another false jab to the face with his left, then used his right to throw an uppercut punch to her toned stomach.</s> <|message|>Melody As she watched Kengetar shed his gear, Melody suddenly realized that her heart was pounding. When was the last time she'd been in a Luftë me grushta ... a fist fight? And with a man, no less! "You're going to wish you had your bodyguard," he taunted her, raising his fists again. Melody loosened her body a bit, shifted her feet, inched just a tab bit forward as her head and upper torso tensed up. Kengetar threw the first punch, to which Melody nimbly avoided. She smiled wider, then chuckled; Melody knew that he hadn't been trying to hit her but had been gauging whether or not she actually knew what she was doing. He repeated the jab at her head with one hand, then swung the other upwards toward her belly. In a flash, Melody blocked the punch while simultaneously spinning almost all the way around; her other hand, still clenched in a fist, swung through the air as if it were a mace on the end of a chain, contacting the Sedent's jaw solidly but not with enough force to do much other than make him stagger ... and possibly mad? Melody regained her stance again, smiled, and laughed. She decided it was time for her to do some taunting: "Maybe I should go get Elbara to stand in for you ... barbarian. She looked to have a little bit of true warrior in her." Her confidence was building, though whether that was a good thing or not was questionable. She surge forward quickly with a goditje e mesme e lartë, a mid-high rounding kick that she'd learned in her martial arts training as a child. It didn't connect with Kengetar, though, missing his lower rib cage by just an inch. That wasn't the worst part though: she hadn't considered the carpeted floor beneath her feet, which was over unleveled ground, and the maneuver left Melody off balanced and leaning well into the man's reach.</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar was sure that his blow would land, but somehow she had blocked it and hit him in the face with the same, fluid movement. He wasn't sure how she managed that, but when she mentioned Elbara, he suddenly saw red. "Don't you speak about her!" he yelled. He angrily threw his entire weight behind his next punch, aimed at her mouth. She tried to step back to avoid, but some irregularity in the floor slowed her, and Kengetar's wild lunge struck her. Now they were both off balance, and they fell to the floor together. Kengetar shot both arms out, one to break his fall, and the other to grab Melody.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody's head jerked back as Kengetar's fist glanced off her jaw and cheek. His momentum took him into her, and the both of them were soon hitting the floor. Kengetar tried to grasp Melody as they were slamming to the carpet covered dirt, but again her quickness prevailed; she rolled away from him and once again slashed the back of her hand at him, catching Kengetar square on his nose. The pain shooting through his face and head must have been disorienting, because Melody was able to pop back to her feet and assume a fighting stance while he was only just righting himself to look up at her. His nose was bleeding; she lifted a hand to her mouth to find it bleeding as well. "So, are we done yet?" Melody asked with a laugh that send red spittle out onto the carpet. She stepped closer and offered a hand, asking, "Or are we going to continue this until one of us actually gets hurt?"</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar stood up and looked at the foreign gesture. The rage had passed. He didn't even remember why they were fighting now. A bit sheepishly, he stretched out his hand to meet Melody's.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody took Kengetar's hand, gripping it tightly and smiling, pleased that he'd decided they'd had enough. She reached her other hand up to her lip, then held her bloody fingers out before her. "That hurt," she said playfully to the man who'd caused the injury. Speaking about someone drawing her blood, Melody said, "Not the first time ... probably not the last." She released Kengetar's hand and looked toward the tent flap. "Kapiten!" Broon, who had been waiting anxiously nearby, hurried in; he held his sword in his hand, ready to avenge what ever harm had been done to his Lady. But instead of finding her signaling such an act on his part, Melody casually gestured him to remain calm. "Gather your best ten men, Kapiten," she told him. "Equip them for a hike overland ... through the forest to the Bay Road." She was speaking of the road that connected the fishing villages of the Southernmost Bay to the Capital City. It wasn't a road traveled much by Yallans anymore. It was patrolled by barbarian tribes who had a tendency of kidnapping travelers, ransoming those who came from money, and selling into slavery those who didn't. She looked to Kengetar again. "We would have a better chance of surviving in these hostile woods if we were joined by those who knew them. And, of course, there is still the matter of the task you have agreed to complete ... and, of course, the payment I will make once you have completed it."</s> <|message|>Kengetar Kengetar wiped his nose, and looked down at the red puddle that formed in his hand. He held his head back and pinched his nose with his finger and thumb. He felt the salty blood ooze down his throat. "It's not necessary to split our forces," he said, voice pitched into a nasal honk. "There is a path that leads back onto dry land. It could be widened with a day's work."</s> <|message|>Melody Melody considered Kengetar's plan a moment; she didn't like the idea of sending the children, women, and non-warrior males back the way they'd come with only a partial guard, so the Sedent made sense. "Fine, we'll do it your way," Melody responded; she tried to sound reluctant but failed to contain the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. To Broon, she said, "Put a third of your men on watch, a third on performing camp work ... hunting, fire wood, and such." "And the rest, m"Lady?" the Captain asked. She looked to Kengetar. She said with humor in her voice, not wanting the Sedent to think she actually thought of him as such anymore,"Put them under the barbarian's command. Kengetar, use then as you will: scouting, making tools, labor, whatever you need."</s> <|message|>Kengetar Broon and Kengetar looked at each other, both equally shocked. Kengetar had never expected to be given command of anything. Giving a shrug, he left the tent and took up his command. After adding his Sedent volunteers to his Yallan force, he led them to the trail he had found. Each of them was armed with an axe or some sort of cutting tool, and set to hacking. They were making good progress, but once the rain began to pick up, the Yallans lagged. Southern tribesmen were inured to the sudden rains of the region, but Kengetar realized that the lowered visibility was a problem. The Roki hunter might return with allies, and he wanted to see them coming. So Kengetar called the work off for the day, and hoped that the trail would still be passable after the rain ended. Fortunately, the trail was still there after the cleansing rain, and work resumed without incident. By the afternoon, the trail had been cleared wide enough for the caravan to pass through.</s> <|message|>Melody Melody had instructed the elder of her two Lady's Maids, Haanya, to send Kengetar down to the lake's edge when he and his men finished their work on the trail; she had had some of her things taken to the bank to make her comfortable for a bath and evening of relaxation away from the camp. She'd expected the work to extend all the way to sunset, though, possibly even lasting until tomorrow or even the day after that. She'd had no idea that Kengetar's workers would clear the trail so unbelievably soon and break for the day. Because of this, when Haanya led the Sedent down the slope trail to the lake -- not realizing the mistake she was making -- Melody, Frandy, Elbara, and a dozen other women of either Yallan or Sedent origin were still bathing in the lake; they were all naked and in depths that exposed little of their bodies, all of them, or some measure in between; and more than just bathing, they were singing and laughing and playing and splashing and generally having a good time, with little evidence of the differences and recent history between the women of the two enemy Tribes. Melody had, of course, expected that the women would be finished with their bathing, dressed, and either back to their duties if they had any or relaxing on the blankets spread on the grassy shore, drinking wine and eating a variety of foods already on the blankets. That, of course, wasn't how things turned out. Haanya had only directed Kengetar to the path, as opposed to leading him there as instructed; her old slave feet and back hurt, and she hadn't wanted to descend the slope, let alone ascend it afterward. Thus, when Kengetar took the last little bend in the trail and the forest parted to reveal the lake, it revealed far more to him than had been intended. Not by any reason at all, Melody was the first to see Kengetar step out on the rise over the little bulge in the lake in which the fun was being had. She stared up at him for a long moment without any effort to hide herself from him; the Sedent had already seen her curvy, tattooed, and scarred body in the full, so it wasn't like he was seeing anything new about her. She did, however, begin a slow walk through the knee-high water to retrieve her robe and slip it around her, for appearances sake. Suddenly, one of the other naked women shrieked, then pointed at the barbarian. The reaction by the others was varied: some ran for their own clothing, some dropped downward into the water, hiding their womanly curves; others used their hands and arms to hide their breasts and groins as best they could; and still others simply stood there in the water, either staring at the handsome, fit warrior as if in invitation to him to take in all he could or continuing to splash water on their bodies to rinse away the suds from the expensive soap that Melody had offered one and all. From the shore upon which she'd arrived, Melody couldn't help but notice that Elbara did nothing to hide herself from Kengetar. The Yallan Lady had come to the conclusion that there was some sort of history between the two Sedents. She contemplated asking Elbara for clarification of the glances the two often shared, but so far she hadn't done so. When Kengetar looked her way, Melody gestured him to join her on the dozen or so pillows laid out upon a blanket that also featured food and drink.</s>

<|message|>Kengetar As Kengetar walked down towards the shore he grinned, as much at the glorious display of flesh as the terror he was able to evoke in prudish Northerners just with his presence. His smile continued to widen as Melody sauntered over to a blanket loaded with pillows and gestured for him to join her. He found that the fight had created a strange tension between them. The wrestling of their bodies... Then his glance fell across her shoulder and noticed Elbara standing in the lake, watching him. His smile faded. Ah, so this was going to get complicated, he thought to himself. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since she had gotten married. Why would she follow him now? He tried to turn his gaze away from Elbara, but didn't quite succeed; she hovered in the corner of his vision. He walked over to the cushions were Melody was waiting and sat down, waiting for her to speak.</s>

<|description|>Cyrus "Power is what I need to create my new world." --- Nicknames/Titles: Galactic Boss Age: 27 Gender: Male Affiliation: Villain Personality: Cold and calculating, he only shows interest in a character if interests align. He is focused on the creation of a world without strife created by his own view on how such a world could exist. One of his goals to achieve it is to remove human spirit and will power. Since he believes that life is meaningless, he will not hesitate to bring down anyone in pursuit of his goal. Not quick to anger he will being to think of a new plan should his ever be foiled. Biography: Born in Sunnyshore City, Cyrus had a decent upbringing. Despite that, he could never win the approval of his parents. As a result he had grown distant to other people, preferring to work on machines and study. At some point as he was growing up, he realized that the emotions that humanity feels is what was the source of strife in the world. If it were no feelings of greed, jealousy, or even that of joy, humanity would not war among themselves, Pokemon, and the environment. Once Cyrus was old enough to start his own enterprises, he founded Team Galactic, a publicly accessible yet sinister company. In actuality, Cyrus used the company to begin working towards creating a new universe in which he could control and limit the ability of human spirit. He would rid conflict from the entirety of existence. Since he had abandoned his raw emotions already, he felt himself the one to rule over this new perfect universe. In order to build his new ideal, he had to destroy the current universe so he would work from the ground up. He had nearly succeeded. He had captured the Pokemon of the lakes, Mesprit, Azelf, and Uxie. He had used their essence to forge the red chain. His admins and grunts had gathered the necessary energy from across the region. With them following close behind, he made his way to the Spear Pillar atop Mt. Coronet. Using the red chain he summoned powerful Pokemon, Dialga and Palkia. With their power, he would destroy the very space and the rewind the time that kept the universe flowing. Did he succeed? Powers/Skills: - Historian: Cyrus is well versed in the lore for the creation of Sinnoh and as a result, creation through Pokemon in general. - Scientist: He is also capable of working with technology and science/pseudoscience. He is able to operate, and manipulate heavy machinery including super computers, laser devices, and genetic stasis equipment. Some of the sciences include the gathering, transferring, and containment of energy from Pokemon evolution and the transfer of energy remotely. - Team of Pokemon: Cyrus has a team of six Pokemon on hand. Tools to help achieve his goals as well as the means in which he hopes to destroy the universe and create a new one as its deity. • Honchkrow • Crobat • Weavile • Houndoom • Dialga • Palkia Other: I am of the belief that one could have the equivalent of any popular superpower if you could control space/time a la Hiro Nakamura. "I had a reason to take what others didn't deserve. It was natural selection." ---</s> <|message|>Horus Lupercal Horus was home. Horus was on the battlefield. Ten different voices were shouting over the vox, each demanding his attention in a different Imperial or Cthonian dialect. Various tactical datastreams filtered over his visual display, giving readouts of troop movements, atmospheric conditions, ammunition and energy reserves, and other useful minutiae. Soldiers hurried about him, rushing past his massive, armored bulk and cordon of Justaerin honor guard. Laser fire and munitions choked the skies overhead, and the ground seemed trapped in an endless earthquake as artillery mercilessly pounded the earth. Horus ignored all of it. It wasn't relevant. He had his eyes locked on a different target. A horrifying xenos beast surged toward him, its multiple tendrils grabbing and throwing Astartes warriors like they were children. Their foes, in their desperation, had unleashed a warbeast against their superior foes, and now this monster and many more like it were wreaking havoc in friendly and enemy ranks alike. Horus was reminded of the ancient histories he learned from his father, particularly stories of tusked war-oxen yoked into battle by the warrior-kings of Ind. Horus surged forward, a mountain of adamantium and ceramite in motion. His Justaerin did their best to keep pace, but he led the pack. Enemy soldiers, fleeing the chaos that had been unleashed onto the battlefield, fled blindly into their midst. A single stroke from Worldbreaker was enough to swat them all aside, like so much chaff. Horus pressed onward, and the alien monster entered his bolter's range. He unleashed a hail of bolts from his gauntlet-mounted cannon, which detonated futilely against the beast's grotesque hide. It wrenched itself about to find the source of the disturbance, and Horus saw his own reflection in the monster's rows of beady, black eyes. It roared at him. Good, he had its attention. It charged him, muscular tendrils flailing wildly as the Justaerin unloaded their combi-bolters into it, to no effect. Horus gripped Worldbreaker's haft with both hands, and as he grew near enough to look down the beast's gullet, he swung. Before he felt the impact of the weapon up his arms, and the satisfying rain of the monster's exploded skull against his armor, light overtook him. A shot of confusion and panic ran through him at the surprise; his mind raced with possible reasons for his sudden loss of sensation. Psychic attack? Neural weaponry? Could he, a gene-perfected Primarch be suddenly suffering from a stroke or aneurysm? Before he could weigh the options further, his vision returned, and he found himself following through with his earlier strike. He would have stumbled from the unexpected movement, had the mass of his terminator armor not kept him stable. Horus looked to his surroundings. He was no longer on the battlefield. Rather, this seemed to be a grassy plain as far as the eye could behold, and he was not alone. There were others here; one was introducing himself, Driscoll he called himself. While Horus did not recognize any of them, he understood them, so they were most likely human. Most of them seemed to be, anyway... more or less... Horus examined them carefully, not taking any motion toward them, searching for signs of aggression. He saw confusion, fear, anger, but no overtly aggressive overtures. Fine. He had a moment to collect himself, then. Horus returned to the readouts he was ignoring earlier. Many were now missing, as his cogitator link to the Vengeful Spirit seemed to have been severed. He manipulated his optical display with his neural link, searching for his ship's data-signal, but he found himself alone. He reflexively nearly called for his Master of Signal, but caught himself before he made himself look more foolish. It seemed that he was alone... wherever this was. While he could not sense any psychic interference, it was nearly impossible to be sure. There was no way that he could have been teleported this range; nothing like this idyllic scene existed anywhere on the world he had been in the midst of conquering. More than anything he felt confused and bewildered, and recognition of those feelings angered him. The situation was wildly out of his control, and this fact humiliated him. He was the Warmaster of the Imperium, the highest-ranking soldier in an empire of trillions. This sort of thing should not have happened to him. He doubted that the oppositional forces he had just been facing were behind this. They were fundamentally incapable, with limited access to standard technological templates, and lacked the resources to detect and train psykers among their population. If he was to gain a better grasp of his situation, these people seemed like the next anomaly worth investigating. Horus strode forward to join the coalescing group. His movement was slow and purposeful, each footstep causing the earth to shake slightly under his tread, his weight gouging out the ground and trampling the grass underfoot. His armor's reactor hummed, and each movement came with the soft whine of servo-motors. Once he was close enough to speak, he set Worldbreaker down on the mace's head, leaving it standing upright in the grass in front of him. His unclawed hand free, Horus pulled loose his golden-masked helmet, its burning red eyes staring at the others present. Free of the helmet, Horus looked at the others with his own grey eyes. Behind the mask was a regal countenance, beard and head both shaved clean. He tucked his helmet into the crook of his arm, and wiped the sweat and grime of war away with the back of his gauntlet. He smiled at the others, despite his trepidation, and did his best to appear nonthreatening, as futile a task as that might have been. Still, he projected a preternatural aura of calmness and control, his facade flawless. "Hail, I greet you in peace, Ave Imperator." He spoke in a giant's voice: dark, rumbling, impossibly deep. "I am known as Horus Lupercal, Warmaster of the Imperium of Mankind. I possess no foes powerful enough to abduct me unwillingly; have I been caught in some snare set by an adversary of yours?" He gestured to the others, hoping that they would offer answers.</s> <|message|>Gabriel Agreste Location: Simulated Universe 1 - Open Field --- It seemed the large knight was indeed someone to keep an eye on in some capacity, since he was the first of the group to speak, and directly to Gabriel no less. He folded his arm behind his back, keeping his fist clenched. There wasn't any need to let the Akuma go to waste, especially since Gabriel hadn't sensed anyone besides this group in the surrounding area. "I appreciate your openness, Sir Driscoll, but I hope you can understand why I'm not so quick as to trust you. Any of us gathered here could be behind out mutual abduction after all. Although, I'm not so paranoid that I wouldn't introduce myself. You may call me Shadow Moth." He stamped the ground with his cane as if making a point. Another large man in armor, much more ostentatious than the Forever Knight's, addressed the group. Shadow Moth looked up to the sky, searching for something that just wasn't there. "I'm sorry to say that this isn't the doing of anything I'm aware of. I can't reach any akumas, and there wasn't anything in the tome that could achieve this. Unless this is the Fox Miraculous, but that's..." Shadow Moth muttered and trailed off during that last part, lost in his own thoughts. "No, no, this level of illusion would be too much for the brats she employs..." He seemed to catch himself, looking back up to the group. "Regardless of the why, it seems as if we're all in the middle of nowhere, wherever we are. It might be best for us to search for civilization, a shelter, any others that are out here. The culprit may be among them."</s>

<|message|>Cyrus Location: Unknown Open Field --- Cyrus remained silent initially. While he was not one to shy away from making himself known, there was much confusion among those who had arrived. One large man with red hair even shouted a bit of frustration in being displaced to this seemingly endless plane of grass. He observed as each new entity was fully exposed from the light. No doubt each would have one reaction or another. Each new entity was further evidence that not only was this not the universe he intended to create, but it was none of theirs either. The demonic dog, Houndoom, just forward of him remained ready to attack at a moments notice, only snarling when others started conversing. Cyrus had never heard of the Forever Knights. They might have been part of another region, but Cyrus didn't spend much more thought on it. He held out his hand, the fiery beast calming, the air around him cooling significantly. It brought its legs together and shook its body to help loosen the once tense muscles. This respite was short lived as it took a defensive stance as heavy steps shook the ground. Another suit of armor had walked by and stood before the group of different individuals. The man's suit was unlike that of the supposed Forever King, Driscoll. It was more ornate and bulky. It was something that no human would have been able to move on their own. He was an imposing figure, but his speech was calm and almost reassuring. With how he presented himself, it didn't seem likely for this man to have any enemies capable of doing anything significant to him. Houndoom calmed once again as Cyrus took a couple steps forward. The one who first spoke up called himself Shadow Moth. An odd name to be sure but ultimately not important. Cyrus held his arms together behind his back, feet firmly pressed into the grass below. "You may call me Cyrus. I am the leader of Team Galactic. Much like yourself, Sir Driscoll, there is no meaning in that name I am sure." Cyrus gestured towards Driscoll with his right arm, looking him directly in the eye, "By means you would not comprehend, I sought the existence of a new world. This is not that world. I can assure you I have had no part. I am unsure of what this place is. Be that as it may, Shadow Moth's suggestion is not an unreasonable one." Cyrus lowered his arm to his side. A small breeze brushed by rippling the grass in long sweeping waves. It really was empty plane for miles around. Perfectly flat, it seemed artificial. Yet the smell of the grass, the touch of the wind, and the texture of the dirt below felt real. If it were not for the others in the same position as he, Cyrus would have considered this the first step in the creation of his new world. Unfortunately, this was not. Given how imposing some of the others were presented, now was not the time to begin again. But assuredly, Cyrus was going to begin again.</s>

<|description|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle The Moonkissed Princeling | | | | _______________________________________________ P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S Age - 15 Gender - Male Heritage - Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II Magical Affinity - Water - P E R S O N A L I T Y Air-Headed Spoken of charitably, Rossweine lives without a care for material goods, seeing beyond the trappings of greed and pride to get at what truly matters in life. That, however, is perhaps simply the hallmark of a noble, one who from birth was entitled to wealth and material security, for whom no amount of money could sway if only because such wealth would improve little in their life. He floats about in a more transient, fleeting world, taking everything at his own pace with no real inclination towards any particular goal. There is feeling, of course, passions that may shake his heart or draw him towards one experience or another, but emotions are less substantial than desires, and for all his beauty, he fades into the background during social occasions, finding himself more at peace in seclusion or in nature. Unfettered by responsibility, guided only by glimmers of moonlight and the sounds of the fairies' footsteps, Rossweine is a heartless being, distant from the world his flesh inhabits. Well-Mannered But certainly, like any noble, Rossweine is a master of manners, using courtesies and niceties to soften and repaint whatever actions his air-headed nature inspires. He stands all, his expressions and gestures as elegant and eloquent as one would expect out of those bearing royal blood. If need be, his eyes could even shine with a confident, stately light, the sort of brilliance that others could point at and use as evidence that there is a natural difference between those born in the rough and those born on high. Like all customs of high society, however, it is a mask, a blade, a shield, hammered into the psyche of those who may bear rings or crowns with more fervor than the arts of the martial path, the instruction of the arcane craft. An aristocrat without a noble bearing is nothing more than a foot soldier, after all. For nobility itself is artifice, built through wealth and delusion, history and mythology. Thick-Skinned Guided only by gossamer whimsy and cast within a noble mold, it stands that he cares little for what reputation he carries, what mockeries and infamy are leveled against him. One can exist only in their own mind, after all, filtered through perceptions that wax and wane depending on the humors. How meaningless, then, is it to cling to beliefs of normalcy, to speak of traditions and inheritance as if they were certain things, when even the immutable will of the great heroes have been twisted with time? Just as how weightlessly he treats his own words, Rossweine sees the words of others as just as weightless, nothing more than snowflakes melting away in a span of a second. If a smile and an apology could reduce aggressions, then let it be so. If some coin is enough to buy his peace, then let it be so. And if nothing more than blood could solve a conflict, then he will flee rather than fight. Perhaps that too, is the countenance of a noble. Indeed, all have their own sense of what's normal, a sense that they apply to the world around them. For Rossweine, that normalcy is one where all emotions fade when expended, where long-lasting grudges are merely the stuff of legends. So what does he care for the anger, the envy, the violence of others? It will all fade in time, melting into apatheia. S K I L L S E T Painting The gift that the Moon granted Rossweine was that of art, of distorting the world that all saw with paint and brush, pencil and easel. It is his one obsession, the one thing that his mother could feel proud about. Upon the canvas, he hollows himself out, for that sliver of a chance that another could feel a sliver of what he felt. But he is first and foremost a Prince of the Grayle lineage, and he is secondly a knight, tasked with sharpening his steel in order to serve as the kingdom's shield. His gift then, lies only in a distant third, and his crafts remain in his private study, covered in cloth. Deflecting How can one without passion strike down another? How can one accustomed to retreat and concession protect others? Rossweine's shield is as fragile as stained glass. Rossweine's sword is as light as a feather. He will not win with a singular strike like a hero of yore, nor will he face his enemies shield-first like a guardian of the people. Rather, in absence of any true commitment to victory or loss, offense or defense, he simply parries. Meeting strikes on slants, guiding blades off their path, measuring distances and maintaining space with steps as gentle as fairies upon dew-touched fields. A defensive style focused on footwork, one that turns a fight into a dance until the aggressor...what? Runs out of strength and gives up? Trips and impales themselves on their own sword? Gets stabbed from behind by one of Rossweine's allies? The noble prince is skillful indeed. He will deflect even the burden of violence from his shoulders. But for some reason, such a method of fighting makes Rossweine appear as if he's effortlessly toying with his opponent instead, and now everyone expects that's he's a plain and simple Swordmaster, rather than someone escaping responsibility. Blessing Pray that it does not come to it. | Physical Description What could be said other than how Rossweine Lupus Grayle, Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II, is without question a youth who looks like a prince? Standing tall at 5'10, with perhaps room to grow even taller, he casts an elegant, slender silhouette, the very picture of a hero-knight. His eyes are possessed by a gentle, turquoise sheen, akin to a forest spring, while his hair, an ashy brown, comes down in soft, silky tufts that beg to be caressed. A perpetual state of peacefulness has kept his skin and mien unmarred, and his face strikes that balance of androgynous handsomeness achievable only by an adolescent. A well-defined jawline and a slim nose. Soft cheeks and long eyelashes. Hands warm and firm, but slender and well-manicured. Even dressed in simple clothing that befits his disposition more than his station, he looks like a portrait, even what few, subjective flaws upon his person only serving to further accentuate such beauty. In his wake, there is no doubt that he's left a trail of broken hearts, even at his tender age. But that's simply par for course if one was a royal prince, the object of fantasy and gossip. Character Conceptualization They say that he was born on a blue moon, when the clock struck midnight. They say that he was a stubborn birth, clawing and rioting to stay within his mother's womb. They say that he was born fragile, lighter than his brothers and sisters, lungs heaving with only a miserly whimper once exposed to the outside world. And over the years, they've continued to say many things of the Moonkissed Princeling, birthed by the union of Lady Terrenza Welrimelle and King Albus II, yet possessing neither the Lady's acumen nor the King's power. He must have been a child birthed only when the bounty of the fair Lady's womb had dried up, a child of middling intelligence and meager magical talent, an unfanged cub to the wolves who were his older siblings. The firstborn son, the valorous Manegold of the Eclipsing Strike, is the Knight-Commander of the Western House. The secondborn daughter, the honorable Sieglinde, stands as one of the few advisors of the Grand Duke. The thirdborn daughter, the perceptive Walpurga of the Deep Sea, will succeed in the role of Royal Librarian of the Arcane Path once the current one's tenure is up. All this was obtained through talent and the expenditure of political capital and wealth. All this is simply to be expected if the third wife of His Righteousness is to expect House Welrimelle, mere Earls, to be grafted into the Grayle family as rulers. And all this left Rossweine as…what? A second son, a prince with no great talents in warfare or leadership. He was only as beautiful as what ought to be expected of royalty, there was not much left in the family coffers to expend upon a fourth child, especially one without great prospects. So what did that make of his childhood? One full of love, one bereft of great expectations. One that he did not appear to mind. Time passed. The child grew up in body, yet did not change in mind. His mother worried as mothers would. His father hardly registered his existence, as any king would. The blood of heroes did not give rise to anything spectacular, and still, his magic only aligned with a single, pitiful element. Perhaps this was what allowed his delinquency to go unpunished? Or perhaps the battle for the crown was simply so consuming that his elder siblings and his dearest mother wanted for him something different? Or perhaps it was the fate ascribed to him by the Wise God, He Who Dwells Within the Lunar Sea? If a Prince had no place in the world, let him be a Knight, so that he may at least stand guard in a solitary keep, overlooking a seldom-touched plains. So Prince Rossweine Lupus Grayle joined the many prospective candidates who sought to earn the glory of becoming a Royal Knight. And for all his listless apathy, the results of his first duel had some…undesirable consequences. "The Knight King's blood must truly run in his veins! Look at how he forced his foe to kneel without once striking back!" Other Information He fights in the equipment of a standard knight, with a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other. He smells of spring and snowmelt, and does not sweat easy. Prefers quick, cold ablutions over warm baths. He is soft-spoken and restrained, with a preference towards ambiguous, noncommittal phrasing. He received a noble's education, which includes hunting, pensmanship, and the sixty-four standard ballroom dances that emerge in noble society. In the absence of servants to aid him in doing so, he cannot actually put on any of his clothes, so subsequently prefers buttonless, laceless attire. |</s> <|message|>"Julian Baker" --- Food! --- Sure enough, the mess hall was still mostly empty. Long benches sat neatly arranged around a series of long and narrow tables, with a single path between them leading up to the counter, where a few of the other cadets, together with some of the palace servants, seemed to be hard at work preparing the day's breakfast. It seemed they planned on weaning the artistocrats among them slowly from their more delicate tastes, as the meal consisted not only of a variety of freshly baked biscuits, but also real sausages, and gravy made from the same. Granted, by noble standards, it was already a poor man's meal -- but for somebody like Julian who had been living on scraps for the past several weeks, it was a feast fit for a king. And so, lured in by the delicious sights and smells at the counter, she approached without a care for the fact that Kai had already arrived first. Once alongside him, however, it struck her that she really didn't have the slightest idea what to say to the bluette. Their only conversation had been on the prior night, and hadn't exactly been under the best of circumstances. She was pretty sure she had managed to assuage his concerns about her... but something about him still just put her on edge, and she couldn't quite place why. It wasn't as if he was terribly imposing, or had a particularly scary face -- his expression was vacant and a little sleepy, like the look of a contented sheepdog. She probably even could have called him cute, if it weren't for the way those bronze-red eyes of his seemed to suddenly fixate on things without any warning. ...But now she was the one who was staring, and cute or not, that was still rude. So, she struck up a nervous grin, and, giving a slight chuckle and a wave, greeted her squadmate. "Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..."</s> <|message|>Kaiser "Kai" Underwall K A I Making a Mess, in the Hall --- "Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..." Kai paused in the middle of biting into three sausages at one time, having speared the morsels on a single fork like some kind of tri-shiskebab. He looked at Julian with a tilt of his head, and blinked twice. His braid flipped over one shoulder as if "peeking" at the shorter blonde. "I am?" He broke into a grin. "That's good, then!" So saying, he resumed tearing into the pile of food on his plate--he at least seemed to know how to use his utensils, although considering the speed they moved at it was hard to tell if he was holding them "properly." "What about you, Julian?" he asked through chomps and gulps. He tilted his head in the opposite direction as before as those bronze-red eyes fixed on the other cadet. "Are you energetic this morning?" The others soon filed in as well, and the bluette's gaze shifted momentarily before he refocused on the Baker boy. But, in that moment, he recognized Zenshin, who had called out to him when he was already mid-dash out of the room. That...would probably be considered rude, wouldn't it? That Dot person, on the other hand, gave the impression of not speaking to anyone either if it could be avoided. The way Dot seemed to trail behind others, it made Kai wonder if the dark-cloaked recruit had a habit of observing others like he did. Signar and the Prince were walking together, and the bluette wondered if they had already made friends. ...Had he made any friends yet? He had talked to Nathaniel, the Prince, and now Julian...but were they friends yet? What would that mean? Gramps had always told him he would need to make lots of friends, but there had been so much to learn before he applied to the academy, so until now he hadn't spent much time with anyone else...</s>

<|message|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle The others had gone on ahead now, leaving Rossweine and Signar alone in the hallway, striding at a more leisurely pace. There was no particular reason to dwell on what words to use, and the Prince had no vested interest in keeping Signar from his breakfast either. "Do you intend to continue your work as a smith? If so, I will arrange access to a forge for you." That was all, really. Just confirmation, before any further investment was made.</s>

<|description|>Nathaniel "Nate" Lothwren P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S Age - 15 Gender - Male Heritage - Eldest son of a minor noble war hawk family Magical Affinity - Fire, capable of producing an aura. - P E R S O N A L I T Y Unyielding Flame Nate's first tutor in swordsmanship used this phrase to describe the boy at the age of seven. Combined with his optimism, this might refer to the boy's tenacity for getting back up on his feet and tackling a new challenge. However, that tutor saw something behind the boy's purple eyes that he had only seen in some of the fiercest soldiers and most serious of tacticians: a fiery determination and focus. He tries to soften it with enthusiasm and kindness, but deep down even Nathaniel knows that he is truly obsessed with being the best knight possible. His nights training in sword techniques, and countless hours watching duels and other combatants, have clued in even the most casual of acquaintances that Nathaniel is serious about becoming the best. That serious determination and focus in his eyes also reveals something else about the boy: everyone around him is a set of skills, abilities, and weaknesses. The other boys at the sword schools sometimes couldn't tell if Nathaniel was looking at them or reading them, even when he smiled and called them "friend." Honorable to a fault While most children desiring to brave into the world of military politics might become cutthroat and crafty in orchestrating their rising through the ranks, Nate had a fundamental virtue emblazoned on his heart from a young age: honor is what makes a knight worthy of service. Nate refuses to resort to cheap tactics, mind games, or political maneuvering to gain an upper hand on his opponents. He believes, wholeheartedly, that he will earn his rank in the upper echelons of knightly society by skill and skill alone. This honor also surfaces as kindness to those close to him, dedicating himself to improving the skills of all those around even if they show him disrespect or dishonor. Unfortunately, an obsession with honor also comes with an obsession of reputation. And any who dishonor the name of Nathaniel Lothwren can expect the cadet to do everything in his power to put the rumors of his deserving to be a knight to rest... even if it means humiliating friends on the training grounds. Absentminded While Nathaniel is a genius when it comes to study and his dedication to honing his crafts, he has a tendency to lose himself in his thoughts and personal musings. He is the kind of person to constantly walk into a room and have forgotten why he is there by the time he arrives. His absentmindedness leaves him constantly forgetful of social details, and blissfully unaware of accidental or surprise reveals when he is lost thinking about combat, strategy, magic, history, or honor. Nathaniel also has a tendency to burn coffee whenever he brews some for his friends. S K I L L S E T Tactician's Eye Nathaniel's greatest skill has always been his attention to detail, and his ability to piece together patterns. While this has helped him to gain a greater understanding of military history, it is particularly helpful in allowing Nate to break apart an opponent's fighting style and reverse engineer a counter-strategy. Most of the duels and fights Nathaniel goes into are calculated, and he typically tries to find a way to win before the battle even begins. Bastard Sword Training Nathaniel shows a knowledge of form and technique that indicates an incredible understanding of the motions involved with a formalized training with a Bastard Sword. His proficiency especially in using both a one-handed and two-handed style on the fly is notable. He pairs this with a buckler for defense. The trick is figuring out how to get that training to work in a live combat scenario, as a lot of Nathaniel's training has been through form drills or "technical spars." These spars have involved little in terms of teaching how to properly fight an enemy, and are more designed to show how forms can be used against others. While this might put Nathaniel ahead of those who have hardly ever picked up a sword before, he still has to learn how to apply his knowledge and fragmented combat skills to the chaos of combat. Fire Aura Form - Phoenix Stride While Nathaniel prefers to focus on his traditional martial skills, Nathaniel accepts his role as one of the aura users of his generation. While skilled in some fire invocations, his true underlying skill involves being able to tap into an aura of flame. Nathaniel's stamina is not particularly exceptional, leading the budding knight-in-training to develop a very basic use for it: bursts of supernatural speed. Nathaniel can use the tiniest, wildest bursts of magical fire to propel a simple movement (a step, a swing of the sword, a jump, etc.) faster and farther than typically possible. Nathaniel is working on developing his physical stamina to permit longer and more sustained uses of his aura, but is incapable of much else at this time. Whenever his aura is being used, however, fire trails off of Nathaniel's body or weapon to leave fiery after-images of his movements. | Physical Description Nathaniel Lothwren isn't much to look at from a first glance. He is a bit tall for his age, and has a lean-muscular build. He keeps his hair short, to avoid it from becoming a nuisance in battle or a potential weakness. His features are a bit sharp in the right light, though a nearly ever-present soft smile helps to smooth away the edges. The most notable feature is noticed when Nathaniel looks in someone's direction: his irises have a purple hue. It's subtle enough to be mistaken as blue, but is markedly distinct when viewed in better lighting. Beyond just the color of his eyes, there is an intense focus placed on anything Nate looks at that is remarkably clear on closer examination. As for his clothes, all of Nathaniel's limited wardrobe is remarkably well crafted. He is almost always seen wearing fair riding clothes, fine pants, and a blue tunic of fine quality. He sinches his outfit together with belts and straps to ensure everything stays firm, especially before going into combat. His ensemble, once viewed when he is in the height of combat, is also purely utilitarian. His gloves reduce wear on his hands, with bracers designed to hold the gloves in place. Belts and straps keep the tunic loose around joints and his hips without any fear of the clothing sliding or restricting in such a way as to limit mobility. And, of course, Nathaniel is often not seen without his trusty "Sword and a half" Bastard Sword either strapped to his back or held in hand whenever training or duels are at hand. The scabbard for the blade is old and worn leather, whereas the sword itself seems to be in remarkably pristine condition. Character Conceptualization Nathaniel Lothwren's birth was deemed important by the falling of three stars in the Southwestern sky, piercing through the sword of Chironis... at least, that's what some sage told his mother. The last time stars fell in this pattern was years and years ago, when one of his forefathers was born: a forefather who was a founding knight serving alongside Arbert Grayle. Back when heroes walked the realm. The meaning of this sign was clear: Nathaniel was born with the rare gift of being able to project a magical aura. Nathaniel's father, whom the boy refuses to name, took this as a sign that his son was meant to surpass him. And thus, the boy's future was set. As soon as Nathaniel could walk, he was taught to run. As soon as he was able to comprehend language, he was told his destiny by his father: to become a knight to rival the heroes of old. As soon as the boy could stand on his own two feet and hold a sword, he underwent formal drills. He was given access to some of the greatest sword instructors in all of Grandor, and some from outside Grayle proper. Mages also did their best to instruct the boy, and teach him to control his aura. Beyond even just that, they taught him the nature of combative magic. On top of incantations for his personal use, Nathaniel has been taught on instinct what spells to expect to be used against him. When time allowed, Nathaniel's father would draw up mock battles in the study and teach the boy military history. The boy would absorb his father's musings on tactical failures of the past, and over time the boy began to be able to notice strategic flaws all his own. His two younger brothers were not given the same focus, the same singular attention that Nathaniel was. They were only a year and a half and three years younger than himself. They were not neglected, not by any means. They were instead taught alternative lessons: instructed on how to be proper young men, educated and able to command principles of academics and business. They were molded for court, and to be proper nobles. Nathaniel was made for the battlefield. By the time the boy was 10, even Nathaniel's father recognized a need for socialization. He had drilled the boy in principles of honor, of always fighting fair even in the face of cunning and ruthlessness. But the boy needed to put it into practice. So, the boy was sent off to various sword schools, for a few months at a time. He displayed a great prowess for wielding a blade, and had grown to favor wielding a specific type of sword: a bastard sword. Nathaniel preferred the versatility and flow of switching between one and two handed stances with a hand and a half blade, with some teachers even recommending the use of a buckler in the off-hand to provide extra protection. He would quickly work his way to the top of his classes, and was met with jealousy by the other students. He was bullied and harrassed, and yet Nathaniel's resolve was strong. He would accept whatever scorn was cast his way, and never rose to true anger. That was reserved for those who fought dishonorably and outside of the rules. Those who lacked skill and prowess, and resorted to cheap shots and dirty tricks. They were nothing but cowards, mere rats clawing desperately for survival. Nathaniel reserved his ire for these students, and would systematically tarnish their spirits in technical spars. That is not to say Nathaniel did not make friends at these schools. The boy with purple eyes earned respect by those who were less skilled and in desperate desire to learn. While it was breaking the rules, Nathaniel would sneak out of the rooms at night many a time with those who desired to squeeze in extra practice by moonlight. Nathaniel would give pointers and suggestions, even in the midst of sparring, with those who were not as skilled as Nathaniel. And by the time Nathaniel left each sword school, his genuine care for those around him was the most notable absence. Of course, it seems that Nathaniel would be a shoe in for placing as a respectable knight. He passed the preliminary trials offered to noble families, and was slated to duel a mere Baker's boy. Nathaniel took it as a chance to show off his skills against an unknown opponent. Despite all of the training he had, Nathaniel was not expecting one thing: pocket sand. A cheap trick blinded him, and Nathaniel was on his back pinned down and disarmed as he was coughing and furiously trying to blink out the rough sand. In his first truly public duel and display, Nathaniel Lothwren was dishonored and made a laughing stock. While he tries to be all smiles, there is a deep well of ambition and desire to challenge that opponent to a proper duel. One of these days, Nathaniel will get his rematch with Julian Baker. And when that time comes, he is not going to hold back. Other Information * There is gossip and mystery surrounding Nathaniel Lothwren by those who come from more well established noble families. The rumor is there is no Lothwren child by the name of Nathaniel, and that the boy is disguising his familial ties. * Another rumor hints that despite Nathaniel's poor performance during the open spar, notable knights have still taken an interest in the boy's career as a cadet. |</s> <|message|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle The others had gone on ahead now, leaving Rossweine and Signar alone in the hallway, striding at a more leisurely pace. There was no particular reason to dwell on what words to use, and the Prince had no vested interest in keeping Signar from his breakfast either. "Do you intend to continue your work as a smith? If so, I will arrange access to a forge for you." That was all, really. Just confirmation, before any further investment was made.</s> <|message|>Signar Wayland Signar Wayland --- "Yeah. I was waiting to see our workload, but free access to a forge as our schedule allows would make things simpler." The offer wasn't something to scoff at given his situation and lack of resources. He might have spoken with some of the smiths in the city, but those arrangements had their own conditions as well and they were certainly more cumbersome to deal with than relying on a prince's authority. Maybe less demanding in the long run, but he could do with the convenience. "Did you have any specific terms in mind?"</s>

<|message|>Nathaniel "Nate" Lothwren Nathaniel remained quiet as he joined his companions in heading down for breakfast. Thoughts raced through his mind as he watched his compatriots continue their conversations and jests to each other. A wiser man would have recognized the awkward lonliness that hung over him. Instead, Nathaniel's thoughts dwelled on what was to come from the first day of training. The future knights of Grayle had a lot of learning to do, and some in the squad had more than others. He had a rough idea of what he could expect from some members of his squadron. But as Nathaniel's eyes dwelled on Zenshin, he stared for a moment. Rarely did Nathaniel have nothing really to think of or on his mind, but in this instance he had so very little information there wasn't much to think at all. Zenshin seemed a little quiet, and any display during the sparring matches demonstrated little to go off of. He seemed to be from Valefor, from what he had picked up. Signar seemed engaged with the Prince at the moment, but Nathaniel's eyes lingered on Elon for a moment as well. Antskelia was a name that Nathaniel vaguely recognized, placing heritage among a prominent family. But Zenshin seemed like a wildcard. Of course the Ferros name seemed to indicate some manner of prominence in its own regard. Nathaniel just seemed a bit removed from Valefor politics to recognize Zenshin's familial name. Nathaniel had fetched his food, doing his best to maximize protein intake after glancing at Signar and Kai while waiting in line. As much as strategy was key to winning a fight, Nathaniel wasn't quite in the same optimized shape as they were. It would be best to even the playing field in that regard if Nathaniel wanted to set a good example. He saddled up near Zenshin to settle in for breakfast. Nathaniel ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth for a moment in contemplation. He didn't know anything about him, and that wasn't going to change unless Nathaniel bothered to probe for information. "So, Zenshin... what brings you here to Grayle to become a knight of the realm? Train anywhere notable in preparation? Or are you self-taught?" Of course, Nathaniel couldn't help but hide a pointed question. Zenshin's grip with a sword and stance were clearly untrained in the opening spars. Nathaniel knew that the Ferros boy must not have trained with a tutor or at a school. What he truly wanted to pry into was how Zenshin had gotten here. Nathaniel had seen plenty of spoiled snobs whose parents had practically bought their skill with a sword, destined to attend the academy without any real zeal or passion. But Nathaniel recognized that if Zenshin was not particularly gifted with a blade, there was something driving him to be here. Passion could be a tool for training. And if there's one thing Nathaniel could understand about some of his fellow cadets, it was passion.</s>

<|description|>Zenshin Ferros | | | | _______________________________________________ P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S Full name Zenshin Ferros Age15 Gender Male Heritage 2nd son of Lerantus And Miriam Ferros, the Ferros family are located on the outskirts of the port town Fellshard in Valefor, the Ferros family has established themselves as a respective family of Alchemists and medical practitioners throughout the generations. Magical AffinityWater, Wind, Snow - P E R S O N A L I T Y Common screw-up Zenshin is a very self-conscious child who tends to be worried about others opinions and how they view the boy. In term it tends to have a negative effect on the boy as he tends to freeze up or completely botch things when performing tasks or magic with others around especially people he is unfamiliar with. Words sway him easily, compliments and reassurance often empowering the boy with hope and courage to take the leap of faith. While on the other hand insults or scolding him can have the opposite effect, inducing anxiety and thoughts of self doubt. Gentle Soul Zenshin possesses a kind soul treating anyone and everyone with kindness and respect even when they are rude to him. When it comes to those in need he is very willing to go extreme lengths to assist them even when he gains nothing as the personal satisfaction of knowing he made a difference gives him purpose. This deep level of empathy he has for other people has derived from his own trials and tribulations growing up. Deep down he wishes that he would receive the same treatment Emotionally driven Often times Zen tends to think more with his heart instead of his mean, impulsively taking on tasks or starting things he should have put more thought into as he makes decisions based on how he feels on the situation. Just as often this can get him into some troublesome situations that have him in over his head. Some might call him very flighty at times, particularly when his heart is swayed in a direction he is quick to follow his emotions. S K I L L S E T Eye of newt and toe of frog… Coming from a long line of alchemists dating back centuries. Instilled into him at a very young age, Zen is well versed in the family business of brewing potions and medicines used for a multitude of different uses. This also includes resourcefulness when it comes to finding ingredients on the road and herbal knowledge. Well as long as his anxiety doesn't get the better of him. He does screw things up pretty often. BRRRRRGH!!! Despite being of commoner blood, Zenshin possesses a innate talent over the secondary element of snow. Zen is able to erect large shards of ice from the ground as well as throw them as projectiles. He is even proficient in covering the ground in a layer of slippery ice in order to throw off I need a medic! In order to make use of their alchemical expertise, members of house ferros also undergo medical training in order to understand the effects that certain ingredients have on the body. This not only includes a physical understanding of the human body but also a extensive understanding of magic and how it interacts with the human body as well. | Physical Description Tall and wiry are the correct words that define Zenshin. Standing in at 5'10 and weighing about 145 lbs, Zen's slim and tall frame along with his vibrant brown complexion often gets him a fair amount of looks here and there. Upon his head lays a tuft of black and brown hair draping down his face and over his ears to meet a pair of soft amber eyes. Zen facial structure possesses strong cheek bones, a sharp jawline, and a small and slim nose that compliments his face nicely. As far as clothing goes, Zen possesses a rather limited wardrobe featuring a small assortment of cloak and loose fitting clothes of standard quality varying in thickness as he enjoys wearing clothing that don't restrict his movement too much. Coupled along with these cloaks are loose fitting pants along with sandals. Character Conceptualization The Ferros family came to settle in Valefor not too long after the war. With their medical contributions and alchemical knowledge, the Ferros family quickly established themselves as a respected and known family in Valefor as well as having small influence within other nations. Zenshin is the first born of the current Ferros family head Lurantus Ferros and his wife Miriam Ferros, Zenshin is the eldest of 4 kids, 3 boys and 1 girl. From an early age he took part in the same rigorous training and studying that his forefathers has took apart of at an early age but he seemed to always fall short in ability, failing to show alchemical talent worthy of taking notice. His father was rather wary early on in entrusting the boy with the guiding the family in the right path. When his brother Lionel was of age to partake in studies he showed immediate promise and results, garnering the favor of their father as he began to focus more on his alchemical prodigy. Lionel quickly picked up on the topics that were being taught to him and an advanced understanding at a young age. It wasn't long before he caught up to his brother whom had 4 years of age on him. As time went on Lionel's shadow quickly casted over Zenshin as his younger brother became the talk of the town managing to catch up and surpass Zenshin in his studies. The gap between the two only seemed to grow from there, even worse as the more Zenshin fell short the more he felt disconnected. Word would begin to spread of the Ferros family prodigy. Even his other 2 younger siblings showed more promise than their eldest brother further tanking Zen's confidence. Along with his relationships went his confidence as well as he developed social anxiety from the constant comparison. This was also roughly around the time where he would begin to find solace within the legend of Grayle, the boy finding amazement within the courage that Grayle possessed to defy the odds. Perhaps he could maybe follow in his footsteps. It was true the stakes were different, while Grayle was destined to be the white knight who would save the world. Zenshin was tasked with being a competent family head and even then he couldn't do that. Even so a boy could dream. Around the age of 11, Zenshin would begin spending his free time practicing his magic within the forest outside of his house. He would train extensively as he channeled his strong emotions into his magic, despite not being gifted with alchemical or medical talent the boy did possess control over the element of snow which was a feat in itself. Even so this did not sway his father in any way as their values did not align. The more Zenshin would train and cultivate his magic the more he would find himself fantasizing about joining the knight order founded by Grayle and making a name for himself. No longer would he be in his brother Lionel's shadow. No longer the black sheep of the family but a talented child who created his own path. More importantly he'd reclaim the admiration of his father once again. Alas once he reached a point in his magic he deemed competent he left without a trace. Casting away what seemed like shackles and following his dream on a whim, Zenshin was never more sure about something in his young life. Other Information Despite having trained his magic Zenshin possess 0 combat experience has he only has ever casted his spells on still objects nor has he ever held a weapon of any sorts. |</s> <|message|>Kaiser "Kai" Underwall K A I Making a Mess, in the Hall --- "Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..." Kai paused in the middle of biting into three sausages at one time, having speared the morsels on a single fork like some kind of tri-shiskebab. He looked at Julian with a tilt of his head, and blinked twice. His braid flipped over one shoulder as if "peeking" at the shorter blonde. "I am?" He broke into a grin. "That's good, then!" So saying, he resumed tearing into the pile of food on his plate--he at least seemed to know how to use his utensils, although considering the speed they moved at it was hard to tell if he was holding them "properly." "What about you, Julian?" he asked through chomps and gulps. He tilted his head in the opposite direction as before as those bronze-red eyes fixed on the other cadet. "Are you energetic this morning?" The others soon filed in as well, and the bluette's gaze shifted momentarily before he refocused on the Baker boy. But, in that moment, he recognized Zenshin, who had called out to him when he was already mid-dash out of the room. That...would probably be considered rude, wouldn't it? That Dot person, on the other hand, gave the impression of not speaking to anyone either if it could be avoided. The way Dot seemed to trail behind others, it made Kai wonder if the dark-cloaked recruit had a habit of observing others like he did. Signar and the Prince were walking together, and the bluette wondered if they had already made friends. ...Had he made any friends yet? He had talked to Nathaniel, the Prince, and now Julian...but were they friends yet? What would that mean? Gramps had always told him he would need to make lots of friends, but there had been so much to learn before he applied to the academy, so until now he hadn't spent much time with anyone else...</s> <|message|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle The others had gone on ahead now, leaving Rossweine and Signar alone in the hallway, striding at a more leisurely pace. There was no particular reason to dwell on what words to use, and the Prince had no vested interest in keeping Signar from his breakfast either. "Do you intend to continue your work as a smith? If so, I will arrange access to a forge for you." That was all, really. Just confirmation, before any further investment was made.</s> <|message|>Signar Wayland Signar Wayland --- "Yeah. I was waiting to see our workload, but free access to a forge as our schedule allows would make things simpler." The offer wasn't something to scoff at given his situation and lack of resources. He might have spoken with some of the smiths in the city, but those arrangements had their own conditions as well and they were certainly more cumbersome to deal with than relying on a prince's authority. Maybe less demanding in the long run, but he could do with the convenience. "Did you have any specific terms in mind?"</s> <|message|>Nathaniel "Nate" Lothwren --- Nathaniel remained quiet as he joined his companions in heading down for breakfast. Thoughts raced through his mind as he watched his compatriots continue their conversations and jests to each other. A wiser man would have recognized the awkward lonliness that hung over him. Instead, Nathaniel's thoughts dwelled on what was to come from the first day of training. The future knights of Grayle had a lot of learning to do, and some in the squad had more than others. He had a rough idea of what he could expect from some members of his squadron. But as Nathaniel's eyes dwelled on Zenshin, he stared for a moment. Rarely did Nathaniel have nothing really to think of or on his mind, but in this instance he had so very little information there wasn't much to think at all. Zenshin seemed a little quiet, and any display during the sparring matches demonstrated little to go off of. He seemed to be from Valefor, from what he had picked up. Signar seemed engaged with the Prince at the moment, but Nathaniel's eyes lingered on Elon for a moment as well. Antskelia was a name that Nathaniel vaguely recognized, placing heritage among a prominent family. But Zenshin seemed like a wildcard. Of course the Ferros name seemed to indicate some manner of prominence in its own regard. Nathaniel just seemed a bit removed from Valefor politics to recognize Zenshin's familial name. Nathaniel had fetched his food, doing his best to maximize protein intake after glancing at Signar and Kai while waiting in line. As much as strategy was key to winning a fight, Nathaniel wasn't quite in the same optimized shape as they were. It would be best to even the playing field in that regard if Nathaniel wanted to set a good example. He saddled up near Zenshin to settle in for breakfast. Nathaniel ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth for a moment in contemplation. He didn't know anything about him, and that wasn't going to change unless Nathaniel bothered to probe for information. "So, Zenshin... what brings you here to Grayle to become a knight of the realm? Train anywhere notable in preparation? Or are you self-taught?" Of course, Nathaniel couldn't help but hide a pointed question. Zenshin's grip with a sword and stance were clearly untrained in the opening spars. Nathaniel knew that the Ferros boy must not have trained with a tutor or at a school. What he truly wanted to pry into was how Zenshin had gotten here. Nathaniel had seen plenty of spoiled snobs whose parents had practically bought their skill with a sword, destined to attend the academy without any real zeal or passion. But Nathaniel recognized that if Zenshin was not particularly gifted with a blade, there was something driving him to be here. Passion could be a tool for training. And if there's one thing Nathaniel could understand about some of his fellow cadets, it was passion.</s>

<|message|>Zenshin Ferros After greeting everyone, Zenshin let out a sigh of relief that they were all pretty respectful back towards him. Not that he had expected them to be mean or anything. Kia had led the group towards the mess hall as by the time they had gotten there he was already sitting down with a plate stacked almost as tall as the boy himself. Zen chuckled a bit at the sight, the blue haired knight had also stacked his plate the night before, it must take a lot of nutrition to keep that guy going. Zen would sit down with a comparatively more minimalist plate of eggs and sausages, prior to digging into his breakfast the young valeforian performed a small prayer before shoving a spoonful in his mouth. Shortly after, vice captain Lowthren took a seat next to him. A moment of silence passed between the two before Nathaniel raised his question. "So, Zenshin... what brings you here to Grayle to become a knight of the realm? Train anywhere notable in preparation? Or are you self-taught?" Zen finished chewing his food before letting out a nervous chuckle. "What brings me the Grayle…?" He said repeating Nathaniel as he poked his fork into another piece of sausage. "Ive always been pretty interested in the legend of Grayle since I was a young kid, I aspire to walk in his footsteps. I wasn't very good in my family profession of alchemy…so I decided to runaway on a whim once I heard Grayle was recruiting and tadaa." The young Valeforian spoke a bit sheepishly. "As for if I've had any proper training, I don't the other day was my first time picking up a sword so that should answer your question about training. I'm more magically inclined than physically, self taught on that end though" the boy said ending off with a bit of confidence. Before taking another bite he slipped in his own question as not to be rude. "How about you Vice Captain? What made you want to become a knight if you don't mind me asking?"</s>

<|description|>Eolnana "Elon" Anteskelia Age - 15 Gender - Female Heritage - Valeforian Meritocracy Magical Affinity - Wind, Fire; Lightning - Antagonistic Nihilist Eolnana doesn't particularly like optimism or anybody, really. She's a cynical nihilist who holds disdain for society, the universe, and everything in between. This energy is not something she keeps to herself either, as she will be quick to dismiss and antagonize people who she doesn't like. Nothing matters, including their feelings. Deadpan Snarker A dreary monotone is one of Eolnana's most prominent features of her character. Even in disguise as Elon her words are slung like gravel and most usually at other people's expense. One of the few joys in life away from home is throwing vicious sarcastic attacks at anybody who is annoying or those she wants to repel. Pretentious Aficionado Eolnana has studied the sword… in every book she could get her hands on. While she has had some contemporary practice in dueling, everything she knows is from dawdling in her family's personal library. This is extended toward any subject. In fact, Eolnana believes she is the smartest person in the room even when she isn't. - Bardic Savant Girls are good at singing! And playing the harp! The words of Eolnana's brother echo in her mind. She hates it when he's right. Despite being a dour thing and monotone voice, when Eolnana drops the act she actually has a very pretty singing voice. She also knows how to play several instruments such as the lute and panflute with sharp precision. In another life she would be seen as a musical prodigy perhaps. Capable Duelist Elon and Eolnana were trained by Sergio Andelmelia, a famous sword dancer in Valefor. Her brother took to it with more enthusiasm, but Eolnana was always the more cautious and ardent student, always trying to analyze Sergio's every move. Since her brother's sickness she has studied harder and harder to make sure when she pretends to be Elon that nobody will notice there's a difference between their skill. Daughter of the Storm Eolnana and her brother inherited the latent magical bloodlines that compose lightning. While her brother has taken to focus more on swordfighting, she has always been the opposite. Given she was already a girl who sat in the library surrounded by books and excelled in her studies, magical tomes and understanding sort of came naturally to her. | Physical Description Eolnana is short even for a girl, so posing as a boy must make her seem particularly height disadvantaged. She stands at five-foot-three, with boys of her age often being five-to-six inches above her and trying to lord over her with the size difference. It doesn't matter much to Eolnana–the taller they are, the harder and more violently they fall. Her gray-blue eyes seem devoid of life and her brown hair is messy and uncouth. Her tan, desert-burned skin is probably her most distinct feature away from home. Her mother has told her that men see her as exotic and should be wary around them. Her physique is more athletic than it may appear for a young woman who may as well cite her residence as a library. She's been doing drills alongside her brother for years and enjoys the art of the sword and spear as much as her twin does. She just likes books more. Character Conceptualization Fifteen years ago, Shende Anteskelia bore twins for her husband, the leader of a prominent mercantile dynasty in northern Valefor. They would name them Elon and Eolnana. The Anteskelia Dynasty was old and "pure" by all accords. They were one of the closest things to nobility you could get in the region and several stories speculated their heritage dated back to the King of Thieves himself. Such a claim has been in contention since pretty much the first time it was uttered by an Anteskelia. It is something Eolnana has heard her entire life, though try as she can she has never seen the proof in the pudding despite inhabiting the great library every time she has found chance to. The two siblings would grow close together, one heir to the patronage of the many guilds under Anteskelian control and the other a girl who was best suited in trying to sire an influential romance. Envy grew in Eolnana's heart. She wanted to have the same agency as her brother, to live free and do what she wanted. She wanted to study magic with the best and brightest. She wanted to be seen as independent and recognized as the genius she saw herself as. Her brother barely could read, let alone lead the family! The more time she spent beside him training in the sword the more she resented the idea that she couldn't be free. One day she began thinking on how to break her chains, how to escape her guardians or convince her parents. When Elon fell ill the resentment moved inward, questioning how she could hope for such a thing. He had regalled her with all of his ambitions, his plans, his wants, and desires; how he was going to become a knight and how the ink was already dry. Despite her regret in how she felt about everything, she found herself thinking. Plotting. Was this the way out? It was a serious sickness and his recovery could've been long. Craving an out she did the one thing she could. She sought out in a game of fantasy and decided that she would pose as her brother in his ambitions and take them for herself. If he recovered everyone wouldn't care, the damage would already be done, and ultimately she would've proven what exactly she thought of her place in the world. The Genius of Valefor would spread her wings and everyone would recognize her as one of the greatest knights to exist in the current age! |</s> <|message|>Kaiser "Kai" Underwall K A I Making a Mess, in the Hall --- "Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..." Kai paused in the middle of biting into three sausages at one time, having speared the morsels on a single fork like some kind of tri-shiskebab. He looked at Julian with a tilt of his head, and blinked twice. His braid flipped over one shoulder as if "peeking" at the shorter blonde. "I am?" He broke into a grin. "That's good, then!" So saying, he resumed tearing into the pile of food on his plate--he at least seemed to know how to use his utensils, although considering the speed they moved at it was hard to tell if he was holding them "properly." "What about you, Julian?" he asked through chomps and gulps. He tilted his head in the opposite direction as before as those bronze-red eyes fixed on the other cadet. "Are you energetic this morning?" The others soon filed in as well, and the bluette's gaze shifted momentarily before he refocused on the Baker boy. But, in that moment, he recognized Zenshin, who had called out to him when he was already mid-dash out of the room. That...would probably be considered rude, wouldn't it? That Dot person, on the other hand, gave the impression of not speaking to anyone either if it could be avoided. The way Dot seemed to trail behind others, it made Kai wonder if the dark-cloaked recruit had a habit of observing others like he did. Signar and the Prince were walking together, and the bluette wondered if they had already made friends. ...Had he made any friends yet? He had talked to Nathaniel, the Prince, and now Julian...but were they friends yet? What would that mean? Gramps had always told him he would need to make lots of friends, but there had been so much to learn before he applied to the academy, so until now he hadn't spent much time with anyone else...</s> <|message|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle The others had gone on ahead now, leaving Rossweine and Signar alone in the hallway, striding at a more leisurely pace. There was no particular reason to dwell on what words to use, and the Prince had no vested interest in keeping Signar from his breakfast either. "Do you intend to continue your work as a smith? If so, I will arrange access to a forge for you." That was all, really. Just confirmation, before any further investment was made.</s> <|message|>Signar Wayland Signar Wayland --- "Yeah. I was waiting to see our workload, but free access to a forge as our schedule allows would make things simpler." The offer wasn't something to scoff at given his situation and lack of resources. He might have spoken with some of the smiths in the city, but those arrangements had their own conditions as well and they were certainly more cumbersome to deal with than relying on a prince's authority. Maybe less demanding in the long run, but he could do with the convenience. "Did you have any specific terms in mind?"</s> <|message|>Nathaniel "Nate" Lothwren --- Nathaniel remained quiet as he joined his companions in heading down for breakfast. Thoughts raced through his mind as he watched his compatriots continue their conversations and jests to each other. A wiser man would have recognized the awkward lonliness that hung over him. Instead, Nathaniel's thoughts dwelled on what was to come from the first day of training. The future knights of Grayle had a lot of learning to do, and some in the squad had more than others. He had a rough idea of what he could expect from some members of his squadron. But as Nathaniel's eyes dwelled on Zenshin, he stared for a moment. Rarely did Nathaniel have nothing really to think of or on his mind, but in this instance he had so very little information there wasn't much to think at all. Zenshin seemed a little quiet, and any display during the sparring matches demonstrated little to go off of. He seemed to be from Valefor, from what he had picked up. Signar seemed engaged with the Prince at the moment, but Nathaniel's eyes lingered on Elon for a moment as well. Antskelia was a name that Nathaniel vaguely recognized, placing heritage among a prominent family. But Zenshin seemed like a wildcard. Of course the Ferros name seemed to indicate some manner of prominence in its own regard. Nathaniel just seemed a bit removed from Valefor politics to recognize Zenshin's familial name. Nathaniel had fetched his food, doing his best to maximize protein intake after glancing at Signar and Kai while waiting in line. As much as strategy was key to winning a fight, Nathaniel wasn't quite in the same optimized shape as they were. It would be best to even the playing field in that regard if Nathaniel wanted to set a good example. He saddled up near Zenshin to settle in for breakfast. Nathaniel ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth for a moment in contemplation. He didn't know anything about him, and that wasn't going to change unless Nathaniel bothered to probe for information. "So, Zenshin... what brings you here to Grayle to become a knight of the realm? Train anywhere notable in preparation? Or are you self-taught?" Of course, Nathaniel couldn't help but hide a pointed question. Zenshin's grip with a sword and stance were clearly untrained in the opening spars. Nathaniel knew that the Ferros boy must not have trained with a tutor or at a school. What he truly wanted to pry into was how Zenshin had gotten here. Nathaniel had seen plenty of spoiled snobs whose parents had practically bought their skill with a sword, destined to attend the academy without any real zeal or passion. But Nathaniel recognized that if Zenshin was not particularly gifted with a blade, there was something driving him to be here. Passion could be a tool for training. And if there's one thing Nathaniel could understand about some of his fellow cadets, it was passion.</s> <|message|>Zenshin Ferros Zenshin Ferros After greeting everyone, Zenshin let out a sigh of relief that they were all pretty respectful back towards him. Not that he had expected them to be mean or anything. Kia had led the group towards the mess hall as by the time they had gotten there he was already sitting down with a plate stacked almost as tall as the boy himself. Zen chuckled a bit at the sight, the blue haired knight had also stacked his plate the night before, it must take a lot of nutrition to keep that guy going. Zen would sit down with a comparatively more minimalist plate of eggs and sausages, prior to digging into his breakfast the young valeforian performed a small prayer before shoving a spoonful in his mouth. Shortly after, vice captain Lowthren took a seat next to him. A moment of silence passed between the two before Nathaniel raised his question. "So, Zenshin... what brings you here to Grayle to become a knight of the realm? Train anywhere notable in preparation? Or are you self-taught?" Zen finished chewing his food before letting out a nervous chuckle. "What brings me the Grayle…?" He said repeating Nathaniel as he poked his fork into another piece of sausage. "Ive always been pretty interested in the legend of Grayle since I was a young kid, I aspire to walk in his footsteps. I wasn't very good in my family profession of alchemy…so I decided to runaway on a whim once I heard Grayle was recruiting and tadaa." The young Valeforian spoke a bit sheepishly. "As for if I've had any proper training, I don't the other day was my first time picking up a sword so that should answer your question about training. I'm more magically inclined than physically, self taught on that end though" the boy said ending off with a bit of confidence. Before taking another bite he slipped in his own question as not to be rude. "How about you Vice Captain? What made you want to become a knight if you don't mind me asking?"</s> <|message|>Rossweine Lupus Grayle "No." It was enough to know that it was exterior reasons that caused a break from the profession of blacksmith to knight, rather than simply a desire by the Valeforan youth to pursue a path different from what he first set out to. And if Rossweine's family name was enough to allow Signar to use the full breadth of his talents, then that too, was fine. The conversation ended just like that, and the prince strode in silence to join the others at the mess hall. It was quiet compared to the feast last night, though that was simply owing to the fact that there were few present, and even the ever boisterous Underwall youth could not be loud enough to fill up a space as cavernous as this. Collecting his own plate of food, one much less substantial than his peers, Rossweine joined the table with the others, positioning himself directly opposite of Elon. He had a good enough read on most of his squadmates; only the newcomer had yet to present themselves in a meaningful enough manner yet. "We've not yet been formally introduced," Rossweine spoke, his knife sliding over the unbroken yolk of his egg. "I am the captain of the 13th Squad, Rossweine Grayle, and I understand that you are of the Anteskelia lineage, Elon. It's a pleasure, that the draw of knighthood extends even so far as this."</s>

<|message|>Eolnana "Elon" Anteskelia "Yes." Eolnana's monotonous comment came from her seat at the table, as her eyes remained on her plate of food as she tried to gauge her appetite. The proper manners would dictate she would face a Grayle eye-to-eye, but she was so preoccupied with the dietary change presented to her. Not that she minded being aloof, but even she wasn't so arrogant to shrike conventions. She looked up after taking a bite of her food, making sure to not have any present when she replied. "It's an important honor. Though, probably less so than being graced by the presence of a Grayle." She uttered as she observed the boy in front of her. "I apologize for not seeking your introduction sooner."</s>

<|description|>Atzi 6'4 | 201 lbs | Human | Female Her StoryHow many seasons ago had it been, since a child, her left eye blinded by a burn, escaped the beasts of the forest and fell into the arms of a hunter? She had been ragged then, nothing more but a bundle of skin holding bones within, the rags that served as her clothing worthy only of becoming kindling. It was through kindness that the child lived, raised by the hunters to perform chores that those of the wild were less inclined to do. Tedium gradually helped rehabilitate her, but though rumors circulated, the child herself remained mute. A slave of the Bastelians, having crossed great distances in a wild flight towards freedom? A sacrifice to Iva'Krorh, having suffered esoteric rituals to become an archive of eldritch philosophies? A sinner branded by the Apostles, left excommunicated solely because they wished not to stain their hands with a child's blood? Stories, whispers, and yet all that Atzi ignored as she grew older and older, becoming more and more comfortable in the body she now inhabited, the freedoms that she now was granted. Dawn was a hard village to live in, and work was plenty for a child without a family, but she took to it with gusto. The fresh air gave her life, and no matter the bite of winter or the roar of great beasts, the cracking of her lips and the burning of her hands, Atzi worked hard, brimming with an energy that did not fade with age. Soon enough, she inherited the knowledge and skills of the resident craftsmen, maintaining her close relationship with the village hunters as she turned their kills into well-sectioned meats and water-shedding leathers. A tomboy at heart, she maintained friendly with all but the most insular and serious of the village members, crafting for herself as a reliable, hardworking, invigorating member of the community who could both hold her own drink as well as take care of the kids. If there was one fault, it would be her lack of patience in book-learning, and even now, reading and writing is what she leaves for those who enjoy pacing around in circles…but out in Dawn, one didn't need to make records in order to live well. Indeed. Time passed, Atzi grew, and everyone forgot the child that she once was. Everyone but herself. And when night falls, when she cannot sleep as she often does, Atzi burns out the rest of her energy with a wooden club, its edge embedded with arrowheads. GoalsIt is through creation, not destruction, that one encroaches upon the domain of the divine. Atzi finds solace within her craft, and while she sees her exercise of violence as an obligation, she sees her work as reason to continue living. She works to expand the capability of her artistry, curious not only about different cultures, but also different materials, different aesthetics. Truly, she is an artisan emboldened, seeking to surprise even the gods themselves. Or perhaps this is simply the well that she immerses herself in, to drown out the consuming flame. SkillsAdaptability Humans, while they bear no special natural born talents, their limit for growth and power is near infinite should they choose to cultivate said power. They, in their finite lives will find it easier to learn new skills and adapt to new situations if they put their mind to it. Pioneer of the Craft Through the transformation of raw hide into pliable, waterproof leather, Atzi finds solace. She is skilled in both vegetable tanning and braining, and, surpassing her old master, has even come up with a special concoction of oils that allows her to tan specific patterns into the hide itself, creating permanent markings upon the leather once it has completed its smoking and drying. Both as fashion and as interior decoration, Atzi's work has proliferated around Dawn over the last few years. Barbaric Wildness Through constant exercise and a steady influx of meat, as well as a vigor that keeps consistently willing to burn herself out, Atzi's body has developed into a superior specimen of humanity's physical capabilities, until her strength, speed, and stamina alone could be considered a gift. Without any true masters of the blade to guide her, she has become a self-taught warrior reliant on her physique to power through any obstacles in her way, combining anatomical knowledge gained from butchery and savage aggression gained from her humanity in order to rip and tear as necessary. Leatherworker's tools Hunter's knife Plenty of cordage A fistful of pretty stones A bag of spiced and salted jerky Various tannic oils and concoctions A flat, wooden club, its edge embedded with arrowheads Her winning smile</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Dawn Preparations for the Hunt --- Gideon was quick to discern those who would stick out from the villagers, some more than others. He didn't want to point fingers just yet, especially when there were more pressing matters to attend to. Still, it would be good to approach some of these... alleged chosen at some point in time. It would be good to speak to them in order to get a better grasp of their task at hand. They were all chosen for a reason, after all. At the very least, it was good that one of the more obvious of the chosen had also elected to help with hunting. An Elf huntress hailing from the Tamaln forest... Gideon could only recall fond memories of the Forest Elves there. "Ah, the pleasure's mine, master Enli." Gideon bowed to the elder of the village humbly. "And yes. I've survived my share of bad weather in my travels, but if it wasn't for Akala's aid, you may as well be talking to an icicle." He then turned to the priestess. Perhaps she could provide guidance to his mission, as well? Nonetheless, he nodded to her question as he cleared his throat. "That is correct, o gracious priestess of the Moon Goddess. My people believe in solidarity above all else. It is important to work together, especially since there's so little of us. To a Raam, every individual life is precious, as life to us is a gift seldom granted by the Forgefather's hands. If there's anywhere I can dedicate my skills to here in Dawn, then I shall do so to the best of my ability. I do have to inquire to you abo-" Gideon's attention would then be grabbed once more by the proud elf, namely the much more boastful fairy that appeared over her shoulder. His pale face grew somewhat paler as he recalled the very few run-ins he had with the fey. He looked at his boots to ensure they weren't laced together, and stretched his fingers in case they were also intertwined. Sighing in relief at his free appendages, he would bow respectfully in acknowledgment of the duo. "I've only had pleasant experiences with the Cosain, and I'm glad to have the power of a fairy on our side." Gideon nodded just before Akando would interject. Gideon nodded once more to the de facto leader of the hunters as they would begin to set off, listening intently to his guidance. "I see, I'm glad I had come across this village at the time I did, then." Gideon stated as Akando spoke of his grievances. "You may call me Gideon. I'm well-versed in the hunting of beasts, myself. It's an especially important skill for a wandering Raam to have, after all. I can't say I'm familiar with these woods, though, or this 'Kyrnith' that haunts them." He took a note of this hunter's clothing, as well as the others he was able to see. Wolves... they were something Gideon was quite familiar with hunting. Deer, as well, may not prove too much of an issue. At the mentioning of weapons, Gideon looked over to the spear slung over his shoulder. He would grasp it, spinning it in his hands before resting the haft of it to the snow. It was quite an ugly thing, bearing no notable craftsman's marks, but having many scratches from years of battle. "You won't have to worry about that. This spear of mine's been with me for twenty winters. It has not failed me yet, and I don't believe it will now." Gideon spoke with an uncharacteristic pride. His eyebrow would be raised at the mention of the Kyrnith once more, namely its status as an Elder Beast. "While we are here, though... Please, tell me all you know of this Kyrnith. I've heard many a tale of their might and majesty. Even had a close call or two with their kin, as we all have had just recently. Would this being be of the same power to the one that had razed this village with the blizzard?"</s> <|message|>Seelay "..." Seelay sighed, heavily, as she felt the slight weight of Sionna's tiny body resting atop her head. "... I am a guardian of Tamaln, thank you very much," she corrected the fairy. Certainly, she was a guardian in service of both her people and the fey, but that by no means gave Sionna the right to refer to her as a servant! How irritating. Still, a Raam joining her for the hunt was intriguing. There was certainly quite a mix of different peoples in the town, which Seelay found rather curious. Perhaps it was merely her upbringing in the Tamaln Forest, but such an eclectic mix of different races was a rather unfamiliar surrounding for the Cosain Elf. "While I have never hunted alongside a Raam before, I've heard plenty," she commented to the man, nodding her head, "I am quite curious to see how you perform." Not that anyone else was a better hunter then she was, of course. Given the Raam had already addressed the question of the Kyrinth, and how it could be avoided, Seelay could pursue a different matter. Still, she was rather curious about the Elder Beast. She had been unable to understand much of the creature since arriving. Simply that it was quite protective of the forest and its wildlife, without any other details beyond that. Naturally, this could easily pose an obstacle to hunting. "In any case, in order to display my skill as a hunter it's best to know what the wildlife around here is like. I would like to know anything you can tell me." @Cu Chulainn</s>

<|message|>Atzi Atzi felt the heat before she felt the touch, the warmth that exuded from the demon's body so out-of-place in the frigid chill of Azral Suralng's wake that it couldn't have been anyone but Vamessa. Her presence had been important to Dawn's survival, and her gift with flames had saw households through cold nights once the firewood ran out. For all the disdain that came with the demon's origins, Atzi herself held no great grudge against her. And honestly, it wasn't as if Dawn was a sanctuary of prudes to begin with. So long as Vammy figured the time and place for her groping, she'd fit in just fine. Akala, after all, didn't have any bad blood with her, and that priestess was the holiest individual present. "That's good," she responded with a firm nod in her direction. "Thanks." Akando's concern was also appreciated, though with a boy and a childhood friend at that, Atzi couldn't help but put up a stronger front. Forcing a grin, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him in, bumping foreheads. "Not like you could, anyhow. Last time we wrestled, you couldn't toss me even when I stood straight up, remember?" Her teeth flashed. Happier days, warmer days. She released him, then smacked him on the back with a vigor that wasn't completely fake. "Show that elf up, Akando." And with Achel looking like she was finally going to take a break, Atzi decided to get to work too now. For all the emotional labour, her body remained thrumming with energy, and she struck her bicep with the palm of her opposing hand. It was a meaty thwack that carried well throughout the echoing chambers of the church. "A moment then!" Without anything else holding her back, Atzi ran off, her heart speeding up as her lungs pumped cold air through her burning blood. Crusted snow scattered as her mocassins smashed against the ground, and within moments, she reached Bolcha's workshop and home. Though they were ostensibly family, a desire for independence had come with a desire for privacy, and Atzi had built her own little hut a couple meters away from the craftsman's abode, where she could entertain her personal guests without bothering her foster family, as well as where she could experiment with her craft without disturbance. This time, however, she was here only because she had a habit of keeping a warm oven, and to pick up her equipment. Pushing open the slab of wood that served as the door to her mudbrick hut, Atzi pulled an extra cloak that laid in a heap, rescued a loaf of bread from her stove, empty out her waterskin and replaced the contents with some wine, and finally strapped her wooden club to the loop in her belt. Maira's own home wasn't even a day's walk away; if she kept a good pace, she should reach it expediently. Wouldn't even take half a day if she tried. All she had to do was stay in motion. Atzi stared at the embers and the ashes, breathed in the oils and fats, the acrid but tantalizing stench of scrambled brains and unscented soap. Her bed had been lonely for too long. She would invite Maira over tonight. Right. That's a certainty. Because she's still alive. … Atzi returned, the sweat beading over her body already wicked away by the breath of winter. She placed the round loaf of bread, kept warm during her return by being wrapped up in a cloth and held beneath her armpit, firmly into the Chiralta gravekeeper's hands, then swivelled about to locate Vamessa again. It looked as if the demon was nursing a bump on her head, but if it was just a bump, then it was fundamentally nothing. "Let's go. Can you run?" If she couldn't, that was no problem either. Atzi was just going to carry her there.</s>

<|description|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Gender: "Female" Race Possessed Shadow Elf Appearance: Once, she used to look like many of the Uruthra. A beautiful pale skinned elf though perhaps a small bit shorter than the rest of her peers. Now, however, while her face amd build is similar, she is still a farcry from what she had looked a one point. One might call her form a mockery of the elven race. Her skin is a dark shade of pink and her hair colored that reminds one of a flame. Bio Vamessa grew up in Gloomhaven with the rest of her kin and studied magic with a mild interest in demons, specifically making a bestiary with the strengths and weaknesses of each one. She was, at one point, the apprentice of the mage Rullphana. She was a hard worker and took her studies dilligently though, perhaps a small bit a trouble maker. For her bestiary, she would go out to places that had reports of demons and quietly observe them before safely retreating. She would ask people their experiences with anything they may have come across and wrote about them. Over time, she started to become a bit more of a wild card in society. While she didn't exactly neglect her lessons, she did start to seem more interested in her bestiary. One day, on one of her field studies in Naraheim, she found a small group of demons to spy on. They were beast-like creatures and were snacking on some fresh prey. One thing led to another and a chase started. She ran, and ran, and ran. There was plenty of them to be wary and scared of that she needed to run. Luckily, she knew the land and where demons were wary of going. There was an old coliseum like ruin that most demons seemed to avoid so she decided to take refuge there. While the beasts were cautious not to actually enter, they did guard the exit knowing that she would need to leave sometime. Worried, no, scared that the beasts would make their way in regardless, she looked for an exit aside the front door. What appeared before her was a lower level. Rather risk the dark than what she knew above ground, she descended hoping for her luck to turn out something. A useful tool of some sort perhaps. No. Rather, she found what she could only describe as some... Beautiful humanoid being but strange. A demon? The thought of having walked into the den of some demon worried her tremendously. Vamessa took a step back. Looking to risk her chances with the beasts upstairs, she went to turn and leave before something yanked her back towards the demon's body. As she looked, the demon's hand was tightly around her wrist as she felt a weird magical power flowing into her. She tried jerking her hamd away. Tried freeing herself as it felt like her head was ready to explode. Everything she could physically aside from cutting the hand off until soon enough it meekly released. Frightened, worried and trembling, she staggered back and fell to her behind. Her hands went quickly to her head as her immediate concern turn to the splitting feeling in her head before, of course, her vision faded to black. Some time later, her eyelids opened. Her body felt lighter and warmer. Vamessa put her hand to her temple but felt something weird on her forehead. Horns? No, not just horns. There were these.... Odd wings! And the tail! What happened to her? The answer was soon answered by a slightly annoyed voice in her head. She had been, in her scared, worried state, possessed by the demon. OF course, either her will was stronger than the demon expected, or in a more likely twist, the demon was weaker than she had expected. After a short discussion between the two, Vamessa found that she still had full control over her body despite the changes and she had some stronger power over fire now. Strong enough to force her way through the demons and make it back home. She could rest once she got back and figure out what was going on. OF course, her troubles only started from there. The guards actively stopped her from entering town. Her appearance was much too dissimilar from her original and they thought she was just some full fledged demon that was trying to attack town. Perhaps, Rullphana could help her. The woman was powerful and knew her for so long. She forced her way through and attempted to make her way to Rullphana's tower but, there was too much resistance. Too many people trying to stop her. The voice in her head told her to fight back, but these were the people she knew! How could she? She had to retreat. Escape town or worry about her death. On her way out, she stole a pack and some supplies. Whatever should could grab without stopping. Soon, she was out of town. She kept running and didn't look back. Over the course of the next couple of days, she escaped the mountain, wanting to avoid any search party for her. There were plenty of places to hide on a mountain, but not forever. She heard there was a forest down there and hopefully food. She spent much time alone with the voice in her head. Surviving off the land she moved around so no one could really pin her to a place, or more importantly, the spirit of the forest that made attempts on her life more than once. The few travelers she met, she messed around with. Playing pranks and other small things, but never really harming people other than the ones that intended to harm her. Perhaps it was her slowly warping personality, but killing people didn't seem to bother her much though it wasn't like she went out of her way to do so. In fact, her time in the forest with the voice made her a slight bit more antagonistic towards others. Her natural reaction to people was to poke fun at them or goading them. And yet, there were still moments of sincerity from her in dire moments. After some time, she found herself in the village of Dawn (tired of the attempts on her life by the forest). Somehow, perhaps by some divine guiding hand, she found a place for herself. She made herself useful and took care of fires around the town though she was perhaps a small bit suspicious looking, walking around late at night and making sure the place was properly lit up. It wasn't difficult with the powers she gained from her possession. She was also made to cook, which she didn't seem to mind doing despite any complaints she may give. Goals: Become strong enough to survive on her own and rid herself of her possession if it becomes a problem. Finish her bestiary. Skills: Blood-possessed: No longer what you once were, you've been possessed by a demon, effectively turning you into one yourself. The one that has taken hold of you is of the bestial and violent Blood Clan that revels in violence, emotion, and domination. It has only a minor sway over you currently, but it does seem to give you some inherent ability for fire, boosting your abilities and affinities with them...and also making you prone to outbursts of violence, and feeling euphoria watching things burn. You don't know the demons name yet, nor what its fully capable of. If it takes full control of you, you may not even remember it nor have control over your own body any more. Sometimes, you hear its sweet seductive whispers telling you to commit atrocities. Wild-Fire Pyromancy: Years of possession in the wild has left Vamessa naturally good at fire magic. There is also this constant desire burning in her heart to set fire to the things around her. While it's fairly easy to satiate, it's always nagging. Cooking is a surprisingly good outlet. The Mage's Disciple: At one point, she was the disciple of Rullphana, the greatest mage in Gloomhaven. A fact she was proud of. She has a general study of all the basic ideas of magic and, generally, can figure out magic and knows many simple spells and things as such. Inventory: Demonic Bestiary: The bestiary she spent time on making some years prior.</s> <|message|>Atzi Atzi felt the heat before she felt the touch, the warmth that exuded from the demon's body so out-of-place in the frigid chill of Azral Suralng's wake that it couldn't have been anyone but Vamessa. Her presence had been important to Dawn's survival, and her gift with flames had saw households through cold nights once the firewood ran out. For all the disdain that came with the demon's origins, Atzi herself held no great grudge against her. And honestly, it wasn't as if Dawn was a sanctuary of prudes to begin with. So long as Vammy figured the time and place for her groping, she'd fit in just fine. Akala, after all, didn't have any bad blood with her, and that priestess was the holiest individual present. "That's good," she responded with a firm nod in her direction. "Thanks." Akando's concern was also appreciated, though with a boy and a childhood friend at that, Atzi couldn't help but put up a stronger front. Forcing a grin, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him in, bumping foreheads. "Not like you could, anyhow. Last time we wrestled, you couldn't toss me even when I stood straight up, remember?" Her teeth flashed. Happier days, warmer days. She released him, then smacked him on the back with a vigor that wasn't completely fake. "Show that elf up, Akando." And with Achel looking like she was finally going to take a break, Atzi decided to get to work too now. For all the emotional labour, her body remained thrumming with energy, and she struck her bicep with the palm of her opposing hand. It was a meaty thwack that carried well throughout the echoing chambers of the church. "A moment then!" Without anything else holding her back, Atzi ran off, her heart speeding up as her lungs pumped cold air through her burning blood. Crusted snow scattered as her mocassins smashed against the ground, and within moments, she reached Bolcha's workshop and home. Though they were ostensibly family, a desire for independence had come with a desire for privacy, and Atzi had built her own little hut a couple meters away from the craftsman's abode, where she could entertain her personal guests without bothering her foster family, as well as where she could experiment with her craft without disturbance. This time, however, she was here only because she had a habit of keeping a warm oven, and to pick up her equipment. Pushing open the slab of wood that served as the door to her mudbrick hut, Atzi pulled an extra cloak that laid in a heap, rescued a loaf of bread from her stove, empty out her waterskin and replaced the contents with some wine, and finally strapped her wooden club to the loop in her belt. Maira's own home wasn't even a day's walk away; if she kept a good pace, she should reach it expediently. Wouldn't even take half a day if she tried. All she had to do was stay in motion. Atzi stared at the embers and the ashes, breathed in the oils and fats, the acrid but tantalizing stench of scrambled brains and unscented soap. Her bed had been lonely for too long. She would invite Maira over tonight. Right. That's a certainty. Because she's still alive. … Atzi returned, the sweat beading over her body already wicked away by the breath of winter. She placed the round loaf of bread, kept warm during her return by being wrapped up in a cloth and held beneath her armpit, firmly into the Chiralta gravekeeper's hands, then swivelled about to locate Vamessa again. It looked as if the demon was nursing a bump on her head, but if it was just a bump, then it was fundamentally nothing. "Let's go. Can you run?" If she couldn't, that was no problem either. Atzi was just going to carry her there.</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa It didn't take long after the speech for small groups to form to tackle some of the tasks that village chief Enli and the other villagers had needed to be done. Indeed, Lissa wasn't alone in wanting to help some of the patients either. Though, she was greeted by the strange, but somewhat heartwarming scene of some of Dawn's girls interacting… through a combination of hugging, mauling with a hammer, and more hugging… but mostly hugging. It was rather cute display of humanity in the aftermath of a disaster, even if there was still a demon amidst them. It was for things like this –demon aside— that she traveled and interacted so. Lissa inclined her head towards the village priestess as she addressed her. She thought Akala looked a bit young for her role, but considering the village's immediate history, she supposed it was lucky there was somebody to fill the position. "Not a problem at all. Again, thank you for having me, and I'm glad to help. I'm Lissa," she responded, reintroducing herself, mostly for the benefit of the other three girls. So her guess had been right—the Mothraki was a villager, and a fellow helper, it seemed. "A Chiralta, huh," Lissa echoed, nodding as she memorized the name. "You've got a very diverse village here," she noted, her eyes flicking off to glance at the lewd demon girl that remained off to the side, but not before giving a goodbye wave to the departing Lazhira. As far as questions went, she had a lot, and many of them in regards to Vamessa… but again, there were things that needed doing, so she turned to Nyla with another nod. "I'm in your care, then. Let's get Calra those herbs and anything else she might need for her patients, yeah?" Then she paused. "Will the de—ah, Vamessa… be joining us?"</s>

<|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Vammy was happy to get a little cute noise out of Lazhira, even with that threat of throwing her out of the house that she didn't really expect her to fulfill. After all, she was like a furnace that kept the house warm at night... Even if she tossed and turned in bed the nights where she managed to make herself actually fall asleep. Then, came the hit to the head! A wonderful blow that made her arms go straight to the back of her head to try and dull the pain a bit. "Oooooucccch!" She groaned, looking towards the moth after she recovered. "Damn moth, I'll get your butt for this." Vammy said, though knowing her, one couldn't tell just how literal she was being with that statement. She quickly moved over to where the Mothraki was standing and threw her arms around her shoulders, opened her mouth wide.... And started to lightly nibble on Nylah's ear, as if to show off her "impish attitude". After a few seconds of this, "Yes, yes. Demon this and that. Just call me Vammy. I'm a really nice girl if you get to know me~" She said before lightly nibbling on Nylah's ear again and then releasing her fully. "I won't be joining you though, I have another job to go do. Maybe some other time though, new girl~" That was when Lazhira walked off, saying she had something to go do. "Oi, Lazhira!" Vammy said just as the girl was out of earshot. "Geh, that girl. She always disappears. From right in front of me..." Grumbling about following her fully one of these days, she rubbed her head again, feeling the pain from it a bit still. That was when Atzi showed up behind her, asking if she could run. So of course, Vammy had the perfect answer to that. "Oh... I could probably run, but I'm worried I might fall over because a certain moth smacked me square in the back of the head. I would hope very much that a strong, muscular woman would be able to carry me in her arms as we go~"</s>

<|description|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Gender: "Female" Race Possessed Shadow Elf Appearance: Once, she used to look like many of the Uruthra. A beautiful pale skinned elf though perhaps a small bit shorter than the rest of her peers. Now, however, while her face amd build is similar, she is still a farcry from what she had looked a one point. One might call her form a mockery of the elven race. Her skin is a dark shade of pink and her hair colored that reminds one of a flame. Bio Vamessa grew up in Gloomhaven with the rest of her kin and studied magic with a mild interest in demons, specifically making a bestiary with the strengths and weaknesses of each one. She was, at one point, the apprentice of the mage Rullphana. She was a hard worker and took her studies dilligently though, perhaps a small bit a trouble maker. For her bestiary, she would go out to places that had reports of demons and quietly observe them before safely retreating. She would ask people their experiences with anything they may have come across and wrote about them. Over time, she started to become a bit more of a wild card in society. While she didn't exactly neglect her lessons, she did start to seem more interested in her bestiary. One day, on one of her field studies in Naraheim, she found a small group of demons to spy on. They were beast-like creatures and were snacking on some fresh prey. One thing led to another and a chase started. She ran, and ran, and ran. There was plenty of them to be wary and scared of that she needed to run. Luckily, she knew the land and where demons were wary of going. There was an old coliseum like ruin that most demons seemed to avoid so she decided to take refuge there. While the beasts were cautious not to actually enter, they did guard the exit knowing that she would need to leave sometime. Worried, no, scared that the beasts would make their way in regardless, she looked for an exit aside the front door. What appeared before her was a lower level. Rather risk the dark than what she knew above ground, she descended hoping for her luck to turn out something. A useful tool of some sort perhaps. No. Rather, she found what she could only describe as some... Beautiful humanoid being but strange. A demon? The thought of having walked into the den of some demon worried her tremendously. Vamessa took a step back. Looking to risk her chances with the beasts upstairs, she went to turn and leave before something yanked her back towards the demon's body. As she looked, the demon's hand was tightly around her wrist as she felt a weird magical power flowing into her. She tried jerking her hamd away. Tried freeing herself as it felt like her head was ready to explode. Everything she could physically aside from cutting the hand off until soon enough it meekly released. Frightened, worried and trembling, she staggered back and fell to her behind. Her hands went quickly to her head as her immediate concern turn to the splitting feeling in her head before, of course, her vision faded to black. Some time later, her eyelids opened. Her body felt lighter and warmer. Vamessa put her hand to her temple but felt something weird on her forehead. Horns? No, not just horns. There were these.... Odd wings! And the tail! What happened to her? The answer was soon answered by a slightly annoyed voice in her head. She had been, in her scared, worried state, possessed by the demon. OF course, either her will was stronger than the demon expected, or in a more likely twist, the demon was weaker than she had expected. After a short discussion between the two, Vamessa found that she still had full control over her body despite the changes and she had some stronger power over fire now. Strong enough to force her way through the demons and make it back home. She could rest once she got back and figure out what was going on. OF course, her troubles only started from there. The guards actively stopped her from entering town. Her appearance was much too dissimilar from her original and they thought she was just some full fledged demon that was trying to attack town. Perhaps, Rullphana could help her. The woman was powerful and knew her for so long. She forced her way through and attempted to make her way to Rullphana's tower but, there was too much resistance. Too many people trying to stop her. The voice in her head told her to fight back, but these were the people she knew! How could she? She had to retreat. Escape town or worry about her death. On her way out, she stole a pack and some supplies. Whatever should could grab without stopping. Soon, she was out of town. She kept running and didn't look back. Over the course of the next couple of days, she escaped the mountain, wanting to avoid any search party for her. There were plenty of places to hide on a mountain, but not forever. She heard there was a forest down there and hopefully food. She spent much time alone with the voice in her head. Surviving off the land she moved around so no one could really pin her to a place, or more importantly, the spirit of the forest that made attempts on her life more than once. The few travelers she met, she messed around with. Playing pranks and other small things, but never really harming people other than the ones that intended to harm her. Perhaps it was her slowly warping personality, but killing people didn't seem to bother her much though it wasn't like she went out of her way to do so. In fact, her time in the forest with the voice made her a slight bit more antagonistic towards others. Her natural reaction to people was to poke fun at them or goading them. And yet, there were still moments of sincerity from her in dire moments. After some time, she found herself in the village of Dawn (tired of the attempts on her life by the forest). Somehow, perhaps by some divine guiding hand, she found a place for herself. She made herself useful and took care of fires around the town though she was perhaps a small bit suspicious looking, walking around late at night and making sure the place was properly lit up. It wasn't difficult with the powers she gained from her possession. She was also made to cook, which she didn't seem to mind doing despite any complaints she may give. Goals: Become strong enough to survive on her own and rid herself of her possession if it becomes a problem. Finish her bestiary. Skills: Blood-possessed: No longer what you once were, you've been possessed by a demon, effectively turning you into one yourself. The one that has taken hold of you is of the bestial and violent Blood Clan that revels in violence, emotion, and domination. It has only a minor sway over you currently, but it does seem to give you some inherent ability for fire, boosting your abilities and affinities with them...and also making you prone to outbursts of violence, and feeling euphoria watching things burn. You don't know the demons name yet, nor what its fully capable of. If it takes full control of you, you may not even remember it nor have control over your own body any more. Sometimes, you hear its sweet seductive whispers telling you to commit atrocities. Wild-Fire Pyromancy: Years of possession in the wild has left Vamessa naturally good at fire magic. There is also this constant desire burning in her heart to set fire to the things around her. While it's fairly easy to satiate, it's always nagging. Cooking is a surprisingly good outlet. The Mage's Disciple: At one point, she was the disciple of Rullphana, the greatest mage in Gloomhaven. A fact she was proud of. She has a general study of all the basic ideas of magic and, generally, can figure out magic and knows many simple spells and things as such. Inventory: Demonic Bestiary: The bestiary she spent time on making some years prior.</s> <|message|>Atzi He could stop magic? And had no face? A greater mind would be broken by such revelations. Confounded by the maddening swirl of color that replaced the flesh once beneath the mask. Repulsed on a genetic level by the sin upon nature that bloomed before them. But to Atzi, it didn't change anything. Whatever she saw was vaguely interesting, but not worth dwelling upon, especially when that hollow void transformed into a mass of very tangible, very understandable tentacles. She sprung back, swinging with the edge of her club as the tentacles rushed towards her, but the sharpened arrowteeth only managed to nick it. It was as if she had struck steel. Steel that was nevertheless as flexible, as girthy as the limb of a beast! It sunk immediately into the skulls of cultists who laid defeated, one last tentacle chasing after Vammy and her quarry. Such terrible speed! And when her leg was like this too! The woman pursed her lips. Talien would have been able to escape during this. He could find Maira. Could even lead Vammy to her. And Vammy was a demon. Her nature gave her abilities far beyond a human like Atzi, even if the tentacle-faced freak could take away her magic. So, in accordance to the laws of the wild, in accordance to her own principals and desires, in accordance to her current capabilities as someone who had ate well and enjoyed more than her fair share of happiness in Dawn… "Run! I'll hold it off!" And in one smooth motion, Atzi tore the spear out of an arrow-studded corpse, pulled her arm back, forced her blood to flood, and threw it as hard as she could towards the maskless monstrosity's chest. It would fly straight. It was what spears did. And if it could kill this distracted dumbass who was too busy tying off loose ends to do anything like take shelter, even better. But if it didn't? She drew her knife in her free hand, stoked the memories that served as her fuel, and breathed in deep. Blood seeped into everything, growing sticky, then cold. Someone had to warn the village of this. That someone didn't need to be her.</s> <|message|>Seelay "Your suggestion was to use your non-existent charm to lure it ashore." No matter how she was dedicated to her purpose as a Guardian of Fae lands, Seelay would never cease to be irritated by her companion's antics. Especially given the fact having her hair tugged on didn't exactly feel painless. Reaching up, she poked the fairy's belly in annoyance before attempting to focus on the task at hand. "As for handling this beast, I'd like to try and learn more about it before trying to kill it, but it's unlikely that we have the time," she said, "Nor do I have faith in it falling for the same trick multiple times." The elven hunter put her hands on her hips, allowing herself a smug smile. "I might not be as familiar with hunting on the sea, but I think I have a plan to take it down. I'll need to see what your equipment is like." But first, she was going to have to see how many harpoons they had.</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa "Tch," she clicked her tongue. "You're slipping, Lissa," she muttered to herself, frowning as her chop connected with the creature's tongue, but without enough follow through to hack it off. If she'd sliced it off completely, the Raam was quite sure that half of the threat would have been removed immediately. As it was, all she seemed to do was anger the beast as it prepared to do something. That something was some pretty suspicious sludge vomited at them; for a moment, Lissa prepared to knock herself and the entire stretcher-vehicle off course if they needed to, but thankfully the attack landed nowhere close enough for her to think of overturning the platform. Thankfully, they were on the run for long enough that they actually had reinforcements in the form of a few hunters. Unfortunately, that meant they were also drawing a dangerous house-sized monster straight into an already vulnerable village. As they neared the village, Lissa decided to hop off the stretcher just before passing the hunters, immediately rolling into a ready position, making a quick announcement as she did so. "Make way for the stretcher! You three, we need to defend the village. Chameleon-like beast, blends into the environment. Injured, but has a tongue with a nasty long reach, don't get caught." Elaborating for the benefit of the hunters so they knew what they were walking into, she pointed at a random villager nearby to delegate duties to. "You there, run and get some more help! Four of us might not be enough to defend the village from that thing!" As soon as she was done, her attention snapped right back to the chameleon, having used up what little precious time they had already. She placed herself between the hunters and the monster, sword up in a ready position before taking a position to strike while allowing the hunters to shoot it from behind her. Without any means of ranged attack, now that they were upon the village, passivity was no longer an option. She just hoped closing the distance was a good decision.</s>

<|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) "Do you want to die and not know more you stupid...." Vammy complained at the woman struggling in her arms. "Listen, you get the chance to study a demon up close so stop struggling." The demon continued running as she looked back and saw the tendril heading straight for her. This was going absolutely swimmingly. She wondered if she should have just followed her good friend into the woods back then but it was too late for that now as she started running down the mountain as fast as she could. One thing she was sure of was that she needed to get out of this anti-magic zone. She could comfortable escape if she managed that. One thing she noticed however... That idiot muscle woman was just standing there, ready to fight! "Gah! You dumbass, get running!" If she was going to let some damn cult member's tendril kill her or the brainwashed chick she was trying to take as a hostage to interrogate. Well, if muscles was going to get herself killed, then she wasn't about to let her do it in vain. She definitely was going to escape. She kept trying to cause her feet to burst fire from them to propel herself forward. And she kept at it and kept at it until soon she managed it! She twisted her self around and fired off four or so flame lances at the tendrils since she wasn't sure if it was following her or not. After, she kept going. "Gah! I'll grab the mutt to vouch for me too." She kept her grip on the cultist woman, just about ready to spank her like some unruly child to make her stop acting up... But that would only make Vammy happy and not help the actual problem. As she closed on the dog, she scooped the malnourished thing up and continued on, trying to escape the area... She just hoped Muscles would be following close behind somewhere.</s>

<|description|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Gender: "Female" Race Possessed Shadow Elf Appearance: Once, she used to look like many of the Uruthra. A beautiful pale skinned elf though perhaps a small bit shorter than the rest of her peers. Now, however, while her face amd build is similar, she is still a farcry from what she had looked a one point. One might call her form a mockery of the elven race. Her skin is a dark shade of pink and her hair colored that reminds one of a flame. Bio Vamessa grew up in Gloomhaven with the rest of her kin and studied magic with a mild interest in demons, specifically making a bestiary with the strengths and weaknesses of each one. She was, at one point, the apprentice of the mage Rullphana. She was a hard worker and took her studies dilligently though, perhaps a small bit a trouble maker. For her bestiary, she would go out to places that had reports of demons and quietly observe them before safely retreating. She would ask people their experiences with anything they may have come across and wrote about them. Over time, she started to become a bit more of a wild card in society. While she didn't exactly neglect her lessons, she did start to seem more interested in her bestiary. One day, on one of her field studies in Naraheim, she found a small group of demons to spy on. They were beast-like creatures and were snacking on some fresh prey. One thing led to another and a chase started. She ran, and ran, and ran. There was plenty of them to be wary and scared of that she needed to run. Luckily, she knew the land and where demons were wary of going. There was an old coliseum like ruin that most demons seemed to avoid so she decided to take refuge there. While the beasts were cautious not to actually enter, they did guard the exit knowing that she would need to leave sometime. Worried, no, scared that the beasts would make their way in regardless, she looked for an exit aside the front door. What appeared before her was a lower level. Rather risk the dark than what she knew above ground, she descended hoping for her luck to turn out something. A useful tool of some sort perhaps. No. Rather, she found what she could only describe as some... Beautiful humanoid being but strange. A demon? The thought of having walked into the den of some demon worried her tremendously. Vamessa took a step back. Looking to risk her chances with the beasts upstairs, she went to turn and leave before something yanked her back towards the demon's body. As she looked, the demon's hand was tightly around her wrist as she felt a weird magical power flowing into her. She tried jerking her hamd away. Tried freeing herself as it felt like her head was ready to explode. Everything she could physically aside from cutting the hand off until soon enough it meekly released. Frightened, worried and trembling, she staggered back and fell to her behind. Her hands went quickly to her head as her immediate concern turn to the splitting feeling in her head before, of course, her vision faded to black. Some time later, her eyelids opened. Her body felt lighter and warmer. Vamessa put her hand to her temple but felt something weird on her forehead. Horns? No, not just horns. There were these.... Odd wings! And the tail! What happened to her? The answer was soon answered by a slightly annoyed voice in her head. She had been, in her scared, worried state, possessed by the demon. OF course, either her will was stronger than the demon expected, or in a more likely twist, the demon was weaker than she had expected. After a short discussion between the two, Vamessa found that she still had full control over her body despite the changes and she had some stronger power over fire now. Strong enough to force her way through the demons and make it back home. She could rest once she got back and figure out what was going on. OF course, her troubles only started from there. The guards actively stopped her from entering town. Her appearance was much too dissimilar from her original and they thought she was just some full fledged demon that was trying to attack town. Perhaps, Rullphana could help her. The woman was powerful and knew her for so long. She forced her way through and attempted to make her way to Rullphana's tower but, there was too much resistance. Too many people trying to stop her. The voice in her head told her to fight back, but these were the people she knew! How could she? She had to retreat. Escape town or worry about her death. On her way out, she stole a pack and some supplies. Whatever should could grab without stopping. Soon, she was out of town. She kept running and didn't look back. Over the course of the next couple of days, she escaped the mountain, wanting to avoid any search party for her. There were plenty of places to hide on a mountain, but not forever. She heard there was a forest down there and hopefully food. She spent much time alone with the voice in her head. Surviving off the land she moved around so no one could really pin her to a place, or more importantly, the spirit of the forest that made attempts on her life more than once. The few travelers she met, she messed around with. Playing pranks and other small things, but never really harming people other than the ones that intended to harm her. Perhaps it was her slowly warping personality, but killing people didn't seem to bother her much though it wasn't like she went out of her way to do so. In fact, her time in the forest with the voice made her a slight bit more antagonistic towards others. Her natural reaction to people was to poke fun at them or goading them. And yet, there were still moments of sincerity from her in dire moments. After some time, she found herself in the village of Dawn (tired of the attempts on her life by the forest). Somehow, perhaps by some divine guiding hand, she found a place for herself. She made herself useful and took care of fires around the town though she was perhaps a small bit suspicious looking, walking around late at night and making sure the place was properly lit up. It wasn't difficult with the powers she gained from her possession. She was also made to cook, which she didn't seem to mind doing despite any complaints she may give. Goals: Become strong enough to survive on her own and rid herself of her possession if it becomes a problem. Finish her bestiary. Skills: Blood-possessed: No longer what you once were, you've been possessed by a demon, effectively turning you into one yourself. The one that has taken hold of you is of the bestial and violent Blood Clan that revels in violence, emotion, and domination. It has only a minor sway over you currently, but it does seem to give you some inherent ability for fire, boosting your abilities and affinities with them...and also making you prone to outbursts of violence, and feeling euphoria watching things burn. You don't know the demons name yet, nor what its fully capable of. If it takes full control of you, you may not even remember it nor have control over your own body any more. Sometimes, you hear its sweet seductive whispers telling you to commit atrocities. Wild-Fire Pyromancy: Years of possession in the wild has left Vamessa naturally good at fire magic. There is also this constant desire burning in her heart to set fire to the things around her. While it's fairly easy to satiate, it's always nagging. Cooking is a surprisingly good outlet. The Mage's Disciple: At one point, she was the disciple of Rullphana, the greatest mage in Gloomhaven. A fact she was proud of. She has a general study of all the basic ideas of magic and, generally, can figure out magic and knows many simple spells and things as such. Inventory: Demonic Bestiary: The bestiary she spent time on making some years prior.</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa Folding her arms, the Raam-in-disguise nodded in agreement as Nylah elaborated on her own explanation. Lissa wondered what the mothraki had wanted to her ask her in private, but with these newcomers, she guessed that it could wait for later. She was about to respond further when she spotted the village's resident demon sneak in among the trio to… reverse pickpocket a sweet roll into the young girl's hands. She briefly tensed up, the same as the clearly noble girl's escort did. Lissa herself was still unsure about the demoness, but she was equally concerned how the travelers would react to something obviously unusual as… Vammy. Lissa held up her hands in placation. "Everybody, let's not be too hasty," she began, but made sure to shoot a very dirty look in the lewd demon girl's direction. "As far as I know, she hasn't done anything of harm yet, and with the disaster that has befallen this village and general region, it can use any body or helping hand it can get. It's why I'm staying here myself, so I'll have to kindly ask you to refrain from any potential arson!" Thankfully, the trio's talk only remained on the level of bickering and was moderated by the half-elf girl, of all things. How important to them was that girl if a couple uncertain words in Nylah's favor was able to calm her escort? Curious and curiouser, Lissa wanted to know who these people were exactly. Well, a basic introduction would do for now, even if it was tainted with the threat of violence. "Lissa, traveling knight and part-time merchant. Nylah and the villagers would never do such a thing, but if you act against the village, I'll be obliged to intervene." She sniffed as the girl and her charge began to bicker again. Thankfully, the dwarf was more approachable, and Lissa lit up as she mentioned her rescue mission. "Looking to join? There's a merchant caravan some ways away from the village that are bogged down in the snow and are being sieged by some local groups. I've been told they're the Krysa and the Yaga, but what's important is that they're in a bad way, and the village itself also needs their help. I intend to mount an expedition to either relieve them or at least get a better idea of what's going on. Your help would be… really appreciated, and I'm sure both the village and Mie and her caravan would duly reward you for the assistance."</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Dawn get the fuck out of my room im playing minecraft --- Gideon looked at the sassy, lost child with some curiosity. It was clear to him that this was Asvar's daughter. For a moment, he pondered what the correct nomenclature for such a half-breed was. Shadwarf? Delf? He would stroke his chin as the different possibilities came to his head. After all, the Shadow Elves and the Dwarfs do live in close proximity. He didn't think too hard on it, however, as the child probed him with questions. "No, I'm afraid I have not. Us Raam have metal bones, you see, and the heat of Naraheim would be... uncomfortable, to say the least. I wouldn't be that smart of a fellow if I went into such depths without a care in the world, especially with the other dangers that lurk in Naraheim." Before he would make his way to Asvar's shop, however, Gideon stopped walking, looking at Raelzeth with a bit of concern. This stemmed from both him resisting the urge to ask for an "official" name for Half-Elf Haf-Dwarf children, but primarily because he felt a bit... off around the runt. It seemed like she was up to something, for sure, but he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. For some reason, it felt like if he went into her father's smithy, her plans may come to fruition. It's not like he needed to talk to Asvar immediately, anyway. The dwarf is probably working the forge, and it wouldn't be a good thing for Gideon to step in at such a time. Plus, he could just as easily get to the heart of the problem right now. After all, the stone-singer was in his presence. "... and I've heard a few things about you, as well, Raelzeth. Your talents in magic, both Elven and Dwarven, are astounding from what I hear. I've also heard you are having a bit of trouble finding ores with your stone-singing. Perhaps a 'smart guy' like myself can help you figure out that issue?"</s>

<|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) "Huh. I didn't think you had an actual survival sense." Vammy mentioned to her demon roommate on the way back to Lazhira's house. "Well, she kinda scares the stuffing out of me a bit too. Dwarf girl was easy on the eyes though, right?" She questioned before opening the door to Lazhira's place, only to see a not so soothing sight. "What...? Hope did you manage to get free?" Vammy questioned looking over the woman before it dawned on her. "Ohhh.... Ohoooo? I can see your features now~" Vammy cooed a small bit. "Well, what can I say. You're actually a fair bit sexy aren't you?" The demon shook her head. "No, ogling comes later. Just how did you get out of your binds here..." The demon questioned rubbing her chin a small bit. "If you wanted to dissect me, I'll have to pass though. I rather prefer not having a knife in my guts." Really though, she needed to make this a safe situation before Lazhira got home. She didn't want to introduce the girl to danger. Vammy pointed behind the escapee and ordered out, "Get her, mutt!" At the non-present there form of the dog. This was a bluff, of course. She just needed a small distraction to hastily get to the captive and trip her without being stabbed. From there, it would be simple enough to hold her down (by sitting on her) and remove her weapons.</s>

<|description|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Gender: "Female" Race Possessed Shadow Elf Appearance: Once, she used to look like many of the Uruthra. A beautiful pale skinned elf though perhaps a small bit shorter than the rest of her peers. Now, however, while her face amd build is similar, she is still a farcry from what she had looked a one point. One might call her form a mockery of the elven race. Her skin is a dark shade of pink and her hair colored that reminds one of a flame. Bio Vamessa grew up in Gloomhaven with the rest of her kin and studied magic with a mild interest in demons, specifically making a bestiary with the strengths and weaknesses of each one. She was, at one point, the apprentice of the mage Rullphana. She was a hard worker and took her studies dilligently though, perhaps a small bit a trouble maker. For her bestiary, she would go out to places that had reports of demons and quietly observe them before safely retreating. She would ask people their experiences with anything they may have come across and wrote about them. Over time, she started to become a bit more of a wild card in society. While she didn't exactly neglect her lessons, she did start to seem more interested in her bestiary. One day, on one of her field studies in Naraheim, she found a small group of demons to spy on. They were beast-like creatures and were snacking on some fresh prey. One thing led to another and a chase started. She ran, and ran, and ran. There was plenty of them to be wary and scared of that she needed to run. Luckily, she knew the land and where demons were wary of going. There was an old coliseum like ruin that most demons seemed to avoid so she decided to take refuge there. While the beasts were cautious not to actually enter, they did guard the exit knowing that she would need to leave sometime. Worried, no, scared that the beasts would make their way in regardless, she looked for an exit aside the front door. What appeared before her was a lower level. Rather risk the dark than what she knew above ground, she descended hoping for her luck to turn out something. A useful tool of some sort perhaps. No. Rather, she found what she could only describe as some... Beautiful humanoid being but strange. A demon? The thought of having walked into the den of some demon worried her tremendously. Vamessa took a step back. Looking to risk her chances with the beasts upstairs, she went to turn and leave before something yanked her back towards the demon's body. As she looked, the demon's hand was tightly around her wrist as she felt a weird magical power flowing into her. She tried jerking her hamd away. Tried freeing herself as it felt like her head was ready to explode. Everything she could physically aside from cutting the hand off until soon enough it meekly released. Frightened, worried and trembling, she staggered back and fell to her behind. Her hands went quickly to her head as her immediate concern turn to the splitting feeling in her head before, of course, her vision faded to black. Some time later, her eyelids opened. Her body felt lighter and warmer. Vamessa put her hand to her temple but felt something weird on her forehead. Horns? No, not just horns. There were these.... Odd wings! And the tail! What happened to her? The answer was soon answered by a slightly annoyed voice in her head. She had been, in her scared, worried state, possessed by the demon. OF course, either her will was stronger than the demon expected, or in a more likely twist, the demon was weaker than she had expected. After a short discussion between the two, Vamessa found that she still had full control over her body despite the changes and she had some stronger power over fire now. Strong enough to force her way through the demons and make it back home. She could rest once she got back and figure out what was going on. OF course, her troubles only started from there. The guards actively stopped her from entering town. Her appearance was much too dissimilar from her original and they thought she was just some full fledged demon that was trying to attack town. Perhaps, Rullphana could help her. The woman was powerful and knew her for so long. She forced her way through and attempted to make her way to Rullphana's tower but, there was too much resistance. Too many people trying to stop her. The voice in her head told her to fight back, but these were the people she knew! How could she? She had to retreat. Escape town or worry about her death. On her way out, she stole a pack and some supplies. Whatever should could grab without stopping. Soon, she was out of town. She kept running and didn't look back. Over the course of the next couple of days, she escaped the mountain, wanting to avoid any search party for her. There were plenty of places to hide on a mountain, but not forever. She heard there was a forest down there and hopefully food. She spent much time alone with the voice in her head. Surviving off the land she moved around so no one could really pin her to a place, or more importantly, the spirit of the forest that made attempts on her life more than once. The few travelers she met, she messed around with. Playing pranks and other small things, but never really harming people other than the ones that intended to harm her. Perhaps it was her slowly warping personality, but killing people didn't seem to bother her much though it wasn't like she went out of her way to do so. In fact, her time in the forest with the voice made her a slight bit more antagonistic towards others. Her natural reaction to people was to poke fun at them or goading them. And yet, there were still moments of sincerity from her in dire moments. After some time, she found herself in the village of Dawn (tired of the attempts on her life by the forest). Somehow, perhaps by some divine guiding hand, she found a place for herself. She made herself useful and took care of fires around the town though she was perhaps a small bit suspicious looking, walking around late at night and making sure the place was properly lit up. It wasn't difficult with the powers she gained from her possession. She was also made to cook, which she didn't seem to mind doing despite any complaints she may give. Goals: Become strong enough to survive on her own and rid herself of her possession if it becomes a problem. Finish her bestiary. Skills: Blood-possessed: No longer what you once were, you've been possessed by a demon, effectively turning you into one yourself. The one that has taken hold of you is of the bestial and violent Blood Clan that revels in violence, emotion, and domination. It has only a minor sway over you currently, but it does seem to give you some inherent ability for fire, boosting your abilities and affinities with them...and also making you prone to outbursts of violence, and feeling euphoria watching things burn. You don't know the demons name yet, nor what its fully capable of. If it takes full control of you, you may not even remember it nor have control over your own body any more. Sometimes, you hear its sweet seductive whispers telling you to commit atrocities. Wild-Fire Pyromancy: Years of possession in the wild has left Vamessa naturally good at fire magic. There is also this constant desire burning in her heart to set fire to the things around her. While it's fairly easy to satiate, it's always nagging. Cooking is a surprisingly good outlet. The Mage's Disciple: At one point, she was the disciple of Rullphana, the greatest mage in Gloomhaven. A fact she was proud of. She has a general study of all the basic ideas of magic and, generally, can figure out magic and knows many simple spells and things as such. Inventory: Demonic Bestiary: The bestiary she spent time on making some years prior.</s> <|message|>Finnegan Connors --- "Shit! SHIT! SHIT!" Finnegan cried out in panic as the Zombies rushed, and promptly overwhelmed him. Cut and slice and stab as he would-- the Apostle's efforts did little to dissuade the living dead from their onslaught; his opposition only serving to catch his knife in the decaying flesh of one of his attackers. Rotten blood gushed from the wound, causing his grip to slip from his knife as the Zombies tackled him to the ground. "Fu- fuck!" Any semblance of chivalrous attitude Finnegan had previously displayed all but vanished as adrenaline surged through his veins. The Militiaman flailed and twisted as he tried to wrench free of the Zombie clinging to his side and the one that currently had hold of his throat. It was far from enough. Just as frantically as he was attempting to escape the grasp of the undead; the undead themselves sought to feed upon his living flesh. Though Finn had managed to keep the one on his side at bay-- the one that hung over him; it's undying grasp wrapped tightly around his throat, pulled it's reeking jaws close... Finnegan fought to push the abomination away from him-- just enough to get out from under it. Every time his left hand reached out to push the creature back, the oil-like slick of blood caused his hand to slip, again and again until-- CRUNCH! A scream echoed through the halls of the Catacombs as blackened teeth cut through the first joint of Finnegan's ring finger. A second surge of Adrenaline pumped through the young soldier, sound and smell fading into obscurity as his vision began to tunnel. The sound of his own heartbeat pounded wildly in his own ears as the Zombie clutching his side began to make headway toward his neck as well. And then a black object slammed into the skull of the second Zombie. Whatever the Woman might of said-- it never reached Finnegan's ears. Whatever ornate carvings decorated the black object that had landed beside him-- Finnegan payed no heed. All he knew; all that mattered-- was that he had a weapon. His right hand formed a white-knuckled grip around whatever the object was-- and swung it hard into the temple of the Zombie that held his throat! "RAAAAAAAAAGH!!!" Again and again, he bashed the Zombie's skull with the odd flail he had been supplied; ravaging it until it's grip would loosen enough to break free! With a violent jerk, Finnegan whipped the pommel of his newly acquired weapon into the face of the second undead as he kicked away from his assailants, scrambling to get back to his feet!</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa Lissa couldn't help but to sniff at the continuously rude treatment she was getting from the child's so-called bodyguard, but elected to ignore her in favor of continuing her conversation with the more amiable elf. It seemed the two were leaving anyway; she gave Nylah a small wave as the three of them headed off to her house. The Raam glanced over curiously at the gems the dwarven girl had received as payment. There was definitely a story to be had there, what with a dwarf being a hired hand to protect a young noble girl, but she decided to pry at a better time. There were better things to do right now, and it seemed the girl knew about the groups that she had been talking about. Lissa had intended to ask Haruno or Nylah more about them, but she hadn't gotten a chance with the repeated interruptions. "Mhm, seems like it," she nodded. "I don't know too much about them myself, so I'll appreciate any information about them, but I think it's likely the recent disasters in the area might have made food and supplies scarce. Food insecurity's a good reason for tempers to flare if any… it might just be as simple as the two of them teaming up to survive," she mused. "Ah, right, I'm Lissa, a pleasure. I'm sure the village would make it worth your while for your assistance. If not, I have the means to make it right," Lissa nodded, inclining her head towards Eirhild's recent payment. She had a reasonable amount of coin with her after offloading much of her things recently, and she wasn't afraid of spending it for a good cause. Lissa offered a hand. "You can consider it another job, then. As for the operation itself… it's my plan, but I'm still in the early stages of planning it out. I'm going to ask around for more information on the three groups in the village, but I want to keep it simple; we get in, intervene, and figure out a way to drive off the Kyrsa and Yaga, or convey Mie's group safely to the village. Failing that, scout out the situation and figure out a contingency from there."</s>

<|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Vammy smiled as she saw the mutt jump through the window and plow over the escaping prisoner. As soon as she saw the dog sitting on her, Vammy walked over and removed the weapons from the woman's hands before stepping on her and holding the woman down with a foot. "Now, how did you escape little missy~?" Vammy asked with a smile. "And I can see you now too~ You're making me interested in you even more now. That said..." The demon looked toward the mutt that had saved her a lot of trouble. "It looks like I need to feed you even better for our next meal, eh, Mutt?" Vammy said with a smile. She seemed rather please that the dog had helped her out. "Now then, I maybe I should tie you up again. Or I don't do that and choose to help myself to checking out your person for more weapons." The demon said, licking her lips with perverse thoughts obviously on her mind. She should probably wait to do anything unless Lazhira calls her a cheater of some sort. "Or, maybe I should just tie you up. Watch her mutt." Vammy said before going to grab some rope and coming back quickly to tie the girl up as she awaited Lazhira's return.</s>

<|description|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Gender: "Female" Race Possessed Shadow Elf Appearance: Once, she used to look like many of the Uruthra. A beautiful pale skinned elf though perhaps a small bit shorter than the rest of her peers. Now, however, while her face amd build is similar, she is still a farcry from what she had looked a one point. One might call her form a mockery of the elven race. Her skin is a dark shade of pink and her hair colored that reminds one of a flame. Bio Vamessa grew up in Gloomhaven with the rest of her kin and studied magic with a mild interest in demons, specifically making a bestiary with the strengths and weaknesses of each one. She was, at one point, the apprentice of the mage Rullphana. She was a hard worker and took her studies dilligently though, perhaps a small bit a trouble maker. For her bestiary, she would go out to places that had reports of demons and quietly observe them before safely retreating. She would ask people their experiences with anything they may have come across and wrote about them. Over time, she started to become a bit more of a wild card in society. While she didn't exactly neglect her lessons, she did start to seem more interested in her bestiary. One day, on one of her field studies in Naraheim, she found a small group of demons to spy on. They were beast-like creatures and were snacking on some fresh prey. One thing led to another and a chase started. She ran, and ran, and ran. There was plenty of them to be wary and scared of that she needed to run. Luckily, she knew the land and where demons were wary of going. There was an old coliseum like ruin that most demons seemed to avoid so she decided to take refuge there. While the beasts were cautious not to actually enter, they did guard the exit knowing that she would need to leave sometime. Worried, no, scared that the beasts would make their way in regardless, she looked for an exit aside the front door. What appeared before her was a lower level. Rather risk the dark than what she knew above ground, she descended hoping for her luck to turn out something. A useful tool of some sort perhaps. No. Rather, she found what she could only describe as some... Beautiful humanoid being but strange. A demon? The thought of having walked into the den of some demon worried her tremendously. Vamessa took a step back. Looking to risk her chances with the beasts upstairs, she went to turn and leave before something yanked her back towards the demon's body. As she looked, the demon's hand was tightly around her wrist as she felt a weird magical power flowing into her. She tried jerking her hamd away. Tried freeing herself as it felt like her head was ready to explode. Everything she could physically aside from cutting the hand off until soon enough it meekly released. Frightened, worried and trembling, she staggered back and fell to her behind. Her hands went quickly to her head as her immediate concern turn to the splitting feeling in her head before, of course, her vision faded to black. Some time later, her eyelids opened. Her body felt lighter and warmer. Vamessa put her hand to her temple but felt something weird on her forehead. Horns? No, not just horns. There were these.... Odd wings! And the tail! What happened to her? The answer was soon answered by a slightly annoyed voice in her head. She had been, in her scared, worried state, possessed by the demon. OF course, either her will was stronger than the demon expected, or in a more likely twist, the demon was weaker than she had expected. After a short discussion between the two, Vamessa found that she still had full control over her body despite the changes and she had some stronger power over fire now. Strong enough to force her way through the demons and make it back home. She could rest once she got back and figure out what was going on. OF course, her troubles only started from there. The guards actively stopped her from entering town. Her appearance was much too dissimilar from her original and they thought she was just some full fledged demon that was trying to attack town. Perhaps, Rullphana could help her. The woman was powerful and knew her for so long. She forced her way through and attempted to make her way to Rullphana's tower but, there was too much resistance. Too many people trying to stop her. The voice in her head told her to fight back, but these were the people she knew! How could she? She had to retreat. Escape town or worry about her death. On her way out, she stole a pack and some supplies. Whatever should could grab without stopping. Soon, she was out of town. She kept running and didn't look back. Over the course of the next couple of days, she escaped the mountain, wanting to avoid any search party for her. There were plenty of places to hide on a mountain, but not forever. She heard there was a forest down there and hopefully food. She spent much time alone with the voice in her head. Surviving off the land she moved around so no one could really pin her to a place, or more importantly, the spirit of the forest that made attempts on her life more than once. The few travelers she met, she messed around with. Playing pranks and other small things, but never really harming people other than the ones that intended to harm her. Perhaps it was her slowly warping personality, but killing people didn't seem to bother her much though it wasn't like she went out of her way to do so. In fact, her time in the forest with the voice made her a slight bit more antagonistic towards others. Her natural reaction to people was to poke fun at them or goading them. And yet, there were still moments of sincerity from her in dire moments. After some time, she found herself in the village of Dawn (tired of the attempts on her life by the forest). Somehow, perhaps by some divine guiding hand, she found a place for herself. She made herself useful and took care of fires around the town though she was perhaps a small bit suspicious looking, walking around late at night and making sure the place was properly lit up. It wasn't difficult with the powers she gained from her possession. She was also made to cook, which she didn't seem to mind doing despite any complaints she may give. Goals: Become strong enough to survive on her own and rid herself of her possession if it becomes a problem. Finish her bestiary. Skills: Blood-possessed: No longer what you once were, you've been possessed by a demon, effectively turning you into one yourself. The one that has taken hold of you is of the bestial and violent Blood Clan that revels in violence, emotion, and domination. It has only a minor sway over you currently, but it does seem to give you some inherent ability for fire, boosting your abilities and affinities with them...and also making you prone to outbursts of violence, and feeling euphoria watching things burn. You don't know the demons name yet, nor what its fully capable of. If it takes full control of you, you may not even remember it nor have control over your own body any more. Sometimes, you hear its sweet seductive whispers telling you to commit atrocities. Wild-Fire Pyromancy: Years of possession in the wild has left Vamessa naturally good at fire magic. There is also this constant desire burning in her heart to set fire to the things around her. While it's fairly easy to satiate, it's always nagging. Cooking is a surprisingly good outlet. The Mage's Disciple: At one point, she was the disciple of Rullphana, the greatest mage in Gloomhaven. A fact she was proud of. She has a general study of all the basic ideas of magic and, generally, can figure out magic and knows many simple spells and things as such. Inventory: Demonic Bestiary: The bestiary she spent time on making some years prior.</s> <|message|>Novak Novak "I'm not here to apprehend you, I just want to find out why the Krysa want me and my friends dead," Novak assured her, his voice increasingly frustrated. "That attack on that Krysa noble has turned them rabid, and they're not just going after you. They've put my caravan under siege for a crime we didn't even know of, let alone commit. If I don't somehow break them out or convince the Krysa of their innocence, everyone I've traveled with for as long as I can remember will die!" He was done playing diplomatic or subtle. He was done being polite to this abrasive witch. At this point, there wasn't much else to do except clean as to exactly what he was here for and hope that she'd at least share something. He couldn't compel any answer from her, of course. The witch did mention that she could use her magic in self-defense, and Novak had no intention of putting that to the test. If she refused to cooperate further, there wasn't much to do but leave before her definition of self-defense extended to ridding her home of unwelcome guests. From what he could gather, the Krysa wanted this woman badly. She may be this person of interest that Lady Marushka was looking for, and was likely somehow involved in the assassination attempt. If this Yaga continued her refusal to share any information, it might be better for Novak to leave and leverage the information of her location and defenses with the Krysa, as risky as that may be. It'd be best not to let the witch know that, though.</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Dawn rocked --- "A Living Vein. Don't think they're too common around these parts. But I didn't find it on my own. That, you have Raelzeth to thank" Gideon gestured to the tired gremlin, as he thought for a moment just what sort of reward he could use. Thinking about the issues he's faced in his time here as well as the issues he will face in the future, there were a few ideas. Between the Living Vein that found itself here and the Pandillos they may eventually end up hunting in the future, there was one thing the Sage realized he'd need more than anything. "As for your offer... I can only ask for one thing." Gideon would offer his spear to the dwarf. "Traveled with this spear for a long time. Too long, in fact... I fear it may break on me one day, especially with things like Pandillos about. I think an upgrade is an order, or a new weapon entirely. We Raam are trained in all matter of armaments, but I do still feel a bit attached to this spear. Still, I trust the keen eye of a Dwarf smith more than anything whether or not this weapon's still suitable for combat."</s>

<|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) "Haha! We have the key! To something. Probably a door. Chest? Journal? Well, we'll find out." Vammy mentioned, turning her attention to the odd bronze construct with the lines on it. She'd fiddle around with chiseled lines to see if there was anything to note. If not, she'd lead her servant back down. "Let's see where this could belong to. It might be good, might be bad. I have a bad feeling about the basement so that's probably where we need to go." With that in mind, the demon lead the way towards the basement staircase.</s>

<|description|>Seelay * Gender: Female * Race: Cosain Elf * Appearance: A young elf maiden, with a short stature of around 154 cm. Her hair is an ethereal silver, and she has light skin and green eyes. * Bio: The child of a pair of elven guardians of high standing in Tamaln, Seelay's childhood was spent as a daughter of nobility. At the same time, her parents were quite insistent on instilling a sense of duty into her. She may have been their cherished daughter, but they wanted her to grow up to be a fine guardian of the forest. And so, her regular training was both to hone her skills and to grow a strong sense of purpose within her. Seelay took her training readily, proving to surpass her own father in skill when he was her and demonstrating a buried capacity with magic, to the surprise of her family. Needless to say, her pride swelled as her skills developed. But so to did her sense of duty, as her parents were successful in their endeavors. They had raised a stern, serious, and prideful girl. As she grew older, it was only natural she would begin to take on duties as a defender of Tamaln. Why else would she train, and continue to train, if not for this reason? Perhaps born of the way she was raised, Seelay desires to be patted on the head praised for her efforts, as such combined with her dutiful nature this pushed her to pursue greater and greater efforts. Her dedication to her duties, her desire for praise, and her pride would always spur her onwards. As a result, when Seelay was instructed to investigate the attack on Dawn, she did not hesitate in the least. She would demonstrate her skills once more, and get to the bottom of what had occurred without issue. Perhaps she could do without the observer that was sent along with her(in fact she could definitely do without her) but that would not stop her from completing her duties. * Goals: + Assist in rebuilding, as it is the proper thing to do. + Discover why the Elder Beast attacked Dawn, completing her duty. * Skills: + Ancestral Scion:The fey created the Elves with a specific purpose in mind - to protect, and constantly learn in order to do that. As such, they instilled the Elves with a specific ability to call upon their ancestors. Most often it simply takes the form as some sort of sixth sense to make the supernaturally good at some skill, rarer some elves earn particular favor of an ancestor spirit and it manifests to protect them. Even rarer, though all are capable of it - is the Leargas. A skill that turns a living elf into an Incarnation of every single ancestor. + Magic Lineage: Born with the blood of elven druids running through her veins, Seelay has far greater capacity in magic then most of her kin. She has not followed in their footsteps, however. Rather, she has honed her magical capability in regards to the appilication of applying magical effects to her weaponry. The application of mystical energies to her arrows or the edge of her sword is a common use, as well as increasing the impact of each arrow loosed. + Bow and Blade: Extensive training in the usage of a longbow and a curved elven sword. Seelay may be young for an elf at seventy years of age, but this still allows her to have training equivalent to nearly the entire average human lifespan. As a result, her capabilities can easily be seen as superhuman. While she lacks considerable physical power, much of her skill lies in agility and precision. In addition to the span of her training, Seelay can be considered to have taken to her training outstandingly well. All of this comes together to result in a combatant of considerable skill. * Inventory: A number of hunting and food supplies. Much of the food was acquired by her hunting and fishing. Additionally, she carries a longbow, arrows, a curved sword, and a dagger. Each of these weapons are of fine make. Finally, she is accompanied by a diminutive fey companion by the name of Sionna, whom she considers the least useful piece of equipment she has access to.</s> <|message|>Atzi If not for Vammy's warning, things would be different. Different, but perhaps only in circumstance. Bowstrings thrummed, and Atzi imposed herself before those that she sought to keep alive, red eye alight with fury that had an enemy. Her wooden club caught three of the arrows, staccato thumps felt in her hand, and two more scattered against the boulder behind them, snagged upon the cloak that she swung up to intercept. She caught the sixth shot in her left forearm, letting out a roar of pain as adrenaline surged in once more, that miracle drug that grant strength to the fatigued, relief for the pained. The first volley passed, but any archer worth their salt could fire the next within seconds. Hiding behind the boulder just meant they could better organize and maneuver, corral and flank. Running away was worse; it would be like being asked to be shot in the back or hunted down for hours on end. There was, as always, just one route ahead. As with wolves, as with bears, as with monsters, as with humans, she would fight until she died. Atzi grit her teeth and clenched her left fist. "Vammy, cover!" And with a lion's roar, the wild woman charged forth up the incline, prepared to snap their bows and break their bones.</s> <|message|>Nylah Nylah Wolf Kebabs, Anyone? --- As soon as the second wolf dashed out of the underbrush, seeking to charge her down with a perhaps hunger-driven urge to support its pack in the attack, the moment it emerged into Nylah's peripherals and bolted right at her she made her own move. With a flick of her thoughts toward the wolf, two of the spears of light shot out toward at the charging wild canine in turn. The other three simultaneously shifted to obstruct the mad charge defensively like an impaling three-light-spear wall in case it got past the two sent at it somehow. If all went to plan, the mad charge would get the wolf immediately impaled on the two light spears. If it went south, the other three were being used for defense. The novice herbalist kept her peripherals open regardless, even as her main line of sight shifted rapidly to the oncoming wolf that was madly charging her. Breathe. Focus. Control. One could, if they looked closer, see an ever so light tremble in the clenched right fist kept at her side though. At the same time, her face wore a look of notable focus and somewhat angry determination as it had the moment she decided to protect her patient. It was not perhaps a boon to Lissa's own situation, but the Mothraki silently prayed that the other girl would be able to fend off the other two wolves. Or, at the very least, that there weren't two more waiting to pop out beyond these. Regardless, the patient was safe despite her own and Lissa's immediate lack of safety thereof. A small comfort for the situation at the very least. However, there was one last thing... ...If the tiny moon goddess did not stop sticking her tongue at them,then she'd have to deny it imaginary headpats! That was, however, perhaps the most lighthearted potential aspect of the whole situation at best. Unless it was all a divine hallucination with the screen and all. Not a thing one could completely deny the potential of, given the moon goddess was involved in it. However, further thoughts about it would have to come later after getting Haruno to safety and then some. @Click This -Herbs/Herbalism Knowledge: Kyr Reed acted as a sort of coagulant as well as sedative. Made people calmer…not particularly useful for treating frostbite on its own, but it was useful for staunching bleeding or injuries. Could be crushed into a paste with a variety of other things to achieve various effects. Wind-Leaf acted as more of a stimulant. When properly mixed with Kyr Reed it made salves and healing poultices good for bolstering the immune system and promoting natural healing. Coral Moss and Slug mucus were a bit harder to find, since the slugs only could be found in shallow water during the day, with Coral Moss being found in damp sea caves off the coast near the Goddess Spear. Slug Mucus was good for making topical salves for alleviating pain, while Coral Moss, when exposed to certain other substances actually heated itself to temperatures good for gentle rewarming of frost-bitten areas. -{Herbalist's Bag}: A simple leather bag with a well-built shoulder strap, that is filled with a good number of many types of herbs, a good amount of bandages, and finally tools to make tonics, poultices, and potions alongside a scare few pre-prepared ones that are within the bag itself. She usually wears it around most of the time. -{Small Knife}: A gift from her mother, made with a smoothed-out bone handle and treated with certain oils, mainly used to help cut things like vines and plants when out collecting herbs and so forth. Also a very niche emergency self-defense tool. -{Food}: A small pouch sitting on her opposite hip that contains a few strips of preserved game meat and a few dried edible herbs from the local area. Not much in amount, since it was meant to be snacks for heading into the woods to gather herbs before 'that' happened. -{Wristband}: A simple little bracelet made of pretty stones dyed in various colors, carefully having had a hole made through each, sitting on a band made of twisted and treated leather strips. Worn on her left wrist and given as a gift to her by her mother. How long it took to acquire or even make is unknown. -{Cuteness}: She is a definitely cute moth girl. This is inherent to her existence. Yes.</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa Lissa had hoped that her immediate reaction would have been enough to ward off a lone wolf that might have bumbled itself into an opportunity, but it seemed that the three of them would not be that lucky. Although it had momentarily looked deterred, it was soon joined by two other wolves. The Raam only had the luxury of processing this information for a brief moment before the three beasts were upon them. For better or for worse, the pack split its attention between herself and Nylah, clearly smart enough to disregard the injured Oni as a threat. Nylah drawing the attention of one of the pack meant that Lissa faced down a far more reasonable two wolves, though, and from the spears that the Mothraki had summoned, it seemed the villager was more capable in a fight than she had initially assessed. At the very least, she could count on the girl not immediately dying in the next few seconds, which was more than enough for the armored girl to make things work. She paid little attention to the avatar of the moon goddess that hovered in the periphery of her vision as she met the first wolf head on, sword at the ready. If it continued its charge in the way it did, it would simply gore itself on her sword with relatively little effort on her part. Simultaneously, she kept track of the second wolf that had remained in the corner of her eye as it jumped at her, syncing its movements with its packmate. That it could coordinate this well was mildly impressive, but she was confident in beating them off. As the two wolves converged on her, she simply shifted her stance at the last moment to let the first wolf thunder past her before bringing her sword to run down along its body. Immediately following up, she turned this momentum to engage its mate, leveraging it to bring… a boot to the face. Regardless of how the engagement went, she then quickly disengaged by jumping backwards, making sure to remain in a position that would keep the wolves away from the other two.</s> <|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) Vammy sighed. Of course there were archers. Well, she was a scary demon. She had to show these people that scary demons shouldn't be triffled with. "We don't have to time for that, idiot." Vammy said to the demon's voice in her head. She say some arrows heading her way and quickly threw up a whirling screen of fire in front of her to deflect the arrows aimed at her. "How annoying these people are, I really just wanted to find that damn huntress and you all had to so damned annoying." The demon-elf held her hand out and pinpointed the general area where one of the bowmen were and created a fairly big ball of fire in her hand. She started bouncing her head up and down slightly, as if dancing along to a tune. She tossed the fireball up into the air and kept bouncing her head until the ball of fire started to fall back to the earth and she frowned. As it fell to just above her head, she stepped her foot back and braced. Her hand raised and then she powerfully hit the ball much like one would hit a volleyball and it launched in the general direction of one of the bowmen. As it impacted, it would slightly explode into a firey mess. It wouldn't immolate someone to death, but it would definitely singe and cause pain. She repeated this and aimed in the general direction of another arrow's source. "Gah, I'm really getting frustrated by the turn of events in the past day or so. Makes me want to rip something apart... Or feel someone up. Think Lazhira would let me?" She asked the demon in her head, readying to cast a fire screen should more arrows be heading her way... Or the mutt's. Perhaps she'd protect it just because she was feeling generous. Definitely not to make some other people feel indebted to her.</s>

<|message|>Seelay On the return to Dawn, there were many thoughts working their way through Seelay's mind. The Kyrnith's warning was chief among them. Not that she was worried about overhunting, as she would not allow the town's actions to come to that. Rather, the fact he had mentioned old creatures from the deep forest emerging to hunt. That was a potential concern, and also a potential opportunity. What hunter worth their salt would not desire to hunt such beasts, if given the opportunity? But there was also a fairly immediate issue. Something was scaring the fish away, and had injured a man. Something in the water. While the elf was more adept at hunting on land then hunting things beneath the waves, she was still quite proud of her fishing skills. And a bow could kill a beast of the water just as well as it could kill a beast of the land, as long as it was near enough to the surface. "Can you take me to the site of the fishing hole?" she asked.</s>

<|description|>Seelay * Gender: Female * Race: Cosain Elf * Appearance: A young elf maiden, with a short stature of around 154 cm. Her hair is an ethereal silver, and she has light skin and green eyes. * Bio: The child of a pair of elven guardians of high standing in Tamaln, Seelay's childhood was spent as a daughter of nobility. At the same time, her parents were quite insistent on instilling a sense of duty into her. She may have been their cherished daughter, but they wanted her to grow up to be a fine guardian of the forest. And so, her regular training was both to hone her skills and to grow a strong sense of purpose within her. Seelay took her training readily, proving to surpass her own father in skill when he was her and demonstrating a buried capacity with magic, to the surprise of her family. Needless to say, her pride swelled as her skills developed. But so to did her sense of duty, as her parents were successful in their endeavors. They had raised a stern, serious, and prideful girl. As she grew older, it was only natural she would begin to take on duties as a defender of Tamaln. Why else would she train, and continue to train, if not for this reason? Perhaps born of the way she was raised, Seelay desires to be patted on the head praised for her efforts, as such combined with her dutiful nature this pushed her to pursue greater and greater efforts. Her dedication to her duties, her desire for praise, and her pride would always spur her onwards. As a result, when Seelay was instructed to investigate the attack on Dawn, she did not hesitate in the least. She would demonstrate her skills once more, and get to the bottom of what had occurred without issue. Perhaps she could do without the observer that was sent along with her(in fact she could definitely do without her) but that would not stop her from completing her duties. * Goals: + Assist in rebuilding, as it is the proper thing to do. + Discover why the Elder Beast attacked Dawn, completing her duty. * Skills: + Ancestral Scion:The fey created the Elves with a specific purpose in mind - to protect, and constantly learn in order to do that. As such, they instilled the Elves with a specific ability to call upon their ancestors. Most often it simply takes the form as some sort of sixth sense to make the supernaturally good at some skill, rarer some elves earn particular favor of an ancestor spirit and it manifests to protect them. Even rarer, though all are capable of it - is the Leargas. A skill that turns a living elf into an Incarnation of every single ancestor. + Magic Lineage: Born with the blood of elven druids running through her veins, Seelay has far greater capacity in magic then most of her kin. She has not followed in their footsteps, however. Rather, she has honed her magical capability in regards to the appilication of applying magical effects to her weaponry. The application of mystical energies to her arrows or the edge of her sword is a common use, as well as increasing the impact of each arrow loosed. + Bow and Blade: Extensive training in the usage of a longbow and a curved elven sword. Seelay may be young for an elf at seventy years of age, but this still allows her to have training equivalent to nearly the entire average human lifespan. As a result, her capabilities can easily be seen as superhuman. While she lacks considerable physical power, much of her skill lies in agility and precision. In addition to the span of her training, Seelay can be considered to have taken to her training outstandingly well. All of this comes together to result in a combatant of considerable skill. * Inventory: A number of hunting and food supplies. Much of the food was acquired by her hunting and fishing. Additionally, she carries a longbow, arrows, a curved sword, and a dagger. Each of these weapons are of fine make. Finally, she is accompanied by a diminutive fey companion by the name of Sionna, whom she considers the least useful piece of equipment she has access to.</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Dawn is it sexual harassment if its a spider? --- When they got back to town, Gideon had elected to just wait at the church for the other hunters to return. After all, he had much to think about. Aside from the logistics behind any operation he planned to do, he also needed to figure out his 'sales pitch,' in a sense. It was good that Akando seemed receptive to his ideas, but Gideon was not sure of how the other hunters would react. After all, he is an outsider in the end, and he is well aware that there are those who believe it is not an outsider's place to tell them how to do the things they normally do. The sage was not quite vested at speaking to others, being something of a literal robot when it comes to interpersonal relations, an irony not quite found on the Raam due to his metallic skeleton or his calculator-like blessing. Before Gideon could truly get to thinking about how he wished to converse with the hunters, he was approached from behind by one of the village's other residents, one that he had a hard time remembering at least based off of voice, alone. It was a strange thing, especially since Gideon was capable of matching voices with faces pretty well. The woman's groping of his back did little to startle the Raam, as he had been victim of far worse in the past by more... curious parties. Her questions, however, were more quickly met with a response. "I had visions of this village, visions given to me by the Forgefather." The Raam responded, doing well not to go too deep into how he seemed to have become a 'person of interest' among other powers beyond his control. Having some time to think on it, it was quite strange that the Raam had been chosen by the Moon Goddess. It was not because of why he was chosen, or because of his current beliefs, but how he was chosen instead. What's more interesting was how the Moon Goddess had appeared before him. While he was sure it was a futile effort to compare communication methods of the divine, the way Delpithi had made herself known before him was something foreign and alien, something of an out-of-body experience, at least compared to Grams. Whenever the Forgefather spoke to him, it was as if they were connected, as if Grams was truly a part of Gideon. A much more natural experience, at least as far as the supernatural is concerned. Perhaps it is because the Forgefather is an actual father who had essentially 'raised' him, while Delpithi felt like a distant relative who had gone out for some milk prior to his creation. "... Ah, yes. You required aid... Achel, was it?" Gideon replied to Achel after what seemed like an age of self-reflection, realizing she was standing before him for some time. As far as first impressions go, the Chiralta was quite... peculiar, to say the least. While they were among the people he had traveled the most with, it was rare to have met one who chose to settle in a small village, especially one who dressed in the matter the grave keeper did. In other words, a weirdo much like himself. "Sorry. What you said describing my fate had me ponder on a few things I did not quite have the time for just yet. We should get going"</s> <|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) "Geeeeeh.... It's hard to focus when you don't shut up and get so excited..." Vammy complained, trying to hold back the demon's emotions from influencing her mind so much. "We need to take one alive~ After all, don't you wanna know why some dumbasses are out here, tying up dogs and wearing some really unfashionable robes and masks while loosing arrows at a beautiful lady?" Her tone slowly turned from a fake happy to a more irritated, "I really do want to rip them apart" tone. Well, standing here wasn't going to help her really, not when there were a number of idiots still shooting arrows at her. "Still, it's nice that they think I'm enough of a threat for five archers... Though they'll need more." She readied another fireball, this time it was armed to explode quite readily, ready to scorch one or two the archers. It seemed the same general size as the last balls at first, though, as it traveled it would slowly grow a couple of sizes before impact. Vammy smiled a sweet, sickly smile towards all the archers as she toss the fireball. It moved at a surprisingly fast velocity and started to increase in size as it moved. It was aimed towards and area near enough one archer towards the middle of the group. The intent of course was chaos. After loosing the spell, Vammy made a break for the archers using her magic to increase her speed by releasing small explosions under her feet to propel herself forward. She was ready for a bloodbath mixed with a nice roast, though she worried that the roast might be overcooked. "Come here little ratties~ I'll rip you limb from limb~" Obviously, the demon's bloodlust had influenced Vammy as she made her mad dash.</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa A grin stretched across Lissa's face as her hits found their mark. If a mere pair of wolves gave her reason to break a sweat, then she would have never made it this far from home. Really, the wolves should have known better than to have launched their attack like that. In the corner of her eye, she noted that the third wolf had been bloodied against Nylah's light spears. Good; that was one less person and wolf to worry about. The ribbon-less girl turned to the wolf whose face she had kicked in—the one that she gored was out of the fight. Raising her sword, she prepared to end the fight with one last slash when the ground began to rumble. An earthquake? Now? She had experienced a few such tremors in the past. One of them had been bad enough that she had the fortune to experience the thrill-inducing adventure of having to dodge flying bricks from a building collapsing next to her. As unique as that experience had been, Lissa had not enjoyed the aftermath of poking around looking for survivors in the rubble. The reaction of the wolves, however, told her that this was no mere seismic activity. Literal alarm bells began to ring in her head as her instincts told her to run, and she immediately began backing away from the forest, just as the remaining wolves began to sprint away. "You guys… I think we should leave," she began, voice unsure for the moment. When a tree was knocked aside, and a wolf disappeared into the treeline at the lash of a monstrous tongue, that uncertainly coalesced into stone cold fear and then into a firm course of action. "…Run. We're leaving. Get to the village!" Sheathing her sword, she jumped backwards, latching onto Haruno's light-stretcher. Mustering all her strength, she began to pull it along with her as she ran back in the direction of Dawn, hoping that Nylah would follow, or help her with the bed. Whatever remained behind the trees was not to be tangoed with.</s> <|message|>Nylah Nylah MUST GO FASTER MUST GO FASTER!!! --- A-A giant tongue? But what could a frog be doing during this season? How big was this-...never mind. Actually, thinking about it was not something she wanted to do at the moment. Whatever it was, that was the same direction the deer cries had come from. Not good. Not good at all. It was something she didn't need to ponder more as the injured wolf was snapped up like a fly in the air. It was enough to make the other two wolves run...the hungry, likely starving wolves run. Nylah jumped onto the dome of her floating light stretcher as Lissa tried to pull it, sending her remaining light spears back in the direction of the tongue. She didn't care at this point if they did hit. The one thing about this spell was it's ability to be moved along, either pushed or being made to move by the caster. In that vein the Mothraki girl immediately pushed all she had into making the stretcher move. Fast. Speed. She knew it was capable of this, as she'd perhaps run one into a tree some months back when trying to practice the idea with Miss Calra early on. Hard. By accident. But now was not the time to think of the landing. "GRAB ON AND HANG OOOOOOOOON!!!" Nylah shouted, all the stretcher very suddenly begin to move rapidly. Rather rapidly. Increasingly rapidly, in the direction of the village. All whilst Nylah was clinging on to it for dear life. Gone was the bravery in the face of the wolves, the life of her patient on the line, as the panic of wanting to not die came into the equation. Stone cold fear of something far beyond themselves settled in rather quickly, and the instinct to survive was at its most raw in a situation like this. Maybe. She hadn't had a situation like this before, in all fairness, but she'd rather crash into the village than get eaten. Or let Haruno get eaten. Or let Lissa get eaten. Getting eaten was not the way she wanted to go in general! So she'd push herself and her magic to make this stretcher move as fast as possible if it meant avoiding death. Even if it left her exhausted in the process. Further, she would ultimately give the tiny goddess on the screen her imaginary headpats. Seemed fitting for her being nicer for a moment. And for giving them updates like this. Information was good. The warning was a bit redundant, though, but still appreciated. This@Rune_Alchemist</s>

<|message|>Seelay Seelay was silent as she took in the surroundings, and the injured fisherman's words. So much ice... she'd never seen anything quite like it. It stretched out into the ocean, a vast plain of whiteness obscuring the sea below. With conditions like this, it was almost impossible to determine just what could be lurking below. On top of that, the fact it was capable of leaving the water indicated that it would not be harmless if brought onto land. Still, in terms of options for trying to combat it... She needed to learn more. This much simply wasn't enough information to determine how to go about stopping it. Certainly, she was more versed in hunting terrestrial prey, but she knew how to fish quite well and she could grasp the principles of pursuing a beast such as this. But without any more information, it was simply impossible to decide how to begin. The silvery-haired elf considered her next move, arms folded across her chest. "Has anyone ever gotten a decent look at this creature?" she asked, "Enough to get a sense of how it's shaped, or how long it might be." Huge was one thing, but if she had something more specific it would be a little easier to think of a plan. If no-one had gotten a good look at the beast, perhaps she would need to see it for herself.</s>

<|description|>Seelay * Gender: Female * Race: Cosain Elf * Appearance: A young elf maiden, with a short stature of around 154 cm. Her hair is an ethereal silver, and she has light skin and green eyes. * Bio: The child of a pair of elven guardians of high standing in Tamaln, Seelay's childhood was spent as a daughter of nobility. At the same time, her parents were quite insistent on instilling a sense of duty into her. She may have been their cherished daughter, but they wanted her to grow up to be a fine guardian of the forest. And so, her regular training was both to hone her skills and to grow a strong sense of purpose within her. Seelay took her training readily, proving to surpass her own father in skill when he was her and demonstrating a buried capacity with magic, to the surprise of her family. Needless to say, her pride swelled as her skills developed. But so to did her sense of duty, as her parents were successful in their endeavors. They had raised a stern, serious, and prideful girl. As she grew older, it was only natural she would begin to take on duties as a defender of Tamaln. Why else would she train, and continue to train, if not for this reason? Perhaps born of the way she was raised, Seelay desires to be patted on the head praised for her efforts, as such combined with her dutiful nature this pushed her to pursue greater and greater efforts. Her dedication to her duties, her desire for praise, and her pride would always spur her onwards. As a result, when Seelay was instructed to investigate the attack on Dawn, she did not hesitate in the least. She would demonstrate her skills once more, and get to the bottom of what had occurred without issue. Perhaps she could do without the observer that was sent along with her(in fact she could definitely do without her) but that would not stop her from completing her duties. * Goals: + Assist in rebuilding, as it is the proper thing to do. + Discover why the Elder Beast attacked Dawn, completing her duty. * Skills: + Ancestral Scion:The fey created the Elves with a specific purpose in mind - to protect, and constantly learn in order to do that. As such, they instilled the Elves with a specific ability to call upon their ancestors. Most often it simply takes the form as some sort of sixth sense to make the supernaturally good at some skill, rarer some elves earn particular favor of an ancestor spirit and it manifests to protect them. Even rarer, though all are capable of it - is the Leargas. A skill that turns a living elf into an Incarnation of every single ancestor. + Magic Lineage: Born with the blood of elven druids running through her veins, Seelay has far greater capacity in magic then most of her kin. She has not followed in their footsteps, however. Rather, she has honed her magical capability in regards to the appilication of applying magical effects to her weaponry. The application of mystical energies to her arrows or the edge of her sword is a common use, as well as increasing the impact of each arrow loosed. + Bow and Blade: Extensive training in the usage of a longbow and a curved elven sword. Seelay may be young for an elf at seventy years of age, but this still allows her to have training equivalent to nearly the entire average human lifespan. As a result, her capabilities can easily be seen as superhuman. While she lacks considerable physical power, much of her skill lies in agility and precision. In addition to the span of her training, Seelay can be considered to have taken to her training outstandingly well. All of this comes together to result in a combatant of considerable skill. * Inventory: A number of hunting and food supplies. Much of the food was acquired by her hunting and fishing. Additionally, she carries a longbow, arrows, a curved sword, and a dagger. Each of these weapons are of fine make. Finally, she is accompanied by a diminutive fey companion by the name of Sionna, whom she considers the least useful piece of equipment she has access to.</s> <|message|>Nylah Nylah LESS TALK MORE DUST AND YAKETY SAX --- "How am I supposed to know it isn't coming for us next anyway! Both of you hang oooooooooooonnnnnnnnn!!!" No time to use magic. No way to hold some kind of weapon. Looking back for a second allowed her to see the glimpse of the giant...lizard?! Chameleon??? Whatever it was, the image of how it looked was burned into her mind by the raw panic. Truly a visage of predatory death it was. With all of this in mind, the Mothraki in her desperation began to emit as much of her species' {Enthralling Dust} as she could, even shaking her wings along the way to kick off as much as she could. This whilst clinging to the stretcher for dear life as she looked forward and it zoomed like a blazing hot rocket across the terrain and toward the village. She would push herself to the bone to make this thing zoom faster than the gods themselves if she had to. The {Enthralling Dust} would hopefully help the problem, rather than make it worse. Then again, shouting something else in desperation was also a thing, as she would do in the following seconds- "Oh gods of this world, please help us move faster so we don't dieeeeeeee!!!" Was there a deity over winter snow? Or maybe a death deity would help, that'd be nice to give a prayer of thanks for later. Maybe Delphiti would help expedite their journey in safety, as that would perhaps be amusing for her? Nylah had no idea, and didn't expect the loud and desperate call out for help to do anything. Then again, the gods were fickle and could do a lot of things for amusement or whatever. Or simply not do anything at all. Either way the hope to not get eaten and maybe drug up the pursuer was high as Nylah continued to push her magic and self to the furthest extent to keep the stretcher safely zooming along at mach speeds. This@Rune_Alchemist -Herbs/Herbalism Knowledge: Kyr Reed acted as a sort of coagulant as well as sedative. Made people calmer…not particularly useful for treating frostbite on its own, but it was useful for staunching bleeding or injuries. Could be crushed into a paste with a variety of other things to achieve various effects. Wind-Leaf acted as more of a stimulant. When properly mixed with Kyr Reed it made salves and healing poultices good for bolstering the immune system and promoting natural healing. Coral Moss and Slug mucus were a bit harder to find, since the slugs only could be found in shallow water during the day, with Coral Moss being found in damp sea caves off the coast near the Goddess Spear. Slug Mucus was good for making topical salves for alleviating pain, while Coral Moss, when exposed to certain other substances actually heated itself to temperatures good for gentle rewarming of frost-bitten areas. -{Enthralling Dust} (Racial): Mothraki produce a potent pollen like dust upon their wings. Merely by existing they spread this where they go, though it's mostly harmless if not inhaled in large quantities. Causes hallucinations and dulls one's senses. As one may expect, people tend to frown upon this sort of thing. -{Journeyman Light Magic}: A magic encompassing pure light and illumination, ranging from harmless orbs to light up one's path all the way up to rays/beams of light as attacks to even light barriers and other light constructs such as swords and spears and shields and so forth. A versatile magic that does not call upon the fire of the sun, but does have its myriad uses and capabilities. -{Novice Herbalist}: Non-magical practices of a healer, ranging from identifying or figuring out the use of new herbs and recognizing familiar ones, to making things like certain poultices and healing-based alchemy/potion-making, to how to handle wounds/injuries and such using these things. -{Herbalist's Bag}: A simple leather bag with a well-built shoulder strap, that is filled with a good number of many types of herbs, a good amount of bandages, and finally tools to make tonics, poultices, and potions alongside a scare few pre-prepared ones that are within the bag itself. She usually wears it around most of the time. -{Small Knife}: A gift from her mother, made with a smoothed-out bone handle and treated with certain oils, mainly used to help cut things like vines and plants when out collecting herbs and so forth. Also a very niche emergency self-defense tool. -{Food}: A small pouch sitting on her opposite hip that contains a few strips of preserved game meat and a few dried edible herbs from the local area. Not much in amount, since it was meant to be snacks for heading into the woods to gather herbs before 'that' happened. -{Wristband}: A simple little bracelet made of pretty stones dyed in various colors, carefully having had a hole made through each, sitting on a band made of twisted and treated leather strips. Worn on her left wrist and given as a gift to her by her mother. How long it took to acquire or even make is unknown. -{Cuteness}: She is a definitely cute moth girl. This is inherent to her existence. Yes.</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Crypts of Dawn Spelunking --- The town's gravedigger was quite... strange, to say the least. Gideon has met Chiralta before, and is familiar with their strange mannerisms. This, however, was definitely different from what he us used to. Gideon could only dread what her 'friends' are like. At least the presence of the dead didn't sway him too much. Still, Achel does raise a genuine concern. Bodies going missing would not be terribly good for the morale of the people. If it was anyone that understood that the dead should be respected, it surely was the Raam. After all, it is imperative that any deceased Raam would have their body delivered to Grams' great temple. It was because of this, too, that Gideon had felt a sense of urgency in accomplishing this task. "Unforgivable." Gideon had uttered in regards to the corpse thief. The facility they were in, however, did pique Gideon's interest to a degree. It was far larger than any normal crypt... perhaps it, too, is a relic of the past? If much of it remained sealed and unexplored, perhaps something else had come out of it and is responsible for the stealing of the bodies? Or maybe the thief had entrenched themself in the 'sealed' portions of the crypt under Achel's spidery nose, doing well to avoid her webs and living deep within the catacombs. Whatever it was, it was clear to Gideon that he should investigate this 'seal,' and perhaps the rest of this unexplored crypt. "Very well... show me to where the sealed parts of the crypts are." Gideon stated, as he began his venture deeper into the facility. "Ah, you wouldn't happen to have a torch or lantern perchance, do you?"</s>

<|message|>Seelay So there was no clear picture of this creature's nature. Aside from the fact it was large, that it could come on land, and that it liked fish, no-one had any idea of what it looked like. That made this somewhat more difficult, but Seelay had something in mind. Indeed, she had already spotted something of a weakness the beast had. But first, they needed to get a good idea of what they were dealing with. There was a chance her further plans simply wouldn't work at all, depending on what the creature was like. Thus, the Cosain Elf couldn't make any further proposals until she knew what this monster looked like. "It's obvious to me we don't know enough about this thing yet," she began, folding her arms across her chest, "So, I have an idea that should let us learn more." Seelay was certain the fishermen wouldn't like it very much, but at the same time she didn't see another option that would allow them to see the creature when it was seemingly so careful to avoid being spotted. "Its weakness is its appetite," she began, "So, use fish to draw it in. Preferably forcing it to come on land, but if that's not possible then simply trying to delay it long enough to see what it is should be enough. If you're willing to make that sacrifice, then we can move on to the next part of the plan." It wasn't totally assured that this would work, but given the frequency of the creature's attacks Seelay felt certain that it had a large appetite. And that meant there was no way it could pass up a chance like that.</s>

<|description|>Finnegan Connors Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance:Finnegan is a 5'11" light-skinned Man of twenty years with dark hair and lustrous hazel eyes. His build is relatively slim with just enough muscle to be considered suitable as a Soldier. Strangely, he lacks any scars save for a deep, hard-edged burn upon his right palm in the shape of a gear. The Lost SoldierBorn as an unwanted middle child to struggling farmfolk in a Village just West of Aventhrone; Finnegan's youth was anything but pleasant. Often the child would be blamed for any misfortune that would befall the family farm-- and the fact he didn't share the same burly nature as his father or siblings only made it all the worse. Had a farm animal escaped it's pen and run off? Finnegan must've forgotten to shut the gate. Stored goods ruined by a rainstorm? Finnegan had to be the one who'd left it all uncovered. Money missing from the emergency fund hidden in the pantry? Undoubtedly Finnegan who stole from it. Were the Winter food stores running low? The little bastard Finn must be sneaking food in the night! Even despite this treatment, despite the blame, the young boy did all he could to try and escape the scapegoat role he'd been born into. From feeding the livestock at first light, to shoveling shit from the pens, to even skipping meals to help save what food the family had. Day after day after day the boy ran himself ragged trying to prove himself to his family; to be good enough in his parents' eyes that he could at least feel wanted. To at least let him feel needed, if only slightly. Sixteen years he toiled, not once asking his parents to recognize his efforts; waiting for his mother or father to notice it themselves. How naïve. Rather than recognize Finnegan's efforts, all the lad's efforts were instead attributed to his elder brother; the pride of the household, and his younger brother; whom his parents doted on. After a season of especially bad harvest... Finn was thrown to the streets; deemed to be far more of a burden than he was worth. Already malnourished and in poor health-- the young man barely managed to survive. As far as the wider community was concerned-- he was nothing more than a simple pest; surviving off food stolen from composting piles, that wouldn't survive the end of winter... But, as fate would have it-- the people of Finnegan's humble village were proven wrong. It was when the lad lay nearly starved to death on the roadside, that a stranger thrust a small loaf of bread into the young man's hands; and made an offer that sounded nigh too good to be true. The stranger's name was Gaelan; an Apostle Missionary traveling the region to recruit new members to the order. The Apostles offered food, shelter, camaraderie, faith, and most important of all-- purpose. Without so much as a second thought Finnegan took Gaelan's hand readily, thrilled to know he was finally wanted somewhere. Of all the new recruits to walk the ancient halls of Aventhrone that year-- Finnegan was by far the worst off. Despite having all the food and drink and shelter he could possibly need, undoing the damage of the years he'd suffered was a slow process. From the first days of his training, Finn's emaciated body struggled to keep up with the physical ability of his peers. Day after day his fellow recruits made leaps and bounds of progress, where his own was more akin to a crawl... Eventually, a majority of the Drill Instructors had all but given up on providing the boy with instruction-- save for one man. Finnegan's first encounter with Drill Marshal Dearan was in his third week of training. The recruits had been training with spears; the staple weapon of the Apostle Militia forces, when the thick head of a cane would strike young Finn in the back. From that day forward-- the grizzled old Drill Marshal watched the boy like a hawk, his cane making swift correction to even the smallest of mistakes. Often the Drill Marshal would even keep Finnegan late after the trainings to further beat the lessons into the poor boy. Day. After day. After day. Come week six, the boy that had nearly failed out of the program entirely was able to keep pace with the other recruits. On the day of graduation-- Finnegan would be stopped by Drill Marshal Dearan for the last time, not for another beating; but rather to commend the unceasing efforts and focus the boy had displayed. With a wide grin, the former knight wished the boy luck in his future within the Apostles; forcing the lad to promise that he wouldn't forget the lessons he'd been taught before finally releasing him to join the rest of his class. For many in that class of recruits, it was the first step into whatever grand adventure awaited them-- But not for Finnegan. Whereas many of his peers would be sent off on various deployments and expeditions to fight against Raam, Bastelian slavers, beasts, and the like, Finnegan was given guard duty. For the next four long years, Finnegan would remain a Gatekeeper at Aventhrone. Though he'd get to overhear all about the various expeditions and journeys of those that came and went from the ancient Cathedral-- there was often little to do, and even less to report at the end of the day. Until the fateful day a small expedition team's porter took ill from food poisoning just as the group exited the front gate. With little time to find suitable replacement, and unable to wait for the man's condition to improve... The Marshal leading the expedition; an officer within 'The Serpent's Fang', pointed at the the on-duty gatekeeper and ordered that he would come in place of the original porter. In no place to refuse such an order, and more than willing to comply-- Finnegan Connors would join the trek to the North, and at long last, he'd finally have a chance to prove himself... Or so he thought. FragmentsA deep cave. Deep. Down. Dark. A frozen river. A shimmering light. A grasping hand. Shouting. Crackling. Cold. Darkness. Cant breathe. Drowning. Grasping. Clawing. Anything. Don't sink deeper. Cold. Freezing. Dying. FIGHT! Holding something warm. Comforting. Cold gone. Pain gone. Peace. Odd noises. Ticking? See something. What? Echoes. Who? Saying what? One voice. Clear. Can hear. Fading. Quieter. Silence. A drenched body upon the Icewind's shore... Goals:Purpose; a reason to exist, to be needed. For most of his life, Finn lacked any real purpose from day to day. But since receiving his God's revelation-- he has at long last found a purpose to call his own; to use his newfound blessings to help as many of his fellow man as he possibly can whilst he seeks further revelation from his God. Skills[Adaptability] Humans, while they bear no special natural born talents, their limit for growth and power is near infinite should they choose to cultivate said power. They, in their finite lives will find it easier to learn new skills and adapt to new situations if they put their mind to it. [Basic Spearmanship] The Apostles' Drill Corps has seen to it that even the most lacking of Apostle recruits can display basic competency with a weapon. Though lacking any measure of talent when it comes weapons or fighting, Finnegan was held to no less a standard than any of his peers; quickly earning him the 'special attention' of one Drill Corps member in particular... Rest assured-- the basic handling of a spear has been t h o r o u g h l y beaten into the lad. [A Nameless Revelation (Renewal)] A glimpse taken into The Nameless God's unfathomable and ancient divinity-- granting; in small part, an innate understanding of one of his domains! By calling upon the wisdoms bestowed by his revelation, Finnegan is able to cast miracles of Renewal! These miracles typically function similarly to various healing magics, but who's to say what other uses they may hold? Only with time, shall answers come. Inventory:* Gatekeeper's Horn. * Gambeson * Expedition pack * Waterlogged Rations * Hunting Knife * Tabard (Apostle Heraldry) * Iron spear {LOST}</s> <|message|>Atzi For a split second, Atzi considered just waking it up and then distracting it while Maira did her thing. But that was a stupid idea. Not because she wasn't confident in her ability to outrun one of those lumbering oafs, of course, but more because of how loud it would be. Grove Bears had voices like the storm; if they didn't strike it down at once, its roar would be heard from leagues away, no matter the density of the foliage. Still, Atzi wasn't a hunter. She didn't have any love for killing something in such a cold manner. So, at the very least. "I'll turn you into something beautiful." Just a quiet murmur, before Atzi hefted up her studded club. Against an unmoving target, even if using only one of her arms, she was confident she could cut deep into its flesh, slice past the fur and the fat to tear open its veins. "Alright, Maira. I'll go for the throat on the first, and see if I can break its neck on the second."</s> <|message|>LissaFemale Lissa Despite Nylah's protests, Lissa continued on. She was adamant that her plan would work, and was by far the best option. Worst comes to worst, they'd have to fight their way out, and a fighting retreat was something that Lissa was uniquely suited to do, being a Raam-in-disguise. Nobody would expect the buffed human doing a bit of retreating tanking… What could go wrong? It seemed Eirhild was of the same mind as her, and she gave a companionable nod as the dwarf came alongside. Together with her, they penetrated surprisingly deeply into Krysa and Yaga space, at least until they approached the village proper. There, they were stopped by a small patrol of six. Although she was tempted to respond to their remark on Mie, she schooled her face into that of a neutral merchant, if somewhat shocked by being accosted. The patrol didn't give her too much concern, although the gaze of a nearby Yaga woman nearby caught her attention. Something about her gave off the impression she would be someone to watch, if things came to a head here. "I'm not familiar with these foxes you speak of," she replied, canting her head to the side. "As for who we are, I am a humble traveling merchant… this is my assistant, Nylah, and our stout escort, Eirhild." She gestured to her companions with a sweep of her hand, before turning back to the patrol. "We were hoping to enter the village to seek shelter for the next couple of nights to both trade and barter… also, to gather information ahead of the road. Now, more than ever. It seems the roads have been particularly dangerous this year."</s>

<|message|>Finnegan Connors "Ugh..." Finnegan groaned as he blinked away black splotches from his vision. Straining against his own fatigue, he lifted his head just enough to see the child that he'd pushed himself so hard to heal; seeing that their breathing had evened, if only slightly. Finn's head fell back with a satisfied sigh. He stared at his mangled palm; turning it side to side as he flexed each finger before balling it into a fist. Even as the slow trickle of blood dripped down his arm Finn couldn't but smile with pride. This wasn't just another posting. It wasn't just another skill somebody else could just do better. The power that had healed that child was his own... Even if it was a blessing from God-- It was his. And that was all that mattered. Satisfied, Finnegan let himself go slack; content to nap off the exhaustion that had taken him on the cool stone floor. But as his eyes began to grow heavy-- motion on a small blue panel caught his attention. The cartoonish depiction of the Woman he vaguely remembered from his dream seemed to be poking a motionless body that lay face down in the water. "Huh?" The Apostle tilted his head with squinted eyes, trying to make sense of why he was seeing such a thing. Was it some kind of metaphor? A cryptic warning? A prophecy? Or was it the fact he was less than ten feet from a woman that seemed to be drowning in an ornately decorated pool? .... Finnegan's eyes nearly popped out of his head as the realization dawned on him; shoving himself onto his belly as he scrambled for the waters' edge. Wasting not a moment, and caring little for the bloodly trail his hand left behind-- he took hold of the Woman and heaved her from the drink with all his might! Yanking the Woman onto the stone, Finnegan ran through protocol for rescuing drowners in his head. Laying the stranger onto her back-- he would lean his ear down to her face to first check if she was still breathing...</s>

<|description|>Finnegan Connors Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance:Finnegan is a 5'11" light-skinned Man of twenty years with dark hair and lustrous hazel eyes. His build is relatively slim with just enough muscle to be considered suitable as a Soldier. Strangely, he lacks any scars save for a deep, hard-edged burn upon his right palm in the shape of a gear. The Lost SoldierBorn as an unwanted middle child to struggling farmfolk in a Village just West of Aventhrone; Finnegan's youth was anything but pleasant. Often the child would be blamed for any misfortune that would befall the family farm-- and the fact he didn't share the same burly nature as his father or siblings only made it all the worse. Had a farm animal escaped it's pen and run off? Finnegan must've forgotten to shut the gate. Stored goods ruined by a rainstorm? Finnegan had to be the one who'd left it all uncovered. Money missing from the emergency fund hidden in the pantry? Undoubtedly Finnegan who stole from it. Were the Winter food stores running low? The little bastard Finn must be sneaking food in the night! Even despite this treatment, despite the blame, the young boy did all he could to try and escape the scapegoat role he'd been born into. From feeding the livestock at first light, to shoveling shit from the pens, to even skipping meals to help save what food the family had. Day after day after day the boy ran himself ragged trying to prove himself to his family; to be good enough in his parents' eyes that he could at least feel wanted. To at least let him feel needed, if only slightly. Sixteen years he toiled, not once asking his parents to recognize his efforts; waiting for his mother or father to notice it themselves. How naïve. Rather than recognize Finnegan's efforts, all the lad's efforts were instead attributed to his elder brother; the pride of the household, and his younger brother; whom his parents doted on. After a season of especially bad harvest... Finn was thrown to the streets; deemed to be far more of a burden than he was worth. Already malnourished and in poor health-- the young man barely managed to survive. As far as the wider community was concerned-- he was nothing more than a simple pest; surviving off food stolen from composting piles, that wouldn't survive the end of winter... But, as fate would have it-- the people of Finnegan's humble village were proven wrong. It was when the lad lay nearly starved to death on the roadside, that a stranger thrust a small loaf of bread into the young man's hands; and made an offer that sounded nigh too good to be true. The stranger's name was Gaelan; an Apostle Missionary traveling the region to recruit new members to the order. The Apostles offered food, shelter, camaraderie, faith, and most important of all-- purpose. Without so much as a second thought Finnegan took Gaelan's hand readily, thrilled to know he was finally wanted somewhere. Of all the new recruits to walk the ancient halls of Aventhrone that year-- Finnegan was by far the worst off. Despite having all the food and drink and shelter he could possibly need, undoing the damage of the years he'd suffered was a slow process. From the first days of his training, Finn's emaciated body struggled to keep up with the physical ability of his peers. Day after day his fellow recruits made leaps and bounds of progress, where his own was more akin to a crawl... Eventually, a majority of the Drill Instructors had all but given up on providing the boy with instruction-- save for one man. Finnegan's first encounter with Drill Marshal Dearan was in his third week of training. The recruits had been training with spears; the staple weapon of the Apostle Militia forces, when the thick head of a cane would strike young Finn in the back. From that day forward-- the grizzled old Drill Marshal watched the boy like a hawk, his cane making swift correction to even the smallest of mistakes. Often the Drill Marshal would even keep Finnegan late after the trainings to further beat the lessons into the poor boy. Day. After day. After day. Come week six, the boy that had nearly failed out of the program entirely was able to keep pace with the other recruits. On the day of graduation-- Finnegan would be stopped by Drill Marshal Dearan for the last time, not for another beating; but rather to commend the unceasing efforts and focus the boy had displayed. With a wide grin, the former knight wished the boy luck in his future within the Apostles; forcing the lad to promise that he wouldn't forget the lessons he'd been taught before finally releasing him to join the rest of his class. For many in that class of recruits, it was the first step into whatever grand adventure awaited them-- But not for Finnegan. Whereas many of his peers would be sent off on various deployments and expeditions to fight against Raam, Bastelian slavers, beasts, and the like, Finnegan was given guard duty. For the next four long years, Finnegan would remain a Gatekeeper at Aventhrone. Though he'd get to overhear all about the various expeditions and journeys of those that came and went from the ancient Cathedral-- there was often little to do, and even less to report at the end of the day. Until the fateful day a small expedition team's porter took ill from food poisoning just as the group exited the front gate. With little time to find suitable replacement, and unable to wait for the man's condition to improve... The Marshal leading the expedition; an officer within 'The Serpent's Fang', pointed at the the on-duty gatekeeper and ordered that he would come in place of the original porter. In no place to refuse such an order, and more than willing to comply-- Finnegan Connors would join the trek to the North, and at long last, he'd finally have a chance to prove himself... Or so he thought. FragmentsA deep cave. Deep. Down. Dark. A frozen river. A shimmering light. A grasping hand. Shouting. Crackling. Cold. Darkness. Cant breathe. Drowning. Grasping. Clawing. Anything. Don't sink deeper. Cold. Freezing. Dying. FIGHT! Holding something warm. Comforting. Cold gone. Pain gone. Peace. Odd noises. Ticking? See something. What? Echoes. Who? Saying what? One voice. Clear. Can hear. Fading. Quieter. Silence. A drenched body upon the Icewind's shore... Goals:Purpose; a reason to exist, to be needed. For most of his life, Finn lacked any real purpose from day to day. But since receiving his God's revelation-- he has at long last found a purpose to call his own; to use his newfound blessings to help as many of his fellow man as he possibly can whilst he seeks further revelation from his God. Skills[Adaptability] Humans, while they bear no special natural born talents, their limit for growth and power is near infinite should they choose to cultivate said power. They, in their finite lives will find it easier to learn new skills and adapt to new situations if they put their mind to it. [Basic Spearmanship] The Apostles' Drill Corps has seen to it that even the most lacking of Apostle recruits can display basic competency with a weapon. Though lacking any measure of talent when it comes weapons or fighting, Finnegan was held to no less a standard than any of his peers; quickly earning him the 'special attention' of one Drill Corps member in particular... Rest assured-- the basic handling of a spear has been t h o r o u g h l y beaten into the lad. [A Nameless Revelation (Renewal)] A glimpse taken into The Nameless God's unfathomable and ancient divinity-- granting; in small part, an innate understanding of one of his domains! By calling upon the wisdoms bestowed by his revelation, Finnegan is able to cast miracles of Renewal! These miracles typically function similarly to various healing magics, but who's to say what other uses they may hold? Only with time, shall answers come. Inventory:* Gatekeeper's Horn. * Gambeson * Expedition pack * Waterlogged Rations * Hunting Knife * Tabard (Apostle Heraldry) * Iron spear {LOST}</s> <|message|>Novak Novak "I'm not here to apprehend you, I just want to find out why the Krysa want me and my friends dead," Novak assured her, his voice increasingly frustrated. "That attack on that Krysa noble has turned them rabid, and they're not just going after you. They've put my caravan under siege for a crime we didn't even know of, let alone commit. If I don't somehow break them out or convince the Krysa of their innocence, everyone I've traveled with for as long as I can remember will die!" He was done playing diplomatic or subtle. He was done being polite to this abrasive witch. At this point, there wasn't much else to do except clean as to exactly what he was here for and hope that she'd at least share something. He couldn't compel any answer from her, of course. The witch did mention that she could use her magic in self-defense, and Novak had no intention of putting that to the test. If she refused to cooperate further, there wasn't much to do but leave before her definition of self-defense extended to ridding her home of unwelcome guests. From what he could gather, the Krysa wanted this woman badly. She may be this person of interest that Lady Marushka was looking for, and was likely somehow involved in the assassination attempt. If this Yaga continued her refusal to share any information, it might be better for Novak to leave and leverage the information of her location and defenses with the Krysa, as risky as that may be. It'd be best not to let the witch know that, though.</s> <|message|>Gideon, Sage of Steel Dawn rocked --- "A Living Vein. Don't think they're too common around these parts. But I didn't find it on my own. That, you have Raelzeth to thank" Gideon gestured to the tired gremlin, as he thought for a moment just what sort of reward he could use. Thinking about the issues he's faced in his time here as well as the issues he will face in the future, there were a few ideas. Between the Living Vein that found itself here and the Pandillos they may eventually end up hunting in the future, there was one thing the Sage realized he'd need more than anything. "As for your offer... I can only ask for one thing." Gideon would offer his spear to the dwarf. "Traveled with this spear for a long time. Too long, in fact... I fear it may break on me one day, especially with things like Pandillos about. I think an upgrade is an order, or a new weapon entirely. We Raam are trained in all matter of armaments, but I do still feel a bit attached to this spear. Still, I trust the keen eye of a Dwarf smith more than anything whether or not this weapon's still suitable for combat."</s> <|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) "Haha! We have the key! To something. Probably a door. Chest? Journal? Well, we'll find out." Vammy mentioned, turning her attention to the odd bronze construct with the lines on it. She'd fiddle around with chiseled lines to see if there was anything to note. If not, she'd lead her servant back down. "Let's see where this could belong to. It might be good, might be bad. I have a bad feeling about the basement so that's probably where we need to go." With that in mind, the demon lead the way towards the basement staircase.</s>

<|message|>Finnegan Connors A chilling jolt shot down Finnegan's spine like electricity as his spear was split in half within his very hands by a sudden spurt of water magic. For a moment, his steeled resolve faltered in the smallest amount; his footwork retreating a few steps back as he continued to hold his spear (or what was left of it) in a defensive stance. "Hah-- seems we agree on one thing... Humans shouldn't have a damned thing to do with child-eating monsters like you." the Apostle sneered with disdain as he carefully backed away; observing the two Valtem with caution as he prepared to escape, "But when you run away; and return too late to save your sisters--" he continued; his tone becoming resolutely cold, "Just remember you chased off the only human stupid enough to consider helping you... Even if it goes against my every instinct."</s>

<|description|>Finnegan Connors Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance:Finnegan is a 5'11" light-skinned Man of twenty years with dark hair and lustrous hazel eyes. His build is relatively slim with just enough muscle to be considered suitable as a Soldier. Strangely, he lacks any scars save for a deep, hard-edged burn upon his right palm in the shape of a gear. The Lost SoldierBorn as an unwanted middle child to struggling farmfolk in a Village just West of Aventhrone; Finnegan's youth was anything but pleasant. Often the child would be blamed for any misfortune that would befall the family farm-- and the fact he didn't share the same burly nature as his father or siblings only made it all the worse. Had a farm animal escaped it's pen and run off? Finnegan must've forgotten to shut the gate. Stored goods ruined by a rainstorm? Finnegan had to be the one who'd left it all uncovered. Money missing from the emergency fund hidden in the pantry? Undoubtedly Finnegan who stole from it. Were the Winter food stores running low? The little bastard Finn must be sneaking food in the night! Even despite this treatment, despite the blame, the young boy did all he could to try and escape the scapegoat role he'd been born into. From feeding the livestock at first light, to shoveling shit from the pens, to even skipping meals to help save what food the family had. Day after day after day the boy ran himself ragged trying to prove himself to his family; to be good enough in his parents' eyes that he could at least feel wanted. To at least let him feel needed, if only slightly. Sixteen years he toiled, not once asking his parents to recognize his efforts; waiting for his mother or father to notice it themselves. How naïve. Rather than recognize Finnegan's efforts, all the lad's efforts were instead attributed to his elder brother; the pride of the household, and his younger brother; whom his parents doted on. After a season of especially bad harvest... Finn was thrown to the streets; deemed to be far more of a burden than he was worth. Already malnourished and in poor health-- the young man barely managed to survive. As far as the wider community was concerned-- he was nothing more than a simple pest; surviving off food stolen from composting piles, that wouldn't survive the end of winter... But, as fate would have it-- the people of Finnegan's humble village were proven wrong. It was when the lad lay nearly starved to death on the roadside, that a stranger thrust a small loaf of bread into the young man's hands; and made an offer that sounded nigh too good to be true. The stranger's name was Gaelan; an Apostle Missionary traveling the region to recruit new members to the order. The Apostles offered food, shelter, camaraderie, faith, and most important of all-- purpose. Without so much as a second thought Finnegan took Gaelan's hand readily, thrilled to know he was finally wanted somewhere. Of all the new recruits to walk the ancient halls of Aventhrone that year-- Finnegan was by far the worst off. Despite having all the food and drink and shelter he could possibly need, undoing the damage of the years he'd suffered was a slow process. From the first days of his training, Finn's emaciated body struggled to keep up with the physical ability of his peers. Day after day his fellow recruits made leaps and bounds of progress, where his own was more akin to a crawl... Eventually, a majority of the Drill Instructors had all but given up on providing the boy with instruction-- save for one man. Finnegan's first encounter with Drill Marshal Dearan was in his third week of training. The recruits had been training with spears; the staple weapon of the Apostle Militia forces, when the thick head of a cane would strike young Finn in the back. From that day forward-- the grizzled old Drill Marshal watched the boy like a hawk, his cane making swift correction to even the smallest of mistakes. Often the Drill Marshal would even keep Finnegan late after the trainings to further beat the lessons into the poor boy. Day. After day. After day. Come week six, the boy that had nearly failed out of the program entirely was able to keep pace with the other recruits. On the day of graduation-- Finnegan would be stopped by Drill Marshal Dearan for the last time, not for another beating; but rather to commend the unceasing efforts and focus the boy had displayed. With a wide grin, the former knight wished the boy luck in his future within the Apostles; forcing the lad to promise that he wouldn't forget the lessons he'd been taught before finally releasing him to join the rest of his class. For many in that class of recruits, it was the first step into whatever grand adventure awaited them-- But not for Finnegan. Whereas many of his peers would be sent off on various deployments and expeditions to fight against Raam, Bastelian slavers, beasts, and the like, Finnegan was given guard duty. For the next four long years, Finnegan would remain a Gatekeeper at Aventhrone. Though he'd get to overhear all about the various expeditions and journeys of those that came and went from the ancient Cathedral-- there was often little to do, and even less to report at the end of the day. Until the fateful day a small expedition team's porter took ill from food poisoning just as the group exited the front gate. With little time to find suitable replacement, and unable to wait for the man's condition to improve... The Marshal leading the expedition; an officer within 'The Serpent's Fang', pointed at the the on-duty gatekeeper and ordered that he would come in place of the original porter. In no place to refuse such an order, and more than willing to comply-- Finnegan Connors would join the trek to the North, and at long last, he'd finally have a chance to prove himself... Or so he thought. FragmentsA deep cave. Deep. Down. Dark. A frozen river. A shimmering light. A grasping hand. Shouting. Crackling. Cold. Darkness. Cant breathe. Drowning. Grasping. Clawing. Anything. Don't sink deeper. Cold. Freezing. Dying. FIGHT! Holding something warm. Comforting. Cold gone. Pain gone. Peace. Odd noises. Ticking? See something. What? Echoes. Who? Saying what? One voice. Clear. Can hear. Fading. Quieter. Silence. A drenched body upon the Icewind's shore... Goals:Purpose; a reason to exist, to be needed. For most of his life, Finn lacked any real purpose from day to day. But since receiving his God's revelation-- he has at long last found a purpose to call his own; to use his newfound blessings to help as many of his fellow man as he possibly can whilst he seeks further revelation from his God. Skills[Adaptability] Humans, while they bear no special natural born talents, their limit for growth and power is near infinite should they choose to cultivate said power. They, in their finite lives will find it easier to learn new skills and adapt to new situations if they put their mind to it. [Basic Spearmanship] The Apostles' Drill Corps has seen to it that even the most lacking of Apostle recruits can display basic competency with a weapon. Though lacking any measure of talent when it comes weapons or fighting, Finnegan was held to no less a standard than any of his peers; quickly earning him the 'special attention' of one Drill Corps member in particular... Rest assured-- the basic handling of a spear has been t h o r o u g h l y beaten into the lad. [A Nameless Revelation (Renewal)] A glimpse taken into The Nameless God's unfathomable and ancient divinity-- granting; in small part, an innate understanding of one of his domains! By calling upon the wisdoms bestowed by his revelation, Finnegan is able to cast miracles of Renewal! These miracles typically function similarly to various healing magics, but who's to say what other uses they may hold? Only with time, shall answers come. Inventory:* Gatekeeper's Horn. * Gambeson * Expedition pack * Waterlogged Rations * Hunting Knife * Tabard (Apostle Heraldry) * Iron spear {LOST}</s> <|message|>Vamessa (V, Vammy/Vammie) It was a wild ride but in the end they were, indeed, alive if maybe not a small bit worse for wear. For Vammy though, how she ended up was quite delightful. Face first in Yuisa's chest? This was great. "Hey sexy, get around here often?" She asked, being an absolute gremlin about it before relaxing a small bit despite the human's complaint. After a couple of good seconds, she leaned up toward the human's face and gave her a small peck on the cheek. "We'll have to do this again, babe." The demon continued to tease before pushing herself up quickly and grabbing the human's hand, helping her to her feet. "Well, that was... A thing." She mentioned, looking around the area. "There's a lot of random stuff around here." The demon mentioned, noting all the random boxes and stuff. "It's a weird looking place. Do humans have places like this around?" She questioned Yuisa before noticing a small, odd thing. "W-wait. What's that thing?" It was a small creature with an orange coat, a wide grin, rabbit ears and.... No eyes? "It's cute in an odd kind of way." But as quickly as she noticed it, it ran away. "H-hey, wait a second!" She yelled at it, running to the place it ran down. She didn't continue the chase, not knowing the layout of this place. "Hey, uhh, that was a weird thing. What's your thoughts on this place, Yuisa?"</s> <|message|>Nylah Nylah --- The Mothraki perked back up, snapping out of her brief spurt of doldrum, wings almost fluttering in brief excitement as she finally realized why Jivka had asked her about the legend in the first place. Yes! That'd be great. Or, well, it could be great! Yeah. Even if it took them around simply new places and new herbs it could be a useful adventure if nothing else! Anything that might get her one step closer to that goal would be worth it. ...It had to be. "Ah! Yes! I would be honored to join your search for it! As for any ideas, ah...," she said, a hand coming to her own chin as her brows furrowed in deeper thought, "Well, the clue of 'where one finds clouds resting on the ground' could very well mean the top of a mountain I believe. Or some kind of valley or place covered in a fog or mist. Er, the other bit about being where 'ice burns like fire' eludes me though. Does the ice hurt to touch? Does it truly burn bright like a fire?" Nylah let out a small sigh. It was a guess, or at least the best one she could make on the fly. Fire was not good to touch, so maybe it was the same with the ice in this legendary clue? Or maybe it glowed like fire or such? Either? Both? Ugh. Maybe Jivka would have some kind of idea or another to add to things. But there was one last little clue that she'd overlooked in her initial thoughts, on second thought, that she felt like she could take a swing and a guess at. "As for growing in the 'heart of a glacier', ah, I suppose that sounds like a cave or path leading inside of a glacier or such perhaps? That is all I have for ideas at the moment, I'm afraid." -Herbs/Herbalism Knowledge: ***Herbs Around the village of Dawn. ***Making anesthetics and preparing healing potions and salves. ***Herbs In Yaga Territory ***Legendary Herb According To Yaga Legend: *** *** *** -Acquired Lore/World Knowledge: ***Yaga Deity + Yaga Perspective On Rifelshka - ***Why the Krysa are at the Yaga Village and are attacking Mie - ***About Novak: ***Mie's Caravan Situation Information As Acquired from Novak: *** *** *** -{Enthralling Dust} (Racial): Mothraki produce a potent pollen like dust upon their wings. Merely by existing they spread this where they go, though it's mostly harmless if not inhaled in large quantities. Causes hallucinations and dulls one's senses. As one may expect, people tend to frown upon this sort of thing. -{Journeyman Light Magic}: A magic encompassing pure light and illumination, ranging from harmless orbs to light up one's path all the way up to rays/beams of light as attacks to even light barriers and other light constructs such as swords and spears and shields and so forth. A versatile magic that does not call upon the fire of the sun, but does have its myriad uses and capabilities. -{Novice Herbalist}: Non-magical practices of a healer, ranging from identifying or figuring out the use of new herbs and recognizing familiar ones, to making things like certain poultices and healing-based alchemy/potion-making, to how to handle wounds/injuries and such using these things. -{Herbalist's Bag}: A simple leather bag with a well-built shoulder strap, that is filled with a good number of many types of herbs, a good amount of bandages, and finally tools to make tonics, poultices, and potions alongside a scare few pre-prepared ones that are within the bag itself. She usually wears it around most of the time. (EDIT: Has refilled her supplies, with three one total healing pots remaining now. Also now has four three vials of baby-chameleon-thing poison.) -{Small Knife}: A gift from her mother, made with a smoothed-out bone handle and treated with certain oils, mainly used to help cut things like vines and plants when out collecting herbs and so forth. Also a very niche emergency self-defense tool. -{Food}: A small pouch sitting on her opposite hip that contains a few strips of preserved game meat and a few dried edible herbs from the local area. Not much in amount, since it was meant to be snacks for heading into the woods to gather herbs before 'that' happened. -{Wristband}: A simple little bracelet made of pretty stones dyed in various colors, carefully having had a hole made through each, sitting on a band made of twisted and treated leather strips. Worn on her left wrist and given as a gift to her by her mother. How long it took to acquire or even make is unknown. -{Cuteness}: She is a definitely cute moth girl. This is inherent to her existence. Yes.</s>

<|message|>Finnegan Connors The moment the Valtem's grip faltered-- Finnegan's instinct for survival overtook any begrudged plans of diplomacy he may have previously held onto as he lashed out with a kick; desperately struggling to create as much distance as he could between himself and the enraged fish that threatened his life. Despite the bravado he had shown minutes before; the thoughts passing through the apostle's head only involved distancing himself from his enemy, and clutching at the sword that remained embedded in his shoulder as whispers continued to build in his ears... Pulling at the sword in his shoulder, a gentle prayer escaped his lips as he fought to gain his bearings.</s>

<|description|>Cier appearance: With thick, dark, neck-length hair framing his sharp jawline and cheekbones, Cier's glassy silver eyes often startle those meeting his gaze. Intimidating he may appear, towering at 6'3, with broad shoulders, and plenty of muscle. A beastly man yet not so serious. Though his figure may look statuesque, he is often relaxed in both his posture and expressions. Sometimes not even able to keep a straight face, but in a blink of an eye, this may easily change. age: 36 bio: Emperor Cier's begginnings are quite humble. He didn't come from wealth or any sort of power. Rather, born into a poor family, so he didn't exactly expect much to come from his life. That was until one night, when he was no older than ten, Cier had found himself lost and happened to meet an old woman walking by the shore. Looking into her eyes, it was almost as if he knew her but of course, he was certain they had never met before. She could see he was scared, and so they sat together on a rock, talking, showing him all the constellations, and watching the waves roll until sunrise. He felt safe. And when there was light and Cier could find his way home, he asked her if he would ever see her again and what her name was, but the woman simply smiled and took his hand in hers. His eyes grew as something glowed between their palms and she said, "I've left you with a gift, and someday, you will leave someone with one too." Then it all faded to black. The next thing Cier could remember was waking up to himself baking in the sand. Startled to his feet, he would have ran all the way home if not for his father finding and giving him an earful first. Ever since this strange encounter, he's returned to that shore, but the old woman was never to be seen. And going as far ask to ask around, the villagers seemed to think it was just something he merely imagined. Yet just as Cier began to think that he had lost his own mind, his powers emerged little by little and soon the people who once laughed at his wild story were now stricken with nothing but amazement! Cier was quick to be deemed as something like a savior. And with this many proposed to make him their future king as their current never married and had laid ill, swiftly dying. He saw this boy as a blessing sent from the heavens to protect his beloved kingdom. Cier reveled in all this honor and praise, soon taking the throne at just the tender age of fourteen. And for many years he has witnessed the kingdom of Seddow flourish as he cared for it with all his heart, but this would all come crumbling. After arriving home from visiting one of Seddow's allies, his eyes, once full of life and love for the world, turned into deadly daggers. Having found his whole family and many servants mutilated, their blood spread all throughout the palace, his heart - within an instant - turned cold and frostbit black as his psyche spiraled with the clouds circling like vultures looming over. The assassin responsible had failed to escape. Thrown to the ruler's feet by the guards who had caught him, Cier demanded answers through tears welling up and the guttural pain pounding through his chest, but the killer gave none, and was then executed by the king's own blade. He didn't know why or who had ordered this contract, but one thing was for certain. The mastermind behind the slaughter couldn't have been anyone but another ruler. No one but of that status could possibly afford the taking out of not one but seven royal lives. One of which, was his only son. His biggest pride and joy… a curious and funny little boy, now laid cold in his father's trembling arms. Since that day, Cier has been nothing but ruthless in finding who to blame. Taking lands one by one. Blinded by sadness, rage, and thirst for blood. Someone will pay. role in the story: dark ruler powers: Water & Storm manipulation, underwater breathing/sight, with supernatural strength and agility. other: - to be added</s> <|message|>Cier The swirling sky overshadowed the kingdom of Seanate. Reflecting in the freezing rain, The dark Lord's eyes grew misty is he charged back to the mountain station he and his army had claimed. Towards theircamp high in the blizzarding mountains they rushed, all wanting nothing but to rest yet their emperor could not say the same. His cheeks had become frosted over with the water that dripped from eyes seemingly made of ice. He feared himself and the destruction caused by his hands. In fact, his skin sizzled with self loathing. This wasn't something he wanted. To raid land after land to avenge the lost, knowing they could never be found, Cier knew it was an act of unequal justice. To have fragments of his world ripped away from his grasp only to take that of others, his stomach tied itself into a knot. Just imaging what loved ones may say if they only could speak now, tore his dying heart and split his cracking mind into loose tangled threads, and desperately, Cier felt as though he was fighting tooth and nail to tie himself back into the man he once was. Yet such a thing was a pure impossibly. Never could he return to the peace he once prospered. Having made it to the stronghold he took shelter, Cier hid himself away within the four walls of a small bed chamber, sobbing and staring endlessly into the cracks of a shattered vanity, wondering how he could ever live with myself. Truthfully, he didn't want to. Everyone he ever loved Cier had failed to protect. And now so many more lives were beyond ruined. Though the guilt of it ate away at his soul little by little, there was no way that he could surrender. Not without knowing why this was happening. Or who he would be meeting in Hell. Wrapping his wrists around an ivory bristled brush. The emperor repeatedly smashed it into the glass, shards falling and flying from their frame. The image of himself was simply unbearable. Reality did not feel entirely true. Only twelve nights ago he would have never even would have considered the idea that his whole existence would change. As if once he were someone else. Cier had been a fair and careful leader, now reduced to the lows of a vicious dictator. And there was no way he could ever be the same man neither Seddow or Seanate would remember. The storms outside only continued to rage, slowly slipping out of Cier's control like sand dripping down the passage of an hourglass.</s> <|message|>Saoirse Saoirse Princess of Seanate --- She could not endure seeing her father suffer so, and without further words, the princess painfully took her leave and left the king where he sat in sorrow upon his throne. Her departure was swift, purpose in her stride as she marched towards the next destination wherein she could proceed with doing what she must. Saoirse was a willful daughter, and she would protect both her home and her beloved father. She stepped into the stables and tasked the head groom with preparing her horse. She had been accompanied by a few knights, ready to travel and awaiting her commands, but the foul weather had harmed morale and she saw hints of despair in their eyes. "Would you prefer to remain here while I go on alone?" She teased them to help spirits. "We fight to defend the innocent and banish evil. We are the virtuous and brave, the sacred realms advocate for us! Let us attain victory!" She shouted as she mounted her horse and rode with her retinue into the storm. The villages spread throughout the once peaceful land had been suffering greatly, unprepared for the sudden wake of calamity with the coming of the invading demon and his horde. Anger filled Saoirse's heart, as she traveled from each settlement and gathered more volunteers to aid her in her quest. Her forces were small, but she had the advantage of knowing the terrain better than the enemy - should war be the only choice, her people would be prepared. She had gathered priests, magicians, rangers, and warriors, all willing to stand against the darkness that had come to plague their land... though the princess knew that some were brought by promises of treasure and glory. Not all soldiers were so noble as to lay down their lives for the sake of peace and prosperity. When they approached the mountains, she donned her weapons and armor, and partook in the rites and rituals that would grant her strength and protect her from harm. Unlike her father, she had no distinguishing harness, instead wearing layers of padded armor emblazoned with the royal insignia combined with patchwork pieces. Her knights insisted she promise to surrender should they find themselves defeated and at the mercy of their foes but she rebuked them. "I will cut my own throat before I am at the mercy of that vile beast." She replied, and it was the fierce rage in her gaze that quelled any further arguments. Night had come, and they would strike under the veil of darkness. Saoirse then prayed that the battles to come would be in her favor.</s> <|message|>King Hanequin @Chris488 King Hanequin sat on his throne for a time longer. He, soon, heard those footsteps once more and he no longer felt his daughters' hand or heard her voice. The king blinked and raised his head, just in time to see her leaving his side, leaving the room. He let out a sigh, one that could not be helped. After a few more moments had passed, this man did his best to shake off at least some of what he was currently feeling. He made to follow after his daughter. This was a father who wondered what she was up to. He did not want her to be involved in this fight. His desire to keep her safe as much as his people was a strong one. He could not let her get hurt. That was one of the main thoughts inside his mind as he had stood up and left the room himself. He glanced around as he tried to find her. "Where could she be?" That was when he saw her with the men on the castle grounds. He narrowed his eyes. However, before he could stop her, she had already ridden off, along with those others. He gasped. The king fetched his own horse, being in quite the hurry, and made after his daughter. She was risking more than he was allowing her to. King Hanequin was going to bring his daughter back home. He could not allow harm to come to her. He had already lost his wife. He was not about to lose her as well. By the time he managed to catch up to her, the mountains that the evil man had spoken of were coming into view. His eyes went wide once more. "She cannot be....." Those words trailed off as he made his horse go faster, with the intention of desperately trying to reach her, to keep her from going inside. "Please....stop her....." He prayed to the great spirits that something would prevent her 'mission'.</s>

<|message|>Cier Cier's frosted face, although fridgid, burned red from the turmoil in his heart. Droplets of ice shattered to the stone bricking beneath him. It was just when he found himself having destroyed the rest of his bedroom that a familiar knocking came from the entrance to interrupt any progression. A tired huff escaped the troubled man's quivering lips as his breath became visible in the frozen air. Unfortunately this wasn't someone to ignore. He already knew who stood behind the door. The sound of her knuckles tapping the mahogany was something Cier had become accustomed to for a few years now, and upon undoing the latch, his adviser was revealed. Tall and elegant she was, with hair nearing white as snow. Just as striking in appearance as the man she aided. Yet she was not old as one might think from a distant glance. Not at all as there was not a wrinkle to her bronze skin. "My lord, I'm afraid Sir Jerelk has spotted visitors lurking about the perimeter." She informed with nothing but a calm decorum, her scarlet eyes hiding behind an emerald fan embroidered in pure threads of gold. Though fearless of this fact, believing that the sheer power the dark emperor possessed couldn't possibly become overshadowed, there was not a smidge of worry within her. Of course, not would any amount of men stand against him and the icy, whirling, thunderstorm that drowned Seanate and every land he staked claim. "Bless you, Neviessa." These words he uttered, not even bothering to look the women in the eyes as he once would have. His face was shielded in too much darkness for her to even attempt to meet the royal's gaze just yet. Cier could not bring himself to admit that deeply, he was ashamed by the emotions he couldn't stop from bleeding through his weakening front. Reminding himself he had no time to dwell in the suffering of loss and near meaningless existence - because he would not allow himself to surrender. To her, although her presence practically cast aside, she knew this this man like the back of her hand. It was an understatement to say that Cier was distressed, she could see it merely by the hunch of his silhouette, however, within a split second of announcing enemy arrival, the pain embedded in his appearance dissolved into solely frustration. Gritting teeth, he already started his stride towards the outer gate, soon his frown grew into a wide grin. Meanwhile, Neviessa looked on at the demigod from the mess he left, staring blankly from where she stood in the hall behind him. Cier soon burst out from the mighty structure. Following him was a posse of hundreds of knights. As if he even needed them, there was much more where they came from. As they moved out to search for their guests, the wind picked up dramatically with the rage that rolled in the emperor's exhausted eyes. "Show yourselves!" His voice boomed, echoing throughout the mountain range. "We are aware you are here."</s>

<|description|>Cier appearance: With thick, dark, neck-length hair framing his sharp jawline and cheekbones, Cier's glassy silver eyes often startle those meeting his gaze. Intimidating he may appear, towering at 6'3, with broad shoulders, and plenty of muscle. A beastly man yet not so serious. Though his figure may look statuesque, he is often relaxed in both his posture and expressions. Sometimes not even able to keep a straight face, but in a blink of an eye, this may easily change. age: 36 bio: Emperor Cier's begginnings are quite humble. He didn't come from wealth or any sort of power. Rather, born into a poor family, so he didn't exactly expect much to come from his life. That was until one night, when he was no older than ten, Cier had found himself lost and happened to meet an old woman walking by the shore. Looking into her eyes, it was almost as if he knew her but of course, he was certain they had never met before. She could see he was scared, and so they sat together on a rock, talking, showing him all the constellations, and watching the waves roll until sunrise. He felt safe. And when there was light and Cier could find his way home, he asked her if he would ever see her again and what her name was, but the woman simply smiled and took his hand in hers. His eyes grew as something glowed between their palms and she said, "I've left you with a gift, and someday, you will leave someone with one too." Then it all faded to black. The next thing Cier could remember was waking up to himself baking in the sand. Startled to his feet, he would have ran all the way home if not for his father finding and giving him an earful first. Ever since this strange encounter, he's returned to that shore, but the old woman was never to be seen. And going as far ask to ask around, the villagers seemed to think it was just something he merely imagined. Yet just as Cier began to think that he had lost his own mind, his powers emerged little by little and soon the people who once laughed at his wild story were now stricken with nothing but amazement! Cier was quick to be deemed as something like a savior. And with this many proposed to make him their future king as their current never married and had laid ill, swiftly dying. He saw this boy as a blessing sent from the heavens to protect his beloved kingdom. Cier reveled in all this honor and praise, soon taking the throne at just the tender age of fourteen. And for many years he has witnessed the kingdom of Seddow flourish as he cared for it with all his heart, but this would all come crumbling. After arriving home from visiting one of Seddow's allies, his eyes, once full of life and love for the world, turned into deadly daggers. Having found his whole family and many servants mutilated, their blood spread all throughout the palace, his heart - within an instant - turned cold and frostbit black as his psyche spiraled with the clouds circling like vultures looming over. The assassin responsible had failed to escape. Thrown to the ruler's feet by the guards who had caught him, Cier demanded answers through tears welling up and the guttural pain pounding through his chest, but the killer gave none, and was then executed by the king's own blade. He didn't know why or who had ordered this contract, but one thing was for certain. The mastermind behind the slaughter couldn't have been anyone but another ruler. No one but of that status could possibly afford the taking out of not one but seven royal lives. One of which, was his only son. His biggest pride and joy… a curious and funny little boy, now laid cold in his father's trembling arms. Since that day, Cier has been nothing but ruthless in finding who to blame. Taking lands one by one. Blinded by sadness, rage, and thirst for blood. Someone will pay. role in the story: dark ruler powers: Water & Storm manipulation, underwater breathing/sight, with supernatural strength and agility. other: - to be added</s> <|message|>King Hanequin @Chris488 King Hanequin sat on his throne for a time longer. He, soon, heard those footsteps once more and he no longer felt his daughters' hand or heard her voice. The king blinked and raised his head, just in time to see her leaving his side, leaving the room. He let out a sigh, one that could not be helped. After a few more moments had passed, this man did his best to shake off at least some of what he was currently feeling. He made to follow after his daughter. This was a father who wondered what she was up to. He did not want her to be involved in this fight. His desire to keep her safe as much as his people was a strong one. He could not let her get hurt. That was one of the main thoughts inside his mind as he had stood up and left the room himself. He glanced around as he tried to find her. "Where could she be?" That was when he saw her with the men on the castle grounds. He narrowed his eyes. However, before he could stop her, she had already ridden off, along with those others. He gasped. The king fetched his own horse, being in quite the hurry, and made after his daughter. She was risking more than he was allowing her to. King Hanequin was going to bring his daughter back home. He could not allow harm to come to her. He had already lost his wife. He was not about to lose her as well. By the time he managed to catch up to her, the mountains that the evil man had spoken of were coming into view. His eyes went wide once more. "She cannot be....." Those words trailed off as he made his horse go faster, with the intention of desperately trying to reach her, to keep her from going inside. "Please....stop her....." He prayed to the great spirits that something would prevent her 'mission'.</s> <|message|>Cier Cier's frosted face, although fridgid, burned red from the turmoil in his heart. Droplets of ice shattered to the stone bricking beneath him. It was just when he found himself having destroyed the rest of his bedroom that a familiar knocking came from the entrance to interrupt any progression. A tired huff escaped the troubled man's quivering lips as his breath became visible in the frozen air. Unfortunately this wasn't someone to ignore. He already knew who stood behind the door. The sound of her knuckles tapping the mahogany was something Cier had become accustomed to for a few years now, and upon undoing the latch, his adviser was revealed. Tall and elegant she was, with hair nearing white as snow. Just as striking in appearance as the man she aided. Yet she was not old as one might think from a distant glance. Not at all as there was not a wrinkle to her bronze skin. "My lord, I'm afraid Sir Jerelk has spotted visitors lurking about the perimeter." She informed with nothing but a calm decorum, her scarlet eyes hiding behind an emerald fan embroidered in pure threads of gold. Though fearless of this fact, believing that the sheer power the dark emperor possessed couldn't possibly become overshadowed, there was not a smidge of worry within her. Of course, not would any amount of men stand against him and the icy, whirling, thunderstorm that drowned Seanate and every land he staked claim. "Bless you, Neviessa." These words he uttered, not even bothering to look the women in the eyes as he once would have. His face was shielded in too much darkness for her to even attempt to meet the royal's gaze just yet. Cier could not bring himself to admit that deeply, he was ashamed by the emotions he couldn't stop from bleeding through his weakening front. Reminding himself he had no time to dwell in the suffering of loss and near meaningless existence - because he would not allow himself to surrender. To her, although her presence practically cast aside, she knew this this man like the back of her hand. It was an understatement to say that Cier was distressed, she could see it merely by the hunch of his silhouette, however, within a split second of announcing enemy arrival, the pain embedded in his appearance dissolved into solely frustration. Gritting teeth, he already started his stride towards the outer gate, soon his frown grew into a wide grin. Meanwhile, Neviessa looked on at the demigod from the mess he left, staring blankly from where she stood in the hall behind him. Cier soon burst out from the mighty structure. Following him was a posse of hundreds of knights. As if he even needed them, there was much more where they came from. As they moved out to search for their guests, the wind picked up dramatically with the rage that rolled in the emperor's exhausted eyes. "Show yourselves!" His voice boomed, echoing throughout the mountain range. "We are aware you are here."</s> <|message|>Saoirse Saoirse Princess of Seanate --- From the clefts and crevices of the mountain, and from the thickets of dense foliage, voices cried out as arrows flew forth from their cover and soared towards the emperor and his entourage. Wind tossed aside the projectiles, what few reached their targets simply deflected off of their armor. "For freedom!" The voices called out once more, followed by another volley of useless arrows in a vain effort to harm their foes. Saoirse was among her small company of soldiers and simple folk that had volunteered to defend their home from the invaders in hope of abating the vicious storm that had killed so many now. However, now faced with the terror that was the demonic fiend whom possessed the voice that shook the mountain... Courage was sundered, and many fled. The princess and a couple of knights close by shouted orders to stay steady and firm, while organizing a retreat into a the woods, descending the mountain's escarpment along safe paths. Her strategy was not yet ruined, so she prayed that the gods graced her with fortune, with victory, for she would need divine aid to defeat this enemy. What remaining number of the soldiers and village militia that yet to retreat continued their ranged assault for another brief period of time, before they began their descent down the mountain as well, and Saoirse watched from afar to see how the forces of the dark emperor would react. "Come and find us, you monsters." She muttered to herself as she moved.</s> <|message|>King Hanequin @marxxie King Hanequin prayed to the great spirits more and more as he rode his horse to his destination. He had to stop his daughter. He just had to. She was needlessly putting herself, and others, in grave danger. This king, this worried and caring father as well as a ruler, could not allow this. His daughter did not see what she was doing, or so he thought. Anyway, he tried to get there as quickly as possible, to prevent actions that could cause grave peril. However, this would not be the case. The king would soon discover that he had arrived too late. His horse stopped just as his daughter had started the charge. He gasped, eyes wide. "Oh my stars.....!" He got his horse moving again and he tried to quickly ride up to where his daughter was. The king was desperate to stop her. He had to end this before things got out of hand. He was not going to have needless bloodshed! Not while he drew breath! The king charged towards her and was quite upset with her. "Stop!!" He shouted as loud as he could. But, before he could say anything else, a certain male voice could be heard calling out. It was too late. His daughter had angered the lion, so to speak. "Oh my....stars....!" He looked towards his daughter as some of HIS men backed away. He was showing how upset he was right in front of his daughter. "What have you done?!" They were certain to be destroyed now. They did not have enough power to take down a demigod for skys' sake! That was what the king always thought anyway. Anyway, as this king was now fearing anyway, they were very much doomed now. Their only hope might be to give in to the kings' demand now, if only to buy them more time. "Please calm his anger....." Those words, spoke quietly, were yet another prayer, his hopes, and something he needed to happen.</s>

<|message|>Cier He raised his hand and a sea of black clouds shielded the gentle light of a waning quarter moon, but the night would not remain pitch black for much longer. A monsterous roar of thunder rattled the ground before the first snap of lightning pelted the earth, instantly melting patches of snow with each continuous strike, lighting up the sky. One way or another those hiding within the woods would be found or lured from their positions. He'd make sure of it. Meanwhile Sir Jerelk, a knight of nearly equal stature led a black mare alongside his emperor and his horse. And soon as enough towards them came the call of Jerelk's falcon. Soon it had landed, wrapping it's large and terrifying talons around the armored soldier's forearm. The beastly bird chimed in response to the mission he had been sent. Three distinct sounds he had made, alerting Jerelk of which direction to lead his portion of men. "West!" He signaled, only to glance back at Cier, giving his leader the go-ahead to press on with a waving gesture. The emperor then commanded the rest of the soliders to spread out to other sections of the mountain, incase of something like a surprised attack from an any unexpected angle. Though seeing his own force as indefeatable, no chances would be taken this bitter night. The emperor could not afford to sacrifice any of the lives on his side. Already guilt over the lives lost on both lines gnawed away at his soul. Nevertheless, he was counting on them to aid in finding his mastermind just as much as they relied on him for the future of their families and livelihoods. Cier could not let them fall at the hands of those who dare stand in the path of uncovering the truth, no matter how close he unknowingly was. The sky was brightened with each string of light that struck the quivering soil and stone below the snow. If it was a game of cat and mouse they wanted, a feral and bloodthirsty feline the dark emperor would be. However there were two lives he would not harm, though he didn't quite expect to find them here so soon. Not a hair on King Hanequin or his daughter's head would be harmed. Desperately he was needed someone to take the pain and burden of his powers. And only he could give it to one who has power within them. It wasn't some thing ever explain to him by the mysterious woman he once met so long ago, but it was an instinctual feeling. Saorise's eyes may have appeared as normal of orbs as anyone's but he had seen something lurking behind those windows. An aura of sorts and voice in his mind was calling him towards her. Something he had never experienced yet with every bit of his being he knew very well that she was the one to inherit the gift. And as it seemed so, she was the only person he had met with such potential, besides the son he grieved. He prayed for his entire family and could only hope there was peace on whatever awaited him on the other side. Cier could have felt terrified, and he was, but the memories and certainty of his fate made his heart rattle. This made him nearly combust into flames for he was simply so enraged. For loathing himself more so than the aftermath of his quest. Riding up onto a hilltop, Cier locked his jaw against the wind, standing high and looking down upon the fleets sent below before diving into the wood and weaving through the trees. Arrows had already flown through the night, yet it was a pitiful attempt in his eyes. No such attack would be dragging him down to his grave. At least not so easily.</s>

<|description|>Nico Kaneko Age 13 Appearance (source) Personality Nico is, for lack of a better term, plain. She's friendly enough, if a bit standoffish to the people around her. She has a healthy amount of friends, diligently attends class, has average grades and feeds stray animals on the weekends. She sounds a little boring, and in truth she might just be a bit too plain for her own good, but most of it is putting on airs. Truth is, she wants to be a bit more carefree. Break out of the shell she built around herself, feel the breeze through her hair as she darts around and maybe, hopefully, get a boyfriend some time. Luckily for her, she has another persona with which she can act on these repressed urges (not counting the boyfriend): that of her Magical Girl self. She feels liberated in transformation, and makes this known through her boundless energy. Her act as a transformed girl makes her curious, bubbly, maybe a little bit of an airhead even... but most importantly, she's straightforward. If she wants something, she goes for it. If she has something to say, she says it. When transformed, all the mental roadblocks that prevent her from confessing her feelings just seems to vanish. The true "Nico" is most likely between these two personas: one not as plain as her untransformed self, but also one not as freewheeling as the pink cat-girl menace. Coming to terms with that is still something she has to figure out for herself in her middle school years. Skills Nico knows how to take care of small animals and seems to be a natural empath for them, able to get along easily even with stray cats or dogs. Brief Backstory As said, Nico is an ordinary girl most of the time. She's an only child, fawned over by loving parents. They're strict with her when they need to be, and may be a small part of the reason she's not allowed to attend anything other than an all-girls school, but they still love her. As long as Nico's grades are okay, which they usually turn out to be, they wouldn't dare make her life (much) harder than it needs to be. Nico was never allowed a pet while she grew up, even though she loved animals from the bottom of her heart, because the owner of the house they rented had a "no-pets" policy. To make up for it, her parents would often take her to a zoo, or cat café, or any other place with a lot of animal friends. She not only got experience handling small animals, but she's grown to really care for them too. But Nico knew there was more she could do, still, for her animal friends. She also knew that she didn't like putting on airs toward the people around her, despite having no real reason to do so. Nico never had much of a reason to be shy of others, but she just... was. She wished she could be less... that. Less shy, less reclusive, less indecisive. A wish that, in a clumsy manner, would find its way to be indirectly granted. One night, only three weeks prior to the start of this story, a fairy visited her. It told Nico she had the potential to be so much more than she was now, that she had the power to become a magical girl. Of course it's not like she believed it right away, no normal person would. But when the fairy gave her time to think, and when it asked again later, Nico felt a swelling in her chest. She knew this was a one-time chance and, just maybe, she could do some good. Naïve, sure, but there was more to it: If she could have an alter-ego as this "magical girl", maybe she could learn to be more open with others. That's why she accepted: in this kind of miraculous double-life, she felt like she might grow as a person. Though... maybe the cat-like powers she got could've been a little less on-the-nose. Magical Girl Appearance (source) (Not pictured: Long, pink tail sticking out of her uniform. She can control it freely.) Concept Cats Archetype Cat Sith Abilities Nico is slippery, just like a cat. She's extremely light on her feet, able to run on all fours with ease and able to scale most walls with finesse and speed. She has no long-ranged capabilities; Nico relies entirely on pink claws that jut out from between her knuckles... or the edge of her fingertips, whichever strikes her fancy at the time. She naturally gravitates to a hit-and-run style of fighting. She can create a small barrier with her hands to ward off tiny projectiles, but it's not particularly resilient as Nico relies more on speed and dodging rather than blocking the enemy's attacks. One interesting ability of hers, though, is the ability to create clones. They're not true clones; they're more like a mirage. An animated image, able to move and emote, but which shatters upon the slightest touch. They're also not intelligent; only able to follow simple directives that Nico thinks of at the time, such as running, acting confused or any other manner of things. It's said that a cat has nine lives, and each clone could be counted as one of those- it's probably a coincidence, though, that she can only create nine of them. Any more and it strains her focus far too much, needing too much magic power and concentration to maintain their form.</s> <|message|>Abigail Hood Abigail Hood Elsewhere in Nerima, a large dog--presumably a Wolfhound, although it wasn't like many were around to identify the breed--sat patiently outside of a convenience store. A few minutes passed before its owner returned with a bag, the dog obediently falling in line as she started walking towards one of the ward's larger parks. The young woman was unusual for two reasons: one, being a physically distinctive foreigner, and two, being a magical girl who was not already transformed. Abigail had been earlier, for a short stint in looking for any new Shades that had made an appearance, but no anonymous costumed figure was really going to buy some sort of snack. Not that she was sure exactly what it was... the packaging proclaimed bread of some sort, but it didn't look like bread? It was certainly coated in bread crumbs but it seemed distinctly more fried. Unwrapping and taking a bite confirmed that, yes, this was definitely a fried product. Filled with the sweet, slightly unfamiliar Japanese curry. So, not bread by any normal reckoning, how was it called that? It was still somewhat amusing, the idea of magical girls using a chat group--though, obviously, with so many of them around there had to be some sort of communication--but Abigail had quickly gotten used to it and quickly sent a message that she was planning to hunt down a shade that had escaped into Musashiseki Park a few days ago. It would help if whoever had last seen it was available to make sure it was identified, but... Hopefully, it wouldn't be too hard to find her, loitering at a park entrance near people's homes was quite awkward. It was only just down the road from Higashi-Fushimi station, though maybe staying there at the convenience store was a better idea. Too late to go back now. Runaway Shades... maybe it was Abigail's prior experience biasing her, but too many of the magical girls she had met didn't regard hunting them down before they grew stronger with as much importance as stopping any new Shades that might be causing trouble. It could easily be a matter of perspective; back home, it was a lot more likely that the occasional Shade would give you the slip for several nights before it got pinned down. The countryside had lots of places to hide and far fewer shades overall, it wasn't surprising that more time was spent searching for them. In a way, this park was a return to form. Even if it was mostly dominated by the pond and trees alongside carefully lined out paths, it was at least less concrete filled than her usual fights.</s> <|message|>Shizuka Hoshiguma Shizuka Hoshiguma As the sun began to set over Shinjuku, a sense of unease overtook Shizuka. She'd been at this Magical Girl business for at least a week now, but it didn't make the shadows coming alive more palatable. Making her way to a rooftop, the girl would spread her arms out, a small flat-screen device coming to life in her pocket. "All things are aligned: Stars, Planets, Cosmos, Infinity...Come! Magical Starlight Change!" So she would say, pulling the screen-device out and holding it aloft, a thin beam of light reaching up from it towards the heavens above. In the busy streets of Shinjuku, lit up even at night, this light would be drowned out before the girl who caused it changed, hair taking on the shine of the sun with a sea of stars shining in her eyes. Right now, this ordinary high school girl was becoming someone capable of protecting this city. Fully transformed into Magical Starlighter, Shizuka would connect her transformation-key-device-thing-a-ma-bob to the satellite that accompanied her Transformation: Big Dipper. With her eye-in-the-sky online, the girl would receive data of the air-to-ground visuals and relay them in the group chat. [HoshiKuma]: OMW! {accompanied by a sticker of a bear running, and an image graph showing a satellite view of Shinjuku zoomed in to show the three Magical Girls already present for everyone else} "Boost!" Shizuka would say before the undersides of her soles came alight with blue energy, sending her rocketing into the air before she angled her body to start heading in the direction of Himeko, starting the process to convert the Big Dipper into its cannon state. @RolePlayerRoxas@Rin The girl would arrive overhead, needing to slowly control her thrusters as she landed a distance behind the others, unceremoniously landing on her behind before getting up. "Ow, ow ow...S-Starlighter, here to provide backup!" she would say, just as her arm's state shifted, a large futuristic cannon forming on it, with her hand sheathed inside to hold the "handle" from within. Though admittedly, it looked like the situation was well-in-hand with three Magical Girls already here. ...Still, that wasn't going to stop her from raising her cannon, prepared to sneak a few shots in on the Shade from the air if they did need her help.</s>

<|message|>Nico Kaneko The orange glow coating Japan would not elude Tokyo, much less the ward of Shinjuku. Unlike most of the rest of its city, though, Shinjuku had something to buffer against the onset of night; giant electric billboards. Commercials playing on loop emitted dull LED lighting that, combined with the now active street lights, made for an illuminated blanket that mad it hard for an ordinary person to loop up and make out any kind of detail in the sky. The rooftops were a prime hiding spot at this hour. It was not only hard to see someone up on them, but even better, whomever chose to reside in the veil of light had a very clear view of everything below. This fact wouldn't go unnoticed by a young girl, precariously balanced on all fours atop a piece of lighting sticking out the side of one building. Her curious eyes darted all over the city, scanning the citizens to make sure were all safe and sound. Seeing that they were, the girl had only one thing to say: "As I thought, this city is... ...really boring!" ✫✫ Nico ✫✫ --- She'd been at it for way too long already. Jumping rooftop to rooftop, looking down below for any signs of a shade or two and yet, nothing! Sure, the fairies told her slow nights like this could happen, but that didn't stave off the boredom any. The one time Nico doesn't have something to do with a friend or the other, explicitly on that night, nothing showed itself. In an excessive show of athleticism, Nico backflipped off of the lighting pole and back onto the building where she promptly let herself fall onto her back in exasperation. "The fairy told me to go outside today... but there's nothing here!" she complained some more. Sure, maybe Nico hadn't exactly taken this whole 'magical girl' thing too seriously as of yet, slacking on her duties a little more than she ought to... and sure, maybe she was behind on her quota for shade-slaying... but still! There was nothing! Absolutely nothing! She pushed herself onto her rear-end, gazing forward at the setting sun with a blank expression. "God or Buddha... is this really my fate?" she lamented to herself, all the color draining from her palette. She became a blank, white slate looking out in despair at the horizon. Then Nico jumped in surprise (and excitement!) as something in her hammerspace pocket buzzed. She hurriedly got out her smartphone but, in her excitement, had it slip out her hands. What followed was a desperate juggling act as the cattish girl tried and failed to get a grip on it, the plastic seemingly made out of rubber for this act of divine comedy. She just barely managed to grab onto it before it could've fell off the edge unto the concrete, or possibly and even worse, some poor sod below. The bullets Nico was sweating made her fearful it wouldn't just slip right out again anyway. Calming down a bit, she breathed a sigh of relief and muttered "Lessee here..." to herself. Nico unlocked her screen, and... `[Magi☆Magic☆Fox]: Minor one on my end. Save me please!` `[MagiGal]: If you have time to ask for help, do you really need saving?` `[MagiGal]: Whatves, I'll be there in a moment. Need to blow off some steam.` `[HoshiKuma]: OMW!` ...the deepest despair always hits right after a surge of hope. The image attached to the last message showed how dire the situation truly was- the weakest type of shade, stared down by three girls and another on the way for good measure. If this was not an indication everyone else was as bored as Nico was, nothing ever would be. As tempting as it was to just let the smartphone meet its and the passing stranger below's untimely end, Nico resisted the temptation and instead stared right back at the horizon. "Forgive me, Tokyo... I can no longer be the hero you need." And, after that little bit of goofing off, Nico rooftop-hopped her way back down to street level, making sure to transform back into her regular self when back on the ground below. The eye-catching pink cat-girl was replaced with a plain, ordinary middle schooler. She brought up her smartphone again and typed in a message of her own: `[Neko-2]: I'm going out for croquette buns.` Appropriate subject material? No, not really, but at least now nobody will ask where she was for the greatest show of excessive force this world had ever seen. Nico's now-passive face stared back out at the street crowd she was about to merge into and, with a sigh, she casually strolled over to become a part of the faceless masses. She knew of a pretty good shop not far from the station, so that was her first order of business.</s>

<|description|>Shun Nakano Age: 16 Personality: Energetic might be a little bit of an understate when it comes to Shun. She is like what would happen if you bottled lightning and turned it into a girl; constantly in motion, never able to sit still for long and constantly, always cheerful. This combined with her endless confidence makes it easy for her to make new friends as she is willing to approach anyone and everyone at least once, but it also makes flighty as she tends to commit to plans with people without thinking and over-booking herself. She can reckless, as well as tactless, as she has a habit or acting and speaking before thinking and getting herself into trouble, but is more often than not able to escape trouble using the same traits that got her in trouble in the first place. This lack of consequences has left her somewhat over-confident, or at least with the impression that things will always work themselves out in the end. Although, this attitude has been put to the test somewhat recently. Skills: As a capable soccer player and a member of her school's team, Shun was athletic even before gaining her new abilities. She has good situational awareness from her time on the pitch and is used to working together with other people for a common goal. Backstory: A simple child from a simple family, Shun always considered herself to be the typical teenage girl. Her parents worked average jobs, she was an only child like most of her classmates, she hated studying and always left her homework to the last minute; typical high school stuff. The only thing that really made her stand out from the crowd was the fact that she played soccer on the school team; well, that and the fact that she was really good at it. Good enough that her team had a shot at making it to nationals for the first time in years. It was something that she was proud of; even though she was only playing the sport because she loved it, even though she would have kept playing even if she terrible at it, it was nice to actually be good at something she cared to be good at. She didn't buy into any of the talk about her being a future star, a future pro, since she knew that there were better players than her out there; still, if that kind of talk kept her teams spirits up then let them dream for her. If they were able winning then that just meant they could play together longer. They won the final match of the regional tournament, earning their school a spot in nationals for the first time in a decade, but during the final ten minutes of the match Shun was hit by a bad tackle that left her with a sprained ankle. Hardly the worst injury, but it meant she would be out of commission for the first match of nationals. The team was disheartened, but Shun wasn't; all they had to do was win one match without her and she'd be able to join them for the rest. No big deal. She waved them off from her crutches as they boarded the bus to their first match. They lost, of course. Shun didn't blame them for it, though they all felt devastated. She had got them to nationals and didn't even get to compete, but she had no hard feelings about it, the other team was just better than them. The same couldn't be said for the rest of her team however; no matter how much she tried to put a brave face on things, she couldn't help but think that maybe he team blamed her for being injured , for letting them down. That hurt more than the disappointment or her ankle. She began to distance herself from the team and from soccer in general. Even after her ankle had healed she didn't hop back on the pitch or even touch a soccer ball. Some of the spark that made her love the sport had been lost. Then the fairy appeared and she suddenly had a lot more to worry about than just her school team's feelings. Magical Girl: Concept: Archery Archetype: Sagittarius Abilities: - Enhanced speed and agility. - Enhanced vision; increased range, able to see in the dark and has enhanced visual acuity. - Can summon an ornate bow to her hands and is granted the knowledge and skill to use it effectively. Though it doesn't come with arrows, it instead shoots arrows of pure star light. - Is able to pinpoint her opponent's weak spots.</s> <|message|>Nico Kaneko The orange glow coating Japan would not elude Tokyo, much less the ward of Shinjuku. Unlike most of the rest of its city, though, Shinjuku had something to buffer against the onset of night; giant electric billboards. Commercials playing on loop emitted dull LED lighting that, combined with the now active street lights, made for an illuminated blanket that mad it hard for an ordinary person to loop up and make out any kind of detail in the sky. The rooftops were a prime hiding spot at this hour. It was not only hard to see someone up on them, but even better, whomever chose to reside in the veil of light had a very clear view of everything below. This fact wouldn't go unnoticed by a young girl, precariously balanced on all fours atop a piece of lighting sticking out the side of one building. Her curious eyes darted all over the city, scanning the citizens to make sure were all safe and sound. Seeing that they were, the girl had only one thing to say: "As I thought, this city is... ...really boring!" ✫✫ Nico ✫✫ --- She'd been at it for way too long already. Jumping rooftop to rooftop, looking down below for any signs of a shade or two and yet, nothing! Sure, the fairies told her slow nights like this could happen, but that didn't stave off the boredom any. The one time Nico doesn't have something to do with a friend or the other, explicitly on that night, nothing showed itself. In an excessive show of athleticism, Nico backflipped off of the lighting pole and back onto the building where she promptly let herself fall onto her back in exasperation. "The fairy told me to go outside today... but there's nothing here!" she complained some more. Sure, maybe Nico hadn't exactly taken this whole 'magical girl' thing too seriously as of yet, slacking on her duties a little more than she ought to... and sure, maybe she was behind on her quota for shade-slaying... but still! There was nothing! Absolutely nothing! She pushed herself onto her rear-end, gazing forward at the setting sun with a blank expression. "God or Buddha... is this really my fate?" she lamented to herself, all the color draining from her palette. She became a blank, white slate looking out in despair at the horizon. Then Nico jumped in surprise (and excitement!) as something in her hammerspace pocket buzzed. She hurriedly got out her smartphone but, in her excitement, had it slip out her hands. What followed was a desperate juggling act as the cattish girl tried and failed to get a grip on it, the plastic seemingly made out of rubber for this act of divine comedy. She just barely managed to grab onto it before it could've fell off the edge unto the concrete, or possibly and even worse, some poor sod below. The bullets Nico was sweating made her fearful it wouldn't just slip right out again anyway. Calming down a bit, she breathed a sigh of relief and muttered "Lessee here..." to herself. Nico unlocked her screen, and... `[Magi☆Magic☆Fox]: Minor one on my end. Save me please!` `[MagiGal]: If you have time to ask for help, do you really need saving?` `[MagiGal]: Whatves, I'll be there in a moment. Need to blow off some steam.` `[HoshiKuma]: OMW!` ...the deepest despair always hits right after a surge of hope. The image attached to the last message showed how dire the situation truly was- the weakest type of shade, stared down by three girls and another on the way for good measure. If this was not an indication everyone else was as bored as Nico was, nothing ever would be. As tempting as it was to just let the smartphone meet its and the passing stranger below's untimely end, Nico resisted the temptation and instead stared right back at the horizon. "Forgive me, Tokyo... I can no longer be the hero you need." And, after that little bit of goofing off, Nico rooftop-hopped her way back down to street level, making sure to transform back into her regular self when back on the ground below. The eye-catching pink cat-girl was replaced with a plain, ordinary middle schooler. She brought up her smartphone again and typed in a message of her own: `[Neko-2]: I'm going out for croquette buns.` Appropriate subject material? No, not really, but at least now nobody will ask where she was for the greatest show of excessive force this world had ever seen. Nico's now-passive face stared back out at the street crowd she was about to merge into and, with a sigh, she casually strolled over to become a part of the faceless masses. She knew of a pretty good shop not far from the station, so that was her first order of business.</s> <|message|>Yukimura Himeko Yukimura Himeko Himeko's eyebrows raised slightly when a rain of swords mercilessly tore through the pitiful Shade, pretty much destroying it outright. While that outcome was hardly a surprise, the assault quickly reminded her of someone, and her suspicion was confirmed a scant few seconds later. Naoko Hifume was her name, right? Himeko could hardly say she was close with this girl, but they had operated for a similar length of time... more or less. She wasn't aware of the details, but the magical fox did know of Naoko's circumstances. She had offered her condolences back then, and assumed Naoko had either moves away from Tokyo, or given up the game altogether. To see her now, still lacking the bright, cheery tone that defined her... even Himeko was momentarily unsure of how to respond. It was almost fortunate that more than one magical girl responded to her "distress" signal to distract from Himeko's uncertainty. With "Magi-gal's" arrival, Himeko let out an amused chuckle, raising the pipe to her lips, "...Indeed, it's been far too long. My donation box has missed your custom~" Yet another magical girl dropped down nearby, eager to help out. Himeko had to wonder, was Shinjuku inexplicably peaceful for the first time in her career as a beautiful, mysterious foxlady, or... "...Am I really seen as that unreliable...?" Himeko mused aloud, a look of worry on her face. Though it was hard to look too pitiful when holding a magical tobacco pipe in one hand, and a boba tea in the other. With a heavy sigh, she aimed a smile at Naoko, shrugging her shoulders, "well, you may have chosen the quietest night possible, but nice to see you again~ Have you met the newest generation of saviours? As you can tell, they're rather earnest and adorable!" It was best to just act her usual self, right? @The Irish Tree @Rune_Alchemist</s> <|message|>Kokoha Hisaishi Keeper of the Arcana @RolePlayerRoxas@The Irish Tree --- "...Haaa..." Briefly, a frown would overcome Kokoha's visage. Seems like they didn't exactly need her help at all. This...fox woman? Somehow, she just didn't like her. Just as well, seemed like she really wasn't needed here. By the time she managed to arrive, not only had someone else beat her here, but seconds later a third magical girl showed up. Starlighter, Magifox. Oh great, she came all the way here to vent frustration and instead she found some sorta sword otaku, an old fox lady, and someone that looked like she could copy homework from. Keep it together, Kokoha you adorable JK. Just a minor annoyance. "A-ahem, sorry I don't think we've met!" MagiGal said with the totally friendliest smile anyone had ever seen. "A little sad I missed the action it looks like, but glad to see you're all safe!" Well, no she didn't really care honestly. She was hoping to bash something herself with some of her own admittedly meager repertoire. "MagiGal at your service!~" Kokoha would finish with a rather stereotypical magical-girly pose she had seen in an anime once that she totally hadn't completely watched on purpose. "If you need support, I'm your totally adorable gal!" She'd quickly clear her throat, ugh, man that was embarrassing. "A-anyways! Are we...clear here?"</s>

<|message|>Shun Nakano High above the streets of Shinjuku, sitting on the edge of a building with her feet dangling a hundred feet above the ground, the very cool and professional Magical Girl Shun Nakano was in the middle of something vitally important. Her phone pinged as her fellow Magical Girls sent yet another message in their group chat; they were coordinating a combined attack on a Shade somewhere nearby but she couldn't let herself get distracted. They could handle it without her input; they would have to, as her current task was far more urgent. Her very future as a Magical Girl was at stake. [Shun-Shun]: Hey, if my parents ask can you tell them I'm at your place? [Ami-tan]: Uh, yeah sure [Ami-tan]: What are you up to? Letting out a sigh, Shun quickly typed back a response of 'something shady', because she was the type of terrible person who found puns funny, and closed the conversation. That would hopefully stop her parents from finding out what she was doing for another night, but she was quickly running out of excuses and friends to rely on so if she was going to continue to sneak out like this she would need to come up with something. How did all the other girls do it? The ones that were older probably didn't have to worry about it as much, but surely the ones still in high school like herself had to be telling their parents something, right? "Hmm, maybe I should just join another club." Club activities, night time practice sessions, even just more people to cover for her with her parents. That would work, except for the fact that joining a club would end up eating into her time even more than the Magical Girl stuff did. "Too bad my school doesn't have an archery club. I wouldn't even need to practice." Would that be cheating? That would probably be cheating. The fairies probably wouldn't be too happy if she used her abilities to win a few trophies, even if it was in service of the greater good. Her phone pinged again and Shun raised it up to read the latest message. [Starry-Eyed]: Ooh, croquettes. Get me one.</s>

<|description|>Shun Nakano Age: 16 Personality: Energetic might be a little bit of an understate when it comes to Shun. She is like what would happen if you bottled lightning and turned it into a girl; constantly in motion, never able to sit still for long and constantly, always cheerful. This combined with her endless confidence makes it easy for her to make new friends as she is willing to approach anyone and everyone at least once, but it also makes flighty as she tends to commit to plans with people without thinking and over-booking herself. She can reckless, as well as tactless, as she has a habit or acting and speaking before thinking and getting herself into trouble, but is more often than not able to escape trouble using the same traits that got her in trouble in the first place. This lack of consequences has left her somewhat over-confident, or at least with the impression that things will always work themselves out in the end. Although, this attitude has been put to the test somewhat recently. Skills: As a capable soccer player and a member of her school's team, Shun was athletic even before gaining her new abilities. She has good situational awareness from her time on the pitch and is used to working together with other people for a common goal. Backstory: A simple child from a simple family, Shun always considered herself to be the typical teenage girl. Her parents worked average jobs, she was an only child like most of her classmates, she hated studying and always left her homework to the last minute; typical high school stuff. The only thing that really made her stand out from the crowd was the fact that she played soccer on the school team; well, that and the fact that she was really good at it. Good enough that her team had a shot at making it to nationals for the first time in years. It was something that she was proud of; even though she was only playing the sport because she loved it, even though she would have kept playing even if she terrible at it, it was nice to actually be good at something she cared to be good at. She didn't buy into any of the talk about her being a future star, a future pro, since she knew that there were better players than her out there; still, if that kind of talk kept her teams spirits up then let them dream for her. If they were able winning then that just meant they could play together longer. They won the final match of the regional tournament, earning their school a spot in nationals for the first time in a decade, but during the final ten minutes of the match Shun was hit by a bad tackle that left her with a sprained ankle. Hardly the worst injury, but it meant she would be out of commission for the first match of nationals. The team was disheartened, but Shun wasn't; all they had to do was win one match without her and she'd be able to join them for the rest. No big deal. She waved them off from her crutches as they boarded the bus to their first match. They lost, of course. Shun didn't blame them for it, though they all felt devastated. She had got them to nationals and didn't even get to compete, but she had no hard feelings about it, the other team was just better than them. The same couldn't be said for the rest of her team however; no matter how much she tried to put a brave face on things, she couldn't help but think that maybe he team blamed her for being injured , for letting them down. That hurt more than the disappointment or her ankle. She began to distance herself from the team and from soccer in general. Even after her ankle had healed she didn't hop back on the pitch or even touch a soccer ball. Some of the spark that made her love the sport had been lost. Then the fairy appeared and she suddenly had a lot more to worry about than just her school team's feelings. Magical Girl: Concept: Archery Archetype: Sagittarius Abilities: - Enhanced speed and agility. - Enhanced vision; increased range, able to see in the dark and has enhanced visual acuity. - Can summon an ornate bow to her hands and is granted the knowledge and skill to use it effectively. Though it doesn't come with arrows, it instead shoots arrows of pure star light. - Is able to pinpoint her opponent's weak spots.</s> <|message|>Kokoha Hisaishi Keeper of the Arcana @VitaVitaAR --- "Guh-!" Hit with the blast of air, Kokoha would guard herself against it, though it really didn't bother her too much. It was more annoying more than anything, what with it messing up her hair and everything. "Ugh, finally..." Kokoha's shoulders would slump slightly as the thing would finally start deflating, but she'd quickly straighten her stance. Wearing an energetic grin, in sterotypical magical girl fashion she'd strike a cute pose. "Ahem - I mean, and that's a plus one for the good guys! Way to go me! Such a shame I had no help whatsoever! I'm just that awesome even if I'm totally mostly support~" The highschool gal would turn towards her 'ally' in the fight. She wasn't too familiar with this particular magical...fox? She seemed to behave like a useless old lady from what she had observed. Would it have killed her to not leave killing the frog up to her? She barely had enough fire power usually to do much on her own, hmph. Well, at least it was over with. "No really, would it have killed you to do something else other than make my life hard?"</s> <|message|>Shun Nakano Shun Nakano The fight was over before she needed to fire another arrow. The cat-earned magical girl she was here to help used her distraction to strike at her opponent, who then decided to flee rather than stick around to deal with the two of them; well, she assumed them jumping off the building was them fleeing. The alternative was a little dark, so she hoped that's what it was. Come to think of it, why were two magical girls fighting each other in the first place? Was that normal? Were they rivals? For that matter, had she even helped the right person? She'd kind of just jumped into the middle of things without thinking it through, firing an arrow at the first evil-looking thing she saw; that was usually good enough. Shun hoped she hadn't just made some kind of mistake by getting involved in this. If she had, she was blaming it on the cat. Speaking of which… By the time she made it to the roof where the fight had taken place, the cat that had led her to this point had already nestled itself in the other girls arms and forgotten about her entirely. Dumb feline; she saw how it was. The girl in question was undoubtedly another magical girl like herself, what with the ears and the tail and the fact she was so sparkly –shiny and pink that you could see her from space. "Hey, nice to meet you." Shun gave the girl a big grin and held out her hand for a handshake. "You can just call me Shun." The girl was younger than her, she just realised. Or at least she looked it at the moment; there was no telling what she looked like without the transformation. Her own transformation didn't alter her appearance much other than to change her hair colour, or at least she didn't think it did, but who knew if that was typical or not. She was still new to all of this. "Nico… Nico… Neko… oh! Croquette girl!"</s> <|message|>Nico Kaneko ✫✫ Nico ✫✫ --- "Shun... is it?" Nico repeated after the other magical girl, staring down at the extended hand. It's not that her new feline themed friend didn't want to shake it- it's just that a big, black and fuzzy creature occupied both of her hands in the moment. Nobody ever has to worry with Nico though- she always had a solution! Magical girls are stronger than the average girl, so with a little bit of nudging like: "C'mon, enough playing around. Up you go~!" she managed to convince the cat in her hands to climb on her shoulders instead. "W-whoa you're heavy-" she commented, still managing to get slightly off-balance from having the weight of an entire adult cat pushing down at a slight angle. Once she steadied herself, Nico finally managed to return the handshake to Shun. "I'll be relying on you from now on, Shun-senpai!" Nico enthusiastically said back to the other girl, but when this new Senpai started repeating her name a couple times, she dealt a devastating blow to Nico's self-identity. "Oh! Croquette girl!" Such a brutal, precise strike. Nico, reduced to being associated with a mere food item. Her tail drooped, her shoulders slumped and her cat complained because it nearly slid off. "I'm ruined... I exist only to satiate the hungry bellies of the people around me..." Nico theatrically acted out, pretending for a moment she was actually, genuinely hurt. It didn't last long though; she sprang up soon enough again with a goofy smile. "No- really, though, it was pretty obvious huh? Y'know that name- Neko-2? It's- it's like a pun. My name is Nico, right? Like that uh... the ani-chara, the one that says "Nico-nico-nii". So y'know... 2, as in, "nii", and neko... neko-nii... I'm funny." Nico sniffed. Once. "Anyway so here is my number-" she continued, pulling out her phone to start a private chat with Shun's screen-name (which she totally guessed at random but based on context clues could've only been 'Starry-Eyed'). "Here is my cat-" Nico said as she picked the burmilla up from her shoulders, then shoved it into Shun's arms to both her and the creature's confusion. And, finally, she finshed off with: "And here are my goodbyes! Let's get croquettes some other time~!" With a final wave and a wink, Nico theatrically jumped off the building. A dull thud followed up by an "Ow!" came from that direction, followed by a decently bright light as the girl untransformed. Nico was surprisingly quick to flee the scene- call it the nerves kicking in- but if Shun peered over the edge, she could at least still see a dumpster with two dents in it.</s> <|message|>Yukimura Himeko Helpful Fox Himeko-san "Honestly? Yeah, it'd be suicide for me to go for a killing blow~" was Himeko's light-hearted reply to her very frustrated ally. Without a hint of shame on her beaming face, she continued, "you saw how weak my flames were, right? Alas, I am but a useless ball of fluff, capable only of bamboozlement and running away!" In her current state, she certainly didn't have to exaggerate too much about her strength, but Himeko saw no need to admit that she could have totally sped things up a little. Besides, Kokoha was nice enough to answer her SOS, might as well let her have a workout! Himeko bowed her head low for a moment, hands flat on her thighs. Straightening, she placed her smoke-billowing pipe to her lips once more, a playful smirk on her face, "come to think of it, we haven't talked much, have we? I'm the loveable Magi☆Magic☆Fox, with a capital star~" Her tails, one fluffy and one... decidedly not, waved rhythmically as she turned her gaze to the surrounding rooftops. She wasn't picking up anything else in the immediate vicinity, at least, so Kokoha was going to have to be her entertainment for now. ----- @VitaVitaAR</s>

<|message|>Shun Nakano Cocking her head to the side, Shun watched as the cat-eared girl ran away and jumped over the edge of the roof. The following thud told her that Nico had made it to the ground, albeit a little less gracefully than she would have expected from a catgirl. "I'm not sure what just happened…" She turned her head to meet the eyes of the black feline in her arms. "But she was right. You are heavy. Geez." The fat cat in question wiggled indignantly in her arms and Shun stooped down to let it jump free of her grasp. Shun walked over to the edge of the roof and peered over, seeing nothing but an empty alleyway with a severely dented dumpster; no pink-haired magical girls to be found. Letting out a sigh, she turned back around and dropped into a sitting position with her back to the ledge. "Well now what am I supposed to do? You have any ideas kitty?" Nothing. Not even a meow. "You know, I keep talking to you like I'm expecting you to talk back, but you never say anything. I mean, you can talk right? You're one of those magical girl pets that's actually some, like, advisor in disguise?" Its only response was to turn its back on her and begin licking itself. "Well, you're either a very rude advisor or just a regular cat. Either way I think I'm just going to leave."</s>

<|description|>Arthur Pendragon Superhero name: Arthur Gender: M Race: Human Age: 18 Appearance: 5 foot 11, golden amber eyes. Arthur has a bite mark left on his left forearm from a wolf attack. Multiple scars scattered across his torso from hi sword training. Has an ethereal blue handprint emblazoned over his left pectoral. Power: Knowledge of cantrips. Cantrips include, Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Minor healing, minor illusions (which he hates using because he considers it to be lying.) Limitations; Fire Cantrip: Can create a flurry of embers which can be used to start fires, alternatively it can be used to manipulate small flames such as campfires, torches, and candles. Wind Cantrip: Can create small gusts of wind, the strength of which can be adjusted as needed. Currently he can only create winds up too 6 mph. Earth Cantrip: Can be used to manipulate minerals and soil. Currently he can only use it to weaken walls or floors made from clay bricks. Water Cantrip: Can manipulate just under a gallon of water. Requires water to be present. Minor Healing: Can only be used to instantly heal scrapes, burns, and small cuts. Uses the calories stored in the body to accelerate the bodies natural healing process, thus it requires Arthur to have sufficient energy, and preferably having eaten shortly beforehand. Minor Illusions: Can create noises and temporarily alter peoples perceptions of small objects no larger then a duffel bag. Visual illusions can be easily seen through by more intelligent people, or those actively trying to see through it. Skills/Talents: Trained in swordplay and archery. Know's the general basics of sewing, hunting/tracking, wilderness survival, horse riding, and alchemy (medicinal not magical) Flaws/Weakness: Arthur is a plain old mortal man, with all the weaknesses that come with it. He however cannot swim, suffering from hydrophobia, thus he refuses to go out on open water. Background/bio: Arthur was born during a time of war, to a single mother. His early youth spent growing up around the brothel his mother worked for. Born the bastard of a whore, the folk of the land looked down on Arthur, treating him like a pest more then a person. These formative years went a long way to teach Arthur about respect and honor. Alas his time with his mother would be cut short by the invasion of the Saxon forces. As war and turmoil spread rapidly across the land his mother knew she would not be able to protect her boy. But her prayers would be answered with the arrival of a stranger. He said his name was Merlin, and that he had come in search of a child destined to save the land. That boy, of course, being Arthur. At the age of 9 he left home to begin his training. Over the next eight years, Arthur would be taught the importance of morality and compassion, and under Merlin's tutelage he would learn the way of the sword. As Arthur grew, so did his talents, even showing an aptitude for magic and science. This would push Merlin to increase his training, knowing the knowledge he instilled in the boy would one day be used for the people. As the day of reckoning drew near, Merlin knew Arthur was not yet ready to take his place as savior of the people, so he enacted a new plan. Calling upon the forbidden arcane art of temporal magic, Merlin ripped a whole in the very fabric of space and time. With one final word of wisdom Merlin cast Arthur forward through time into the distant future where, with any luck, he would mature into the man his kingdom needed him to be. Now all alone, in a foreign land full of corruption and hate, Arthur must follow his heart if he is to ever return home.</s> <|message|>James Harris James Harris 16:47 James groaned as he walked into his apartment, fresh off a double shift. His side was still throbbing slightly, his ribs still in the process of knitting together from where he turned that little boy's break into nothing but a few bad bruises after the tumble he took out of the tree. It was no walk in the park having to finish his shift with a broken arm, but he powered through worse in the past and at least the worse is over at this point – should only take another hour or so – and then he can just kick back and enjoy his first vacation in far too long. He hasn't had a real day off in ages, now – as long as he doesn't get called back in – he'll have three glorious days of peaceful bliss. Collapsing on his couch his plans for the night unfolded behind his eyes like a beautiful picture. It's still early afternoon, so first, he'll take a nice nap – get his ribs sorted out – then he'll head out to grab some dinner at Wu's. He loves Wu's, they make the best dumplings in the city – it's a pity they don't deliver. Amy's also going through quite a sticker phase according to Sarah, so maybe he could make a quick stop on the way and pick some up for her, maybe grab some glow-in-the-dark stars for above the twins' cribs as well? That'll earn him some 'Best Uncle' points for sure. Then with both stickers and dinner acquired, hell come home and just kick back and relax with the next Terry Pratchett in his collection. Good plan… --- 22:00pm Prize obtained! Walking out of the store into the evening air, he placed his purchases into his various coat pockets – zipping them closed afterwards – and finally continued on to Wu's. That had taken longer than he was expecting – almost a half-hour – but he got a pretty good selection for the kids, so he's definitely going to be popular when he sees them tomorrow. Getting unto his motorcycle, he turned on his helmet's Bluetooth and the sweet sound of Queen immediately filled his ears. Singing along – badly – to the words, James started the drive to Wu's. Traffic's looking good, his nap might have put him a little behind schedule (he should remember to set his alarm next time) but the drive isn't that long, for the first time in ages he actually feel's well-rested and pretty soon he's going to be partaking in some delicious food. Tonight's looking like a good start to a well-deserved break.</s> <|message|>Cameron Mason A pink blur zipped all over the museum. That blur was followed by a few drones filming his every move. That pink blur was Dynamo, better known as Cameron Mason. According to his manager, there was something going on at the museum, and it would make a perfect caper for an episode. Cameron wasn't so sure about filming this, but his manager told him people loved it. If that was true, who was he to complain? It was his job to make people happy! "Cameron pay attention! There's a action happening. If we don't get Dynamo on camera, this will have all been for nothing!" Cameron's manager said from an earpiece in his ear. Cameron soon found the action his manager was talking about. There were a bunch of other heroes here. How was Cameron not the first one here with his speed? Well whatever. He could still do something. One of which was a man brutally beating up another robber. Cameron had to intervene. He ran right in between his them. "Whoa whoa whoa! Stop that mister! That's mean!" He then turned his attention to the guy he was beating up. "You must be a robber. "IIIIIIIIIIIII'm Dynamooooooo!" He exclaimed while striking a pose and flashing a peace sign. "You should put that stuff you took back. Pwease?" "Your asking nicely?! Hit him Cameron! We need action!" His manager yelled in his earpiece.</s>

<|message|>Arthur Pendragon Thrust. Parry. Counter block and roll. Pommel smash, then follow up with a shoulder charge. Horizontal slash followed by leg sweep. Arthur's body went through the motions as if it were second nature. Envisioning himself surrounded by enemies, he built his strategy in his mind. Feign panic, follow up with two handed guard stance. Wait for enemies to rush together and then, bringing his sword down by his left hip Arthur swung his blade across the horizon, swirling his free hand to create a whirlwind of air around him as he began to spin like a top. He managed to make one full rotation while keeping his grip when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, breaking his concentration on causing his feet to slip out from underneath of him on the slick dewy grass. Arthur let out a grunt of pain as he landed on his injured side, his sword tumbling from his hand and sliding away from him. As his eye's focused on what had distracted him. There was a brief moment of panic as he realized he was being watched by a wolf. But as Arthur rolled to his feet, left arm out as bait for the oncoming bite sure to come, he realized the wolf wasn't charging him in his moment of weakness. Surely the beast had smelled his blood and could tell he was injured, so why wasn't it charging. Maybe it was the distraction? Surely this wolf wasn't alone. Wolves never hunted alone. Scanning the tree line surrounding him he kept his right hand on his knife, ready to draw at the first provocation, but it never came. The beast was alone? Not only that, but as he looked into its eyes, he saw traces of what he could only describe as humanity. As he maintained eye contact, he slowly rose lowering his left arm and releasing his grip on his knife. He saw the beasts eyes flick over to the cooked meet off to the side and that's when he realized, it wasn't interested in him, but the venison. Slowly he rose his hands in front of him fingers splayed to show empty hands before slowly making his way over to the cooked meet. Drawing his knife slowly as not to scare the wolf he sliced off a few slivers of meet and tossed them a few feet between them. "Tis fine noble creature. Be not afraid, I wish you no harm. If thee needs sustenance, I have plenty to share. Eat and rest. You have nothing to fear from me." So as to prove his point, Arthur slowly sat down and cut himself off a small slice and brought it to his lips. Twas a truly odd feeling indeed trying to share a meal with a wolf. He had never had any good experiences with wolves or dogs in the past, so he was still nervous, but if he could avoid slaying one of God's creatures he must try. All life was sacred after all, and if unprovoked, he would gladly share in his bounty with any. Even a wolf.</s>

<|description|>Tobias Reber Superhero name: Ratboy Gender: Male Race: Human Age: 17 Appearance: Personality: Tobias is a tenacious hard worker, unwise yet very intelligent, and compassionate almost to a fault. He likes to joke around and make people smile despite not being that funny. Still, he hopes his effort will itself be enough to raise the spirits of his friends. He is very passionate on issues of class and economics, and strongly believes in the idea of community. Power: Ratboy's main powers are enhanced reflexes and movement, allowing a wide array of acrobatics, and the ability to scurry up surfaces like a squirrel as long as there's *some* purchase, as well as the ability to communicate with rodents. He also possesses enhanced potential for strength, and a mild healing factor (it won't be visible or have a tangible effect during a fight but there's not much he won't have recovered from after a good night's sleep or two), as well as super smell. Limitations: Ratboy's powers only grant him the potential for things. He couldn't suddenly do a somersault after getting his powers. He had to learn to do one. He wasn't immediately granted the ability to break brick with his bare fists but trained himself to that level much easier and faster than a regular human could. He could understand rats but had to learn their language in order to talk back, etc. As such, he is inexperienced, far below his true potential and his healing factor won't give him any edge during a fight. He is just as easy to kill as anyone else provided you can finish him off. Flaws/weaknesses: Ratboy tends to get in over his head and despite his wily nature and quickness on his feet, he can be outclassed by most supervillains or henchmen that actually have powers. His sense of smell could also easily be overpowered by strong smells normal people could choose to ignore, greatly distracting him. Skills/Talants: Parkour, some gymnastics. Knows how to cook, clean and sew. Is fluent in German, English and Dutch with a little bit of French. Can also speak semi-fluent Rodent. Background/Bio: Born in Bremen, Germany, Tobias grew up in an underfunded orphanage. He was constantly surrounded by cold, suffering children, and he liked to do kind things to make them smile. He enjoyed school (partly because there was heating) and stayed there to study for as long as he could, turning him into a very bright child. When he turned 12, he started working in a kitchen as a potwasher, and saved as much money as he possibly could. He wanted to give it back to the orphanage. They refused, as that was his money he'd earned. One day, on a school trip to a laboratory, he got lost looking for the toilet. Panicking, he tried to get back to his group, only getting lost further and further into prohibited rooms. One room was very dark, and as he fumbled for a light switch, his foot hit nothing but air and he tumbled into a plastic 'coffin', full of test subject rats. He screamed as they bit and scratched him until some of the security there heard him and rescued him. He was too young to persecute for trespassing and they couldn't do so anyway without revealing the nature of their experiments, so they cleaned him up, bribed him with goodies and cash, and took him back to his group. Since that day, he noticed things. Hard feats that only gymnasts and bodybuilders on TV could do, he could kind of do!" He could climb a tree like a squirrel and just as fast. He started showing off with parkour. Doing these things were incredibly fun, so he did them more and more. The feats themselves were incentive to constantly train his body. By the time he was 16, he had developed quite the muscular frame. Tobias would see on the news, the increasing intensity the superpowered battles between Heroes and Villains were tearing apart the lives of the regular residents of Grailham City, including it's poorest and most vulnerable. So he made the decision to hitchhike from Germany to the USA, to Grailham City, and start life as a Hero, because it clearly needed more Heroes who focused on protecting the little guy.</s> <|message|>Fiadh (FEE-a) Fiadh jumped into action, running on all fours, faster that way than running bipedally. She was told to lead the way and lead the way she did, the fastest way. Which went through the occasional tree but all it leaves her with is a little soreness and she is intent on taking the shortest distance possible for that gold star. About a minute and a few uprooted trees and shrubs later, she led James to the north side where the injured man and the very large wolf was. The man seemed to be in a rough shape, but still fine, though the Wolf tried it's best to be intimidating. It was being very defensive, but why? A wolf that big would have no problem making a meal out of this man, there must be some sort of bond between the two, but she did not give it much further thought. Fiadh waited for her reward patiently, resting her lower body on the ground and propping her upper body with her arms so she is ready to go at a moments notice. James immediately set for the wounded man, but thankfully remembered to peel the shiny thing and stick it to her arm. She…She did not feel the greed go away like it normally does. Inspecting her arm, she realized the problem. The shiny was a worthless shiny, worth not more than a few cents. But on the other hand… sometimes things can have a sentimental value greater than a monetary … She did feel a little better, for doing a good deed and having physical proof of it. She was unsatisfied, but maybe with enough gold stars it will fill the emptiness in her…. Fiadh, failing to find a reason to delay further, set off to attend to the museum thieves. A sort of criminal she especially despises, and if they would steal from a prestigious public building like the museum, then they could steal from her! A reassure hoard is not a hoard if it could be pilfered, and eliminating would-be thieves is one of the ways to ensure its security. And if something valuable happened to be lost in the commotion, why that would be a shame. Fiadh then felt a sensation, a sort of 'gut instinct' that gave her pause. Since the costumed individuals split off into separate groups…who is to say that they all are occupied? It is plausible, probable even, that another group managed to sneak away with a crate in a different direction. She could not prove this other than off of assumptions, it could just as easily be that all the thieves are occupied with heroes. But the possibility of another group slinking away undetected is enough of a basis for her paranoia. By utilizing detective skills that she seems to only possess when objects of value are involved, she deduced a probable direction an unknown party could have gone. That was enough to set Fiadh off with a new course, around the many alleyways nearby. Shortly after, a sound alerted Fiadh, a particular one that usually indicates someone forcefully coming in contact with the garbage that line the buildings out of view from the street. Turning the corner, she saw the noise came from some kid impacting some garbage bags, a fall by the looks of it. Fiadh needed to shift her gaze only slightly to find the object of her desire, one of the crates from the museum. Something particularly valuable was inside. Whatever it was, its value dwarfed anything she ever possessed. She. Must. Have. It. But first, she will have to deal with the six people carrying it. "Gadaithe!" Fiadh roared. "Thought you could steal without notice? I'll give you thieves one chance to drop that crate or there will be consequences. Fiadh stood to her full height and brandished her claws and teeth, hopefully they will be intimidated and back off saving her the effort. If not, well she does experience pleasure in taking care of thieves. "You, kid! Either lend me a hand or get out of here, I don't like worrying about someone getting in the way." Fiadh said to the kid resting amongst the trash. She did not want someone uninvolved to get hurt, but her greed was blinding her to only focus on the treasure. She won't be able to guarantee his safety. Carrot</s> <|message|>Arkin Rey Arkin It seems you were mistaken. Arthur, as he calls himself, is a penniless, unemployed method actor desperate to live out his fantasies, who will forego health and happiness in his attempt to make a career out of his ability to summon ye olden plate mail. Maybe show business was too tough for him? You're astounded that one man could make so many consecutive poor decisions that he would come to the point of that scene back by the pond, but as ridiculous and stupid as he may be, the dedication is impressive. Almost as impressive as the blood-soaked healer man's invitation of not only the insane homeless roleplayer, but the insanely large and ostensibly dangerous wild animal; you. He really just invited these strangers into his house based on nothing but the perceived need to help. Maybe you should be glad he wasn't around to see you beat a man to death with another man. It seems you are now the property of one Mr. Arthur Pendragon in the eyes of the bloody guy, and if it gets him to let you crash at his place, maybe even get a proper shower and real human food, then you're all for going along with it. You're surprised no one has made mention of your supernatural size, but maybe they just assume you're a hero in a transformation like that talking velociraptor? You're surprised he can enunciate as well as he can, which is terribly. You've practiced to yourself before, but it always ends up sounding even more horrible than the raptor, in your humble opinion. Your speech in wolf form is like a series of barks that vaguely resemble the vowels of a syllable. Maybe you could do better if you practiced more, and maybe you could communicate verbally with them if you really tried, but sitting around and trying to get everyone to patiently interpret your speech just for a 'hello' sounds like a hassle. You don't really see any need to volunteer your linguistic abilities just yet, and it's enough that the crazy blond thinks you're at least somewhat sapient. If he didn't, he wouldn't be crazy, after all. You follow the bloody man as he leads Arthur and you back to his home.</s>

<|message|>Tobias Reber The teen was still sore but had gotten his breath back. This girl definitely wasn't human either, She looked semi-reptilian in nature, but wasn't dressed like a Hero. The six identical blue men weren't exactly acting heroically either, sneaking around carrying a large box that was apparently stolen. So this girl was trying to get it back. Was it stolen from her? No, there was a more pressing issue here. "I am definitely not leaving if you're going to kill them," he replied in accented English. By now, the blue men realised they wouldn't be able to outrun them *and* lift the crate, so were stepping away from it, towards the two of them. Tobias didn't want to fight. He'd never been in an actual serious fight in his life, but if he was going to help people out in this city, he should probably get some experience fighting bad guys. "Sure, I'll help. I'll take the three on the right," he stated, before running at the right flank of the group, veering off path, and using his momentum to do a wall run to gain some height before pushing off from it and delivering a kick to the nearest blue-barged thief that sent him sprawling. It hadn't taken him out of the fight, but for the immediate present, he only had to fight two of them. Well, it was time to see how everything he'd worked for so far helped in in a real fight. The two foes had an advantage in both skill and experience, but Tobias's reflexes helped him dodge and weave most of their attacks, and the speed and force of his punches helped him get in some good, powerful shots before they were able to take protective measures. By the time the third re-joined the fight, Tobias was stinging in a few bruised areas but both of his foes were looking worse for wear and wobbly on their feet. One of them was even bleeding from a forehead wound. They were cautiously circling him. Tobias used this very brief respite to glance at how Fiadh was doing. Hopefully, nobody had died yet. Shadow</s>

<|description|>Saboru Masashi AGE: 16 GENDER: Male ARCANA: Devil APPEARANCE DETAILS: Of average height at 5'7, Masashi is rather athletic and sports a lean physique. He's not the sort to smile widely, but his features do make for a rather sharp grin. While he does have fancy earrings as pictured, his daily wearers are just plain, unadorned gold studs. Other than that though, he's not particularly fashionable and sticks to more plain clothing. The heat isn't much of a bother, so it's not too uncommon for him to be seen in long sleeves even in the midst of summer. PERSONALITY: It's a shame that Masashi's focus and drive seems to solely be dedicated towards his practice of kendo. Thankfully the discipline does seem to extend beyond that at the least. He's punctual, dependable when called on, and not the sort to give up just because something is hard. Unfortunately, he doesn't reserve these standards for just himself and he most definitely looks down on people who can't keep up. Thankfully, it's usually his friends who manage to even rope him into helping out, so they're used to each other's behaviour. He's quiet and frank, but growing up in a small town like Fujihama means there's a few people that have grown on him. Or has he grown on them? It's a sharp contrast with who Masashi becomes when he's all suited up. His kiai is loud, almost deafening so, and he's certainly far more aggressive. Like a man possessed with a fire burning hot in his chest, Masashi is not the sort to take things easy. If asked about the difference, he chalks it up on being unchained a bit. Being all aggressive in his day to day life doesn't really do anything but bring trouble, but in a match it's practically encouraged! SHORT BIOGRAPHY: Born and raised in Fujihama, he's got no real strong feelings about his hometown even after 16 years of living in it. It's a nice and peaceful place to come back to, but there is awfully little to do when it comes to his passion. For that reason, he hopes to leave it on a more permanent basis once he's finished high school. He already travels to other prefectures and cities on a rather regular basis to attend various kendo competitions. Sometimes he feels as if he may have been born in the wrong time period. Most people don't feel more alive than ever when weighed down by kendōgu with bokken in hand, but there's little that lights Masashi's heart up like so. The savage glee he feels at breaking through an opponent's guard and smacking them off their feet. Of course then he grits his teeth as he stops himself before the judge's disqualify him again. It's not winning that counts for Masashi, but it's a small comfort at the least. He's had a rather regular and even privileged childhood growing up, so it's not like there's any issues stemming from there. His parents are both alive and well, and they run the Saboru Springs together. It's one of the hot spring ryokans in town that cater to tourists and he helps out when he has the time to. It's by no means an obligation to him, and part of the reason why he doesn't mind it. They were happy enough to allow him to pursue kendo as a hobby and then a passion, and are quite satisfied with the awards and accolades he has to his name. It's only right that he should at least try to repay that a bit. He didn't see the gory broadcast live, but a friend has shown him the morbid affair. He honestly hasn't given it much thought. There were no doubt hundreds of trained professionals looking into what happened and why, and what's the point of thinking too hard on something that's so unconnected to him? His ability to care about the situation is all but used up listening to the grumblings and complaints of his friends as they bemoan the new curfew. Tourism has taken a bit of a hit as well, but his parents are rather optimistic that things will bounce back once everything's been sorted out. TRIVIA: * Below average in school, but only really excels in PT and English. Not really academically inclined and his main motivation for keeping his grades decent is to maintain club attendance. * Masashi quite enjoys spicy food, and his tolerance for it is quite high. A bit of a wimp when it comes to bitter foods though, and the main reason why he spat ghost peppers out. * May or may not have avoided a suspension thanks to his position and achievements as the kendo club's president.</s> <|message|>Nakano Nagi Nakano Nagi Mentions: Munehisa@Solace Obviously, Nagi really didn't want to die. In fact, she was just a bit scared shitless right now. Not that she'd admit it. If she was going to bite it, she wasn't giving Okamoto any more satisfaction than she had to. Kind of amazing how much sheer spite was doing to suppress pants-shitting terror, really. What felt almost worse right now, though, was that nothing she tried to get the heat off Mune mattered. Fuck. He didn't need to go down with her. And then the bitch started monologuing. Okay, now death almost seemed preferable to listening to this tripe. Mune's reaction surprised her, though. And in a good way. Nagi would have bet money that he wouldn't have nutted up and told Okamoto to fuck off after that whole spiel, but he did. And then shit got weird. A costume change, some superpowers, and was that a spear? What the fuck? Nagi found herself so baffled by the spectacle that she almost didn't notice the bees releasing her to attack Mune and his...spirit thing. Almost meant that she reached out and grabbed one of the bees that was attempting to shift its attention to him, holding it down against the ground as she started beating it savagely with a brass knuckle while watching Mune manhandle the rest. Wait, was that a gun? Holy shit, now Nagi really wanted this Persona thing that he was screaming about. "Wait, what? We're not sticking around to kick her shit in?" Nagi gestured towards Okamoto, but nodded reluctantly. "Fine, you got the superpowers and the gun, you get to make the calls. Let's skedaddle, then." She followed after Mune as they began to run, though not before flipping Okamoto off.</s> <|message|>Tanimoto "Aki-Chan" Akira April 24th, 2025. Mentions: Masashi @Zombehs, Asumi @Ambra, Hoshiko @Fabricant451, Akio @Lord Orgasmo, Kenzan @PrankFox "I'll go first, since I suggested it." Akira picked up the controller in Chen's left hand. As she did so, she glanced over to Asumi and giggled, holding the controller in her hands to familiarise herself with how to hold one. Although the game was familiar to her, the controller wasn't. She didn't own a game console, but she did have a computer on which she watched YouTube videos and did schoolwork on. Sometimes she'd find herself going back to videos of old arcades that reminded her of the Game Centre and when the place had stocked the games she'd played on when she was young. "I admit, the last time I played Street Fighter was when the arcade still had one of those machines when I was a kid." And so the pink-haired lass sat in front of the TV, controller in one hand and a strawberry Pocky in the other. She munched on the sugary snack while she waited for Asumi to take the second controller and pick her character in the Versus screen. Her own pick was Vega, since she remembered that the masked, clawed dude was pretty badass and did pretty good when she watched other people play as him. Akira hoped that Asumi didn't kick her ass as hard as she thought she would. "Please go easy on me, Asumi."</s> <|message|>Ebina Hoshiko , @DJAtomika, @Lord Orgasmo, @PrankFox, @Ambra The only proper course of action was to break out into a grin so wide it would make that green guy who hated Christmas ask her to dial it back. But really what other option was there for getting a senpai to admit that he didn't have physical magazines but instead looked at stuff digitally. It wasn't a huge revelation or anything, but it made her laugh and grin all the same. It was a pity she wouldn't be able to judge him for his tastes but in truth she didn't know how to judge; this was her first time in the room of a boy but obviously it wasn't like the dramas made it seem. There was no romance in the air. Only chaos. Chaos, snacks, and Street Fighter. "I'll play last. I played some at the arcade so I'm probably gonna win. The only true statement she made was that she played some of Street Fighter at the arcade. Her record wasn't exactly stellar when it came to playing humans but anyone who played at the game center was on a whole different level anyway and didn't count. Among friends? Hoshiko liked her odds. At least enough to want to get a round in. "You should pick the sumo wrestler. He's fun. He goes like-" Hoshiko started slapping her hands forward quickly like the famed sumo wrestler himself just not as quickly. Her slap-happy self caused her to accidentally hit a shelf in the room, clattering some objects to the floor. Hoshiko retracted her hands and set about picking up what she dropped, scratching her head and hoping nothing was broken. She couldn't really afford to replace it. "Sorry. I'll...I'll just take a seat and wait my turn. Hoshiko found a seat and sat, hands in her lap. "Could you pass the snacks?"</s> <|message|>Shirasawa Asumi MENTIONS: Masashi [@Zombehs], Akira [@DJAtomika], Hoshiko [@Fabricant451], Akio [@Lord Orgasmo "Don't worry about me! I totally got this." Asumi waved Masashi off as she furrowed her brow. What, didn't he believe in her? She was so pumped up, she was certain she'd beat anyone that tried their hand at her.It was because of the left-over adrenaline from before. She turned to Akira, smirking. "You should check out the arcade's new Street Fighter game! They installed it just last week." She turned to Hoshiko when she gave her a suggestion on who to play. The sumo wrestler, huh? Asumi was about to reply when one of her wild movements knocked over objects on a shelf. She winced in alarm, though the moment quickly passed. In her nervousness, she couldn't help but laugh. Though, this didn't stop her from turning to their host. "Sorry about that. We're both pretty clumsy." Asumi said with a slight frown. Hopefully Hoshiko wouldn't make any other weird movements like that. Chen would understand a mistake, but if it happened again, it'd be even harder to cover for her. She reached forward to grab her bag and pulled it closer to them so Hoshiko could nab one of the snacks that remained inside. "A-anyways, I'll show you how to win at this–" THUMP!! Asumi flinched, her eyes glancing up at the window. A grayish smear stained the glass. "Oh no!" she yelped. "One of the birds must've hit the window… I'll be right back!" She pushed herself onto her feet and scrambled out of the room before anyone could react. If the poor bird was smart enough, it'd stay in one place to recuperate… It didn't take Asumi long to return with something bundled in the sweater that was previously tied around her waist. She stepped carefully towards them without a second thought and knelt down on the ground. Gently, she set the bundle on the ground between them all. "I'm glad he didn't fly away. Poor guy's dazed outta his mind…" Asumi pulled away one of the sleeves that she had used to keep the creature in place. A normal crow rested in the midst of the wool, though it was hardly moving. It let out a low croak and ruffled its wings, but that seemed to be all that it could do for now. Its red eyes blinked up at her. She frowned and reached out to feel one of its legs. There didn't seem to be any broken bones in either of them. Her eyes settled on the purple band that was wrapped around its left leg. Hadn't she seen this bird before? "Oh!" Asumi perked up. She glanced up at the others, a blush crossing her cheeks, before she finally looked back at Chen. "I hope you don't mind that I brought it in… I was just so worried about it."</s>

<|message|>Saboru Masashi Saboru Masashi "I'm sure you've got... something," Masashi agreed vaguely with Asumi before he winced a bit as some of Chen's belongings were sent to the floor in a mess. Nothing seemed to have broken, but he could already imagine that the room was going to be a bit too cramped to try and stuff another two people in; even if that was for something calmer like studying. A glance around the room had him imagining how they'd be arra- His head snapped back around to the windows he'd been standing by before he whipped back around to look at Asumi's retreating back. It was a bit surprising how fast she could move when she wanted to, and she hadn't even knocked anything over in her rush. He sighed and then cracked open the window so he could actually look out and down at whatever had made a slight mess of the glass. Well, Asumi seemed to be right at the least. He could see the fallen mass of black feathers on the ground below, but he didn't manage to get a good look before she got to it and scooped it up in her sweater. The smear had come off easily enough with a few tissues, and Asumi had already gotten back to the room by the time he came back from washing his hands. "If it shits itself in fear, I'm holding the door shut," he chimed in unhelpfully from the bedroom's only exit before he actually took a gander from behind her. The purple band was pretty distinctive though, and he sighed as if a bit disappointed. "Probably won't though. Looks like it's the one from Kuro's. Unless someone just likes to wrap those things around our town's crows."</s>

<|description|>Saboru Masashi AGE: 16 GENDER: Male ARCANA: Devil APPEARANCE DETAILS: Of average height at 5'7, Masashi is rather athletic and sports a lean physique. He's not the sort to smile widely, but his features do make for a rather sharp grin. While he does have fancy earrings as pictured, his daily wearers are just plain, unadorned gold studs. Other than that though, he's not particularly fashionable and sticks to more plain clothing. The heat isn't much of a bother, so it's not too uncommon for him to be seen in long sleeves even in the midst of summer. PERSONALITY: It's a shame that Masashi's focus and drive seems to solely be dedicated towards his practice of kendo. Thankfully the discipline does seem to extend beyond that at the least. He's punctual, dependable when called on, and not the sort to give up just because something is hard. Unfortunately, he doesn't reserve these standards for just himself and he most definitely looks down on people who can't keep up. Thankfully, it's usually his friends who manage to even rope him into helping out, so they're used to each other's behaviour. He's quiet and frank, but growing up in a small town like Fujihama means there's a few people that have grown on him. Or has he grown on them? It's a sharp contrast with who Masashi becomes when he's all suited up. His kiai is loud, almost deafening so, and he's certainly far more aggressive. Like a man possessed with a fire burning hot in his chest, Masashi is not the sort to take things easy. If asked about the difference, he chalks it up on being unchained a bit. Being all aggressive in his day to day life doesn't really do anything but bring trouble, but in a match it's practically encouraged! SHORT BIOGRAPHY: Born and raised in Fujihama, he's got no real strong feelings about his hometown even after 16 years of living in it. It's a nice and peaceful place to come back to, but there is awfully little to do when it comes to his passion. For that reason, he hopes to leave it on a more permanent basis once he's finished high school. He already travels to other prefectures and cities on a rather regular basis to attend various kendo competitions. Sometimes he feels as if he may have been born in the wrong time period. Most people don't feel more alive than ever when weighed down by kendōgu with bokken in hand, but there's little that lights Masashi's heart up like so. The savage glee he feels at breaking through an opponent's guard and smacking them off their feet. Of course then he grits his teeth as he stops himself before the judge's disqualify him again. It's not winning that counts for Masashi, but it's a small comfort at the least. He's had a rather regular and even privileged childhood growing up, so it's not like there's any issues stemming from there. His parents are both alive and well, and they run the Saboru Springs together. It's one of the hot spring ryokans in town that cater to tourists and he helps out when he has the time to. It's by no means an obligation to him, and part of the reason why he doesn't mind it. They were happy enough to allow him to pursue kendo as a hobby and then a passion, and are quite satisfied with the awards and accolades he has to his name. It's only right that he should at least try to repay that a bit. He didn't see the gory broadcast live, but a friend has shown him the morbid affair. He honestly hasn't given it much thought. There were no doubt hundreds of trained professionals looking into what happened and why, and what's the point of thinking too hard on something that's so unconnected to him? His ability to care about the situation is all but used up listening to the grumblings and complaints of his friends as they bemoan the new curfew. Tourism has taken a bit of a hit as well, but his parents are rather optimistic that things will bounce back once everything's been sorted out. TRIVIA: * Below average in school, but only really excels in PT and English. Not really academically inclined and his main motivation for keeping his grades decent is to maintain club attendance. * Masashi quite enjoys spicy food, and his tolerance for it is quite high. A bit of a wimp when it comes to bitter foods though, and the main reason why he spat ghost peppers out. * May or may not have avoided a suspension thanks to his position and achievements as the kendo club's president.</s> <|message|>Sonoda Kotone Date: April 25th, 2025 Mentions: Akira @DJAtomika | --------------------------- Louis Armstrong? She'd heard of the guy's name. Something about him being really good at the trumpet, right? Her music goals were so vastly different to the kind of music that Akira played that she didn't think she'd need to familiarize herself with any of it. There were plenty other musicians that piqued her interest, and unfortunately, Armstrong wasn't one of them. And if she had to be honest, Kotone was willing to bet 10,000 Yen that Akira was the only person at the whole school to listen to the guy's music. Nothing wrong with it, but it was definitely a niche taste. Kotone took Akira's offer and sat down next to her. She'd rummage through her bag to take out her own lunch, then popped the lid off to reveal a teriyaki beef bento box with a side of white rice, chopped vegetables, and some melon for a treat. The smell of Akira's own lunch made her keep a mental note to buy some shrimp tempura for dinner. "Heh, glad I'm memorable." She said with a little smile. "I'm Kotone, nice to meet you too Akira. I remembered you as the chick always playing some jazzy stuff. Never had an idea what it was up until now." She took a piece of beef from her container then ate the piece as she thought of something else to say, then swallowed. "Is Louie-boy all you play or you got all kinds of songs up your sleeves?"</s> <|message|>Nakano Nagi Nakano Nagi Mentions: Asumi@Ambra, Munehisa@Solace, Masashi@Zombehs Well, wasn't this a cavalcade of fuckups? Nagi closed her eyes and suppressed a groan as Masashi described how the rest of her friend group and associated hangers-on somehow got themselves involved with what sounded like a serial killer case. Son of a bitch. If anything, this kind of shit was just going to make the fucking curfew even worse. And wasn't that just a bundle of fun? Of course, Mune beating her to the punch on making up an excuse was bad in the immediate sense. Asumi would buy that godawful story just from her nosy ass wanting to set her best friend up with someone. Masa, on the other hand...well, they'd known each other long enough that he could most likely smell the bullshit from a mile away about that being hilariously out of character for herself. At least that part Nagi could salvage a bit. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Let's not get it twisted." Nagi sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Translation: I conned Mune into buying me food. He asked me for dating tips and I told him to stop being a pussy and go to the gym until he had a six-pack and some arms. The end. Let's get back to the important part. No one said anything stupid when you were being questioned, right?"</s> <|message|>Chen, Akio Interacting with/Mentioning: Wantanabe lmao --- Unfortunately for poor Chen, he didn't seem to recognize any more of the figures around him. Either he didn't watch enough anime, which was almost certainly the case, or these were all just really obscure characters. Either way, he'd managed to burn half an hour just looking at stuff he probably wasn't going to buy anyways. Looks like it was time to go bother the old man again. Heading upstairs and looking around, the placed looked the same as it always did. Model knives and swords in cases, and even a few model firearms off to the side. Thinking about it, Chen realized he had little knowledge of firearms. He knew how they worked for the most part, but he didn't know the history and significance behind these weapons. Maybe Wantanabe could enlighten him? If he wasn't allowed to buy them, he could at least learn about them. Chen walked over to the cases, looking down at the firearms. They all looked relatively the same, though there were some minor differences among them, like size, barrel length, or color. They looked well made, all things considered. The metal was polished to a shine, and the plastic was free of any scuff marks, dust, or scratches. A couple of them stood out amongst the rest to Chen. Their tags read "Minebea P9" and "M1911". "Hey old man," Chen called over to Wantanabe, pointing at the guns in the case. "What can you tell me about these?" Wantanabe walked out from behind the counter over to Chen. "Didn't take you for the firearm type, but I'll tell you what I know." Wantanabe took one of the guns out of the display case, holding up to the light to inspect it before talking. "This here is the SIG Sauer P220, made by, well, SIG and Sauer. Though here in Japan these are made by Minebea, and called the P9. They originated in Germany and Switzerland, and are even used by the Swiss military. It was mainly used as a replacement for the SIG S210, which was developed in World War II." Chen's ears seemed to perk up at the mention of World War II. Wantanabe seemed to notice, and put the gun back into the case to pull out the other gun he had pointed out. "This one here I think you'll be a little more interesed in. This is an M1911, an American handgun. If you can believe it, this thing was used from 1911 all the way up to 1985, and even then, they're apparently extremely popular over in America, and are still being made. This thing saw two world wars, and even a couple wars after that. I'm not too familiar with American history and wars, so you'll have to find out more yourself." Chen couldn't believe it. A weapon that was over a hundred years old and was still saw use. It lived through two of what might be considered the most important wars in history. From there, Wantanabe explained in more detail the intricacies of the weapons, such as manufacturers and the places that used them. Apparently some guy named John Moses Browning was real important for firearm history. He'd continue listening intently to Wantanabe as he spoke, even if he didn't exactly understand what stuff like "parabellum rounds" were. He had a lot of research to do when he got home. Hopefully, given recent circumstances, researching firearms wouldn't get him put on some sort of watchlist.</s> <|message|>Shirasawa Asumi MENTIONS: Munehisa [@Solace], Nagi [@Psyker Landshark], Masashi [@Zombehs] What could she say? She had to admit she expected Nagi's reaction, but that still didn't make her feel any better. She let Masashi explain what happened, a little surprised to see that he had even mentioned the crow that she had "adopted" out of the blue. For a moment, she wondered how the bird was doing in the middle of those bushes outside. She hoped it hadn't flown away– it would only get more hurt if it tried. If that happened, she wouldn't forgive herself! Now that she thought of it, maybe she could have put a box over it to prevent it from escaping… Her thoughts screeched to a halt when Munehisa mentioned that Nagi and him went to the food court at Aprile instead of meeting up with them. She narrowed a brow at Munehisa's explanation, then pouted childishly at Nagi and jabbed her shoulder with a finger. "Y'know, if you wanted to ditch us for your little date, the least you could have done was send us a text!" she chided them in a voice a few octaves higher than usual. "The whole thing was crazy! I think I got blood on my uniform when I tripped over the body, too… it was so gross. But everyone told the cops the truth, since they let us go pretty quick. Chen's dad cooks like a god, though. You two totes missed out." Her mind drifted back to the meal. Man, it really was a good dinner. She wondered if Chen would invite them over again, or the whole situation with the crow turned him off… "Oh yeah! Want to see the crow? I brought it to school with me!" Asumi grabbed Nagi by the hand and started to pull her towards the entrance to the school. "It's in the bushes not far from the entrance. C'mon, let's go! You guys are gonna think it's so cute!"</s>

<|message|>Saboru Masashi Saboru MasashiLooking between the two of them, Masashi raised an eyebrow before he just sighed with a hint of disgust and shook his head. If neither of them wanted to tell the truth, then he'd just have to leave it at that. It wasn't like he had any way to pry the truth out of them anyways. "Not like they questioned all of us together. We're not the ones the cops actually care about anyways," he said with a roll of his eyes before he snorted. "Yeah, shame you decided to run off early with the crow. I got to take some home thanks to these two no-shows." Most of it had ended up being shared with his parents, but there had been enough for him to bring a portion to school for lunch today. Speaking of the crow though… Masashi tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Asumi before he shook his head. "You brought it to school...?" Trailing off for a moment as he wondered why she hadn't just hid it in a bathroom at home or something, he gave up trying to follow Asumi's logic before long. "Sure hope a stray cat didn't get to it," he muttered somewhat darkly before he shook his head and adjusted his carrier again. "Well have fun with that. Maybe bring it to the vet instead. I'll see you guys on Monday or Tuesday though," he remarked before he waved a hand to see them off and departed from the three's company.</s>

<|description|>Tanimoto "Aki-Chan" Akira AGE: 16 GENDER: Female ARCANA: Sun APPEARANCE DETAILS: Akira stands 1.63m (or roughly 5' 4"), placing her on the short side amongst her peers. Befitting her nature, she has a head of naturally straight red-brown hair that she keeps at neck length and dyed a fashionable shade of pink. Sometimes she ties her hair into a ponytail, in others she lets it down but with her fringe pinned to one side. Her eyes are light brown and she can be often seen either smiling or vibing to music. If in school, she wears her uniform normally but accents it with her ever-present pair of headphones around her neck and a light blue hoodie with a fur-rimmed hood over her uniform jacket. When not in school uniform, Akira has her hoodie on over a light blue t-shirt, with slightly baggy, darker navy blue jeans and sneakers to match. Headphones mandatory, of course. Depending on the season, she changes her clothes out to suit the weather, foregoing the jackets in favour of simple t-shirts in the summer, or supplementing them with thick overcoats in the winter. And her satchel bag is never too far behind, slung over her shoulder and usually containing her laptop and notebooks. PERSONALITY: Akira is a soft-spoken yet chirpy young lady, oftentimes being described as being "quietly joyful". Her enthusiasm for the things she loves shines through her presence in the band club. She's naturally soft in volume, often struggling to be heard over her louder peers, but her contributions to her friend groups and clubs are very much appreciated, and her peers are no slouches in letting her know that. But just because she's soft-spoken doesn't mean she can't be intense or enthusiastic about the things she loves and cares about. Akira is often the first person to voice her displeasure with bad ideas, or the most vocal about things she likes and she can get louder if she's really annoyed with something. Her nature also doesn't mean she is shy or meek, on the contrary! Her friends know her as a bubbly, energetic soul who doesn't let her quiet voice dampen her spirit. Akira is a fast friend and supporter of their endeavours, even though she isn't very vocal about it. SHORT BIOGRAPHY: Akira is a Fujihama native and, as such, she was born and raised in the small, sleepy town. Growing up here meant assisting her parents run their okonomiyaki stall just outside of Fujihama Mall and Akira's tiny form was a welcome and regular appearance there in her early years. Eventually she was sent off to kindergarten and spent her formative years with other kids her age, learning how to read and write, count and spell, among other things. It was during her early teenage years that Akira gained her interest in music. YouTube was and still is a huge impact on her life and it was through the video media app that Akira first discovered old-timey jazz musicians like Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington, among others. It was a little odd for a thirteen-year-old her size to take such an interest in music that wasn't made during her time, but she was so into it, she begged her parents to buy her a trumpet so she could learn how to play. Her first few attempts were tragically doomed to failure but young Akira didn't give up, channelling her energy into YouTube tutorials, practising on the roof of her school so she didn't bother her peers and pouring hours and hours into her newfound favourite instrument. Come her high school years, Akira immediately joined Fujihama High's band club to further her skills in trumpet playing and music in general. She grew to become one of the more prominently talented musicians in the school and she would often not be seen without her trumpet case in one hand. To attend a day at Fujihama High and not hear Akira's trumpet from the roof was a sure sign that the young lady was sick or busy with her parents at their stall near the mall. But those days were few and far between; her folks weren't struggling to make ends meet and their lives, although they weren't rich, were comfortable and peaceful. Up until the Prime Minister blew his head off on live national television. That event shook the quiet of their small town and sent a feverish rumble of rumours through the townsfolk. What had happened? Why was the Prime Minister looking so weird just before he committed suicide? The students at Fujihama High talked about it in hushed whispers between classes and on their walks to and from school, even as life returned to a relative sense of normal. It worried Akira, having seen the morbid event on TV, but she tried to push it out of her mind in the days after. Instead, she focused on the upcoming school year, a new recital piece she had to learn and her own jazz practise, silently hoping that life would return to normal soon. TRIVIA:* Akira can regularly be found in the school's band room, chatting with friends about music or practising the club's latest musical piece. If she's not there, she can be found on the school's roof, freestyling or practising her favourites on her trumpet. * Her other favourite haunt is Fujihama Mall, where her parents' stall is and a few of her favourite stores are. * Her signature pair of blue and white headphones has her initials engraved on the headband. * Her favourite genres of music are electroswing, future funk, lo-fi and jazz. * Her favourite musicians are Kirinji, Caravan Palace, Louis Armstrong and Yung Bae.</s> <|message|>Nakano Nagi Nakano Nagi Mentions: Asumi @Ambra, Masashi @Zombehs, Munehisa @Solace Fucking. Finally. Class was enough of a pain as it was, considering Nagi preferred to study on her own. Figuring shit out for herself was more interesting than listening to half her teachers bumble their way through explaining math or science. But that bitch Okamoto? How the hell did they make her a teacher? What, did no one sit in on her bitching about her limp-dicked boyfriend while she was getting her license? Or did she just actually try back then? Hell, Nagi's own tits were bigger than her teacher's. If it weren't for the fact that everyone and their mother knew who her father, and by extension she, was, Nagi figured that would've been why Okamoto didn't like her. Then again, Okamoto didn't fucking like anyone, from the look of it. "No one got what that bottle blonde bitch was saying." Nagi spat as she casually reclined in her seat, letting Asumi sprawl across her desk. "You know, aside from the fact that her boytoy's not doing what she wants. Which I can't exactly blame him for. Listen to her nag for five minutes, I'd lose my boner too. Well, my metaphorical one." What a day. What a fucking day. On the bright side, cooking club wasn't meeting up today. President was out sick and the vice-president had a doctor's appointment she couldn't reschedule. More time to hang around with her friends. On the not-so-bright side, cooking club wasn't meeting up today. They were supposed to be finally starting on French dishes, damn it! "Anyways," Nagi sighed, pulling her phone out and idly booting up her usual mobage. "What's the plan today? Ramen? Game center? Karaoke at Komatsu? Actually, what're you even still doing here, Masashi? Don't you have a kendo club to beat over the head?" Thankfully, there wasn't much homework assigned today. Well, not much by Nagi's standards anyways. For either of the two slackers with her and Asumi, it might actually be a decent chunk. Still, that was their problem, not hers. If she was allowed out past 10 PM, a lack of homework might actually mean something. Unfortunately, even her dad wanted her to comply with the curfew. The less excuses the cops had to show up at their door, the better. Fucking Prime Minister, ruining everyone else's day just because he had to be dramatic about the way he wanted to go out. Guy couldn't have just hung himself in private like someone with an ounce of consideration for others? Prick.</s> <|message|>Saboru Masashi Saboru Masashi --- The constant pitter patter of rain throughout the day had been a welcome distraction. The irregular cadence it set against the windows had helped tune out the eccentricities of their various teachers. It seemed to be split about.. half and half in his opinion? A look down at his notebook as he flipped through what information he had jotted down seemed to reinforce that opinion. The amount corresponded with just how much he had actually caught on to what was being said, and.. well, history looked like it was going to be a bit of a write off. He snapped his notebook shut, cleaned off his desk, and packed everything away into his bag. He looked ready to just get up and leave, and to his friends it wouldn't have even been much of a surprise. Sometimes when they weren't paying attention and he didn't bother to say bye, he'd already be on his way to the club before they even noticed! Not the case today though as he just sat in his seat with his arms crossed. Rather relaxed in fact as he leaned his head back a bit and let it bob to some unheard beat. He didn't even seem to recognize Asumi's question at first. Could he... Yup. As the song must have come to an end, Masashi brushed aside a bit of hair from his left ear and popped out a small earbud. How many periods had he been listening to it? Who knew. As he placed it into its charging case, he looked over his shoulder and saw that some familiar faces were waiting around. With a slight push backwards, he leaned back on his seat and swung it about so he could face the three of them. The chair's legs came down on the ground with a sharp clack and he raised an eyebrow at Nagi. "No? We had to cut down on practices. Our membership is too small to keep the space everyday." It wasn't that big of a problem per say, but the issue was if things compounded from there. If the remaining members weren't as motivated because they didn't get enough time to practice, they might not stay commited. If the club lost any more members than it would have to disband. He wouldn't be able to attend any of the school based competitions, and those were most of his opportunities right now! It was a pain to think about though, and there wasn't much Masashi could do about it. He had already toned things down to stop scaring people off, but the damage was already done and the reputation wasnt going anywhere anytime soon. He couldn't even really do anything about the slackers just coasting along to say they were part of the kendo club when it won. They needed to meet the membership count after all... "Fuck..." He muttered under his breath as the thought rankled him before he shook his head. "So, plans?" How utterly unhelpful~</s>

<|message|>Tanimoto "Aki-Chan" Akira April 21st, 2025. Classroom 2-B, 3:35 p.m. Akira sighed as "class" finally ended. Even though her grades were nice and high, this was one of the classes where she felt like she was losing more brain cells than gaining them, especially with how much of an airhead Miss Okamoto was. As much of a nice person Akira was, she often wondered who in school really liked the history teacher. Like, really. And today didn't even feel like a music day either. She couldn't go up to the roof because of the rain and most of the school band club was hogging the music room to practice their own pieces instead of that one big recital piece they were supposed to be learning for Labour Day. Plus, with the curfew in effect, she couldn't hang out with her other friends as late as they normally did. Despite protests from her parents, sometimes the soft-spoken young lady stayed out late to enjoy the town's nightlife and destress from how boring school was sometimes. She laid her head on her table and pulled out her phone, browsing Twitter and Facebook to see if there was anything new to read while she listened to the bustle of her classmates around her. Nagi and Asumi were chatting on their end of the room, with two of her other classmates sitting nearby. Akira only really knew Nagi, purely because her parents often received visits from the local branch of the Yakuza, since they owned the only prominent okonomiyaki stall in town. And, to be fair, they made good food. Still, she kept to herself most of the time, but her attention was on the conversation she could hear over at Nagi's table. A trip to the game center did sound enticing... And here she'd brought her trumpet case all the way from home. Ugh. "Anything to get my mind off this rain."</s>

<|description|>Ebina Hoshiko AGE: 15 GENDER: Female ARCANA: Strength APPEARANCE DETAILS: There's a saying that good things come in small packages but Hoshiko might as well be the antithesis of that; she's not small but she's also not going to be playing basketball anytime soon. Well, not professionally anyway. Really it's a roundabout way of saying that Hoshiko is of above average height, but often appears to be taller thanks in no small part to the fact that she has long, runner's legs and frequently wears shorts or athletic spats when not donning the mandatory school uniform. Her ash blonde hair is almost always unkempt but in such a way that it makes people wonder if she intentionally does it to make it look like she doesn't or if it's just naturally that way. The jury's still out on which one would be more impressive. Though her hair is short, most of the time she has it covered by a variety of baseball caps. She has a standing collection of them and tries never to wear the same one twice in a row. From her favorite NPB teams (she's a fan of the Chunichi Dragons and the ORIX Buffalos) and MLB teams to just touristy hats or plain colored ones, the only question is which cap Hoshiko is going to wear on any particular day. Her eyes are a cloudy steel blue but nevertheless come with her piercing gaze; Hoshiko has a way of looking at someone with an intense focus that it's like she's reading their mind. Of course she can't read minds and it's mostly just because she thinks long and hard when doing it, but there can't help but feel like a bit of an intimidation behind her otherwise expressive, bright eyed wonder. It's partly because of her leg benefit that her figure has a clear feminine slant to it. She's slender, but athletic, not quite a typical tomboy but not exactly the kind of nadeshiko type that some find to be ideal. She exists in a comfortably medium. The muscles she does have are confined to her arms, though she's much, much too lenient with hamburgers to have full tone on them. But don't let that fool you. PERSONALITY: One of the great mysteries of Fujihama is how Hoshiko has even managed to get into high school let alone advance in the years. To put it plainly: Hoshiko is an idiot. Not in an insulting way, of course, but in a very publicly defined sort of way. Hoshiko's name is consistently near the bottom of the class during exams and on tests it's considered a good result for her if she scores above thirty points. Some say she only gets a pass because of her brother, others say it's because of her club activities having the staff look the other way. In truth, it's not like Hoshiko is some secretly brilliant kid, far from it. When she should be studying she's instead at the game center or the burger shop or at the batting cages (where she bats for free thanks to a deal she brokered with the owner). But her own personal motto is: "No struggle is worth freaking out about!" To put it another way, yes Hoshiko is considerably worried about her academics and only barely scrapes by due to finding tutors who teach her the material in a way she understands (often with baseball terminology or hanging burgers over her head like a carrot on a stick) and because when the chips are down and she focuses, she is capable of more than she gives herself credit for. Whatever worry she has in life is not written on her face. She's always the loud kid in class, the confidently wrong kid, not quite the class clown but close enough to it that she'll take the title and wear it with pride. It is her boisterous and unflappable personality that has led her to having a decently sized social circle. Sure, there are those who find her brand of energy annoying and idiotic and they have let her know that but anytime someone insults her, Hoshiko just smiles, pats them on the shoulder, and invites them to hang out sometime. But having a large social circle doesn't translate to having a core group of friends. Hoshiko at school surrounds herself with her peers, joking, laughing, playing sports, but at home her phone doesn't buzz with messages or chats. She might not show it, but Hoshiko is rather lonely; but she'd rather be the anchor of good vibes among her peers than drown herself in negative thoughts and loneliness. Hoshiko will be the first person to try and cheer someone up who is crying even if that means going to find the person who made them cry and yelling in their face without having the full information - like when she got in the middle of a girl crying from a 'break up' and yelled at the boyfriend despite the story being more that the boy rejected her love letter proposal. Whether or not they have Hoshiko's back is irrelevant as far as she's concerned. People might think negatively of her loud, foolish, unambitious self, but they at least know her name. And that's more than can be said for many students. SHORT BIOGRAPHY: Sometimes it sucks having a famous brother. Plenty of people in Japan know about Ebina Habiki. He is, after all, one of the hot new rising stars in the tv-drama scene, having gotten his big break on a tokusatsu program and has since transitioned to romantic drama shows winning the hearts of middle aged housewives and young adults the country over. All focus went towards Habiki which is why Hoshiko lives with her aunt in Fujihama while her brother and parents live in Tokyo managing and being her brother's public relations expert. It wasn't that Hoshiko was unloved as a child, far from it, but her aptitude for traditionally male pursuits did her no favors. After all, it wasn't as if there was room in professional baseball for a female player. From a young age Hoshino loved baseball, starting from simply throwing a ball at a pitching wall in the park and working her way to a little league team where she was the pitcher. Her early days on the mound were met with bully boys saying the usual things. At first her response was to sniffle and cry which only made it worse. Her coach, the first person in her life who believed in her, told her the best way to show people up was to prove them wrong. The next time they bullied her she struck them out with a fastball down the middle. Once her little league days were done she had her most disappointing moment of her life, even moreso when her parents said they were moving to Tokyo without her because a girl like her wasn't 'meant' for Tokyo living. It was the day she was told that girls weren't allowed to play on the school baseball team. They could be managers, glorified equipment handlers, but not play. Hoshiko just smiled and said it was okay. She sat under a tree until the sun went down that day. Her love of the sport never died, though, and if she couldn't play for the school she could at least play in her own time and support them in their efforts. It was the least she could do. Literally. At least until she found out that the school had a softball club. It was enough for her and it was a godsend because she was not cut out for cultural clubs after asking if the cooking club could cook burgers. Some people do ask about her brother though she is never the one to bring up the fact that her brother is an actor, but her family name makes it a common enough occurrence. She doesn't exactly live in her brother's shadow (he was, naturally, top of the class when he went to school AND was president of his drama club) but it does cast a wide, wide surface which at times feels inescapable. Part of her feels as if people are expecting her to be as successful as young and more than one teacher has mentioned something similar when handing back a low graded test. Still, she doesn't let it bother her. She has other things to worry about. Like setting the high school at the game center or trying to throw a perfect game or, yes, cramming for a test because she needs at least a 50 to not have to take mandatory lessons. There's a lot on her plate and none of it is a burger but she'll take care of it in her own way. No struggle is worth freaking out about, after all. TRIVIA: -If it wasn't quite obvious, Hoshiko loves hamburgers. And baseball. But mostly hamburgers. -One of the lowest ranked in her class but, naturally, excels at physical activities and classes. Absolutely vital for her class when they do sports fests. -Secretly likes to draw but doesn't feel like she's good enough to do anything other than scribble. This is why her notebook has drawings instead of notes and might be why she is so low ranked academically. -Secondary to burgers she loves yakiniku. -Absolutely hates mice and rodents to the point where her normally unflappable façade crumbles in their presence. OTHER:</s> <|message|>Chen, Akio Interacting with/Mentioning: None --- This rain was ass. Like really ass. The one umbrella that was in the house was taken by his father on his way to work, so now here he was, sprinting down the street, umbrella-less. The hood of his hoodie provided some defense against the rain, but as the rain became more angled, his face was totally defenseless. But at last, salvation was in sight: the oh so familiar sight of Wantanabe's. Shelter was at hand! Stumbling into the brick building, Chen put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. "Oh, those new weapons had better be here... please let them be here, i really don't want to walk home in this." He lifted his head to look around the building, his bangs practically glued to the front of his face. He was less familiar with the first floor, but did notice a few things had been moved around, and a few new plushies were in stock, including a giant pink rabbit that stood out from the rest. The thing was almost as tall as him! Pulling his hood down and pulling his hair out of his face, he began walking towards the opposite end of the room where the stairs were. Passing the numerous animal plushies and figurines of characters from anime he's never seen, he climbed the stairs up to the second floor. As soon as his head poked into the second floor his eyes were immediately drawn to a golden sickle shape right by the stairs. The khopesh. History on the weapon came flooding back to him. It was an Egyptian weapon, used around 2500 B.C. and fell out of use around 1300 B.C. Supposedly derived from a battle axe, the sickle shaped sword only had its outer edge sharpened, though there were many that had edges that were never meant to be sharpened, indicating a ceremonial weapon. They were even depicted with several Pharoahs, and two were even found in King Tut's tomb. An absolutely fascinating weapon. And who knew just what else was in here? Maybe he could bring in more ancient weapons, like the seven branched sword. Though arguably those wouldn't sell well, and Wantanabe probably got the khopesh just for him. Maybe he should ask about a part time job? And employee discount sounded very enticing.</s> <|message|>Sakai Kenzan Mentions:@FalloutJack The message from his mother was promptly ignored as Kenzan leaned back against the wall to begin the mindless scroll on social media to see if anything at all had changed. It seemed that most people were still obsessing over the death of the Prime Minister, so it was more rapid scrolling to get past the massive threads of conspiracy to find anything interesting. There were a few discussions of some new games that had come out, but it wasn't really worth reading the opinions that no doubt started an argument in the thousand comments. He paused for a brief moment on a lengthy thread about someone blaming aliens for the suicide of the Prime Minister that was paragraphs upon paragraphs of bullshit. Amazing how much people will do to avoid their own problems. It had gotten the point that it was getting amusing and losing the actual fear and concern over what had happened. He was so desensitized to the topic now it didn't even phase him, not that it really had in the first place. Eventually he gave up on social media and sat to listen to his music and play one of the many mindless phone games he had to pass the time. He was pretty sure that the rain wasn't supposed to stop, but he had hope the weather as wrong. He didn't need it to stop, just lessen enough that he wouldn't get yelled out by his mother for tracking water into the house. His thoughts stopped their wandering and turned to confusion when he received the message, in haiku no less. He stared at it for a moment in befuddlement. The hell? It took him a couple times reading over it to come to the realization that the only person that really knew him, and would be dramatic enough to send a message this way would be the same drama club member of his class. "You really couldn't have just asked in a normal way?" He pulled one of his earbuds out, "Sure, why the hell not. Don't have much else better to do." He wasn't usually inclined to agree to hanging out with any of his classmates, but he didn't really want to hang out in the school by himself for several hours.</s>

<|message|>Ebina Hoshiko The problem with going to a game center by yourself is that eventually you got bored with no one to talk to or play against or to celebrate winnings with; some people could play for hours by themselves and have a fine time of it. Hoshiko managed three songs on the Tatsujin machine before she was bored out of her mind. It was like when she went to a karaoke place by herself and paid for an hour; after seven minutes she wound up taking a nap on the couch because it was somehow more enjoyable than singing for an imaginary audience of her peers. It was because of that boredom that Hoshiko once again found herself out on the streets with nothing to do. Rain really did mess everything up. All she wanted to do was run around, throw the ball around, and then go grab a burger and a cola and find some reason to not do her homework. Was that so much to ask? The first year slid a coin into a vending machine and cracked open the milk tea can. Three long sips later and she was placing it in the receptacle next to the machines and was still no closer to figuring out what to do with the rest of her day. Sure, she could just go home, but then her aunt would just constantly ask her to do homework and to not watch anime or dramas or baseball highlights - or worse, ask Hoshiko to help in the kitchen. The fact that it was still raining made Hoshiko sigh, stick her hand out, and feel the drops on her palm. She didn't mind getting wet but everyone around her would act like it was the end of the world. She heard from her brother that people in America just live in places where it rains most days of the year. Hoshiko couldn't imagine it, but only because it meant that their sports teams had to be all indoor and that almost defeated the purpose. There was plenty to do the problem is she had no one to do them with. Her slightly rain-wet hand dug her phone from her pocket and tapped away at the lock screen. Zero messages across any apps. Not even so much as a notification for a game. Still, the phone made for a decent enough distraction; if it wasn't raining she might have even just fiddled around with it while she walked but instead she put it back in a pocket and had her hands join the phone there. She envied those who had indoor clubs today. She envied a lot of people, including those who remembered an umbrella. All she could do was walk with her head up - but not too up that the rain dropped into her eyes. Where was she going? Nowhere special. Nowhere in particular. Nowhere at all. She'd know when she got there. But for now, Hoshiko was walking, wandering, hands in the pocket, baseball cap mercifully keeping the rain from hitting her face. "I shoulda just stayed at school! Ugh, I can't believe I said that..."</s>

<|description|>Sakai Kenzan AGE: 17 GENDER: Male ARCANA: Justice APPEARANCE DETAILS: Kenzan has a runner's build, tall and long legged with more lean muscle to him than actual bulk. He keeps his hair shaggy on the top with an undercut, usually it's left pretty messy. He has reddish brown eyes and usually a rather disinterested expression. Aside from his uniform usually he wears something comfortable and easy to run in. Most of the time track suits of various colors. He tends to keep things monochrome with whites, grays, and blacks, but occasionally a blue or red for a bit of color. Even on warmer days he prefers to wear pants and a jacket though in the winter he'll put on a heavier coat. PERSONALITY: Kenzan is reserved and quiet, mostly choosing to keep himself out of the main line of sight of anything that might be happening at school. He likes his personal space and isn't the most talkative, though he has been told he's a good listener. Though that might be because he's not really listening. He's very nearly an adult, but even still acts mature for his age, and is someone that is known to give good advice when it comes down to it. He's distrustful of most other people, though that tends to skew towards the adults in his life, and isn't particularly interested in forming personal connections. He'll be polite when spoken to and isn't going to start any trouble over it, but he will attempt to extract himself from the conversation as quickly as possible. If you can chip through the wall that he's built up over the years there's a caring and rather charming young man underneath it all. He wants desperately to find people he can trust, but the fear of someone leaving again makes him inclined to keep people at arms length. He has a strong sense of right and wrong and one thing that will push past that wall and get anger sparked is people lording themselves over others; treating someone poorly because of what they do or who they are. He's gotten in trouble more than a couple times for going out of his way to put bullies in their place, but it shows that there is something past the apathy and disinterest. SHORT BIOGRAPHY: The youngest child in the family, Kenzan grew up in the busy city of Tokyo where his father worked at the police department. His mother mostly used her time to work on home projects and sell the occasional bit of work if it struck one of the neighbors fancy. His early years were normal for a young boy growing up in the city. He had a number of friends that he would meet up with after school and played sports with, and could rely on his older sister Tomi to pick him up and walk home with him after she was finished with her drama club. Up until the age of eleven he had what could be called a comfortable life with a family that loved each other. Unfortunately for the Sakai family his father died in a shootout with one of the local gangs, and as far as he is aware, the men who did it got away scot free. The loss devastated his mother, who had to return to work, and grappling with the loss of her husband and raising two kids meant that Tomi had to pick up the slack. Things somewhat returned to normal. He continued to hang out with friends, go to school, but it felt weird to be acting like nothing was wrong. Especially when he knew the police were doing nothing to try and bring the people who killed his father to justice. His mother decided that she couldn't stand being Tokyo any more and so they left. Moved outside the city to Fujihama where she wanted to try and get a fresh start. The loss of stability pushed Kenzan into himself and he became more closed off, even to his sister. Eventually Tomi got fed up with the whole thing. The move had shaken her just as much, and since there mother was becoming more and more distant, she left to pursue her own life leaving her fifteen year old brother to deal with their mother alone. Kenzan decided to keep his head down and just work through school as best he could in order to make sure he had the ability to get away from his mother, and he's almost there. Deep down he knows she's trying, but it doesn't stop the distrust of most of the adults in his life. He spends most of his time away from the house at the various hangout locations around the city, mostly Kudo's Bookstore since he knows he'll be left alone there. Either that or on a run with some kind of music playing as loud as he can bare. The death of the prime minister didn't phase him nearly as much as some of the others, but it was certainly a point of intrigue. The thing that bothers him the most about the whole incident is the city-wide curfew that forces to be at home and deal with his mother for longer than he had to in the past. Still, Kenzan plans to just keep his head down as he always had and wait for it to blow over. TRIVIA: Hobbies: Reading, running (and other kinds of sports), music Loves animals but doesn't like showing the caring side of himself Doesn't particularly like school, but is good at it without really trying OTHER: Not presently</s> <|message|>Saboru Masashi Saboru Masashi"Of course that's what sets you off," Masashi muttered as he turned around and raised a tired eyebrow at Nagi's overreaction. Even if she and Munehisa had gotten up to something illegal yesterday, it's not like Asumi or him would have known anything. Worst case scenario, they couldn't provide the pair with any alibis if the cops did come knocking around again. So yeah, an overreaction on her end. "You'd be a terrible criminal," he chimed in with a sagely nod at Asumi's indignant tone; even with the chance that she'd take it the completely wrong way. "Like Asumi said, we stumbled across a body. Well, she fell onto it if you want to be exact," Masashi explained with a shrug before he adjusted the carrier holding his gear. "She screamed, I called the cops, Hoshiko decided to poke the body, and Chen showed up after hearing Asumi. One of the foot patrols was close enough to hear the commotion and we got brought in for questioning cause, well we did find the corpse." Grunting as he finished his explanation, Masashi took a moment and a deep breath before he frowned and continued. "Some third year was also around. Think he helped Akira up." "Guy had his neck slashed. Buried under the trash in one of the alleys down Jukishi Street." The cops were probably already crawling over the scene and looking for any sort of evidence, but he figured it was worth mentioning to Nagi. Even if her extended family probably already knew about it. "Pretty fucked up. Questioning took like two hours, and then we went over to Chen's for free dinner. Did you want to hear about how Asumi adopted a crow as well? Or are we going back to Asumi's question about what you two were up to yesterday?"</s> <|message|>Chen, Akio Interacting with/Mentioning: @Ambra(Asumi) --- Chen looked absolutely dumbfounded at Asumi as she said she'd take the crow home. If that bird is supposed to belong to Kuro's, wouldn't the best idea be to take it back, and not, you know, kidnap it? Chen's head fell into his hands. He inhaled deeply before letting out a long sigh. You know what? It wasn't his problem. If she wanted to take the bird, go ahead. But she was right about one thing: it was going to be dark soon, and considering the curfew in place, and the fact that they had all been arrested previously, it would be in their best interests to get home soon. Chen thanked everyone for coming over as they all left. At least the rest of his night would probably be quieter. --- The school day went by about as well as it normally did, the day ending with Chen bored out of his mind because a certain teacher can't be bothered to teach class. He wondered if there was some anonymous way to report this kind of thing. Then again his word alone probably didn't mean much. Maybe if he found a way to secretly record the class, or got the whole class to complain about her. The suddenness of the bell ringing jolted him back to the present. He blinked a few times, reasserting his senses before stepping out of the classroom. What was there to do today? Nothing at school sounded particularly interesting, especially given yesterday's events. Well, it looked like he was off to his usual haunt. Maybe he could convince Wantanabe to tell him the history of the more modern weapons, namely the firearms. One quick jaunt to Wantanabe's later, Chen was headed up to the stairs to bother the old man himself when something unusual caught his attention. Out of the many figurines lining the wall, Chen was able to instantly recognize one if them. It was none other than Kenshiro himself from Fist of the North Star, one of the few animes that Chen had actually watched. It was an older show, but still had plenty of fans and even had a game come out a few years ago. Unfortunately it was a little too far out of his price range. While he certainly liked the show, he also couldn't quite justify dropping ¥8,000 on a figurine. Chen slowly scanned the rest of the wall. It had actually been quite some time since he'd taken a good look downstairs. Maybe there was something he'd actually be super interested in buying. Or at the very least, something he could save up for. Hopefully that Kenshiro figure would still be there once he had a bit more money. Or maybe he could convince Wantanabe to give him a discount, given that he was such a... well, no he wasn't exactly a loyal customer, he barely ever bought anything and just kind of stared at the stuff upstairs. Still, it might be worth a try.</s>

<|message|>Sakai Kenzan Mentions: Kenzan had hoped that maybe the following school day would be somewhat normal, and that was mostly the case. The usual attention was paid to their teacher, which was not all that much, and lunch rolled around without much fanfare. He glanced up from his phone with general indifference as Nagi made her presence known at the door and called out for Hakuro. Welp, he's dead. So much for the singular person in 3-A that he actually felt any inclination to speak with. He fought off the urge to roll his eyes at their Class Rep as she tried to assert some kind of dominance and went back to his game as Hakuro left the room. He was somewhat surprised that he hadn't heard anything else about the whole issue going on with 2-B, but he wasn't invested enough to actually talk to anyone about it. Sure, their teacher was a bitch, but who hadn't had a shitty teacher at some point during school. She was probably just overreacting and trying to make herself out as more powerful than she really was. Not his problem though. Thankfully it wasn't raining after class today and Kenzan was able to make quick work down and out of the school. He caught sight of some of the second years he'd been hauled to the station with talking animatedly about something. Probably the dead body if he had to guess. He stuck his headphones in and walked past them to make his usual way to the bookstore. He felt his phone buzz and didn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as the usual text from his mother popped up. When are you getting home? I need you to go to the store and get me some stuff. By "some stuff" she almost assuredly meant alcohol of some variety. Where she continued to find the money for it he had no idea. He once again reminded her of the fact that he, legally, could not purchase what she wanted. He stuffed his phone back in his pocket before the onslaught of responses showed up as he opened the door to Kudo's. He sent a wave to the man himself who was working the counter today before slipping back amongst the shelves to hole up with his books and computer. Whether or not he actually did any work remained to be seen.</s>

<|description|>Zadok Abraham (This is not a "DMPC", just a central NPC. He won't be putting on a Pack; He's too old for this $h!7.) Age: 50 Major: Mythology Personality: Enthusiastic about his field, as well as other tangentially related fields, even Parapsychology and Urban Legends. Background: Professor Abraham is a paranormal enthusiast, and in his free time tries to investigate it, applying scientific methods rather than just gimmicks. He developed a handful of hypotheses, but could never get the funding necessary for testing, never-mind proving them. Over the years, though, his colleagues lost their enthusiasm, and eventually, once he was the only one of their group left, he gave it up, to focus on his career path. He supervises club activities on campus, and tries to encourage students to maintain a sense of wonder for the world around them. His other interests are common knowledge, so some call him "Doctor Specter" behind his back. Favorite Ghost: The Golem Do You Believe in UFO's, Astral Projections, Mental Telepathy, ESP, Clairvoyance, Spirit Photography, Telekinetic Movement, Full Trance Mediums, The Loch Ness Monster and The Theory of Atlantis?: "Oy; do you not pay attention to any of my lectures!?"</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada Today started like a normal day for Felix. Starting the day by waking up in his apartment and doing his normal routine before heading to school early. Not because he liked to be early to classes or anything like that. That would not be enough to warrant getting up this early. But because it was a chance to hang out with some of his friends before class started for him. Lucky for him his friends attended the same college as him, so that is a plus for him. Always meeting them by the Red Square, and it was the first place he headed to once he reached the college. So when he can close to Red Square that he saw the area tapped off with campus security and police in it. Along with a group of students taking pictures and everything. That is odd, he thought and was halfway to walking up to a group of students to see what is happening when he heard a familiar voice. "Felix, over here!" Felix turned around to the voice and found that one of his friends was waving at him and so, putting his curiosity aside and went over to them. Performing his friends' customary handshake and the first thing he asked. "Hey, and you guys know what is happening over there?" Felix pointing back at Red Square. James, his blond friend with glasses, spoke first, "not really. Apparently, the cops have been here since dawn." "Since dawn?" Felix turned around and gazed at Red Square and wondered. "Anyone know what happened or why the cops are involved?" James spoke again, "no idea, no one is saying anything, and I am guessing it is bad if the cops are here." "Yeah, still, it is weird. I mean, what could happen here?" Felix shrugged it off, and he started talking more with his friends about other topics for a time before he had a look at his watch. "Shoot, I got in five, and I see you guys later." Saying goodbye to his friends and headed straight to class. Which one of the perks of his first class was that there were usually plenty of chairs to pick from. Not because of the time of day of the class, but, unfortunately, due to the reputation of his mythology professor, half the class tends to skip. Either way, he got to class just as it started and found his usual seat in the upper middle section free. Ready to learn and take notes. Even if he might be the one of the few that actually paid attention during his class. While others were busy looking at their phones and not paying attention. It felt weird to him, but, not much he can do about it, really. At least more people seemed to be here than normal, which is a good thing. Felix smiled a bit as the professor made a joke about history majors and continued to pay attention and take notes. Someone has to in this class.</s> <|message|>Zadok Abraham As the professor continued, he was interrupted by the doors opening, flooding the room with light and ruining the projector image. Professor Abraham shielded his eyes from the light, complaining loudly, "Ah, this must be Mr. Rivera, gracing us with your presence-" "Actually, Professor, we're with the City of Olympia Police Department." The lights flicked back on, revealing two officers; one in uniform, the other a plain-clothes detective. Professor Abraham raised his eyebrows, shaken from his annoyance with an apparently habitually tardy student. "Oh, uh, well, might we make an appointment, officers? I'm in the middle of a lecture-" The detective stepped forward, flashing his badge, "Actually, Professor, with all due respect, this is a matter we're taking just a little too seriously to be brushed off." The detective's tone was aggressive, but they became more diplomatic when they addressed the class, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask all of you to cooperate with an ongoing investigation regarding one of your classmates. You too, professor. The dean has given us permission to interrupt normal classes, as this relates to the public safety, so if you would all please form an orderly line-" Zadok interrupted again, "Now hold on just a moment! I haven't consented to you absconding with my students! What gives you the right to storm in here like the gestapo and-" The detective held up a hand and cut him off, speaking in a hushed tone, "Sir, perhaps you didn't here me: We need you to come with us, as well, and since this is investigating an assault on one of your students, I'm sure you'll be happy to aid this investigation however you can." He hesitated, shocked to hear one of his students had apparently been attacked? Stunned, all he could do was nod and mutter, "Y-yes, of course..." He turned to the students, "Class, uh, is dismissed... I hope you all took good notes, but, the, uh, Detective here needs to speak with all of us, and I've assured them of our cooperation. Come now, let's go..."</s> <|message|>Chase Robinson Chase Robinson As the lecture continued, Chase did take some basic notes on his laptop, just enough to help him pass his exam for the class. But what he was really writing a lot of was story ideas in a separate tab. Chase felt that this discussion of ghosts would be gold for a modern fantasy story or even horror, a genre that Chase didn't really write. But it was just as Chase was coming up with a story hook about a spirit with unfinished business on Earth, that the doors to the lecture hall swung open. The light from the hallway bugged out Chase's eyes as the room had been dark for the projector to work. As Chase's eyes adjusted to the newly lit room, he was surprised to see that the people who had entered the lecture hall was a pair of police officers. Professor Abraham then asked them if they could talk later as he was in the middle of a lecture, only for the cops to state that this was a very important situation. Chase wondered what possibly could have brought the police here to this mythology course. The young writer thought that it might be drug related, as he knew there were quite a few dealers here on campus. But it didn't make sense for them to interrupt the whole class just to nab one person. If it was drug related, the cops would of probably just waited until after class and nab them in the hall. But then Chase remembered his morning jog past the Red Square. It seemed that whatever had happened there was much more terrible than Chase had initially thought. As Chase wondered about what exactly happened, one of the officers stated that they had been given the OK by the dean to interrupt classes and speak to all the students. Professor Abraham immediately disagreed with this, comparing the police to the gestapo, a comparison that Chase didn't think was fair. But then the officer revealed that this was about a student being assaulted. Chase's heart immediately sank at the thought of someone being attacked here on campus. He had thought that Evergreen was a safe place, but apparently that wasn't so. The Professor also seemed to flinch at the notion of a student attacked. He muttered something about class being dismissed and that they should talk with the police officers. Chase had never seen Professor Abraham like this before, but then nothing like this had happened since Chase had started attending this school. Packing away his laptop back into his bag, Chase stood up from the middle section of the seating, and then made his way down to where the police officers were standing. Like requested, Chase formed a line with him at the front. "Is this about that taped off area near Red Square?" Chase asked one of the officers, "I had seen it a little bit before class. But everyone I asked about it had no clue what happened. And the student who was assaulted, are they okay?" It was evident on Chase's face that he was a little shocked over this assault. But he intended to cooperate fully with the police. Even though he was pretty sure he knew nothing of note, Chase thought that maybe some detail he had seen would be relevant.</s> <|message|>Joseph "Joe" Bronson Joe Bronson As the class continued, the sketches of ghosts in his notebook became more detailed. He started making specific characters and giving them rudimentary backstories. An old west snake-oil salesman here, a Civil War era Union Soldier there. "Maybe I could use some of these characters for next month's newspaper strips" he thought to himself. "Oh, what if I did one about the ghost of one of the founders of this college! The squares at the newspaper club might shut it down eventually, but I could probably get away with a few issues of some really hilarious stuff." The sound of the door opening and the sudden influx of light into the dark room startled him. His glasses were still cracked, and he struggled to make out who had entered the classroom at first. His heart skipped another beat when he realized he was making direct eye contact again with the same cops who gave him nasty looks earlier that morning. He quickly buried his head into his notebook and pretended to not notice them, despite locking eyes a moment ago. Just as he was starting to calm down, his anxiety flared right back up when he hear them mention wanting to speak with all the students about some kind of assault that happened last night. "Damnit, I was really hoping to never see those people ever again for the rest of my waking moments, and now I gotta talk to them" He though to himself. "Who the hell assaults somebody at a nerf war anyway? Shouldn't that relieve aggression?" Not wanting to be the first to talk to the cops who earlier had their investigation rudely interrupted by his clumsiness, he decided to wait for somebody else to start the line. Only then would he stand up and walk as slowly as he reasonably could with the intention of getting a place near the back of the line. He watched as the dude with brown hair who always sat in the middle seat started the line, and he immediately got up. As he made his way over to the line, he noticed nobody had gotten up in front of him. It was too late to sit back down, and at this pace, he was gonna be second up to talk to the police. "Crap." he thought. He kept his head down as the sulked his way over to the line. Trying to brighten the mood, he decided to crack an on the fly and admittedly off-color joke to the dude with brown hair in front of him: "Geez, did somebody bring a Glock to a nerf fight last night or something?"</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada Felix was just about done with taking notes when the police arrived in the classroom. Looking up from his notes and watching the cops as they were talking to the professor. Confused as to why the cops would even be in here in the first place. Did something happen, or why on earth are cops here? Felix thought, and unfortunately, it turns out that one of their classmates was assaulted and that they needed to talk to everyone. Assaulted? Who and how? This college is supposed to be safe, and he has not heard of anyone being attacked at this college. Something must have changed for some reason. But why? Nothing like this happens at this college. Thinking back to earlier, Felix realized why the Red Square was off-limits now. Red Square, that was where it must have gone down, and Felix started to think about who could be the unfortunate soul. It does not help that half the class is awol today, so it would be hard to pin down who it would be. Either way, Felix made his way down to the line and stood third in line. Apparently, the other students were slow to get in line and heard a joke that the guy in front of him made. Felix did not laugh as he did not think it was appropriate but stayed silent nonetheless. So waiting his turn and getting this over with. Felix has not had the best experience with cops, but he did nothing and is not involved with this, so this should be fine. Though he not really sure how he can help the cops with this but, plans on cooperating regardless.</s>

<|message|>Zadok Abraham The rest of the class fell in line shortly after the first three, with a lot of murmuring. They were led to some cubicles that had rapidly been set up in the gymnasium. The detective sat everyone down on the one side of the gym, gesturing to the far side where they'd set up. "Alright, we're going to be interviewing you all one at a time, and we expect complete honesty from you. I'm sure you all want to help your classmate, and get out of here as quickly as possible, so by all means: full cooperation is in your best interest. Does anyone have any questions before we get started?" One student in the class slowly raised his hand, "Yes?" "I-is this gonna be on the final?" The detective simply went wide eyed, as Professor Abraham heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, how well would you say you know your classmate, Kylie Griffin?" "Would you say you have a positive or negative relationship with her?" "Do you know if Ms. Griffin had any enemies?" The detective and others go through several more questions like this, in various combinations, as they work through all the interviews.</s>

<|description|>Chase Robinson Age: 20 Major: Creative Writing Personality: Chase is a pleasant person to be around. While he doesn't stand out too much, he always has a polite smile and doesn't say anything too offensive. Part of this is because he is an introvert, favoring putting his nose in a book then engaging in conversation. He doesn't like to rock the boat as he grew up in a household of fights. As such he tends to keep to the status quo. Chase is a staunch skeptic. While he finds the stories of folklore and mythology interesting and good stories, he does view them as simply stories. Perhaps one of the reasons he writes fantasy is for escapism. Chase views his life as pretty mundane, save the family troubles. Chase tends to avoid these things, keeping his mind on his dreams. While Chase doesn't mention it much, he is bisexual. He kept it on the down low back in his hometown as he didn't want people talking, or his family finding out. Chase is not very good at romantic relationships, having not dated anyone since his senior year of high school. But he is still looking, hoping that with as many people living in Olympia that he could find a match. Background: Chase was born in the small town of Krant, a few hours drive from Olympia. Chase was one of four kids, born to a school teacher and an entrepreneur. Chase enjoyed growing up in his small town, getting to know all the residents very well. Chase's father would try multiple times to put Krant on the map, starting all kinds of businesses and creating many different products. The repeated failure of these ventures put a strain on Chase's parents' relationship. Chase would escape this conflict through the written word. He would quickly make his way through most of the books in his small elementary school, before moving onto the used bookstore that sat in downtown Krant. Chase would spend many an hour perusing the many overstocked shelves of the store. Even when a big box bookstore opened in Krant as part of a new development, Chase would still favor the independent store. In his later years at elementary/middle school, Chase would begin dabbling in writing his own stories. They would function as an escape for Chase as his parents' relationship got worse. Chase would not be able escape the whispers of small town gossip about his family. Eventually it reached a boiling point, and the summer before starting high school, Chase, his siblings, and his mother would move out of Krant. They would move to West Hartings, a small city much closer to the big city of Olympia. Chase's mother would get a job at a high school just as Chase started at the same school. Chase would fall in with the artsy crowd, favoring the language arts. It was in these teen years both decided he wanted to write for a living and also became a skeptic. But conversely he also came to view supernatural stories as good fodder for stories. Chase would end up winning a short story writing course for his school district. This confirmed to Chase that writing was his true calling. But he didn't dive in immediately, instead after graduating he decided to travel the world. For many months he would backpack across Europe and Asia alongside some friends. Chase would find these cultures and superstitions interesting, incorporating them into his writing. When Chase returned to America, he applied to Evergreen State College. He was quickly accepted, prompting him to move to Olympia a month before classes would start. Chase found a cheap apartment, and would find employment at an independent book store much like the one in Krant. Chase would immediately go head first into his studies. Chase would manage to maintain good grades through his first year. It was then during his second year that he would decide to take a mythology course. Chase mostly took it as a form of research for the fantasy stories he wrote. But he would find Professor Abraham very interesting, getting annoyed when anyone called him Doctor Specter. In fact he greatly enjoyed the course, even if he viewed it all as stories and nothing else. Favorite Ghost: [Blank for Now] Do You Believe in UFO's, Astral Projections, Mental Telepathy, ESP, Clairvoyance, Spirit Photography, Telekinetic Movement, Full Trance Mediums, The Loch Ness Monster and The Theory of Atlantis?: While they are all cool concepts, I do realize that they probably don't exist. But they make great fiction.</s> <|message|>Chase Robinson Chase Robinson As the lecture continued, Chase did take some basic notes on his laptop, just enough to help him pass his exam for the class. But what he was really writing a lot of was story ideas in a separate tab. Chase felt that this discussion of ghosts would be gold for a modern fantasy story or even horror, a genre that Chase didn't really write. But it was just as Chase was coming up with a story hook about a spirit with unfinished business on Earth, that the doors to the lecture hall swung open. The light from the hallway bugged out Chase's eyes as the room had been dark for the projector to work. As Chase's eyes adjusted to the newly lit room, he was surprised to see that the people who had entered the lecture hall was a pair of police officers. Professor Abraham then asked them if they could talk later as he was in the middle of a lecture, only for the cops to state that this was a very important situation. Chase wondered what possibly could have brought the police here to this mythology course. The young writer thought that it might be drug related, as he knew there were quite a few dealers here on campus. But it didn't make sense for them to interrupt the whole class just to nab one person. If it was drug related, the cops would of probably just waited until after class and nab them in the hall. But then Chase remembered his morning jog past the Red Square. It seemed that whatever had happened there was much more terrible than Chase had initially thought. As Chase wondered about what exactly happened, one of the officers stated that they had been given the OK by the dean to interrupt classes and speak to all the students. Professor Abraham immediately disagreed with this, comparing the police to the gestapo, a comparison that Chase didn't think was fair. But then the officer revealed that this was about a student being assaulted. Chase's heart immediately sank at the thought of someone being attacked here on campus. He had thought that Evergreen was a safe place, but apparently that wasn't so. The Professor also seemed to flinch at the notion of a student attacked. He muttered something about class being dismissed and that they should talk with the police officers. Chase had never seen Professor Abraham like this before, but then nothing like this had happened since Chase had started attending this school. Packing away his laptop back into his bag, Chase stood up from the middle section of the seating, and then made his way down to where the police officers were standing. Like requested, Chase formed a line with him at the front. "Is this about that taped off area near Red Square?" Chase asked one of the officers, "I had seen it a little bit before class. But everyone I asked about it had no clue what happened. And the student who was assaulted, are they okay?" It was evident on Chase's face that he was a little shocked over this assault. But he intended to cooperate fully with the police. Even though he was pretty sure he knew nothing of note, Chase thought that maybe some detail he had seen would be relevant.</s> <|message|>Joseph "Joe" Bronson Joe Bronson As the class continued, the sketches of ghosts in his notebook became more detailed. He started making specific characters and giving them rudimentary backstories. An old west snake-oil salesman here, a Civil War era Union Soldier there. "Maybe I could use some of these characters for next month's newspaper strips" he thought to himself. "Oh, what if I did one about the ghost of one of the founders of this college! The squares at the newspaper club might shut it down eventually, but I could probably get away with a few issues of some really hilarious stuff." The sound of the door opening and the sudden influx of light into the dark room startled him. His glasses were still cracked, and he struggled to make out who had entered the classroom at first. His heart skipped another beat when he realized he was making direct eye contact again with the same cops who gave him nasty looks earlier that morning. He quickly buried his head into his notebook and pretended to not notice them, despite locking eyes a moment ago. Just as he was starting to calm down, his anxiety flared right back up when he hear them mention wanting to speak with all the students about some kind of assault that happened last night. "Damnit, I was really hoping to never see those people ever again for the rest of my waking moments, and now I gotta talk to them" He though to himself. "Who the hell assaults somebody at a nerf war anyway? Shouldn't that relieve aggression?" Not wanting to be the first to talk to the cops who earlier had their investigation rudely interrupted by his clumsiness, he decided to wait for somebody else to start the line. Only then would he stand up and walk as slowly as he reasonably could with the intention of getting a place near the back of the line. He watched as the dude with brown hair who always sat in the middle seat started the line, and he immediately got up. As he made his way over to the line, he noticed nobody had gotten up in front of him. It was too late to sit back down, and at this pace, he was gonna be second up to talk to the police. "Crap." he thought. He kept his head down as the sulked his way over to the line. Trying to brighten the mood, he decided to crack an on the fly and admittedly off-color joke to the dude with brown hair in front of him: "Geez, did somebody bring a Glock to a nerf fight last night or something?"</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada Felix was just about done with taking notes when the police arrived in the classroom. Looking up from his notes and watching the cops as they were talking to the professor. Confused as to why the cops would even be in here in the first place. Did something happen, or why on earth are cops here? Felix thought, and unfortunately, it turns out that one of their classmates was assaulted and that they needed to talk to everyone. Assaulted? Who and how? This college is supposed to be safe, and he has not heard of anyone being attacked at this college. Something must have changed for some reason. But why? Nothing like this happens at this college. Thinking back to earlier, Felix realized why the Red Square was off-limits now. Red Square, that was where it must have gone down, and Felix started to think about who could be the unfortunate soul. It does not help that half the class is awol today, so it would be hard to pin down who it would be. Either way, Felix made his way down to the line and stood third in line. Apparently, the other students were slow to get in line and heard a joke that the guy in front of him made. Felix did not laugh as he did not think it was appropriate but stayed silent nonetheless. So waiting his turn and getting this over with. Felix has not had the best experience with cops, but he did nothing and is not involved with this, so this should be fine. Though he not really sure how he can help the cops with this but, plans on cooperating regardless.</s> <|message|>Zadok Abraham The rest of the class fell in line shortly after the first three, with a lot of murmuring. They were led to some cubicles that had rapidly been set up in the gymnasium. The detective sat everyone down on the one side of the gym, gesturing to the far side where they'd set up. "Alright, we're going to be interviewing you all one at a time, and we expect complete honesty from you. I'm sure you all want to help your classmate, and get out of here as quickly as possible, so by all means: full cooperation is in your best interest. Does anyone have any questions before we get started?" One student in the class slowly raised his hand, "Yes?" "I-is this gonna be on the final?" The detective simply went wide eyed, as Professor Abraham heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So, how well would you say you know your classmate, Kylie Griffin?" "Would you say you have a positive or negative relationship with her?" "Do you know if Ms. Griffin had any enemies?" The detective and others go through several more questions like this, in various combinations, as they work through all the interviews.</s>

<|message|>Chase Robinson As Chase stood at the front of the line, the two police officers seemed to ignore his initial barrage of questions, stating that he should wait till the interview proper started. As Chase closed his mouth, the guy behind him in line made a joke about someone bringing a glock to a nerf fight. While Chase glanced back at him, he didn't find the joke very funny and as such did not chuckle. This was probably the first time this student had ever talked to Chase, all the young writer knowing about him was that he seemed to attend class more often than a lot of other students. But before Chase could muse too much on the bad joke, the police began to lead the mythology students out of the lecture hall. The line of students would follow the officers to the gymnasium, where cubicles seemed to have been put up in the last couple minutes. The officers then announced that they would be interviewing everyone one at a time. When asked if anyone had a question, one of the students asked if this was going to be on the final. This did make Chase chuckle as he recognized the student, a guy who sometimes came to class, but when he did he was visibly high. However, the police didn't seem to find him funny, instead waving over Chase to begin the interview. As he sat down on an uncomfortable plastic chair, the police immediately began asking him questions. When they asked how well he knew the victim, Chase replied, "Kylie Griffin? I don't recognize the name. Do you have a picture of her?" The officer nodded and pulled up a photo on his phone, showing the girl in what looked like a Facebook photo, "Oh, her. I don't think I've ever actually talked to her. But she was one of the few students who actually seemed to take this course seriously." The cops then asked if Chase had a positive or negative relationship with her, to which he replied, "I mean, I don't really have a relationship. I thought she was cute and considered asking her out, but I've been too busy with studies to focus on dating." The officer seemed to take some notes at Chase's answer. The young writer hoped that he didn't just make himself a suspect by saying he had an attraction to the victim, but the police had said they wanted full cooperation and honesty. Chase thought that it would be better that he told the police directly, rather than them finding out some other way and make him look suspicious. The officer then asked if Kylie had any enemies, Chase taking a moment before replying, "I don't think so. Like I said I didn't really know her. But she seemed nice enough and I couldn't see anyone having a problem with her." The officer took a few more notes, before asking Chase some more questions. It was mostly routine stuff like where he was last night, to which he replied at home with a massive headache. They then took his contact information, before dismissing him from the cubicle. Chase made his way across the gymnasium to where Professor Abraham was. As Chase stood next to his Professor, he asked him, "How are you holding up Professor? Did you know Kylie at all? I didn't personally." Chase continued to look at the pair of officers as they talked to more of his classmates. They still hadn't revealed what happened to Kylie last night. Chase's mind immediately jumped to the worst scenario that she was dead, but he hoped that it wasn't that serious.</s>

<|description|>Felix Secada Age: 20 Major: History Personality: Felix can be described as an somewhat introvert. Always there for his friends and family but also enjoys his alone time. Often reading what books and comics that interested him. Especially history and mythology, as he loves the two subjects along with video games. Generally speaking, Felix tends to keep to himself and go with the flow most of the time. However, there are times when he can be stubborn and will not budge. This tends to happen with dealing with something that Felix cares about, and it can be hard to convince him otherwise. When asked about the myths he has learned and whether or not he believes that there is something more out there. Felix always says he does not know. For Felix always based what he has learned with what he has experienced personally. Though with myths and legends, he always thinks that while they are probably just stories. They might have a truth in them that is waiting to be found. Background: The eldest son of Colombian immigrants and born in Austin, Texas. Felix was always the odd one out, and despite the times, he tried to fit in. He just couldn't though that did not stop him from making friends. What few they were, and mostly just did his own thing while growing up, which was not easy as his parents struggled to find jobs to support themselves. While they were poor, Felix did not mind, just treating it as something he had to live with and managed his way. What helped was the stories that his mother told him. Often based in myths that she grew up with and made him curious about other cultures and their myths. It was not until when he was fifteen that his father caught a big break and was offered a well-paying job in Olympia, and though Felix would miss his friends. He did welcome the change as now the family had money that they could spend on luxuries and others on. One thing that Felix asked for was books about history, mythologies, and more. Feeding his personal library and interest in history and mythology. Deciding on becoming an archeologist and seeing the world. When it became time to go to college, Felix managed to get a scholarship to Evergreen State College and was glad to be able to pursue his dreams though fate would have plans for him. Favorite Ghost: Blank for now Do You Believe in UFO's, Astral Projections, Mental Telepathy, ESP, Clairvoyance, Spirit Photography, Telekinetic Movement, Full Trance Mediums, The Loch Ness Monster and The Theory of Atlantis?: Maybe? I am unsure of it all and maybe if I have seen it. I just stick to what is known to be true most of the time.</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada Today started like a normal day for Felix. Starting the day by waking up in his apartment and doing his normal routine before heading to school early. Not because he liked to be early to classes or anything like that. That would not be enough to warrant getting up this early. But because it was a chance to hang out with some of his friends before class started for him. Lucky for him his friends attended the same college as him, so that is a plus for him. Always meeting them by the Red Square, and it was the first place he headed to once he reached the college. So when he can close to Red Square that he saw the area tapped off with campus security and police in it. Along with a group of students taking pictures and everything. That is odd, he thought and was halfway to walking up to a group of students to see what is happening when he heard a familiar voice. "Felix, over here!" Felix turned around to the voice and found that one of his friends was waving at him and so, putting his curiosity aside and went over to them. Performing his friends' customary handshake and the first thing he asked. "Hey, and you guys know what is happening over there?" Felix pointing back at Red Square. James, his blond friend with glasses, spoke first, "not really. Apparently, the cops have been here since dawn." "Since dawn?" Felix turned around and gazed at Red Square and wondered. "Anyone know what happened or why the cops are involved?" James spoke again, "no idea, no one is saying anything, and I am guessing it is bad if the cops are here." "Yeah, still, it is weird. I mean, what could happen here?" Felix shrugged it off, and he started talking more with his friends about other topics for a time before he had a look at his watch. "Shoot, I got in five, and I see you guys later." Saying goodbye to his friends and headed straight to class. Which one of the perks of his first class was that there were usually plenty of chairs to pick from. Not because of the time of day of the class, but, unfortunately, due to the reputation of his mythology professor, half the class tends to skip. Either way, he got to class just as it started and found his usual seat in the upper middle section free. Ready to learn and take notes. Even if he might be the one of the few that actually paid attention during his class. While others were busy looking at their phones and not paying attention. It felt weird to him, but, not much he can do about it, really. At least more people seemed to be here than normal, which is a good thing. Felix smiled a bit as the professor made a joke about history majors and continued to pay attention and take notes. Someone has to in this class.</s> <|message|>Zadok Abraham As the professor continued, he was interrupted by the doors opening, flooding the room with light and ruining the projector image. Professor Abraham shielded his eyes from the light, complaining loudly, "Ah, this must be Mr. Rivera, gracing us with your presence-" "Actually, Professor, we're with the City of Olympia Police Department." The lights flicked back on, revealing two officers; one in uniform, the other a plain-clothes detective. Professor Abraham raised his eyebrows, shaken from his annoyance with an apparently habitually tardy student. "Oh, uh, well, might we make an appointment, officers? I'm in the middle of a lecture-" The detective stepped forward, flashing his badge, "Actually, Professor, with all due respect, this is a matter we're taking just a little too seriously to be brushed off." The detective's tone was aggressive, but they became more diplomatic when they addressed the class, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask all of you to cooperate with an ongoing investigation regarding one of your classmates. You too, professor. The dean has given us permission to interrupt normal classes, as this relates to the public safety, so if you would all please form an orderly line-" Zadok interrupted again, "Now hold on just a moment! I haven't consented to you absconding with my students! What gives you the right to storm in here like the gestapo and-" The detective held up a hand and cut him off, speaking in a hushed tone, "Sir, perhaps you didn't here me: We need you to come with us, as well, and since this is investigating an assault on one of your students, I'm sure you'll be happy to aid this investigation however you can." He hesitated, shocked to hear one of his students had apparently been attacked? Stunned, all he could do was nod and mutter, "Y-yes, of course..." He turned to the students, "Class, uh, is dismissed... I hope you all took good notes, but, the, uh, Detective here needs to speak with all of us, and I've assured them of our cooperation. Come now, let's go..."</s> <|message|>Chase Robinson Chase Robinson As the lecture continued, Chase did take some basic notes on his laptop, just enough to help him pass his exam for the class. But what he was really writing a lot of was story ideas in a separate tab. Chase felt that this discussion of ghosts would be gold for a modern fantasy story or even horror, a genre that Chase didn't really write. But it was just as Chase was coming up with a story hook about a spirit with unfinished business on Earth, that the doors to the lecture hall swung open. The light from the hallway bugged out Chase's eyes as the room had been dark for the projector to work. As Chase's eyes adjusted to the newly lit room, he was surprised to see that the people who had entered the lecture hall was a pair of police officers. Professor Abraham then asked them if they could talk later as he was in the middle of a lecture, only for the cops to state that this was a very important situation. Chase wondered what possibly could have brought the police here to this mythology course. The young writer thought that it might be drug related, as he knew there were quite a few dealers here on campus. But it didn't make sense for them to interrupt the whole class just to nab one person. If it was drug related, the cops would of probably just waited until after class and nab them in the hall. But then Chase remembered his morning jog past the Red Square. It seemed that whatever had happened there was much more terrible than Chase had initially thought. As Chase wondered about what exactly happened, one of the officers stated that they had been given the OK by the dean to interrupt classes and speak to all the students. Professor Abraham immediately disagreed with this, comparing the police to the gestapo, a comparison that Chase didn't think was fair. But then the officer revealed that this was about a student being assaulted. Chase's heart immediately sank at the thought of someone being attacked here on campus. He had thought that Evergreen was a safe place, but apparently that wasn't so. The Professor also seemed to flinch at the notion of a student attacked. He muttered something about class being dismissed and that they should talk with the police officers. Chase had never seen Professor Abraham like this before, but then nothing like this had happened since Chase had started attending this school. Packing away his laptop back into his bag, Chase stood up from the middle section of the seating, and then made his way down to where the police officers were standing. Like requested, Chase formed a line with him at the front. "Is this about that taped off area near Red Square?" Chase asked one of the officers, "I had seen it a little bit before class. But everyone I asked about it had no clue what happened. And the student who was assaulted, are they okay?" It was evident on Chase's face that he was a little shocked over this assault. But he intended to cooperate fully with the police. Even though he was pretty sure he knew nothing of note, Chase thought that maybe some detail he had seen would be relevant.</s> <|message|>Joseph "Joe" Bronson Joe Bronson As the class continued, the sketches of ghosts in his notebook became more detailed. He started making specific characters and giving them rudimentary backstories. An old west snake-oil salesman here, a Civil War era Union Soldier there. "Maybe I could use some of these characters for next month's newspaper strips" he thought to himself. "Oh, what if I did one about the ghost of one of the founders of this college! The squares at the newspaper club might shut it down eventually, but I could probably get away with a few issues of some really hilarious stuff." The sound of the door opening and the sudden influx of light into the dark room startled him. His glasses were still cracked, and he struggled to make out who had entered the classroom at first. His heart skipped another beat when he realized he was making direct eye contact again with the same cops who gave him nasty looks earlier that morning. He quickly buried his head into his notebook and pretended to not notice them, despite locking eyes a moment ago. Just as he was starting to calm down, his anxiety flared right back up when he hear them mention wanting to speak with all the students about some kind of assault that happened last night. "Damnit, I was really hoping to never see those people ever again for the rest of my waking moments, and now I gotta talk to them" He though to himself. "Who the hell assaults somebody at a nerf war anyway? Shouldn't that relieve aggression?" Not wanting to be the first to talk to the cops who earlier had their investigation rudely interrupted by his clumsiness, he decided to wait for somebody else to start the line. Only then would he stand up and walk as slowly as he reasonably could with the intention of getting a place near the back of the line. He watched as the dude with brown hair who always sat in the middle seat started the line, and he immediately got up. As he made his way over to the line, he noticed nobody had gotten up in front of him. It was too late to sit back down, and at this pace, he was gonna be second up to talk to the police. "Crap." he thought. He kept his head down as the sulked his way over to the line. Trying to brighten the mood, he decided to crack an on the fly and admittedly off-color joke to the dude with brown hair in front of him: "Geez, did somebody bring a Glock to a nerf fight last night or something?"</s>

<|message|>Felix Secada Felix was just about done with taking notes when the police arrived in the classroom. Looking up from his notes and watching the cops as they were talking to the professor. Confused as to why the cops would even be in here in the first place. Did something happen, or why on earth are cops here? Felix thought, and unfortunately, it turns out that one of their classmates was assaulted and that they needed to talk to everyone. Assaulted? Who and how? This college is supposed to be safe, and he has not heard of anyone being attacked at this college. Something must have changed for some reason. But why? Nothing like this happens at this college. Thinking back to earlier, Felix realized why the Red Square was off-limits now. Red Square, that was where it must have gone down, and Felix started to think about who could be the unfortunate soul. It does not help that half the class is awol today, so it would be hard to pin down who it would be. Either way, Felix made his way down to the line and stood third in line. Apparently, the other students were slow to get in line and heard a joke that the guy in front of him made. Felix did not laugh as he did not think it was appropriate but stayed silent nonetheless. So waiting his turn and getting this over with. Felix has not had the best experience with cops, but he did nothing and is not involved with this, so this should be fine. Though he not really sure how he can help the cops with this but, plans on cooperating regardless.</s>

<|description|>Felix Secada Age: 20 Major: History Personality: Felix can be described as an somewhat introvert. Always there for his friends and family but also enjoys his alone time. Often reading what books and comics that interested him. Especially history and mythology, as he loves the two subjects along with video games. Generally speaking, Felix tends to keep to himself and go with the flow most of the time. However, there are times when he can be stubborn and will not budge. This tends to happen with dealing with something that Felix cares about, and it can be hard to convince him otherwise. When asked about the myths he has learned and whether or not he believes that there is something more out there. Felix always says he does not know. For Felix always based what he has learned with what he has experienced personally. Though with myths and legends, he always thinks that while they are probably just stories. They might have a truth in them that is waiting to be found. Background: The eldest son of Colombian immigrants and born in Austin, Texas. Felix was always the odd one out, and despite the times, he tried to fit in. He just couldn't though that did not stop him from making friends. What few they were, and mostly just did his own thing while growing up, which was not easy as his parents struggled to find jobs to support themselves. While they were poor, Felix did not mind, just treating it as something he had to live with and managed his way. What helped was the stories that his mother told him. Often based in myths that she grew up with and made him curious about other cultures and their myths. It was not until when he was fifteen that his father caught a big break and was offered a well-paying job in Olympia, and though Felix would miss his friends. He did welcome the change as now the family had money that they could spend on luxuries and others on. One thing that Felix asked for was books about history, mythologies, and more. Feeding his personal library and interest in history and mythology. Deciding on becoming an archeologist and seeing the world. When it became time to go to college, Felix managed to get a scholarship to Evergreen State College and was glad to be able to pursue his dreams though fate would have plans for him. Favorite Ghost: Blank for now Do You Believe in UFO's, Astral Projections, Mental Telepathy, ESP, Clairvoyance, Spirit Photography, Telekinetic Movement, Full Trance Mediums, The Loch Ness Monster and The Theory of Atlantis?: Maybe? I am unsure of it all and maybe if I have seen it. I just stick to what is known to be true most of the time.</s> <|message|>Joseph "Joe" Bronson Joe Bronson Joe's wisecrack received no answer, but it served its purpose of making the situation a little bit less awkward, he thought at least. His legs grew tired as he stood in line for his turn, but at least he would still make it out of class before schedule. He put his podcast back on and waited patiently for his turn. After a few minutes that felt like hours, he saw the brown-haired dude exit the gymnasium. He slowly made his way in behind him and sat down at the cubicle. "Sorry about earlier" he immediately said in a quiet voice. "I was uhhhh, studying! Yeah! I was studying mythology on my phone!" This wasn't entirely incorrect, as he was reading a graphic novel adaptation of Homer's Iliad, so he went with that. The police officer interviewing him, seemingly not wanting to deal with Joe any further, ignored this. He simply showed him a picture of his classmate and asked if he had a positive or negative relationship. "Kylie Griffin? I'd say neutral. I didn't really know her that well. She borrowed a bit of kneaded eraser from me once and never gave it back, but I would never assault somebody over that. Besides that, we never really interacted much" The officer's face remained blank at this quip and simply dismissed him. He made his way over to where the brown-haired dude and the professor were standing, both to hear what they make of this situation, and also to ask what the next class assignment would be.</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada When it was his turn to be asked questions by the police. Which felt like forever, he was calm and ready to get this over with. So after sitting down and the detective started asking his questions with a deadpan face. "So, how well would you say you know your classmate, Kylie Griffin? "Not well, I did not really talk to her, so I do not know much about her." "Would you say you have a positive or negative relationship with her?" "I would say neither, more of a neutral relationship since I did not talk to her, really." "Do you know if Ms. Griffin had any enemies?" "I have no idea if she has any, or at least I think no one in the class had problems with her." The detective would ask more questions, and the more Felix felt that he is not really helping with this investigation. But, what should he guess, he does not know anything about Kylie. Other than she seemed to take the course seriously like he did. A rarity, it seems, in this class but something he should not complain about. When the detective was done asking his questions, he waved Felix off and dismissed him. Felix got up, and one did he did note about the interview was that the detective did not tell him what happened to Kylie. Like is she okay, or what happened at the Red Square? It had to be serious enough to warrant the cops showing up and them interviewing her classmates. Hopefully, she is okay and not worse like... being dead. That would be an eye-opener for him if something like that happened at this college. Either way, instead of collecting his things and leaving the classroom. Felix noticed the two of his classmates were around the professor. Maybe asking what he thinks about this or something, he should ask if there would be an assignment despite the cops showing up. So he walked over to the group and waited for the right time to ask his question.</s> <|message|>Zadok Abraham Professor Abraham seemed a bit shaken. "Well, uh, this is a very troubling development, isn't it?" He was even wringing his hands! "As soon as we can find out where they've taken her, I hope to visit and make sure she's alright! I would encourage you all to... I don't know, collect signatures on a 'well wishes' card or something, it doesn't feel right to go on as if nothing happened!" He slapped his forehead, "Oy, and I've forgotten; I've got to clear some space in the adjoining storage space to my lecture room! Gentleman, since you've some extra time, today, perhaps I could enlist your aid in this endeavor? There's some extra credit in it for you!"</s> <|message|>Chase Robinson Chase Robinson Professor Abraham was clearly shaken as Chase walked over to him. He made mention of visiting Kylie once he learned where she was. But Chase knew that assumed that she was still alive. However Chase respected the Professor's positive thinking, as the police still hadn't revealed what exactly happened to his classmate. The Professor then floated the idea of making a well wishes card. "Sure Professor Abraham. She would probably appreciate it," replied Chase. Truthfully Chase was still unsure if she was even still alive. But part of sending well wishes would be to believe that she was well. So Chase decided to go with believing that she was alive, and that he would get the chance to ask her out. As Chase thought this over, two more of his classmates walked over to him and the Professor. The Professor then mentioned a job of clearing out some storage space. While Chase was already going to agree, as it was something to get his mind off the whole situation with Kylie, the deal was sweetened even more by the mention of extra credit. While Chase was pretty sure that he was doing well in the class, it never hurt to bump up his grade a little bit. "I have time today available," responded Chase, "Would we be going now or later?" Chase hoped it was now. He really wanted to get out of the gymnasium and away from the police officers. Chase glanced at the two other students, really wishing that they were alright with leaving immediately.</s> <|message|>Felix Secada Felix Secada So the professor seemed shaken about the whole thing. Which is understandable and if he was in the professor's shoes. He would be concerned if one of his students was assaulted out of the blue. And the idea of getting a get well soon card for Kylie was not a bad one. At least one way to show that her classmates showed some support for her wherever she is. Hopefully, she is okay and recovering from whatever happened to her. Even though the police have yet to say what happened to her but, Felix remains hopeful that she is okay. When the professor brought up needing to clear out a storage room and asking if the three of them would not mind helping him. Felix did not mind, he's got time before his next class, and the mention of extra credit is a good motivation point. Plus, a good way to get this police business out of his head. At least for some time. "Sure, professor, I got the time, though, like what the guy said." Motioning to Chase, "is it now or later?"</s> <|message|>Joseph "Joe" Bronson Joe Bronson Joe could tell that the professor was troubled by this whole ordeal. He was a little shaken himself as well. He was anticipating going to the nerf war himself but wasn't able to go because he procrastinated on this month's newspaper strips. He really liked the idea of making a card, this was right up his alley. "I could put together something and print it out for us all to sign" he suggested. The professor then asked if he could help clearing out some space in his classroom's storage space. With class ending early Joe had some free time on his hands, and considering that he's late almost every day, some extra credit wouldn't go amiss. "I'm free as well. Let's get this done, I could use the credit" He stated.</s> <|message|>Zadok Abraham He sighed, "Oh, thank you... Let's go, uh, get our minds off of all this, for now..." The storage space was more or less what one might expect: Poorly lit, dusty, cluttered and in this case, surprisingly crowded. If one took the time to look more thoroughly, they'd find a wide variety of individual objects, as well as everything from mailing envelopes all the way up to various large wooden crates. As Mr. Abraham finished shoving a crate into a corner, he wiped his brow and said, "Hagh, this get's harder every year, I swear! Just remember, my boys, we don't have to sweat organizing this mess (not this time, anyway...), just open up some floor space. And try not to break anything, please!"</s> <|message|>Chase Robinson Chase Robinson At the mention of being called guy, Chase realized that he had never really introduced himself to any other student in Professor Abraham's mythology class. He kind of regretted that, thinking about Kylie and how he had never even learned her name before this incident. "My name's Chase," he said to the other two students, "I'm a creative writing major." One of the other students mentioned something about making a card for Kylie. Chase then remembered that he had often seen this student drawing in a notebook which meant he was probably an art student. However Chase still could only really draw stick figures, instead focusing his creativity on the written word. After all three students had agreed to helping move stuff, Professor Abraham led them to a storage space. The single light bulb at the top of the room was dim and tended to flicker every so often. What was also prevalent was the smell of dust, almost similar to opening a long lost tomb. Chase was really glad that he didn't have asthma as he entered the storage room. "When was the last time anyone was in here?" asked Chase as he wiped a thick layer of dust off a box. Chase then picked up a stack of envelopes, seeing that some dated back all the way to 1967. He was pretty sure that meant it was as old as the college. Chase shoved the letters into a desk in the corner of the room, as he decided that he should focus on the boxes. The Professor then said that they didn't really need to sort, but rather just clear up some floor space. Chase was glad to hear that as it meant he wouldn't be stuck in this room for too long. Professor Abraham also made sure to say not to break anything, which prompted Chase to slow down just a little bit. As Chase was pushing a particularly heavy box, he accidentally knocked it into an even bigger box, knocking off its lid. This unleashed a cloud of dust, causing Chase to immediately start coughing. After a few seconds Chase regained his breath. Picking up the lid to put back onto the box, Chase wondered what was so heavy so he peered inside. Expecting to find old outdated textbooks or faulty lab equipment, Chase instead found a giant backpack of some kind. "What do we have here?" wondered Chase as he brushed some dust off of it, "It says proton pack. Anyone know what that is?" Chase attempted to pick it up, only to find that it was very heavy. Whatever this was, if it was meant to be worn on someone's back it would cause instant back issues.</s>

<|message|>Felix Secada "Felix," he said instinctively as Chase said his name. "History major," and when all three boys agreed to help the professor with moving boxes. He joined them and entered the dimly lit room with plenty of boxes and other junk. All coated with a nice healthy layer of dust. At least he is getting extra credit for this and started to move things. Starting with a section in the middle and found an old filing cabinet. Curiosity got to him as to what files could be in the thing and opened it. A small cloud of dust erupted from the cabinet and caused Felix to swat the air in his face. "How old is this stuff, and how long has it been in here?" Good thing they are just moving stuff to clear some floor space, he thought. After the dust cloud dissipated, he went looking through the files and found nothing really interesting. Just some old school files, and after some time, he closed the cabinet and moved it towards the back. As Felix was about to move a large box, it was then that Chase accidentally broke a box and spoke about a proton pack. "Proton Pack?" Felix asked, sounding confused, and went over to the broken box. "What the heck is a proton pack?" Felix started to examine the thing, and it looked heavy and nothing that he as seen before. What use could the university had for this thing, he wondered. Looking over to the professor and motioned for him to come over. "Professor, you have any idea what this thing is?"</s>

<|description|>Benea Form Benea's height is nothing special. She is neither too tall, nor too short. If you were to equate her aesthetic to something common, you might first think of a white calla lily, in the sense that her skin is bright and her hair a shade of honey too much to be white. Her eyes showcase that same vibrant purity, being a chamomile ivory iris hugging her soft yellow pupils. Complimenting her long flowing hair is a dress that completes the vision of a lily, being long and slim, the tail trailing behind her without collecting dirt. She is pristine and alabaster in all ways. Often she holds her hands clasped at the waist as if in some wizened thought, a perhaps pitying smile playing on her lips. Her facial features are gentle and she gives off the air as if she never had the need or want to move faster than a spring breeze. A terrible contrast is what a wound on her might look like. A laceration would cut open her unmarked skin and spill a black ooze that circulates within her. Personality Outwardly, Benea is calm and collected. She plays with a smile and seems to patiently listen to those around her and consider their thoughts with all her being. She'll act gracefully and kindly, with a faux compassion and saintly voice. That said, she is most certainly not listening to the concerns of others, and if she is, she is simply maneuvering them into her machinations. She is saintly and calm only in the sense that her ego tells her she is, and so she pretends to be such. Inwardly she is easily frustrated and a spiteful and jealous person with little patience for the wants of others. Her porcelain doesn't crack often, but when it does she can be seen as malicious. If you ever find yourself in need of winning her favor, remember that a compliment goes a long way when used against the self absorbed. Will She has the will of herself, of her ego and most of all the subjugation of everything beneath her: which is everything. The world should be as she wants it, and she wants it to exist to validate her and compliment her power. Nothing should be independent of her will nor of her design. Should something exist past her design, she will snuff it out. A world under her will and enforced by the capture of all the nodes is a world under her absolute authority forever and ever and in all things. Favorite Color Creme</s> <|message|>APPEARANCE He awoke for the first time, sitting cross legged and adorned with naught but a loincloth, and beheld his dying creator. Listened to his final words, and understood in part the tragedy of war and servitude that had led to his end. The red skinned god rose slowly onto his bare feet and softly approached the dead creator to receive his wisdom before then moving to the other object of interest in the area. The map. Resting a hand on its side he instinctively moved the other to his chin and found he had a goatee. A grin flashed across his lips before he began to stroke it contemplatively as some of the others spoke to repeat that mistake, to raise one above them all based on nothing but words. The only deed done was by Eleanna, who brazenly walked up and started the very slow process of capturing the claimed node. Xavior did not intervene with that, not yet. There was plenty of time till the deed was done after all. Opposed to her foolish recklessness was the paranoid wisdom of the serpent who assumed the entire enterprise to be a trap, though of an entirely different sort that had led the others along the path of peace. "A fair point, if rudely put" he said to the snake, before introducing himself and saying his (lengthy) piece "My name is Xavior, and I believe that to rush into things when there is no need to do so would be foolish. Yes, there is an unspecified ending approaching, but it will take time to stabilize the world regardless, which gives us time to think. To learn to know ourselves and of the nature of this world and 'game' we have been thrust into. Or are we so arrogant as to think we can decide the fate of reality while having seen only a fraction of it," he gestured a hand down to the map, and then out towards the wilds around them, most specifically at the closest group of humans who were wearily spectating this discussion from afar "and before having even met its people?" "I propose, rather than attempting to elect a singular claimant right this moment, we instead simply swear a pact of peace, and then strike out and claim this reality. Improve it. Make it a place worth living until the end comes to pass. And in doing so, prove through what you make that your vision for the next world has worth, and through your deeds that your word can be trusted" they were strangers after all, who could say if their words were true or canny manipulations? Time, he hoped, would expose the liars as what they were, and let the reliable shine through the mire of doubt. "Then once the world is stabilized, we return here, and then elect an architect of the new world if no way of escaping the confines of the game has been discovered" he said, leaving the map behind as he spoke while strolling casually towards the node. Once there he gave it a casual flick to reset Eleanna's capture progress as the creator's wisdom had informed him it would. He made no attempt to stake his own claim beyond that momentary disruption however and instead simply walking away with a confident stride while saying "and until that time this node should remain in the hands of our creator, declared neutral ground, and ruin betide any who brake the sanctity of his claim without the consent of the rest" His pact proposed, he once again stood behind the map and asked the others "Your thoughts? Oh and if you could make a show of hands if you agree with that last point, I think that might allow us to resolve Eleanna's overstep in a coordinated fashion" Xavior awakens, claims the wisdom of the creator, and then uses the map as a podium to propose going out into the world and using it as a place for the gods to prove they have both the will and the trustworthiness necessary to be elected as the architect of the next world. Then he casually resets Eleanna's node capture progress and then proposes this node stay in the hands of the dead creator till they come to some kind of agreement, and propose a vote to affirm that belief. 5/5: none spent</s> <|message|>Lamarck Lamarck Lamarck was cautious when approaching the dead god, unsure if the corpse contained some poison or trickery. After observing the other gods meddle with it, he brushed his scaled hand against it. After receiving the divine knowledge and stepping away to look at the corpse, he supposed there was some small honor in outliving the world that had birthed him. It was almost a shame that he was too weak to capitalize upon the opportunity. He listened to the other gods petty and inconsequential words. The horned one was correct that a god's character would be revealed through there creation, but was deluded that the next world would not be forged in blood and ichor. He did not dismiss cooperation so easily. He saw no great need to be the one to conquer all thirty-five nodes, but he would not surrender the prize to the weak and cowardly. The goddess with the squirrel headed spear showed immediate potential, but she was unrefined and brash. She had drawn unwanted attention to herself by so brazenly reaching for power when there was so much empty territory left to be claimed. Perhaps only in hindsight could he judge her haste. The other gods seemed to bicker about peace, revealing the inherent fragility of the concept. He could tell which voices were sincere, but it did not matter. It would be advantageous to assume they were all liars rather than fools. Lamarck cautiously approaches the skull after other gods prove that it is not a trap. He contemplates the situation, primarily thinking that all of the voices calling out for peace are either liars or fools and that it would more advantageous to just assume they are all lying. No Might Spent</s> <|message|>Monica Monica II --- "Ah, I am unworthy... I am afraid I lack the necessary characteristics of one whom commands; I am not wise, nor am I charismatic. I cannot fully articulate the nature of my hopes and dreams... I just want to help everyone find love and joy. Please accept my apology, as it was not my intention to disappoint any of you." She had said to Tael and the unnamed deity that suggested she take the mantle of leadership, after recovering from the surprise of such an idea, and averting her gaze in shame and sorrow. Confusion clashed with remorse in Monica's mind as she pondered the words of her self-proclaimed sister, uncertain whether they truly shared a sibling bond, and slightly concerned that she may have potentially missed hearing the name of this ethereal goddess so close to her, so she spoke softly. "Beloved? Sister? Do you speak truly? We are a family?" She asked and looked at the one that held onto her, hoping that this world wouldn't betray her, that the happiness in her heart would stay with her. However Xavior's mention of the mortals nearby made Monica mortified upon the realization that they would also be responsible for those that were innocent and incapable of standing against the tides of chaos that raged across the rest of the world without the aid of the Divine. She hid her humiliation behind a calm visage, and gestured to the number of humans that gathered in this verdant land. "We should each choose specific nodes to stabilize, as well as protect these mortals that are like children." Monica reaffirmed, and raised her hand in agreement with the horned god. Her other hand hesitantly sought out her sister's - should her affection be reciprocated, she knew she wouldn't let go. Overwhelmed breifly, Monica mentions her inaptitude for being a leader, and says sorry to Tael and Dzallitsunya before trying to understand her relationship with Benea, as the other goddess makes Monica's heart flutter. Though Monica may not be a leader, she finds her resolve and adds her support to his suggestion, raising her hand. No expenditure of Might.</s> <|message|>Vatarr Vatarr Completely ignoring any negative responses to his playful ribbing of the self proclaimed 'eldest' of the deities among them and glancing towards the serpent that had decided that talking was a waste of time and decided to merely project their thoughts into the heads of others, Vatarr merely shrugged indifferently as they turned away from the ongoing conversation and walked over to the map in question... before reaching out and tapping one of the nodes with his finger and nodding his horned head to himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling inspiration surge and a need to go and create something before it slips away. You're all invited of course to come and visit and in turn I so look forward to seeing what you all make. Until next time, take care!" While the departure southwards was rather sudden, the joyous and jolly tone as Vatarr walked away suggested an earnestness behind his words; He honestly was looking forward to seeing what others created, just as he wanted them to stop by sometime to see what he had made in turn. Vatarr selects a destination from the map (Node 26) and starts heading south, offering pleasant goodbyes for now and hopes of everyone showing off their projects in the future. Spent: 0 Total: 4</s>

<|message|>Benea "Of course." Benea's eyes softened on Monica, her smile crinkling the edges of her visage. She gave Monica's hand a gentle pat. "How could I be anything but your sister?" Turning from Monica and looking up at the node, Benea pinched her chin in thought — a small wince in her eye as her sight passed over Eleanna. "Xavier is correct in his assessment. This node should remain neutral until further discussion can be had, though I cannot simply stay here and wait until then." Benea turned to Monica, as if she had the answer. "Perhaps a guardian? I think that's a wonderful idea…" With a snap of her fingers, the ground began to shake and swell around the node. The snap resounded in the air, as if commanding whatever was shaking the ground to hurry up and then all at once, a great figure burst from the valley floor. It was large, much larger than any of the gods, and had a body covered in cream colored scales that gave it a naked appearance. Chunks of stone were caught in the spines that poked from its armored hide. In total, the beast was one of four legs and a tail as long as its neck — or necks. Three necks stretched from the broad body, each topped with a snake-like face with rows of teeth that stabbed out from its lips, giving its mouths the image of a saw. Each eye was bright and intelligent, though uneasily filled with violent energy — up until it looked down upon Benea. The beast as big as a hill seemed to soften at the sight of its creator, simpering into the demeanor of a puppy. Greedily it bowed the nuzzle of its three snake-faces close to the goddess' hand in hopes to be touched, and Benea obliged. Placing a hand flat on the snout of the middle head, Benea cooed. "I think this fellow will do the job justice. Indiscriminate and noble, he will guard the node. Won't you?" A forked tongue flickered from the maw of the beast, as if agreeing with Benea and the goddess smiled. "That's a good Hydra. Keep this cradle of life safe for the sake of order, won't you?" Another flicker and Benea tapped her hand against the snout again before turning to Anak'thas. "But thus, the time I can spend here is coming to an end. We have a world to organize, and I think I might enjoy your company if you meant your words truly. Shall you come with me?" Her eyes darted to Monica right after. "And you?" Benea leaned her hand on the node, resetting Eleanna's work as she looked past Monica to also address Xavier and then Dzillatsunya. "Or you?" Benea assures Monica that they are in fact close sisters and then Benea agrees with Xavier to keep node 18 neutral and so she creates the Hydra to protect the neutrality before offering Anak'thas and a few others a chance to leave the node with her 4 spent on Hydra, the hydra — 1 point remaining</s>

<|description|>Benea Form Benea's height is nothing special. She is neither too tall, nor too short. If you were to equate her aesthetic to something common, you might first think of a white calla lily, in the sense that her skin is bright and her hair a shade of honey too much to be white. Her eyes showcase that same vibrant purity, being a chamomile ivory iris hugging her soft yellow pupils. Complimenting her long flowing hair is a dress that completes the vision of a lily, being long and slim, the tail trailing behind her without collecting dirt. She is pristine and alabaster in all ways. Often she holds her hands clasped at the waist as if in some wizened thought, a perhaps pitying smile playing on her lips. Her facial features are gentle and she gives off the air as if she never had the need or want to move faster than a spring breeze. A terrible contrast is what a wound on her might look like. A laceration would cut open her unmarked skin and spill a black ooze that circulates within her. Personality Outwardly, Benea is calm and collected. She plays with a smile and seems to patiently listen to those around her and consider their thoughts with all her being. She'll act gracefully and kindly, with a faux compassion and saintly voice. That said, she is most certainly not listening to the concerns of others, and if she is, she is simply maneuvering them into her machinations. She is saintly and calm only in the sense that her ego tells her she is, and so she pretends to be such. Inwardly she is easily frustrated and a spiteful and jealous person with little patience for the wants of others. Her porcelain doesn't crack often, but when it does she can be seen as malicious. If you ever find yourself in need of winning her favor, remember that a compliment goes a long way when used against the self absorbed. Will She has the will of herself, of her ego and most of all the subjugation of everything beneath her: which is everything. The world should be as she wants it, and she wants it to exist to validate her and compliment her power. Nothing should be independent of her will nor of her design. Should something exist past her design, she will snuff it out. A world under her will and enforced by the capture of all the nodes is a world under her absolute authority forever and ever and in all things. Favorite Color Creme</s> <|message|>Eleanna Eleanna II Eleanna chuckled. The whole thing was perfect right now -- Everyone struggling to understand the true nature of their existence and purpose. The Hydra that Benea had just created eyed Eleanna and inched closer the longer she kept her hand placed on the node, and her claiming process had been reset by Benea herself. This helped her realize that there was no world in which she would be able to claim the node at that moment no matter how hard she struggled, so she withdrew her hand and nodded at Benea and Xavior. "You two have convinced me. For better or worse, let's leave this unclaimed. I guess it's not a bad idea to leave this area somewhat stable so that the humans can reproduce, after all." Eleanna then put her helmet back on and started to walk away into the lush forest. "Be careful you don't spend too long thinking instead of acting, guys. I'll follow the example of our Moon-pale friend and get to work right away, so call me if you wanna have some fun." She said with a wave of her free hand before leaving... In the same direction that Anak'thas had left only a couple moments before. Eleanna realizes that there is no way she can claim Node 18 at the moment, as she's not strong enough to fight off a Hydra, Benea and possibly Xavior and others to do so, so she withdraws her hand and agrees to keep Node 18 neutral, then goes off on her way (Which happens to be the same way Anak'thas is going.). None used. 5 left.</s> <|message|>Monica Monica III --- "I shall accompany you." Monica answered, peering at Benea with inquisitive eyes and a soft smile, gracefully gliding closer until she was a step away from her sister. Her wings granted her flight, but required assistance for her to actually ascend and soar through the skies. Because of her hindered flight, she briefly closed her eyes and called forth her might, conjuring that which would uplift her - manifesting as an ornate bracelet connected via a chain to a ring around her middle finger on her right hand, currently hidden behind the long sleeves of her modest garment. The magical jewelry was floral themed; decorated with pearlescent pale gems and glittering diamonds arranged to resemble leaves and flowers, and afterward Monica allowed herself to attune to its power, alleviating her of a few more of her concerns, at least. She chose to name her creation, Sylphrena. "If you will... accept my presence." She hesitantly added upon opening her eyes and staring at Benea, still smiling, as even though the callous disregard for their fallen forebear had left a sickened feeling in her chest, Monica continued to exude an impassive and polite aura in an attempt to avoid violence and mockery, regardless of however much she wanted to be free from this sinful simmering situation sooner rather than later. With her small creation in possession, she could command the winds all around her, and enjoy a newfound liberation with her sister and whoever came with them that hadn't partaken in the desecration of the dead god. She silently prayed that these profane acts would not be an ill omen of what was to come... for otherwise the encroaching calamity will never be averted, and the cycle of conflict would only repeat itself. Monica expresses her desire to go with Benea, and creates an artifact she chooses to name Sylphrena. She remains cordial and demure, and prays for no ill fortune regarding the fate of the Crucible. Monica's current Might: 5 4 Might expended to create Sylphrena. Sylphrena is a artifact that allows Monica to command the wind and conjure powerful gales around her. She has reduced range for further control and precision of the winds within a close proximity to her (30-meter radius originating from self). Monica's remaining Might: 1</s> <|message|>APPEARANCE The god was taken a touch by surprise by the creation of the Hydra to act as an enforcer of the node's neutrality, but it did somewhat work in lieu of actually getting formal agreement from most of those assembled. He stared up at the looming thing. A mighty guardian indeed, and also an impressive practical display of the power they wielded. It was one thing to know you had power, it was quite another when the result of said power was gazing down at you with far too many hungry serpent eyes. "My thanks for this, Benea. Quite the masterful piece of work" he told the creator of many headed guardian's creator "breaking an agreement needs to come with an understood consequence, I think, and this one will do just fine" It certainly had done the job of getting Eleanna to back off from the node, though there was the unfortunate side effect of it terrifying the living daylights out of some of the humans. Then again, there was already a giant snake among them so he suspected that it would not be quite as bad a panic as the goddess he would eventually learn was called Dzallitsunya thought it was. Speaking of her, she was only one of a number of gods who decided to stray off into the wilds now that talks were coming to an end. He was a touch perturbed by the fact that few had actually actively signaled agreement with his plan, indeed only Monica actually raised a hand in agreement, but it was probably better they be off rather than bickering endlessly here. That, he thought, could only escalate to one unfortunate conclusion. Benea at least seemed interested in continuing a more general conversation by inviting some of them to come along with her, though unfortunately most turned her down, which was something of shame, he thought. Here lay an opportunity to learn of the character of the others, and witness, and possibly steer, their burgeoning ideals, something which he considered more valuable than rushing off to stake an early claim on the board. "I would be interested in traveling with you, for a while at least," he replied to Benea's offer, before nodding to the very similar goddess whose hand she was holding "and you as well, Monica, should you find no issue with my own presence?" "But first, now that we have all taken his wisdom, it does seem crude to simply leave our creator's form laying in the grass like this in such a diminished state, don't you think?" he said. He also thought might also do well to contain the things Vatarr had placed inside the skull to rot the divine flesh. Who knew what those would get up too once they were done. What to specifically do with the body instead of leaving it laying here had the god stroking his goatee as he thought for a moment, before he came to a decision that served a secondary purpose of checking any deception on Benea's part, if there had been any, or simply strengthening her deed if she had been true. "Let us seal away this broken form" he said, gesturing out a hand and causing stone slabs to form the simple granite tomb around the creator, before adding "and leave behind a clear memory in its place" That clear memory solidified atop the tomb in the form of a life sized statue of the god, formed in the likeness of what Xavior assumed would be his uninjured state. The statue of the armored god leaned against the node just as he had in his last moments, but instead of pained and defeated Xavior gave him the look of resting, hands clasped together in his lap and eyes shut. Eyes shut, and thus concealing the fully functioning golden orbs he had left beneath stone eyelids, for should the slumbering memorial sense intent to claim the node from any approaching it, it would awaken and enforce its neutrality. "May you rest until we all stand before you once more, and a new world is set to be born" he announced, lacing the law of his offered pact into the guardian, adding in at the last moment a grim clause that those present would not necessarily need to be alive. He hoped it would not come to that, but it would be foolish to simply assume peace would hold between them all. Once the stonework was set and the rules were in place, Xavior renounced any form of ownership of the monument and left it in the hands of the dead creator. Not even he would be immune to the ire of the guardian, should he break his word. "There, with that, I think my business here is done" he said, dusting off his hands despite having not set the stonework with them, and then turning back to Benea and asking with a genteel smile "So, to where was it you were you thinking of setting out for?" Xavior is a bit peeved most people didn't give their word on not taking the node, but decides that there being a consequence for attempting to do so will do for now. He adds his own consequences to this, a statue of the creator keyed to attack any who approach with the intent of capturing the node without the presence of the others there to approve. He also buries the creator in a tomb beneath this statue, as much out of a sense of tidiness as respect. He also agrees to travel with Benea for a while at least, so he can learn more of her and to see if she can be trusted or not. 4 Might spent on erecting a tomb for the creator, and setting atop it a stone guardian who will fight to ensure none may take the central node without the permission of all the others 9who still live). 1/5 remaining</s> <|message|>Brey Brey The God Wizard makes his way to Node 22. He has a desire to ally with The Serpent god. Together they would make a powerful alliance. He wondered if he should be aggressive in the conflict with the others, or if he should attempt a more defensive, long term approach. Simultaneously he had pity on the mortals who would suffer in the years to come. Summary: He goes to Node 22.</s>

<|message|>Benea "Thank you, dear," Benea turned her radiant smile to Xavior. "I'm excited for you to join me and Monica in our little journey. I'm sure a lot is to be said as we walk and so we shouldn't dally too much longer." The goddess turned to place her hand on the tomb of Peninal and closed her eyes for but a moment. Opening them, she looked to Hydra, the beast lifting a head in response to the stimuli. "You be a good boy, okay?" A tongue flicker. "Aww, I know you will be." Another flicker. Hydra wrapped it's mighty tail around the node twice before pressing its body against it like a brooding parent. Two heads continued the wrap while the third presented itself to Benea for a final tap on its snoot. Content with her creation, Benea let her fingers fall from its scales and took her first few steps away from the node and the tomb. Her perfectly white dress trailed behind her, picking up no stains or disturbing a single blade of valley grass as it did. The long sleeves of her costume fell past her wrists as she held her hands low, hiding all but the very tips of her fingers as she walked. Clearing past Monica, her voice rang out. "Come, darling, we have a walk ahead of us." Without looking back, she continued her stroll down the gentle slopes of the valley. A small gathering of mortals started to follow her, having been piqued from her speeches at the node. From that, even more followed the gathering, having nowhere else to go, and from that, even more. This continued until a stream of mankind was following Benea north — her quest having begun. Benea thanks Xavior and says goodbye to Peninal and Hydra before prodding Monica to follow her. Benea exits the area, but not before a train of mortality starts to follow her as she heads for Node 12 none spent, 1 might remaining</s>

<|description|>Dzallitsunya Form: She takes the form of a human woman, tall and thin, though the finer details change in phases much like the moon, sometimes her skin is of a pallid copper tone while in others its pale white, sometimes her hair is long or short, her clothing maintains a constant elegant style, predominantly black textiles, gold and platinum jewellery and flowing capes with details in muted colours. Personality: She is a passionate woman with a true love for the world and mortals, she presents herself as reasonable, a warrior whose sword is the shield of all that is gentle and delicate, a crusader against the brutality and savagery of the world. In her mind, however, the sources of such troubles are simple, the tyranny of the sun. With particular zeal, she believes in a great conspiracy where the world was once gentle and starlit, but one greedy star decided to be bigger, scorching the land and blinding the mortals with its light. With a belief so different from what most believe, she is forced to face the reality of a world that sees the sun in a positive light and holds the shadows as sinister. This twists her whole existence into constant coping, manifesting sometimes in bitter ramblings and mistrust, other times in exaggerated acts to make the night more pleasant than day. In truth, her whole "reasonability" is in truth closer to "tolerance" or "staying quiet for the sake of civility" as there is no true reasoning with her, she believes she is right, all others are at best blinded and misguided or at worse conspiring for the forces of light. Will: Darkness. The Sun will be exiled to the Horizon, peeking at the land but never again reigning in the skies. In an age of eternal twilight, gods and humans with eyes healed from the blinding light will once again learn to appreciate the gentle shadow. There will be no more man with burning ambitions and a will to set the world ablaze to fulfil it, no more slaves wasting away tending fields under the scorching sun. Instead, the world will be an eternal evening, where work is gentle and every village is filled with the sound of music and laughter, people's mind will be free of impossible dreams and distant glories and they will learn to be content and mindful, in this world the vilest of men will be at worst romantic figures of palace schemers or noble thieves, battles fought in personal duels and not by the sacrifice of armies. Dzallitsunya does not seek to destroy the other gods or cast them away, even the ones who are sinful agents of the blinding light, they will be allowed to exist and maintain their realms within her new world order, of course, she herself will be the leader, a philosopher queen of the pantheon above all others, a more than deserved position after she brings down the usurper star and guarantees eternal peace. Favorite Color: Pale Teal</s> <|message|>Lamarck Lamarck Lamarck was cautious when approaching the dead god, unsure if the corpse contained some poison or trickery. After observing the other gods meddle with it, he brushed his scaled hand against it. After receiving the divine knowledge and stepping away to look at the corpse, he supposed there was some small honor in outliving the world that had birthed him. It was almost a shame that he was too weak to capitalize upon the opportunity. He listened to the other gods petty and inconsequential words. The horned one was correct that a god's character would be revealed through there creation, but was deluded that the next world would not be forged in blood and ichor. He did not dismiss cooperation so easily. He saw no great need to be the one to conquer all thirty-five nodes, but he would not surrender the prize to the weak and cowardly. The goddess with the squirrel headed spear showed immediate potential, but she was unrefined and brash. She had drawn unwanted attention to herself by so brazenly reaching for power when there was so much empty territory left to be claimed. Perhaps only in hindsight could he judge her haste. The other gods seemed to bicker about peace, revealing the inherent fragility of the concept. He could tell which voices were sincere, but it did not matter. It would be advantageous to assume they were all liars rather than fools. Lamarck cautiously approaches the skull after other gods prove that it is not a trap. He contemplates the situation, primarily thinking that all of the voices calling out for peace are either liars or fools and that it would more advantageous to just assume they are all lying. No Might Spent</s> <|message|>Monica Monica II --- "Ah, I am unworthy... I am afraid I lack the necessary characteristics of one whom commands; I am not wise, nor am I charismatic. I cannot fully articulate the nature of my hopes and dreams... I just want to help everyone find love and joy. Please accept my apology, as it was not my intention to disappoint any of you." She had said to Tael and the unnamed deity that suggested she take the mantle of leadership, after recovering from the surprise of such an idea, and averting her gaze in shame and sorrow. Confusion clashed with remorse in Monica's mind as she pondered the words of her self-proclaimed sister, uncertain whether they truly shared a sibling bond, and slightly concerned that she may have potentially missed hearing the name of this ethereal goddess so close to her, so she spoke softly. "Beloved? Sister? Do you speak truly? We are a family?" She asked and looked at the one that held onto her, hoping that this world wouldn't betray her, that the happiness in her heart would stay with her. However Xavior's mention of the mortals nearby made Monica mortified upon the realization that they would also be responsible for those that were innocent and incapable of standing against the tides of chaos that raged across the rest of the world without the aid of the Divine. She hid her humiliation behind a calm visage, and gestured to the number of humans that gathered in this verdant land. "We should each choose specific nodes to stabilize, as well as protect these mortals that are like children." Monica reaffirmed, and raised her hand in agreement with the horned god. Her other hand hesitantly sought out her sister's - should her affection be reciprocated, she knew she wouldn't let go. Overwhelmed breifly, Monica mentions her inaptitude for being a leader, and says sorry to Tael and Dzallitsunya before trying to understand her relationship with Benea, as the other goddess makes Monica's heart flutter. Though Monica may not be a leader, she finds her resolve and adds her support to his suggestion, raising her hand. No expenditure of Might.</s> <|message|>Vatarr Vatarr Completely ignoring any negative responses to his playful ribbing of the self proclaimed 'eldest' of the deities among them and glancing towards the serpent that had decided that talking was a waste of time and decided to merely project their thoughts into the heads of others, Vatarr merely shrugged indifferently as they turned away from the ongoing conversation and walked over to the map in question... before reaching out and tapping one of the nodes with his finger and nodding his horned head to himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling inspiration surge and a need to go and create something before it slips away. You're all invited of course to come and visit and in turn I so look forward to seeing what you all make. Until next time, take care!" While the departure southwards was rather sudden, the joyous and jolly tone as Vatarr walked away suggested an earnestness behind his words; He honestly was looking forward to seeing what others created, just as he wanted them to stop by sometime to see what he had made in turn. Vatarr selects a destination from the map (Node 26) and starts heading south, offering pleasant goodbyes for now and hopes of everyone showing off their projects in the future. Spent: 0 Total: 4</s> <|message|>Benea Benea "Of course." Benea's eyes softened on Monica, her smile crinkling the edges of her visage. She gave Monica's hand a gentle pat. "How could I be anything but your sister?" Turning from Monica and looking up at the node, Benea pinched her chin in thought — a small wince in her eye as her sight passed over Eleanna. "Xavier is correct in his assessment. This node should remain neutral until further discussion can be had, though I cannot simply stay here and wait until then." Benea turned to Monica, as if she had the answer. "Perhaps a guardian? I think that's a wonderful idea…" With a snap of her fingers, the ground began to shake and swell around the node. The snap resounded in the air, as if commanding whatever was shaking the ground to hurry up and then all at once, a great figure burst from the valley floor. It was large, much larger than any of the gods, and had a body covered in cream colored scales that gave it a naked appearance. Chunks of stone were caught in the spines that poked from its armored hide. In total, the beast was one of four legs and a tail as long as its neck — or necks. Three necks stretched from the broad body, each topped with a snake-like face with rows of teeth that stabbed out from its lips, giving its mouths the image of a saw. Each eye was bright and intelligent, though uneasily filled with violent energy — up until it looked down upon Benea. The beast as big as a hill seemed to soften at the sight of its creator, simpering into the demeanor of a puppy. Greedily it bowed the nuzzle of its three snake-faces close to the goddess' hand in hopes to be touched, and Benea obliged. Placing a hand flat on the snout of the middle head, Benea cooed. "I think this fellow will do the job justice. Indiscriminate and noble, he will guard the node. Won't you?" A forked tongue flickered from the maw of the beast, as if agreeing with Benea and the goddess smiled. "That's a good Hydra. Keep this cradle of life safe for the sake of order, won't you?" Another flicker and Benea tapped her hand against the snout again before turning to Anak'thas. "But thus, the time I can spend here is coming to an end. We have a world to organize, and I think I might enjoy your company if you meant your words truly. Shall you come with me?" Her eyes darted to Monica right after. "And you?" Benea leaned her hand on the node, resetting Eleanna's work as she looked past Monica to also address Xavier and then Dzillatsunya. "Or you?" Benea assures Monica that they are in fact close sisters and then Benea agrees with Xavier to keep node 18 neutral and so she creates the Hydra to protect the neutrality before offering Anak'thas and a few others a chance to leave the node with her 4 spent on Hydra, the hydra — 1 point remaining</s>

<|message|>Dzallitsunya The prelude to Dzallitsunya II The following conversation was surely interesting, with valid points about how to proceed, hints of certain personalities, and the shadow goddess was even given a compliment. However, it was all washed by the goddess with only her basic acknowledgement. The reason for that was simple, as more gods approached, a true show of horrors started to form, its apex being... the desecration of a corpse. No, not any corpse... Dzallitsunya held a hand over her mouth, gagging, going paler... somehow. It was... their creator, a person who gave it all to give this world a new chance... and they just... treated it like animals, hanging over the now maggot filled body like it was carrion, one, the most abhorrent of all, took pieces of Peninal for trophies. Why Why were they doing this? Why did... such people exist? They had no right... Monica, who once made sure the fallen god was given dignity now did nothing... not that Dzallitsunya could judge, she had been, small step by small step, leaving the scene instead of confronting it, resting a hand against a tall rock as nausea still overtook her senses. Then the land shook, and all attention, godly and mortal, was brought to the centre again as the great Hydra rose to guard this zone. Its creator, Benea, then addressed the shadow goddess directly, putting her in a hard spot, the intention wasn't bad but after all, she saw... Dzallitsunya did not know exactly how to proceed. "Well, you see. The thing is." her speech lingered as she looked around as if searching something, finding her excuse nearby as she only now had noted the humans had fled with the rise of the Hydra. "The humans seem to be in a bit of a panic thanks to uh... the guardian. Spreading about all over the valley and well... that can be troublesome, no? What if they walk into the untamed zones or fall in a river... oh look, those are hiding in a cave, that is bad." She stared at the map, and nodded. "I think I will be stabilising that node at the middle of the northwest?" she pointed to Node 7 "But first, I must go and seek that group of humans rushing into those caverns before they get lost or stuck. It was pleasant to meet you. Goodbye." Her excuse given, Dzallitsunya quickly slid away from the congregation of gods, rushing half a valley away, towards a rockier area where the entrance to the cave was. Tsunya is incredibly disgusted with y'all, especially those who messed with the corpse like it was a play thing. She decides she needs some time away from her family and with humans starting to flee thanks to the Hydra she decides to go pick a group of them before leaving the initial node. 5 No might used</s>

<|description|>Vatarr Form: As a deity that represents the cycle of life, death and renewal Vatarr's form is in something of a state in-between all three of those states at once. Standing above humans in height, Vatarr's body is a mixture of plant and meat that is in a slow but constant state of flex; There will be parts of his body that are in fully bloom/in prime condition, others that are actively rotting and falling off in chunks like decaying meat on a body being moved... with a third section that is clearly new flesh and plants that are actively growing. As the older parts start to decay and die and the newer growths flourish in the fertile patches left once the rotting process is complete, it is rare for Vatarr to look exactly the same in-between meetings with them. The one constant is their head, which has a mask/skull like quality to it, covered by growths and bumps that on closer inspection turn out to be a variety of fungi. The horns appear to be optional, appearing in different states of growth at Vatarr's desire. Personality: Vatarr is a jolly fellow who never seems to be without a smile on their face. No matter the circumstances that arise, Vatarr will always consider and act like he is talking to a friend he has known for eons, be they god or mortal. This doesn't necessarily means he'll intervene in a given situation since strive, suffering and death are all natural parts of life... but he'll happily listen as someone vents about their troubles all the same. Will: Life, Death and Renewal/Rebirth. Where other deities are hung up on life having to be a certain way, Vatarr is more concerned with creating a world in which life happens at all. To him, the ideal world that could be created is one in which life and death are apart of the same never ending cycle: Living things are born and live out their lives pursuing their desires before one day they will lay down and die, their remains returning to the world and enriching it, allowing for new life to be created and for the cycle to start again. In the event of total victory, Vatarr's ideal world wouldn't have a fixed form. Species, the environment, weather... all of it would be left to their own devices without any interference. The only time Vatarr would act would be in the event that something happened to wipe out all life on the planet in such a way that nothing can survive and new life cannot form... in which case he will seed the world with life anew and restart the cycle anew. Favorite Color: Dark Green</s> <|message|>Brey Brey The wizard god's hands were over the skull, particularly the back end. Muttering a quick exasperation under his breath, he took the skull in his hands, careful to avoid any maggots that may have made their way out of the eye sockets. Ideas of what he should do at this moment flowed through his mind. It appeared as if he were scrying over the skull, as if it were a crystal ball. Withdrawing his hands from the skull, he looked towards the other gods. "Oh dear." Were the only words that Brey managed to let go from his breath. Summary: Brey takes advantage of scrying on the Skull to read through the god's memories, attempting to learn powerful knowledge. He does nothing else. Might expedenture 1 Might expedenture to attempt learning magic from the Skull 4 Might left</s> <|message|>Asvarad Asvarad The Great Serpent Bright light bled through the serpents eyelids and soaked into his scales as he listened to the words of his dying creator and the subsequent babble of his peers. Through it all the serpent, Asvarad, thought. Over and over he considered turning away from the group before it devolved into violence, as it would, but the 'gift' of knowledge within the elder gods fading corpse, corrupted or not, held him back. To flee would be wise, but to remain ignorant would be the action of a fool. Decided, Asvarad allowed his eyes to flutter open and beheld the world. The valley's verdant grasses swaying in the gentle wind, the dark node, those curious upright animals, and last of all the others of his own get. He slithered towards the elder god's corpse as the others crowded it. Every movement was ponderous, and though the serpent felt the strength of his body and the speed at which he could strike, he could not help but find himself wanting. More than that, look at the others: reflections of the animals in the valley below with few exceptions. They were all so limited. The feeling only grew as the vast serpent all but pushed the others out of the way as he cautiously pressed the tip of his snout against the elder god's dead forehead. Knowledge washed over him, and Asvarad began to laugh. A deep, thrumming, laughter that vibrated the ground around him and caused his bulk to shake in dark mirth. He pulled himself up, and began to tower over the others before speaking in a voice akin to his laugh, "Blind. All but the little grey one, blind. Quibbling over who must rule a trap. Poisoning and looting the only source of knowledge which could permit our escape." The serpent had eyed them as he spoke, and it was in the most vocal that he perceived the greatest weakness. In truth, he perceived the weakness in speech itself. Plodding, slow, and aggravating. It only made sense, why allow prisoners anything but the most rudimentary form of communication? Well, some things could be corrected. With a moments focus the serpent worked upon its very mind, and when it spoke again it was an echo in the minds of others. More refined, clearer and less animalistic, but certainly with the same contempt, "Jump to play your fell game if you must, I will first understand it." Summary: Asvarad begins to dislike the material world. He wakes and thinks, fuck this is a trap I'm a rat in a cage, and then tells everyone this impolitely. He then decides talking sucks and learns telepathy. Might Expenditure -1 Might expenditure to develop local telepathy. 4 Might Remaining.</s> <|message|>APPEARANCE He awoke for the first time, sitting cross legged and adorned with naught but a loincloth, and beheld his dying creator. Listened to his final words, and understood in part the tragedy of war and servitude that had led to his end. The red skinned god rose slowly onto his bare feet and softly approached the dead creator to receive his wisdom before then moving to the other object of interest in the area. The map. Resting a hand on its side he instinctively moved the other to his chin and found he had a goatee. A grin flashed across his lips before he began to stroke it contemplatively as some of the others spoke to repeat that mistake, to raise one above them all based on nothing but words. The only deed done was by Eleanna, who brazenly walked up and started the very slow process of capturing the claimed node. Xavior did not intervene with that, not yet. There was plenty of time till the deed was done after all. Opposed to her foolish recklessness was the paranoid wisdom of the serpent who assumed the entire enterprise to be a trap, though of an entirely different sort that had led the others along the path of peace. "A fair point, if rudely put" he said to the snake, before introducing himself and saying his (lengthy) piece "My name is Xavior, and I believe that to rush into things when there is no need to do so would be foolish. Yes, there is an unspecified ending approaching, but it will take time to stabilize the world regardless, which gives us time to think. To learn to know ourselves and of the nature of this world and 'game' we have been thrust into. Or are we so arrogant as to think we can decide the fate of reality while having seen only a fraction of it," he gestured a hand down to the map, and then out towards the wilds around them, most specifically at the closest group of humans who were wearily spectating this discussion from afar "and before having even met its people?" "I propose, rather than attempting to elect a singular claimant right this moment, we instead simply swear a pact of peace, and then strike out and claim this reality. Improve it. Make it a place worth living until the end comes to pass. And in doing so, prove through what you make that your vision for the next world has worth, and through your deeds that your word can be trusted" they were strangers after all, who could say if their words were true or canny manipulations? Time, he hoped, would expose the liars as what they were, and let the reliable shine through the mire of doubt. "Then once the world is stabilized, we return here, and then elect an architect of the new world if no way of escaping the confines of the game has been discovered" he said, leaving the map behind as he spoke while strolling casually towards the node. Once there he gave it a casual flick to reset Eleanna's capture progress as the creator's wisdom had informed him it would. He made no attempt to stake his own claim beyond that momentary disruption however and instead simply walking away with a confident stride while saying "and until that time this node should remain in the hands of our creator, declared neutral ground, and ruin betide any who brake the sanctity of his claim without the consent of the rest" His pact proposed, he once again stood behind the map and asked the others "Your thoughts? Oh and if you could make a show of hands if you agree with that last point, I think that might allow us to resolve Eleanna's overstep in a coordinated fashion" Xavior awakens, claims the wisdom of the creator, and then uses the map as a podium to propose going out into the world and using it as a place for the gods to prove they have both the will and the trustworthiness necessary to be elected as the architect of the next world. Then he casually resets Eleanna's node capture progress and then proposes this node stay in the hands of the dead creator till they come to some kind of agreement, and propose a vote to affirm that belief. 5/5: none spent</s> <|message|>Lamarck Lamarck Lamarck was cautious when approaching the dead god, unsure if the corpse contained some poison or trickery. After observing the other gods meddle with it, he brushed his scaled hand against it. After receiving the divine knowledge and stepping away to look at the corpse, he supposed there was some small honor in outliving the world that had birthed him. It was almost a shame that he was too weak to capitalize upon the opportunity. He listened to the other gods petty and inconsequential words. The horned one was correct that a god's character would be revealed through there creation, but was deluded that the next world would not be forged in blood and ichor. He did not dismiss cooperation so easily. He saw no great need to be the one to conquer all thirty-five nodes, but he would not surrender the prize to the weak and cowardly. The goddess with the squirrel headed spear showed immediate potential, but she was unrefined and brash. She had drawn unwanted attention to herself by so brazenly reaching for power when there was so much empty territory left to be claimed. Perhaps only in hindsight could he judge her haste. The other gods seemed to bicker about peace, revealing the inherent fragility of the concept. He could tell which voices were sincere, but it did not matter. It would be advantageous to assume they were all liars rather than fools. Lamarck cautiously approaches the skull after other gods prove that it is not a trap. He contemplates the situation, primarily thinking that all of the voices calling out for peace are either liars or fools and that it would more advantageous to just assume they are all lying. No Might Spent</s> <|message|>Monica Monica II --- "Ah, I am unworthy... I am afraid I lack the necessary characteristics of one whom commands; I am not wise, nor am I charismatic. I cannot fully articulate the nature of my hopes and dreams... I just want to help everyone find love and joy. Please accept my apology, as it was not my intention to disappoint any of you." She had said to Tael and the unnamed deity that suggested she take the mantle of leadership, after recovering from the surprise of such an idea, and averting her gaze in shame and sorrow. Confusion clashed with remorse in Monica's mind as she pondered the words of her self-proclaimed sister, uncertain whether they truly shared a sibling bond, and slightly concerned that she may have potentially missed hearing the name of this ethereal goddess so close to her, so she spoke softly. "Beloved? Sister? Do you speak truly? We are a family?" She asked and looked at the one that held onto her, hoping that this world wouldn't betray her, that the happiness in her heart would stay with her. However Xavior's mention of the mortals nearby made Monica mortified upon the realization that they would also be responsible for those that were innocent and incapable of standing against the tides of chaos that raged across the rest of the world without the aid of the Divine. She hid her humiliation behind a calm visage, and gestured to the number of humans that gathered in this verdant land. "We should each choose specific nodes to stabilize, as well as protect these mortals that are like children." Monica reaffirmed, and raised her hand in agreement with the horned god. Her other hand hesitantly sought out her sister's - should her affection be reciprocated, she knew she wouldn't let go. Overwhelmed breifly, Monica mentions her inaptitude for being a leader, and says sorry to Tael and Dzallitsunya before trying to understand her relationship with Benea, as the other goddess makes Monica's heart flutter. Though Monica may not be a leader, she finds her resolve and adds her support to his suggestion, raising her hand. No expenditure of Might.</s>

<|message|>Vatarr Completely ignoring any negative responses to his playful ribbing of the self proclaimed 'eldest' of the deities among them and glancing towards the serpent that had decided that talking was a waste of time and decided to merely project their thoughts into the heads of others, Vatarr merely shrugged indifferently as they turned away from the ongoing conversation and walked over to the map in question... before reaching out and tapping one of the nodes with his finger and nodding his horned head to himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling inspiration surge and a need to go and create something before it slips away. You're all invited of course to come and visit and in turn I so look forward to seeing what you all make. Until next time, take care!" While the departure southwards was rather sudden, the joyous and jolly tone as Vatarr walked away suggested an earnestness behind his words; He honestly was looking forward to seeing what others created, just as he wanted them to stop by sometime to see what he had made in turn. Vatarr selects a destination from the map (Node 26) and starts heading south, offering pleasant goodbyes for now and hopes of everyone showing off their projects in the future. Spent: 0 Total: 4</s>

<|description|>Anak'thas Form At the core of Anak'thas is a brightly lit lantern. It is held by a more humanoid creature. While this figure is still a part of him, wounding it would not kill him. This form - his Aspect of Guiding Light as he calls it – is faceless. Instead of a face, he has a hole with a mote of divine light shining from it. The wispy robes he wears hide the lower section of this form. He leaves no footmarks. Instead, the lowest-hanging robes seemingly float over the ground. Personality On the surface, one could say that Anak'thas is a power-hungry control freak. There is, however, nuance to his obsession. While he is obsessed with control, he remains open to the idea that – for now – there are forces outside his control. Instead of absolute subjugation of these forces, he will prefer to initially find a way to incorporate them into his Perfect Order. In essence, he will resort first to control through assimilation. Not subjugation (though of course, when assimilation is not an option subjugation will be). Furthermore, he craves power only to further his Perfect Order, which ultimately comes to the betterment of everyone (or so he chooses to believe). Will Will of Perfect Order. Anak'thas believes that only ultimate order can stave off doom and bring true prosperity. But to achieve this ultimate order every object in existence needs to understand and accept its place in this ultimate order. He thus values obedience and duty above all else. Through this obedience and dutifulness, he strives to deliver every measure of prosperity. He does not abhor creativity but believes it is a force that must be closely monitored. For a wrongful but hopeful idea can sunder the prosperous order he strives to create. His true opposite is anarchy and lawlessness. Favorite color Golden yellow</s> <|message|>Lamarck Lamarck Lamarck was cautious when approaching the dead god, unsure if the corpse contained some poison or trickery. After observing the other gods meddle with it, he brushed his scaled hand against it. After receiving the divine knowledge and stepping away to look at the corpse, he supposed there was some small honor in outliving the world that had birthed him. It was almost a shame that he was too weak to capitalize upon the opportunity. He listened to the other gods petty and inconsequential words. The horned one was correct that a god's character would be revealed through there creation, but was deluded that the next world would not be forged in blood and ichor. He did not dismiss cooperation so easily. He saw no great need to be the one to conquer all thirty-five nodes, but he would not surrender the prize to the weak and cowardly. The goddess with the squirrel headed spear showed immediate potential, but she was unrefined and brash. She had drawn unwanted attention to herself by so brazenly reaching for power when there was so much empty territory left to be claimed. Perhaps only in hindsight could he judge her haste. The other gods seemed to bicker about peace, revealing the inherent fragility of the concept. He could tell which voices were sincere, but it did not matter. It would be advantageous to assume they were all liars rather than fools. Lamarck cautiously approaches the skull after other gods prove that it is not a trap. He contemplates the situation, primarily thinking that all of the voices calling out for peace are either liars or fools and that it would more advantageous to just assume they are all lying. No Might Spent</s> <|message|>Monica Monica II --- "Ah, I am unworthy... I am afraid I lack the necessary characteristics of one whom commands; I am not wise, nor am I charismatic. I cannot fully articulate the nature of my hopes and dreams... I just want to help everyone find love and joy. Please accept my apology, as it was not my intention to disappoint any of you." She had said to Tael and the unnamed deity that suggested she take the mantle of leadership, after recovering from the surprise of such an idea, and averting her gaze in shame and sorrow. Confusion clashed with remorse in Monica's mind as she pondered the words of her self-proclaimed sister, uncertain whether they truly shared a sibling bond, and slightly concerned that she may have potentially missed hearing the name of this ethereal goddess so close to her, so she spoke softly. "Beloved? Sister? Do you speak truly? We are a family?" She asked and looked at the one that held onto her, hoping that this world wouldn't betray her, that the happiness in her heart would stay with her. However Xavior's mention of the mortals nearby made Monica mortified upon the realization that they would also be responsible for those that were innocent and incapable of standing against the tides of chaos that raged across the rest of the world without the aid of the Divine. She hid her humiliation behind a calm visage, and gestured to the number of humans that gathered in this verdant land. "We should each choose specific nodes to stabilize, as well as protect these mortals that are like children." Monica reaffirmed, and raised her hand in agreement with the horned god. Her other hand hesitantly sought out her sister's - should her affection be reciprocated, she knew she wouldn't let go. Overwhelmed breifly, Monica mentions her inaptitude for being a leader, and says sorry to Tael and Dzallitsunya before trying to understand her relationship with Benea, as the other goddess makes Monica's heart flutter. Though Monica may not be a leader, she finds her resolve and adds her support to his suggestion, raising her hand. No expenditure of Might.</s> <|message|>Vatarr Vatarr Completely ignoring any negative responses to his playful ribbing of the self proclaimed 'eldest' of the deities among them and glancing towards the serpent that had decided that talking was a waste of time and decided to merely project their thoughts into the heads of others, Vatarr merely shrugged indifferently as they turned away from the ongoing conversation and walked over to the map in question... before reaching out and tapping one of the nodes with his finger and nodding his horned head to himself. "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling inspiration surge and a need to go and create something before it slips away. You're all invited of course to come and visit and in turn I so look forward to seeing what you all make. Until next time, take care!" While the departure southwards was rather sudden, the joyous and jolly tone as Vatarr walked away suggested an earnestness behind his words; He honestly was looking forward to seeing what others created, just as he wanted them to stop by sometime to see what he had made in turn. Vatarr selects a destination from the map (Node 26) and starts heading south, offering pleasant goodbyes for now and hopes of everyone showing off their projects in the future. Spent: 0 Total: 4</s> <|message|>Benea Benea "Of course." Benea's eyes softened on Monica, her smile crinkling the edges of her visage. She gave Monica's hand a gentle pat. "How could I be anything but your sister?" Turning from Monica and looking up at the node, Benea pinched her chin in thought — a small wince in her eye as her sight passed over Eleanna. "Xavier is correct in his assessment. This node should remain neutral until further discussion can be had, though I cannot simply stay here and wait until then." Benea turned to Monica, as if she had the answer. "Perhaps a guardian? I think that's a wonderful idea…" With a snap of her fingers, the ground began to shake and swell around the node. The snap resounded in the air, as if commanding whatever was shaking the ground to hurry up and then all at once, a great figure burst from the valley floor. It was large, much larger than any of the gods, and had a body covered in cream colored scales that gave it a naked appearance. Chunks of stone were caught in the spines that poked from its armored hide. In total, the beast was one of four legs and a tail as long as its neck — or necks. Three necks stretched from the broad body, each topped with a snake-like face with rows of teeth that stabbed out from its lips, giving its mouths the image of a saw. Each eye was bright and intelligent, though uneasily filled with violent energy — up until it looked down upon Benea. The beast as big as a hill seemed to soften at the sight of its creator, simpering into the demeanor of a puppy. Greedily it bowed the nuzzle of its three snake-faces close to the goddess' hand in hopes to be touched, and Benea obliged. Placing a hand flat on the snout of the middle head, Benea cooed. "I think this fellow will do the job justice. Indiscriminate and noble, he will guard the node. Won't you?" A forked tongue flickered from the maw of the beast, as if agreeing with Benea and the goddess smiled. "That's a good Hydra. Keep this cradle of life safe for the sake of order, won't you?" Another flicker and Benea tapped her hand against the snout again before turning to Anak'thas. "But thus, the time I can spend here is coming to an end. We have a world to organize, and I think I might enjoy your company if you meant your words truly. Shall you come with me?" Her eyes darted to Monica right after. "And you?" Benea leaned her hand on the node, resetting Eleanna's work as she looked past Monica to also address Xavier and then Dzillatsunya. "Or you?" Benea assures Monica that they are in fact close sisters and then Benea agrees with Xavier to keep node 18 neutral and so she creates the Hydra to protect the neutrality before offering Anak'thas and a few others a chance to leave the node with her 4 spent on Hydra, the hydra — 1 point remaining</s> <|message|>Dzallitsunya The prelude to Dzallitsunya II The following conversation was surely interesting, with valid points about how to proceed, hints of certain personalities, and the shadow goddess was even given a compliment. However, it was all washed by the goddess with only her basic acknowledgement. The reason for that was simple, as more gods approached, a true show of horrors started to form, its apex being... the desecration of a corpse. No, not any corpse... Dzallitsunya held a hand over her mouth, gagging, going paler... somehow. It was... their creator, a person who gave it all to give this world a new chance... and they just... treated it like animals, hanging over the now maggot filled body like it was carrion, one, the most abhorrent of all, took pieces of Peninal for trophies. Why Why were they doing this? Why did... such people exist? They had no right... Monica, who once made sure the fallen god was given dignity now did nothing... not that Dzallitsunya could judge, she had been, small step by small step, leaving the scene instead of confronting it, resting a hand against a tall rock as nausea still overtook her senses. Then the land shook, and all attention, godly and mortal, was brought to the centre again as the great Hydra rose to guard this zone. Its creator, Benea, then addressed the shadow goddess directly, putting her in a hard spot, the intention wasn't bad but after all, she saw... Dzallitsunya did not know exactly how to proceed. "Well, you see. The thing is." her speech lingered as she looked around as if searching something, finding her excuse nearby as she only now had noted the humans had fled with the rise of the Hydra. "The humans seem to be in a bit of a panic thanks to uh... the guardian. Spreading about all over the valley and well... that can be troublesome, no? What if they walk into the untamed zones or fall in a river... oh look, those are hiding in a cave, that is bad." She stared at the map, and nodded. "I think I will be stabilising that node at the middle of the northwest?" she pointed to Node 7 "But first, I must go and seek that group of humans rushing into those caverns before they get lost or stuck. It was pleasant to meet you. Goodbye." Her excuse given, Dzallitsunya quickly slid away from the congregation of gods, rushing half a valley away, towards a rockier area where the entrance to the cave was. Tsunya is incredibly disgusted with y'all, especially those who messed with the corpse like it was a play thing. She decides she needs some time away from her family and with humans starting to flee thanks to the Hydra she decides to go pick a group of them before leaving the initial node. 5 No might used</s>

<|message|>Anak'thas "I shall." Anakt'thas said to Benea's offer. In his mind, the central node would serve as a meeting place for the gods shaped in the form of a giant temple complex. But here around the node they would join again. For now, though, Benea's creation would protect it until it could rightfully be claimed. There were other gods joining them now. One absolute savage, with whom Anak'thas would feel no pleasure to work with. At least Monica was wise enough to relent to Benea. He was quickly growing tired of the bunch though. Half of them would be obstacles at the very least. The mote-as-eye of his turned towards the recently awakened humans. "Hear me now mortals." He shouted towards them. "The world beyond this valley is a wretched land indeed. But me and my kin-" he motioned specifically at Benea, "will do everything in our power to tame those lands and make them prosperous. I promise you these verdant realms in exchange for naught but your faith." With his grand declaration done he again turned towards Benea. "While your company would no doubt be a delight, I am afraid that duty calls first." He then leaned in closer to whisper: "Not all our siblings will offer the same life-giving lands, and these mortals will no doubt become the tools of our order. We must protect them." With that said, he started walking – at the pace of a god at least – towards the north-eastern node. Anak'thas envisions what Node 18 should look like, then grimaces at how his other siblings are turning out. He soon realizes that they should move but first makes a declaration to the humans who woke up. He offers them a verdant realm up north in exchange for their faith. After that he explains to Benea that duty calls and they must move because he suspects not all of his siblings will give blessed realms to the mortals. And the mortals must survive because they will be their tools. After that he leaves for the next node. No might used</s>

<|description|>Anak'thas Form At the core of Anak'thas is a brightly lit lantern. It is held by a more humanoid creature. While this figure is still a part of him, wounding it would not kill him. This form - his Aspect of Guiding Light as he calls it – is faceless. Instead of a face, he has a hole with a mote of divine light shining from it. The wispy robes he wears hide the lower section of this form. He leaves no footmarks. Instead, the lowest-hanging robes seemingly float over the ground. Personality On the surface, one could say that Anak'thas is a power-hungry control freak. There is, however, nuance to his obsession. While he is obsessed with control, he remains open to the idea that – for now – there are forces outside his control. Instead of absolute subjugation of these forces, he will prefer to initially find a way to incorporate them into his Perfect Order. In essence, he will resort first to control through assimilation. Not subjugation (though of course, when assimilation is not an option subjugation will be). Furthermore, he craves power only to further his Perfect Order, which ultimately comes to the betterment of everyone (or so he chooses to believe). Will Will of Perfect Order. Anak'thas believes that only ultimate order can stave off doom and bring true prosperity. But to achieve this ultimate order every object in existence needs to understand and accept its place in this ultimate order. He thus values obedience and duty above all else. Through this obedience and dutifulness, he strives to deliver every measure of prosperity. He does not abhor creativity but believes it is a force that must be closely monitored. For a wrongful but hopeful idea can sunder the prosperous order he strives to create. His true opposite is anarchy and lawlessness. Favorite color Golden yellow</s> <|message|>Benea Renault and the Daman Lands The trip from the Northern Queendom to the Daman lands is a long one, or at least usually. Renault, being a paladin, had access to a few resources that sped up the process, ost notably the kiss of chamomile. The blessing had been such a hit that the Queen herself set up a monument in the Alpine Duchy that anyone could pilgrimage to and receive the kiss. Since then, it had become a tradition for paladins to journey to after completing their training and then again after five or so years (when the blessing started to fade). Renault, however, had the original blessing and so found himself in the Daman lands faster than a Goatlander with an Ambrosian-powered horse. The journey itself was uneventful, with the Blade of Benea (or so he was known) having a few tricks to keep himself hidden and discrete as he made his way through the northern path. His boots skidded to a halt in the deep snow. A shaggy fur cloak covered his iron banded armor and hid his various weapons. The cloak itself was speckled with snowflakes, giving him a peppered appearance as he journeyed through the colder region of Node 10. But for now, he had stopped, abruptly. Frowning, Renault looked directly in front of him. A little old lady was walking in the exact same direction as him, at a fraction of the pace. He had no idea who she was or when she crossed his path but there she was, directly in front of him, ignorant of his existence as she waddled down the slope to the small town at the bottom of the hill. Tucking a slant into his cheek, Renault fell to a painfully slow walk and stayed behind her, not wanting to be rude. Together, even if blissfully unaware, the old lady and one of the most dangerous mortals in the north walked together into town. The snow turned shallow as the duo found the simple road that webbed between the haphazardly built homes and businesses of the Daman town. Renault couldn't help but look around, taking in all the differences between the culture of the Damans and the Queendom. Slowly, whispers of the townsfolk found his ears. "Who is that?" "I don't know, but she must be someone pretty important, look at her retainer." Renault blinked in surprise. "I think that's a pure human!" "She must be rich." "Maybe one of the slaver barons from the south?" "Hey lady!" A gruff bark cut through the whispers. Now Renault was standing behind the old lady while the largest Daman he had ever seen stood in front of her, a crude bronze blade pointed at her little surprised face. The Daman was a man twisted with the features of a dog, giving him a drool where mismatched teeth protruded from his mutilated face. "Oh my," The little ferret-faced old lady dropped her wicker bag in shock, onions rolling onto the road. The robber-to-be stared at the vegetables as they bumped against his shoe. "I don't care if you are one of the slaver barons, you made a huge mistake coming here with only one of your beasts of war — stand and deliver." The bandit reasserted his blade between him and the old lady, who was now shaking with confusion and fear. Renault's hand slowly moved the little old lady behind him as he looked to the bandit and said, "drop your blade and beg you dog-faced jackass or feel the full might of my impatience." "What?" The bandit growled, only to freeze as he caught Renault's gaze. The dark brown eyes of the paladin were swimming with a certain aggression that made the bandit shake with a sudden burst of doubt. He pointed his blade at Renault, albeit with less confidence. "Behold!" Renault whipped a hand from his cloak and the bandit flinched, expecting an attack only to open his eyes to Renault holding a closed fist between the two. "The limits of my patience." The hand threw something at the ground and a sudden plume of dust enclosed the fighters. The sound of flesh hitting flesh erupted rapid-fire only for it to end with the shriek of a blade freeing itself and then the gurgled scream of a dead man. With a poof of air, Renault walked free of the cloud, his cloak hugging him and hiding any hint of what might have happened. From that point on, everyone gave the little old lady a wide berth. Renault is on a secret mission in the Daman lands, he helps a little old lady. Benea 3 3 might spent on the monument of Chamomile, a shrine hidden in the alpine slopes of Node 1 that paladins pilgrimage to to receive the kiss of chamomile. Since it is not the original blessing, those who receive it this way must renew it every five or so years. 0 might remaining</s> <|message|>Brey Brey "Well, I'm not going to let my enemies get away with destroying all of my work. Anyone who gets in here anywhere near the Node will have a nasty surprise, well two nasty surprises." The wizard god puts the Node on an alert spell, much like any god can do. He then casts a powerful enchantment over the Great Library. No other god than Brey can cast 0 level spells unless they have his permission. Brey returned to his study, thinking on what the next days of the future would bring. He would attempt to ensure, when the time comes, that his people and allies would be ready for anything. Moreover, he was not sure he could trust Grym. These things he thought on for a moment, before he began to meditate. Brey utilizes the Alert power on the node. He then enchants the library again to forbid 0 level Might spells from gods that don't have his permission to cast there. Brey uses 1 Might to use the Alert power. Furthermore Brey casts a protection spell. This protection spell disables all simple spell casting in the library area except in cases where Brey gives permission. A 0 might spell is considered a simple spell"</s>

<|message|>Anak'thas "It's magnificent, my Lord." One of the Chosen said as she stood beside Anak'thas. Both of them, and more Chosen as well, looked at the beautiful building that crawled itself out of the ground. It was made from the whitest stone in existence. Its edges were pristine. It was surrounded by a pristinely kept garden. On the east side of it were a few greenhouses in which incense could grow. Together with other plants that would put the average human being into a trancelike state. A wonderous garden with winding paths and even a serene orchard was on the west side. Behind it, to the north, was a graveyard filled with underground tombs. Ready to receive the charge of the place. The building's insides were filled with large half-circle halls filled with raised benches. The acoustics were divine within. Each hall, small and big alike, was ready to receive its effigy and the choir that would imbue it. "You should count yourself lucky to see it." The Chosen, Anak'thas knew her name was Selora but never acknowledged her by that name, sneered at the demi-human put in chains beside her. "This is what the Verdant Realms would bring to all lands. If only you'd respect a speck of civility." Anak'thas did not share Selora's disdain for the Foxman. However, he understood why she was so hard. After all, a few days ago she begged him to head for node 10 and conquer it. Her family were settlers in the north of Node 14 and raiders had taken them. She wasn't sure if they were taken as slaves or slain somewhere along the way. The uncertainty had developed into a bitter hatred. The beastman had served its purpose really. He told Anak about the soul magic that was developing within the Daman Lands. The god did not wish to take more from his people than their faith. But Benea and Dzallitsunya were forcing his hand. "There is still the Dusk Goddess' message." Another Chosen said. "She has been pressing. Efforts to sabotage her reign in Telum'Velik continue but it would appear that she has employed some Shadow to work against such things. My Lord… You should make your will known." Of course the Chosen would push for war. He made them to fight. They helped him now in Node 15 and 16 against the Chaos Monsters. It only made them realize just how hungry they were for a fight. And if his Chosen were this willing to fight, he could not imagine how the Dawnblades must be back in Tanaäth. "Soon." Anak'thas said. "Soon we'll move." "And the message?" His Chosen asked. Return Node 13 to me or suffer the consequences. The Lantern-God summoned a ball that contained the message in his hand and let it fly. "It is answered." Anak'thas and his Chosen are looking as the Chorus is built before them. It's a large, white-stone building that is absolutely pristine. Inside there is place for many choirs to sing for their effigies (see: MP section). They have a demi-human prisoner with them. The god ruminates about the tense situation and how his fighters are itching for the big fight. He decides to finally answer Tsunya's message. (offscreen he also took node 16 and 17) Anak'thas start: 0MP +2 MP >> Completed the remaining 2 Quiz sections +1 MP >> Crappy drawing -3 MP >> Creating the Chorus – A large, white building in which mortals can use soul magic to imbue an effigy with magical power. The effigies can then be used to power specialized constructs that will be constructed later. Because soul magic only works if you stepped foot in the Daman lands this will also cause pilgrimages to happen towards the Daman Lands. Anak'thas end: 0MP Node 15 – Anak'thas continues on with his theme of a prosperous, verdant land. To the north there is a mountain range that seals of the land from dangers coming from the Daman Lands. The shores to the east is filled with tall cliffs making living near the coast rather futile. The inner lands are dominated by gentle, green hills. The coast to the south-east is made of pearl-white sand. However, unlike Tanaäth this realm is more blessed. Graceful, cream-furred lions hunt in the northern mountains. While wonderous, white steeds roam the hillsides. Fragrant incense that sends mortals in a trance can be found in the wild here. Node 16 – This node has been made with great aspirations. It is circled from the east, south and west by steep cliffs that go higher and higher the closer you get to the node itself. However, all around it stone is floating. On these stones crystals of all sorts of colors grow. Both nodes are beautiful, sun-kissed lands.</s>

<|description|>Brey Form: He is in the form of a five foot nine and a half old man. Personality: Brey is a god that strives to learn, grow in maturity and power. He isn't the ordinary power monger. The reason he wants power is to provide and protect mortal beings, and to teach them how to do the same for other mortals. He would also keep power out of the wrong hands, so that they would not bring unreasonable harm to others or themselves. He is likely to take power away from those who abuse it. However, having said that, Brey is patient, and despite believing in being responsible with power and knowledge, he is not as harsh as he thinks he could be. Another good way to describe Brey is "Arrogant, but genuinely kind." Will: Will, knowledge and wisdom. He's not the god of will, knowledge and wisdom yet, but has a strong desire to learn, teach and become powerful, not just through learning, but through sheer will. This manifests it'self in the powers of science and magic most of all, but he would also attempt to teach others wisdom and how to live their lives as well. If he had ALL the nodes, he would be a god among gods, have the ability to strip all the magic from the universe and take it for himself, but that's not his will. His intentions, should he have all that power would be to keep all creation in a cycle of eternal spiritual and mental growth, so they would grow in not just power but learn how to live and become not just smart but sagely. Favorite Color: Blue</s> <|message|>Anak'thas Anak'thas "I shall." Anakt'thas said to Benea's offer. In his mind, the central node would serve as a meeting place for the gods shaped in the form of a giant temple complex. But here around the node they would join again. For now, though, Benea's creation would protect it until it could rightfully be claimed. There were other gods joining them now. One absolute savage, with whom Anak'thas would feel no pleasure to work with. At least Monica was wise enough to relent to Benea. He was quickly growing tired of the bunch though. Half of them would be obstacles at the very least. The mote-as-eye of his turned towards the recently awakened humans. "Hear me now mortals." He shouted towards them. "The world beyond this valley is a wretched land indeed. But me and my kin-" he motioned specifically at Benea, "will do everything in our power to tame those lands and make them prosperous. I promise you these verdant realms in exchange for naught but your faith." With his grand declaration done he again turned towards Benea. "While your company would no doubt be a delight, I am afraid that duty calls first." He then leaned in closer to whisper: "Not all our siblings will offer the same life-giving lands, and these mortals will no doubt become the tools of our order. We must protect them." With that said, he started walking – at the pace of a god at least – towards the north-eastern node. Anak'thas envisions what Node 18 should look like, then grimaces at how his other siblings are turning out. He soon realizes that they should move but first makes a declaration to the humans who woke up. He offers them a verdant realm up north in exchange for their faith. After that he explains to Benea that duty calls and they must move because he suspects not all of his siblings will give blessed realms to the mortals. And the mortals must survive because they will be their tools. After that he leaves for the next node. No might used</s> <|message|>Eleanna Eleanna II Eleanna chuckled. The whole thing was perfect right now -- Everyone struggling to understand the true nature of their existence and purpose. The Hydra that Benea had just created eyed Eleanna and inched closer the longer she kept her hand placed on the node, and her claiming process had been reset by Benea herself. This helped her realize that there was no world in which she would be able to claim the node at that moment no matter how hard she struggled, so she withdrew her hand and nodded at Benea and Xavior. "You two have convinced me. For better or worse, let's leave this unclaimed. I guess it's not a bad idea to leave this area somewhat stable so that the humans can reproduce, after all." Eleanna then put her helmet back on and started to walk away into the lush forest. "Be careful you don't spend too long thinking instead of acting, guys. I'll follow the example of our Moon-pale friend and get to work right away, so call me if you wanna have some fun." She said with a wave of her free hand before leaving... In the same direction that Anak'thas had left only a couple moments before. Eleanna realizes that there is no way she can claim Node 18 at the moment, as she's not strong enough to fight off a Hydra, Benea and possibly Xavior and others to do so, so she withdraws her hand and agrees to keep Node 18 neutral, then goes off on her way (Which happens to be the same way Anak'thas is going.). None used. 5 left.</s> <|message|>Monica Monica III --- "I shall accompany you." Monica answered, peering at Benea with inquisitive eyes and a soft smile, gracefully gliding closer until she was a step away from her sister. Her wings granted her flight, but required assistance for her to actually ascend and soar through the skies. Because of her hindered flight, she briefly closed her eyes and called forth her might, conjuring that which would uplift her - manifesting as an ornate bracelet connected via a chain to a ring around her middle finger on her right hand, currently hidden behind the long sleeves of her modest garment. The magical jewelry was floral themed; decorated with pearlescent pale gems and glittering diamonds arranged to resemble leaves and flowers, and afterward Monica allowed herself to attune to its power, alleviating her of a few more of her concerns, at least. She chose to name her creation, Sylphrena. "If you will... accept my presence." She hesitantly added upon opening her eyes and staring at Benea, still smiling, as even though the callous disregard for their fallen forebear had left a sickened feeling in her chest, Monica continued to exude an impassive and polite aura in an attempt to avoid violence and mockery, regardless of however much she wanted to be free from this sinful simmering situation sooner rather than later. With her small creation in possession, she could command the winds all around her, and enjoy a newfound liberation with her sister and whoever came with them that hadn't partaken in the desecration of the dead god. She silently prayed that these profane acts would not be an ill omen of what was to come... for otherwise the encroaching calamity will never be averted, and the cycle of conflict would only repeat itself. Monica expresses her desire to go with Benea, and creates an artifact she chooses to name Sylphrena. She remains cordial and demure, and prays for no ill fortune regarding the fate of the Crucible. Monica's current Might: 5 4 Might expended to create Sylphrena. Sylphrena is a artifact that allows Monica to command the wind and conjure powerful gales around her. She has reduced range for further control and precision of the winds within a close proximity to her (30-meter radius originating from self). Monica's remaining Might: 1</s> <|message|>APPEARANCE The god was taken a touch by surprise by the creation of the Hydra to act as an enforcer of the node's neutrality, but it did somewhat work in lieu of actually getting formal agreement from most of those assembled. He stared up at the looming thing. A mighty guardian indeed, and also an impressive practical display of the power they wielded. It was one thing to know you had power, it was quite another when the result of said power was gazing down at you with far too many hungry serpent eyes. "My thanks for this, Benea. Quite the masterful piece of work" he told the creator of many headed guardian's creator "breaking an agreement needs to come with an understood consequence, I think, and this one will do just fine" It certainly had done the job of getting Eleanna to back off from the node, though there was the unfortunate side effect of it terrifying the living daylights out of some of the humans. Then again, there was already a giant snake among them so he suspected that it would not be quite as bad a panic as the goddess he would eventually learn was called Dzallitsunya thought it was. Speaking of her, she was only one of a number of gods who decided to stray off into the wilds now that talks were coming to an end. He was a touch perturbed by the fact that few had actually actively signaled agreement with his plan, indeed only Monica actually raised a hand in agreement, but it was probably better they be off rather than bickering endlessly here. That, he thought, could only escalate to one unfortunate conclusion. Benea at least seemed interested in continuing a more general conversation by inviting some of them to come along with her, though unfortunately most turned her down, which was something of shame, he thought. Here lay an opportunity to learn of the character of the others, and witness, and possibly steer, their burgeoning ideals, something which he considered more valuable than rushing off to stake an early claim on the board. "I would be interested in traveling with you, for a while at least," he replied to Benea's offer, before nodding to the very similar goddess whose hand she was holding "and you as well, Monica, should you find no issue with my own presence?" "But first, now that we have all taken his wisdom, it does seem crude to simply leave our creator's form laying in the grass like this in such a diminished state, don't you think?" he said. He also thought might also do well to contain the things Vatarr had placed inside the skull to rot the divine flesh. Who knew what those would get up too once they were done. What to specifically do with the body instead of leaving it laying here had the god stroking his goatee as he thought for a moment, before he came to a decision that served a secondary purpose of checking any deception on Benea's part, if there had been any, or simply strengthening her deed if she had been true. "Let us seal away this broken form" he said, gesturing out a hand and causing stone slabs to form the simple granite tomb around the creator, before adding "and leave behind a clear memory in its place" That clear memory solidified atop the tomb in the form of a life sized statue of the god, formed in the likeness of what Xavior assumed would be his uninjured state. The statue of the armored god leaned against the node just as he had in his last moments, but instead of pained and defeated Xavior gave him the look of resting, hands clasped together in his lap and eyes shut. Eyes shut, and thus concealing the fully functioning golden orbs he had left beneath stone eyelids, for should the slumbering memorial sense intent to claim the node from any approaching it, it would awaken and enforce its neutrality. "May you rest until we all stand before you once more, and a new world is set to be born" he announced, lacing the law of his offered pact into the guardian, adding in at the last moment a grim clause that those present would not necessarily need to be alive. He hoped it would not come to that, but it would be foolish to simply assume peace would hold between them all. Once the stonework was set and the rules were in place, Xavior renounced any form of ownership of the monument and left it in the hands of the dead creator. Not even he would be immune to the ire of the guardian, should he break his word. "There, with that, I think my business here is done" he said, dusting off his hands despite having not set the stonework with them, and then turning back to Benea and asking with a genteel smile "So, to where was it you were you thinking of setting out for?" Xavior is a bit peeved most people didn't give their word on not taking the node, but decides that there being a consequence for attempting to do so will do for now. He adds his own consequences to this, a statue of the creator keyed to attack any who approach with the intent of capturing the node without the presence of the others there to approve. He also buries the creator in a tomb beneath this statue, as much out of a sense of tidiness as respect. He also agrees to travel with Benea for a while at least, so he can learn more of her and to see if she can be trusted or not. 4 Might spent on erecting a tomb for the creator, and setting atop it a stone guardian who will fight to ensure none may take the central node without the permission of all the others 9who still live). 1/5 remaining</s>

<|message|>Brey The God Wizard makes his way to Node 22. He has a desire to ally with The Serpent god. Together they would make a powerful alliance. He wondered if he should be aggressive in the conflict with the others, or if he should attempt a more defensive, long term approach. Simultaneously he had pity on the mortals who would suffer in the years to come. Summary: He goes to Node 22.</s>

<|description|>APPEARANCE Xavior stands at just about two meters tall. He has red skin and a pair of curved horns that give him a demonic appearance, along with a pair of pointed ears and claws instead of nails. His eyes are golden and without irises, which are matched by much of his equal golden ornamentation. His hair is short, and he has a well kept beard and goatee adorning his chin. His body is large, broad shouldered and artfully muscled that generally has the stately clothing of the era (be it a suit, toga, robe, etc.) draped across it. | --- --- PERSONALITY Xavior is generally a calm and noble soul, speaking in a somewhat refined manner and paying courtesy and kindness where such things are due. He is slow to anger but if truly roused he will burst into a self righteous fury and strike hard and fast at the object of his rage. He also has a bit of a flare for the dramatic, in terms of both action and presentation. He presents himself as trustworthy and considers himself as a man of his word. On the flip side he is not particularly trusting, especially of those whose deeds and person he does not know. He dislikes owing people nonspecific favors, and acts swiftly to pay his debts, or to ensure that those who owe him know what he expects in return. All this does not necessarily mean that he is honest. The god can be trusted to keep his word, and only his word. It is the letter of the oath that matters, not the spirit. So those dealing with him must make sure to read the fine print, be it literal or figurative. --- --- Will Xavior considered a person who keeps their word to be the most noble of souls. How else will this game of gods be won if not by union of those who can be trusted to honor their oaths? Well, it could be one by a single murderous survivor, a backstabbing charlatan or a domineering overlord, but all of these are unacceptable to Xavior, even if, or especially if, he himself was the one to win this way. In Xavior's opinion a world created by such a person would be a stagnant monument of ego unworthy of existence. A shared dream meanwhile, a synthesis of ideas and ideals blending together to create something unique and unexpected, now that is something worth building a world upon. That does not mean Xavior is an empty vessel to be selflessly filed by other's desires. He is a partner in this grand design, and his aid is only given when it is bargained for by gods and mortals alike. A node-land under Xavior, thefor, would be one defined loosely enough that it may be molded by its inhabitants to their desires, and punctured by grand works they have bartered for the creation of. It is also one within which pacts are sacrosanct, the oathbreaker is an accursed wretch and the consequences of going against one's word are enforced by reality itself. A world meanwhile, well, that would very much depend on who signed onto his pact. But it is safe to say that it would not be a world with set masters or rulers, only people, living their own lives and making deals, bound by blood. --- --- Color orange</s> <|message|>Anak'thas Anak'thas Anak'thas didn't let his hand linger on Peninal's head for long. The knowledge coursed through him for but a second before his divine mind placed it all neatly down as a framework that was already growing in his mind. His eye of light strayed towards the globe sitting on a nearby stone pedestal. With the knowledge of his fallen progenitor, Anak'thas knew what was shown to him. With his staff, he began to move across the little points that marked the nodes. Each place was already given a purpose. Farms, libraries, schools, fortresses, watchtowers. Like a living organism his grand design was already spreading across the world in his mind. "The world is but a barren wasteland." He said out loud as his singular, light eye stayed focused on the representation of the world. "We will need time to rebuild it before the coming doom." Then he turned to face his siblings, specifically looking at the horned entity who insulted perhaps the only one of his siblings who spoke an ounce of sense today. "So we do not have the luxury to wait. We should act, and fast." Then the gaze of his singular mote of light moved towards Monica. "Forgive me sister but compassion alone will not be enough to stave off certain doom. This world needs order and stability." His form of wispy robes moved beside the sister who spoke second. "I – Anak'thas – support you sister. Our knowledge and wisdom set us apart from our siblings. Together we will save this world. I am sure of this." Anak'thas touches Peninal's forehead to gain the knowledge, then moves towards the globe sitting on the pedestal. In his mind, he already knows how the whole world will look. He then moves to speak against Vatarr and Monica. After which he sides with Benea, calling her wise and knowledgeable. No Might Expended yet</s> <|message|>Eleanna Eleanna I Out of the thickest part of the foliage surrounding the group emerged a figure. The constant scraping of metal rings against each other and the shifting and rubbing of thick leathers rung out across the clearing. Steamy breath filtered through the figure's metallic visor, the shiny surface covered in a fresh coat of red. That same red dripped off the figure's arms and onto the new ground, and flowed freely from the small rodent's head that the figure held in its hand. It took its time walking up to the group, half of its attention focused on inspecting the small trophy and then tying it with a rudimentary rope to its spear. With that done, the figure let out a feminine sigh of contentment and fumbled with its metallic helmet's clasp. It took it a few long seconds but once the clasp was undone, it slid the helmet off to reveal the placid visage of a battle-hardened woman. A quick sweep of the group with her brown eyes later and she found herself smirking and walking up to the corpse of the Ancient, narrowly avoiding bumping into her fellows until she came to be in front of the body. With seemingly practiced moves, she stuck her hand inside the Ancient's mouth and heaved. A sickening crack echoed from the sacred pedestal, followed by another crack and a small pained yelp, and finalized by the ruffling of leathers as the warrior woman put away her newest trophies in one of her many pockets. Almost unconsciously, she let her mind sort out the flood of divine information that had assaulted it upon coming into contact with the Ancient's head. She then wiped the sweat off her brow, accidentally slathering blood all over her face in the process, and faced the rest of the Gods present. "Hey, name's Eleanna. I'm itching to get started, so don't mind me. The Ancient's head is full of maggots by the way, in case anyone's hungry." With that said Eleanna huffed with a smile on her face and went up to the node, placing her bloodied hand against it and causing it to glow. Eleanna comes out of the bushes looking like she murdered an entire family of boars, ties a squirrel head to her spear and proceeds to take a molar and an incisive from Peninal's body, stuffing them in her pocket. She gets bit by a maggot in the process, and then starts the process of claiming node 18. None used. 5 left.</s> <|message|>Brey Brey The wizard god's hands were over the skull, particularly the back end. Muttering a quick exasperation under his breath, he took the skull in his hands, careful to avoid any maggots that may have made their way out of the eye sockets. Ideas of what he should do at this moment flowed through his mind. It appeared as if he were scrying over the skull, as if it were a crystal ball. Withdrawing his hands from the skull, he looked towards the other gods. "Oh dear." Were the only words that Brey managed to let go from his breath. Summary: Brey takes advantage of scrying on the Skull to read through the god's memories, attempting to learn powerful knowledge. He does nothing else. Might expedenture 1 Might expedenture to attempt learning magic from the Skull 4 Might left</s> <|message|>Asvarad Asvarad The Great Serpent Bright light bled through the serpents eyelids and soaked into his scales as he listened to the words of his dying creator and the subsequent babble of his peers. Through it all the serpent, Asvarad, thought. Over and over he considered turning away from the group before it devolved into violence, as it would, but the 'gift' of knowledge within the elder gods fading corpse, corrupted or not, held him back. To flee would be wise, but to remain ignorant would be the action of a fool. Decided, Asvarad allowed his eyes to flutter open and beheld the world. The valley's verdant grasses swaying in the gentle wind, the dark node, those curious upright animals, and last of all the others of his own get. He slithered towards the elder god's corpse as the others crowded it. Every movement was ponderous, and though the serpent felt the strength of his body and the speed at which he could strike, he could not help but find himself wanting. More than that, look at the others: reflections of the animals in the valley below with few exceptions. They were all so limited. The feeling only grew as the vast serpent all but pushed the others out of the way as he cautiously pressed the tip of his snout against the elder god's dead forehead. Knowledge washed over him, and Asvarad began to laugh. A deep, thrumming, laughter that vibrated the ground around him and caused his bulk to shake in dark mirth. He pulled himself up, and began to tower over the others before speaking in a voice akin to his laugh, "Blind. All but the little grey one, blind. Quibbling over who must rule a trap. Poisoning and looting the only source of knowledge which could permit our escape." The serpent had eyed them as he spoke, and it was in the most vocal that he perceived the greatest weakness. In truth, he perceived the weakness in speech itself. Plodding, slow, and aggravating. It only made sense, why allow prisoners anything but the most rudimentary form of communication? Well, some things could be corrected. With a moments focus the serpent worked upon its very mind, and when it spoke again it was an echo in the minds of others. More refined, clearer and less animalistic, but certainly with the same contempt, "Jump to play your fell game if you must, I will first understand it." Summary: Asvarad begins to dislike the material world. He wakes and thinks, fuck this is a trap I'm a rat in a cage, and then tells everyone this impolitely. He then decides talking sucks and learns telepathy. Might Expenditure -1 Might expenditure to develop local telepathy. 4 Might Remaining.</s>

<|message|>APPEARANCE He awoke for the first time, sitting cross legged and adorned with naught but a loincloth, and beheld his dying creator. Listened to his final words, and understood in part the tragedy of war and servitude that had led to his end. The red skinned god rose slowly onto his bare feet and softly approached the dead creator to receive his wisdom before then moving to the other object of interest in the area. The map. Resting a hand on its side he instinctively moved the other to his chin and found he had a goatee. A grin flashed across his lips before he began to stroke it contemplatively as some of the others spoke to repeat that mistake, to raise one above them all based on nothing but words. The only deed done was by Eleanna, who brazenly walked up and started the very slow process of capturing the claimed node. Xavior did not intervene with that, not yet. There was plenty of time till the deed was done after all. Opposed to her foolish recklessness was the paranoid wisdom of the serpent who assumed the entire enterprise to be a trap, though of an entirely different sort that had led the others along the path of peace. "A fair point, if rudely put" he said to the snake, before introducing himself and saying his (lengthy) piece "My name is Xavior, and I believe that to rush into things when there is no need to do so would be foolish. Yes, there is an unspecified ending approaching, but it will take time to stabilize the world regardless, which gives us time to think. To learn to know ourselves and of the nature of this world and 'game' we have been thrust into. Or are we so arrogant as to think we can decide the fate of reality while having seen only a fraction of it," he gestured a hand down to the map, and then out towards the wilds around them, most specifically at the closest group of humans who were wearily spectating this discussion from afar "and before having even met its people?" "I propose, rather than attempting to elect a singular claimant right this moment, we instead simply swear a pact of peace, and then strike out and claim this reality. Improve it. Make it a place worth living until the end comes to pass. And in doing so, prove through what you make that your vision for the next world has worth, and through your deeds that your word can be trusted" they were strangers after all, who could say if their words were true or canny manipulations? Time, he hoped, would expose the liars as what they were, and let the reliable shine through the mire of doubt. "Then once the world is stabilized, we return here, and then elect an architect of the new world if no way of escaping the confines of the game has been discovered" he said, leaving the map behind as he spoke while strolling casually towards the node. Once there he gave it a casual flick to reset Eleanna's capture progress as the creator's wisdom had informed him it would. He made no attempt to stake his own claim beyond that momentary disruption however and instead simply walking away with a confident stride while saying "and until that time this node should remain in the hands of our creator, declared neutral ground, and ruin betide any who brake the sanctity of his claim without the consent of the rest" His pact proposed, he once again stood behind the map and asked the others "Your thoughts? Oh and if you could make a show of hands if you agree with that last point, I think that might allow us to resolve Eleanna's overstep in a coordinated fashion" Xavior awakens, claims the wisdom of the creator, and then uses the map as a podium to propose going out into the world and using it as a place for the gods to prove they have both the will and the trustworthiness necessary to be elected as the architect of the next world. Then he casually resets Eleanna's node capture progress and then proposes this node stay in the hands of the dead creator till they come to some kind of agreement, and propose a vote to affirm that belief. 5/5: none spent</s>

<|description|>APPEARANCE Xavior stands at just about two meters tall. He has red skin and a pair of curved horns that give him a demonic appearance, along with a pair of pointed ears and claws instead of nails. His eyes are golden and without irises, which are matched by much of his equal golden ornamentation. His hair is short, and he has a well kept beard and goatee adorning his chin. His body is large, broad shouldered and artfully muscled that generally has the stately clothing of the era (be it a suit, toga, robe, etc.) draped across it. | --- --- PERSONALITY Xavior is generally a calm and noble soul, speaking in a somewhat refined manner and paying courtesy and kindness where such things are due. He is slow to anger but if truly roused he will burst into a self righteous fury and strike hard and fast at the object of his rage. He also has a bit of a flare for the dramatic, in terms of both action and presentation. He presents himself as trustworthy and considers himself as a man of his word. On the flip side he is not particularly trusting, especially of those whose deeds and person he does not know. He dislikes owing people nonspecific favors, and acts swiftly to pay his debts, or to ensure that those who owe him know what he expects in return. All this does not necessarily mean that he is honest. The god can be trusted to keep his word, and only his word. It is the letter of the oath that matters, not the spirit. So those dealing with him must make sure to read the fine print, be it literal or figurative. --- --- Will Xavior considered a person who keeps their word to be the most noble of souls. How else will this game of gods be won if not by union of those who can be trusted to honor their oaths? Well, it could be one by a single murderous survivor, a backstabbing charlatan or a domineering overlord, but all of these are unacceptable to Xavior, even if, or especially if, he himself was the one to win this way. In Xavior's opinion a world created by such a person would be a stagnant monument of ego unworthy of existence. A shared dream meanwhile, a synthesis of ideas and ideals blending together to create something unique and unexpected, now that is something worth building a world upon. That does not mean Xavior is an empty vessel to be selflessly filed by other's desires. He is a partner in this grand design, and his aid is only given when it is bargained for by gods and mortals alike. A node-land under Xavior, thefor, would be one defined loosely enough that it may be molded by its inhabitants to their desires, and punctured by grand works they have bartered for the creation of. It is also one within which pacts are sacrosanct, the oathbreaker is an accursed wretch and the consequences of going against one's word are enforced by reality itself. A world meanwhile, well, that would very much depend on who signed onto his pact. But it is safe to say that it would not be a world with set masters or rulers, only people, living their own lives and making deals, bound by blood. --- --- Color orange</s> <|message|>Anak'thas Anak'thas "I shall." Anakt'thas said to Benea's offer. In his mind, the central node would serve as a meeting place for the gods shaped in the form of a giant temple complex. But here around the node they would join again. For now, though, Benea's creation would protect it until it could rightfully be claimed. There were other gods joining them now. One absolute savage, with whom Anak'thas would feel no pleasure to work with. At least Monica was wise enough to relent to Benea. He was quickly growing tired of the bunch though. Half of them would be obstacles at the very least. The mote-as-eye of his turned towards the recently awakened humans. "Hear me now mortals." He shouted towards them. "The world beyond this valley is a wretched land indeed. But me and my kin-" he motioned specifically at Benea, "will do everything in our power to tame those lands and make them prosperous. I promise you these verdant realms in exchange for naught but your faith." With his grand declaration done he again turned towards Benea. "While your company would no doubt be a delight, I am afraid that duty calls first." He then leaned in closer to whisper: "Not all our siblings will offer the same life-giving lands, and these mortals will no doubt become the tools of our order. We must protect them." With that said, he started walking – at the pace of a god at least – towards the north-eastern node. Anak'thas envisions what Node 18 should look like, then grimaces at how his other siblings are turning out. He soon realizes that they should move but first makes a declaration to the humans who woke up. He offers them a verdant realm up north in exchange for their faith. After that he explains to Benea that duty calls and they must move because he suspects not all of his siblings will give blessed realms to the mortals. And the mortals must survive because they will be their tools. After that he leaves for the next node. No might used</s> <|message|>Eleanna Eleanna II Eleanna chuckled. The whole thing was perfect right now -- Everyone struggling to understand the true nature of their existence and purpose. The Hydra that Benea had just created eyed Eleanna and inched closer the longer she kept her hand placed on the node, and her claiming process had been reset by Benea herself. This helped her realize that there was no world in which she would be able to claim the node at that moment no matter how hard she struggled, so she withdrew her hand and nodded at Benea and Xavior. "You two have convinced me. For better or worse, let's leave this unclaimed. I guess it's not a bad idea to leave this area somewhat stable so that the humans can reproduce, after all." Eleanna then put her helmet back on and started to walk away into the lush forest. "Be careful you don't spend too long thinking instead of acting, guys. I'll follow the example of our Moon-pale friend and get to work right away, so call me if you wanna have some fun." She said with a wave of her free hand before leaving... In the same direction that Anak'thas had left only a couple moments before. Eleanna realizes that there is no way she can claim Node 18 at the moment, as she's not strong enough to fight off a Hydra, Benea and possibly Xavior and others to do so, so she withdraws her hand and agrees to keep Node 18 neutral, then goes off on her way (Which happens to be the same way Anak'thas is going.). None used. 5 left.</s> <|message|>Monica Monica III --- "I shall accompany you." Monica answered, peering at Benea with inquisitive eyes and a soft smile, gracefully gliding closer until she was a step away from her sister. Her wings granted her flight, but required assistance for her to actually ascend and soar through the skies. Because of her hindered flight, she briefly closed her eyes and called forth her might, conjuring that which would uplift her - manifesting as an ornate bracelet connected via a chain to a ring around her middle finger on her right hand, currently hidden behind the long sleeves of her modest garment. The magical jewelry was floral themed; decorated with pearlescent pale gems and glittering diamonds arranged to resemble leaves and flowers, and afterward Monica allowed herself to attune to its power, alleviating her of a few more of her concerns, at least. She chose to name her creation, Sylphrena. "If you will... accept my presence." She hesitantly added upon opening her eyes and staring at Benea, still smiling, as even though the callous disregard for their fallen forebear had left a sickened feeling in her chest, Monica continued to exude an impassive and polite aura in an attempt to avoid violence and mockery, regardless of however much she wanted to be free from this sinful simmering situation sooner rather than later. With her small creation in possession, she could command the winds all around her, and enjoy a newfound liberation with her sister and whoever came with them that hadn't partaken in the desecration of the dead god. She silently prayed that these profane acts would not be an ill omen of what was to come... for otherwise the encroaching calamity will never be averted, and the cycle of conflict would only repeat itself. Monica expresses her desire to go with Benea, and creates an artifact she chooses to name Sylphrena. She remains cordial and demure, and prays for no ill fortune regarding the fate of the Crucible. Monica's current Might: 5 4 Might expended to create Sylphrena. Sylphrena is a artifact that allows Monica to command the wind and conjure powerful gales around her. She has reduced range for further control and precision of the winds within a close proximity to her (30-meter radius originating from self). Monica's remaining Might: 1</s>

<|message|>APPEARANCE The god was taken a touch by surprise by the creation of the Hydra to act as an enforcer of the node's neutrality, but it did somewhat work in lieu of actually getting formal agreement from most of those assembled. He stared up at the looming thing. A mighty guardian indeed, and also an impressive practical display of the power they wielded. It was one thing to know you had power, it was quite another when the result of said power was gazing down at you with far too many hungry serpent eyes. "My thanks for this, Benea. Quite the masterful piece of work" he told the creator of many headed guardian's creator "breaking an agreement needs to come with an understood consequence, I think, and this one will do just fine" It certainly had done the job of getting Eleanna to back off from the node, though there was the unfortunate side effect of it terrifying the living daylights out of some of the humans. Then again, there was already a giant snake among them so he suspected that it would not be quite as bad a panic as the goddess he would eventually learn was called Dzallitsunya thought it was. Speaking of her, she was only one of a number of gods who decided to stray off into the wilds now that talks were coming to an end. He was a touch perturbed by the fact that few had actually actively signaled agreement with his plan, indeed only Monica actually raised a hand in agreement, but it was probably better they be off rather than bickering endlessly here. That, he thought, could only escalate to one unfortunate conclusion. Benea at least seemed interested in continuing a more general conversation by inviting some of them to come along with her, though unfortunately most turned her down, which was something of shame, he thought. Here lay an opportunity to learn of the character of the others, and witness, and possibly steer, their burgeoning ideals, something which he considered more valuable than rushing off to stake an early claim on the board. "I would be interested in traveling with you, for a while at least," he replied to Benea's offer, before nodding to the very similar goddess whose hand she was holding "and you as well, Monica, should you find no issue with my own presence?" "But first, now that we have all taken his wisdom, it does seem crude to simply leave our creator's form laying in the grass like this in such a diminished state, don't you think?" he said. He also thought might also do well to contain the things Vatarr had placed inside the skull to rot the divine flesh. Who knew what those would get up too once they were done. What to specifically do with the body instead of leaving it laying here had the god stroking his goatee as he thought for a moment, before he came to a decision that served a secondary purpose of checking any deception on Benea's part, if there had been any, or simply strengthening her deed if she had been true. "Let us seal away this broken form" he said, gesturing out a hand and causing stone slabs to form the simple granite tomb around the creator, before adding "and leave behind a clear memory in its place" That clear memory solidified atop the tomb in the form of a life sized statue of the god, formed in the likeness of what Xavior assumed would be his uninjured state. The statue of the armored god leaned against the node just as he had in his last moments, but instead of pained and defeated Xavior gave him the look of resting, hands clasped together in his lap and eyes shut. Eyes shut, and thus concealing the fully functioning golden orbs he had left beneath stone eyelids, for should the slumbering memorial sense intent to claim the node from any approaching it, it would awaken and enforce its neutrality. "May you rest until we all stand before you once more, and a new world is set to be born" he announced, lacing the law of his offered pact into the guardian, adding in at the last moment a grim clause that those present would not necessarily need to be alive. He hoped it would not come to that, but it would be foolish to simply assume peace would hold between them all. Once the stonework was set and the rules were in place, Xavior renounced any form of ownership of the monument and left it in the hands of the dead creator. Not even he would be immune to the ire of the guardian, should he break his word. "There, with that, I think my business here is done" he said, dusting off his hands despite having not set the stonework with them, and then turning back to Benea and asking with a genteel smile "So, to where was it you were you thinking of setting out for?" Xavior is a bit peeved most people didn't give their word on not taking the node, but decides that there being a consequence for attempting to do so will do for now. He adds his own consequences to this, a statue of the creator keyed to attack any who approach with the intent of capturing the node without the presence of the others there to approve. He also buries the creator in a tomb beneath this statue, as much out of a sense of tidiness as respect. He also agrees to travel with Benea for a while at least, so he can learn more of her and to see if she can be trusted or not. 4 Might spent on erecting a tomb for the creator, and setting atop it a stone guardian who will fight to ensure none may take the central node without the permission of all the others 9who still live). 1/5 remaining</s>

<|description|>Lamarck Form: A hulking behemoth that can only be vaguely described as humanoid. He stands at least a head taller than the the tallest human. A cascade of bronze feathers grows for his head and neck in the imitation of hair. His dark red eyes have an inhuman, avian quality to them. His arms are adorned with bronze scales, and his hands are webbed and clawed. His lower body is covered by proper bronze armor. A long feline-like tail trails behind him. Personality: His straight-forward and blunt demeanor hides a deceptive wit. He values independence, tenacity, and resourcefulness. He has scorn for the slothful and wasteful. Stoic to a fault, he is difficult to please and slow to anger. The most assured means to provoke him to devastate life by either stupidity or malice. While he takes no issue with hierarchy, he has little patience for tyrants. The Will of Survival: A simple premise - those that are fit will thrive, while those who are not will perish. Vitality and constitution are the prime virtues of survival. However contrary to what others might think, fitness is far more than physical strength. Cunning is important to life as fools are quick to die. The dogma of his will can be apply to a single individual as well as collectives. He is not so narrow-sighted to miss the forest for the trees. His sanctified wildlands have great treasures and great dangers. By his will, life becomes more fit. Favorite Color: Dark Red</s> <|message|>Anak'thas Anak'thas Anak'thas didn't let his hand linger on Peninal's head for long. The knowledge coursed through him for but a second before his divine mind placed it all neatly down as a framework that was already growing in his mind. His eye of light strayed towards the globe sitting on a nearby stone pedestal. With the knowledge of his fallen progenitor, Anak'thas knew what was shown to him. With his staff, he began to move across the little points that marked the nodes. Each place was already given a purpose. Farms, libraries, schools, fortresses, watchtowers. Like a living organism his grand design was already spreading across the world in his mind. "The world is but a barren wasteland." He said out loud as his singular, light eye stayed focused on the representation of the world. "We will need time to rebuild it before the coming doom." Then he turned to face his siblings, specifically looking at the horned entity who insulted perhaps the only one of his siblings who spoke an ounce of sense today. "So we do not have the luxury to wait. We should act, and fast." Then the gaze of his singular mote of light moved towards Monica. "Forgive me sister but compassion alone will not be enough to stave off certain doom. This world needs order and stability." His form of wispy robes moved beside the sister who spoke second. "I – Anak'thas – support you sister. Our knowledge and wisdom set us apart from our siblings. Together we will save this world. I am sure of this." Anak'thas touches Peninal's forehead to gain the knowledge, then moves towards the globe sitting on the pedestal. In his mind, he already knows how the whole world will look. He then moves to speak against Vatarr and Monica. After which he sides with Benea, calling her wise and knowledgeable. No Might Expended yet</s> <|message|>Eleanna Eleanna I Out of the thickest part of the foliage surrounding the group emerged a figure. The constant scraping of metal rings against each other and the shifting and rubbing of thick leathers rung out across the clearing. Steamy breath filtered through the figure's metallic visor, the shiny surface covered in a fresh coat of red. That same red dripped off the figure's arms and onto the new ground, and flowed freely from the small rodent's head that the figure held in its hand. It took its time walking up to the group, half of its attention focused on inspecting the small trophy and then tying it with a rudimentary rope to its spear. With that done, the figure let out a feminine sigh of contentment and fumbled with its metallic helmet's clasp. It took it a few long seconds but once the clasp was undone, it slid the helmet off to reveal the placid visage of a battle-hardened woman. A quick sweep of the group with her brown eyes later and she found herself smirking and walking up to the corpse of the Ancient, narrowly avoiding bumping into her fellows until she came to be in front of the body. With seemingly practiced moves, she stuck her hand inside the Ancient's mouth and heaved. A sickening crack echoed from the sacred pedestal, followed by another crack and a small pained yelp, and finalized by the ruffling of leathers as the warrior woman put away her newest trophies in one of her many pockets. Almost unconsciously, she let her mind sort out the flood of divine information that had assaulted it upon coming into contact with the Ancient's head. She then wiped the sweat off her brow, accidentally slathering blood all over her face in the process, and faced the rest of the Gods present. "Hey, name's Eleanna. I'm itching to get started, so don't mind me. The Ancient's head is full of maggots by the way, in case anyone's hungry." With that said Eleanna huffed with a smile on her face and went up to the node, placing her bloodied hand against it and causing it to glow. Eleanna comes out of the bushes looking like she murdered an entire family of boars, ties a squirrel head to her spear and proceeds to take a molar and an incisive from Peninal's body, stuffing them in her pocket. She gets bit by a maggot in the process, and then starts the process of claiming node 18. None used. 5 left.</s> <|message|>Brey Brey The wizard god's hands were over the skull, particularly the back end. Muttering a quick exasperation under his breath, he took the skull in his hands, careful to avoid any maggots that may have made their way out of the eye sockets. Ideas of what he should do at this moment flowed through his mind. It appeared as if he were scrying over the skull, as if it were a crystal ball. Withdrawing his hands from the skull, he looked towards the other gods. "Oh dear." Were the only words that Brey managed to let go from his breath. Summary: Brey takes advantage of scrying on the Skull to read through the god's memories, attempting to learn powerful knowledge. He does nothing else. Might expedenture 1 Might expedenture to attempt learning magic from the Skull 4 Might left</s> <|message|>Asvarad Asvarad The Great Serpent Bright light bled through the serpents eyelids and soaked into his scales as he listened to the words of his dying creator and the subsequent babble of his peers. Through it all the serpent, Asvarad, thought. Over and over he considered turning away from the group before it devolved into violence, as it would, but the 'gift' of knowledge within the elder gods fading corpse, corrupted or not, held him back. To flee would be wise, but to remain ignorant would be the action of a fool. Decided, Asvarad allowed his eyes to flutter open and beheld the world. The valley's verdant grasses swaying in the gentle wind, the dark node, those curious upright animals, and last of all the others of his own get. He slithered towards the elder god's corpse as the others crowded it. Every movement was ponderous, and though the serpent felt the strength of his body and the speed at which he could strike, he could not help but find himself wanting. More than that, look at the others: reflections of the animals in the valley below with few exceptions. They were all so limited. The feeling only grew as the vast serpent all but pushed the others out of the way as he cautiously pressed the tip of his snout against the elder god's dead forehead. Knowledge washed over him, and Asvarad began to laugh. A deep, thrumming, laughter that vibrated the ground around him and caused his bulk to shake in dark mirth. He pulled himself up, and began to tower over the others before speaking in a voice akin to his laugh, "Blind. All but the little grey one, blind. Quibbling over who must rule a trap. Poisoning and looting the only source of knowledge which could permit our escape." The serpent had eyed them as he spoke, and it was in the most vocal that he perceived the greatest weakness. In truth, he perceived the weakness in speech itself. Plodding, slow, and aggravating. It only made sense, why allow prisoners anything but the most rudimentary form of communication? Well, some things could be corrected. With a moments focus the serpent worked upon its very mind, and when it spoke again it was an echo in the minds of others. More refined, clearer and less animalistic, but certainly with the same contempt, "Jump to play your fell game if you must, I will first understand it." Summary: Asvarad begins to dislike the material world. He wakes and thinks, fuck this is a trap I'm a rat in a cage, and then tells everyone this impolitely. He then decides talking sucks and learns telepathy. Might Expenditure -1 Might expenditure to develop local telepathy. 4 Might Remaining.</s> <|message|>APPEARANCE He awoke for the first time, sitting cross legged and adorned with naught but a loincloth, and beheld his dying creator. Listened to his final words, and understood in part the tragedy of war and servitude that had led to his end. The red skinned god rose slowly onto his bare feet and softly approached the dead creator to receive his wisdom before then moving to the other object of interest in the area. The map. Resting a hand on its side he instinctively moved the other to his chin and found he had a goatee. A grin flashed across his lips before he began to stroke it contemplatively as some of the others spoke to repeat that mistake, to raise one above them all based on nothing but words. The only deed done was by Eleanna, who brazenly walked up and started the very slow process of capturing the claimed node. Xavior did not intervene with that, not yet. There was plenty of time till the deed was done after all. Opposed to her foolish recklessness was the paranoid wisdom of the serpent who assumed the entire enterprise to be a trap, though of an entirely different sort that had led the others along the path of peace. "A fair point, if rudely put" he said to the snake, before introducing himself and saying his (lengthy) piece "My name is Xavior, and I believe that to rush into things when there is no need to do so would be foolish. Yes, there is an unspecified ending approaching, but it will take time to stabilize the world regardless, which gives us time to think. To learn to know ourselves and of the nature of this world and 'game' we have been thrust into. Or are we so arrogant as to think we can decide the fate of reality while having seen only a fraction of it," he gestured a hand down to the map, and then out towards the wilds around them, most specifically at the closest group of humans who were wearily spectating this discussion from afar "and before having even met its people?" "I propose, rather than attempting to elect a singular claimant right this moment, we instead simply swear a pact of peace, and then strike out and claim this reality. Improve it. Make it a place worth living until the end comes to pass. And in doing so, prove through what you make that your vision for the next world has worth, and through your deeds that your word can be trusted" they were strangers after all, who could say if their words were true or canny manipulations? Time, he hoped, would expose the liars as what they were, and let the reliable shine through the mire of doubt. "Then once the world is stabilized, we return here, and then elect an architect of the new world if no way of escaping the confines of the game has been discovered" he said, leaving the map behind as he spoke while strolling casually towards the node. Once there he gave it a casual flick to reset Eleanna's capture progress as the creator's wisdom had informed him it would. He made no attempt to stake his own claim beyond that momentary disruption however and instead simply walking away with a confident stride while saying "and until that time this node should remain in the hands of our creator, declared neutral ground, and ruin betide any who brake the sanctity of his claim without the consent of the rest" His pact proposed, he once again stood behind the map and asked the others "Your thoughts? Oh and if you could make a show of hands if you agree with that last point, I think that might allow us to resolve Eleanna's overstep in a coordinated fashion" Xavior awakens, claims the wisdom of the creator, and then uses the map as a podium to propose going out into the world and using it as a place for the gods to prove they have both the will and the trustworthiness necessary to be elected as the architect of the next world. Then he casually resets Eleanna's node capture progress and then proposes this node stay in the hands of the dead creator till they come to some kind of agreement, and propose a vote to affirm that belief. 5/5: none spent</s>

<|message|>Lamarck Lamarck was cautious when approaching the dead god, unsure if the corpse contained some poison or trickery. After observing the other gods meddle with it, he brushed his scaled hand against it. After receiving the divine knowledge and stepping away to look at the corpse, he supposed there was some small honor in outliving the world that had birthed him. It was almost a shame that he was too weak to capitalize upon the opportunity. He listened to the other gods petty and inconsequential words. The horned one was correct that a god's character would be revealed through there creation, but was deluded that the next world would not be forged in blood and ichor. He did not dismiss cooperation so easily. He saw no great need to be the one to conquer all thirty-five nodes, but he would not surrender the prize to the weak and cowardly. The goddess with the squirrel headed spear showed immediate potential, but she was unrefined and brash. She had drawn unwanted attention to herself by so brazenly reaching for power when there was so much empty territory left to be claimed. Perhaps only in hindsight could he judge her haste. The other gods seemed to bicker about peace, revealing the inherent fragility of the concept. He could tell which voices were sincere, but it did not matter. It would be advantageous to assume they were all liars rather than fools. Lamarck cautiously approaches the skull after other gods prove that it is not a trap. He contemplates the situation, primarily thinking that all of the voices calling out for peace are either liars or fools and that it would more advantageous to just assume they are all lying. No Might Spent</s>

<|description|>Miss Catherine Leona Winters --- A Magnet for Attention --- "Call me a number, call me a name, I'm still me at the end of the day." --- TAYGETE CITIZENSHIP CARD | ID SERIAL | BIRTH | RESIDENCE | PROFESSION | | --- | --- | --- | --- | | F7778774 | F, Age 25 (Apr 20) | Arche | SuperLife Retail Customer Service Representative | --- PERSONALITY I left my family as soon as I could to travel the world and experience. I spent seven years of my life living from day to day, never sleeping in the same place every night, doing tricks on streets I've never been to, for people who don't look like me, just so I could eat. And I'd do it for the rest of my life, if I could. I returned for the family I left behind, though not the same family I left when I decided to go travel. What does that tell you about me, Mr. Dossier? --- BACKGROUND I grew up in the big city everyone dreams of. Not this one, but your typical cramped, overcrowded, overpriced townhouse half a block down the street from, well, everything. My parents divorced when I was eight, only a few months after my littlest brother Ezekiel died from some sickness. I took care of the family. For four years. When I was eight. Do I hate my mother? Not nearly as much as I did when she showed up with her new husband and twin daughters, claimed both me and my brother in court, and stole us away from my dad. I left them as soon as I could, and I traveled the world. I spent seven years living off the street, accepting scraps and cash for the art I gave to the world. My performance was everything to me, and it seemed like all the different people I met were just as interested in me and where I came from as I was with them. I learned so much, made so many lifelong friends, and I still send and get letters from them to this day. But as I was traveling from one city to another, an impossibly old woman stood in my path and told me I was going to die, just like my little brother. My little brother, who was sixteen years dead, thousands of miles away. So I d.d wh.t .ny..e ...ld .o, … . ………….. ERROR. The rest of the document seems to be corrupted. Attempting retrieval…ERROR. Document is corrupted. Attempting repair...ERROR. Input manual code? (y/n) Please input code: ********__ ... Override code accepted. Proceeding to next point in dossier. --- X-FACTOR I can make magnets. I can't really explain how I do it, or how the strange power works, or why I was given such a...gift? Curse? It can be convenient at times, sure, but there's only so much attention one girl can attract, you know? There's a lot you can do with electromagnetism. Practically anything, really. I can create electricity. I can magnetize metals, or change their polarity, and even use my own body as if I were a magnet. There's a constant field of electromagnetic energy constantly surrounding me, though it is weak and not really noticeable, unless you're the observant type. Unless I want it to be strong, I can't really control it. Polarity can be weird. The best part, though? I can fly. Kind of. So if your phone starts acting weird, like getting bad reception near me, I'm sorry, but I really can't do anything about that. You should put that thing down when you're talking to me anyway. It's annoying. I'd hate for something to happen to your car's battery, making it short-circuit for no reason and end up killing you from the resulting explosion. Does that make you uncomfortable, Mr. Dossier?</s> <|message|>Miss Charlene "Cherry" Zinaida feeling bad today for medical reasons. if i'm not making any sense, oh well Checking every word, every movement, every... there are no facial expressions... checking everything for any sign of a threat. It just wouldn't make sense for him to be genuine - in any sense - but everything's saying that he is. Cherry doesn't move, doesn't speak, hardly seems to breathe for a long time, staring intensely at "John Doe." Taking him at his word is Plan Z, but by now she's getting there. What was it that he said exactly? He's some kind of ghost? She hasn't been listening as closely as what might be polite. "Why do I see you?" she echoes, and she's aware now that she's probably talking to herself - something she'd been able to avoid doing in public for months straight. "Why do I see anything?" she adds, quieter. Well. She's already started. "I see a lot that no one else does. Omens, and hints, and..." She tries prodding the apparition's shin with her foot, to see if she can. "...a lot of nonsense. You're different. I don't like that." If she was right from the start, if he is a threat If there are more like him What does he want Will spraypaint to the eyes work Relax. Relax. Any thug she's ever met would've started something already. But what else would he want? Circles and circles, the same thoughts again and again and again- "I don't like this at all. No jokes. Tell me what you want." She should really get herself a gun.</s> <|message|>Isaac Vixen Isaac arched a brow in surprise when the club's special burger was placed down in front of him with his new drink and looked up to see Aurora. "I didn't-," before he could finish she already told him it was on the house and Star wanted to talk. "Ah," he said before letting out a small sigh. Looks like he got caught doing business in the club again. He hadn't exactly been subtle about it, but he at least hoped he'd be a few more drinks in before she caught wind of it. After wincing from the pain in his side Aurora said she'd get an ice pack for him and Isaac could only give her a thankful nod and smile. "Thanks, Aurora," he muttered before having a sip of his drink and taking a bite from his burger. God, he didn't realize just how hungry he was till now. Getting the shit kicked out of him must have really built up an appetite. After his third or fourth bite, he finally noticed the familiar sight of Star making her way to his booth to confront him. He held back an amused chuckle as those she passed avoided any contact at all with her, probably too scared to risk pissing off the owner. She had always been an intimidating figure in the bar, their first meeting leaving Isaac with goosebumps, but it seems he's managed to get in her good graces. She helped take care of him when the time came, though most of the time it came with some sort of price, Isaac was still grateful to her. After wiping off his lower lip from one last bite of his burger he leaned back in his seat and gave Star a simple nod as she sat across from him. Isaac cast his eyes downward as she went on to lecture him about doing business in the bar and simply gave a quiet nod of understanding, knowing she was right and felt like a kid getting scolded, a familiar feeling when he'd talk with her." I know," he muttered before returning her gaze as he took another sip of his drink. He couldn't help but laugh a bit as she commented on him losing his good looks due to his habits and gave a shrug. "Can't have that I suppose," he chuckled before gently rubbing his sore jaw with a wince. He'd defiantly be a lot uglier by now if he wasn't good at his job. Soon Aurora returned with an ice pack and bandages. As Isaac went to grab the supplies Star was quick to get there first and suggested he think about what he was doing and remember the pain. Though knowing her it was more of an order than a suggestion. Isaac stared at her for a moment in silence, letting her words sink in before she slid the supplies his way. A small sigh escaped him as he picked up the Pack and began to take off his coat. "Thing is Star," he began before hissing in pain once he managed to get an arm free, revealing quite a few scars running down his right arm, the most notable one being a large scar running down from his shoulder to his wrist. "I'm no stranger to this pain. Sorta have a long-term relationship with it," he chuckled grimly before placing his coat to the side and slowly pulling up his shirt to reveal a massive bruise on his side, speckles of blood here and there. He stared at the wound with a small frown before giving a quick breath through his nose and applying the pack to his side with a hiss. Holding back a curse he looked back to Star with a pained smile. "I'll think on it though, always do," he assured her before lowering his shirt a bit to take a swig of his drink. "Sorry again about this though, I knew it was a bad idea to come here for work, but it was sorta last second," he admitted as he stared into his drink with a distant gaze. "Plus I went down to the Herse today and uh... well you know how I am with that place," he said with a quiet tone as he swirled his drink around with a heavy frown. "I'll give you your usual cut, Otto's heading off to collect payment now," he promised before leaning back in his seat to continue tending to his wounds.</s>

<|message|>Miss Catherine Leona Winters Cat smiled and waved away the exhaust fumes of Angelli's departure, part of her glad the woman could leave a conversation so abruptly and part of her a little annoyed by it. She could appreciate someone always wanting to be on the move—that's basically what her life was like for six or seven years. An international, never-ending road trip, where she often didn't know where she'd be sleeping until night came. It felt odd to have both a stable roommate and a reliable, if somewhat run-down bed for...eleven months now? Had it really been that long? The days went by so quickly here compared to a year ago, when every day was an adventure all its own. She was constantly meeting new people, complete strangers who seemed bemused to have a sun-tanned foreigner asking after their day, though overcoming language barriers required some creativity. But despite all that, she never felt a true culture shock until after she returned. Modern civilization was just so different from the villages and hamlets she visited, and while the lower places of the world could be dangerous sometimes, Taygete honestly wasn't much better. Everything was just more...convenient here. Catherine shook her head and ducked into her car. Even if she was coasting through life now, that didn't mean she wasn't doing important work here. Well, partly. Cat the Retail Customer Service Representative wasn't doing much, other than giving her a stable income. Which was still important. But there was something else too. She turned the ignition and, while she waited for the radiator to blast the heat from her car, she flicked through the notifications she missed during work. There were several hundred of those. Most from Pathisee. Her performances were becoming more and more popular, now that she had some traction and a stable viewer base. The latest video had tens of thousands of views now, which made her smile. While a couple ten-thousands was still only a drop in the proverbial Taygete ocean, Cat knew better than to downplay the importance of the individual. About a half-hour of driving through packed city streets and nearly getting into two accidents because some asshole cut her off on two different junctions, Cat finally arrived at the Galleria. The place was an eyesore. Nothing like this existed in many parts of the world—parts of the world she visited—and those people got along just fine without such conveniences. The towering structure, all twelve floors of it, could have served as housing for hundreds of villages and families, though Cat supposed she couldn't be upset about it. Most village homes weren't larger than a single story. Still, she missed the stars. A quick glance confirmed she'd arrived first, so Cat bought herself a pouch of fried quinoa bites, and sat down to tear into the food and her remaining Pathisee notifications. The food court was packed with people, all caught up in their own little worlds and completely oblivious to her. No one saw her. Not while she still wore her SuperLife work clothing. She couldn't be more invisible. She liked it that way. Cat paused, glancing up as a pair of young women passed, chatting and laughing together. She smiled to herself, then glanced around the court. Where was Angie, anyway?</s>

<|description|>Miss Catherine Leona Winters --- A Magnet for Attention --- "Call me a number, call me a name, I'm still me at the end of the day." --- TAYGETE CITIZENSHIP CARD | ID SERIAL | BIRTH | RESIDENCE | PROFESSION | | --- | --- | --- | --- | | F7778774 | F, Age 25 (Apr 20) | Arche | SuperLife Retail Customer Service Representative | --- PERSONALITY I left my family as soon as I could to travel the world and experience. I spent seven years of my life living from day to day, never sleeping in the same place every night, doing tricks on streets I've never been to, for people who don't look like me, just so I could eat. And I'd do it for the rest of my life, if I could. I returned for the family I left behind, though not the same family I left when I decided to go travel. What does that tell you about me, Mr. Dossier? --- BACKGROUND I grew up in the big city everyone dreams of. Not this one, but your typical cramped, overcrowded, overpriced townhouse half a block down the street from, well, everything. My parents divorced when I was eight, only a few months after my littlest brother Ezekiel died from some sickness. I took care of the family. For four years. When I was eight. Do I hate my mother? Not nearly as much as I did when she showed up with her new husband and twin daughters, claimed both me and my brother in court, and stole us away from my dad. I left them as soon as I could, and I traveled the world. I spent seven years living off the street, accepting scraps and cash for the art I gave to the world. My performance was everything to me, and it seemed like all the different people I met were just as interested in me and where I came from as I was with them. I learned so much, made so many lifelong friends, and I still send and get letters from them to this day. But as I was traveling from one city to another, an impossibly old woman stood in my path and told me I was going to die, just like my little brother. My little brother, who was sixteen years dead, thousands of miles away. So I d.d wh.t .ny..e ...ld .o, … . ………….. ERROR. The rest of the document seems to be corrupted. Attempting retrieval…ERROR. Document is corrupted. Attempting repair...ERROR. Input manual code? (y/n) Please input code: ********__ ... Override code accepted. Proceeding to next point in dossier. --- X-FACTOR I can make magnets. I can't really explain how I do it, or how the strange power works, or why I was given such a...gift? Curse? It can be convenient at times, sure, but there's only so much attention one girl can attract, you know? There's a lot you can do with electromagnetism. Practically anything, really. I can create electricity. I can magnetize metals, or change their polarity, and even use my own body as if I were a magnet. There's a constant field of electromagnetic energy constantly surrounding me, though it is weak and not really noticeable, unless you're the observant type. Unless I want it to be strong, I can't really control it. Polarity can be weird. The best part, though? I can fly. Kind of. So if your phone starts acting weird, like getting bad reception near me, I'm sorry, but I really can't do anything about that. You should put that thing down when you're talking to me anyway. It's annoying. I'd hate for something to happen to your car's battery, making it short-circuit for no reason and end up killing you from the resulting explosion. Does that make you uncomfortable, Mr. Dossier?</s> <|message|>Miss Charlene "Cherry" Zinaida Cherry is silent for a moment. She takes a step back and stares, or glares at John up and down through narrowed eyes. It wouldn't be the first time she spent days in pursuit of a complete delusion, but everything's pointing... well, it sure is pointing. This isn't a hallucination - from that assumption, what then? Living in Herse trains one to pay closer attention to transactions than Arche or Chaldene would allow most to muster. Calculations that take an average Taygete drone tens of minutes might take a businessman just one, and they can go by as fast or faster along the well-worn thought-tracks of someone who needs to make deals and friends to survive, and can never afford to be cheated. "Nothing to lose," she echoes. Her expression doesn't say she believes it. Her expression says she's probably never believed anything she hasn't seen, and rarely what she's seen either. Then her eyes dart aside, almost as if regarding someone who's come up next to John. Miss Charlene! Is that your mother? Tell her I said hello. I know there's some tension between you two. If you ask me, the biggest problem is that you don't feel like you know each other. Firstly, she's human like everybody else: listen to her words, listen to her tone, and then listen to her. Put it all together, and you can even hear what she's thinking. Just like we practiced. Can you hear? She's been everywhere. She knows so much. She has time for you, little miss, because she's so bored of learning secrets that anyone else could die for. She'll share that with you just for a promise to help, just for a breath of hope. She's suffocating. She's so tired. Can you hear that? And besides, in that way, isn't she a little like you? And doesn't that make her dangerous? Everything is quiet more often than not at this time of morning. Noises as subtle as taking a breath to speak are audible from feet away. In the right wind and the right echo, hushed voices could carry for a block or more. Experience can teach a woman anything. Cherry answers in less than a whisper. "We'll see." Her eyes flick back to John. Over the course of a few seconds, the tension and suspicion in her demeanor have gradually dried up as if by miracle. She's only a little louder as she says, "We both know I have no idea where to start for my end, but it sounds like you'll let me use you until I find something. So - fine. You have my commitment if I have yours." She wants to get to know you too. Remember your manners, Charlene. "...you can call me Cherry." She offers her hand.</s> <|message|>Isaac Vixen As Isaac tended to his wounds he listened to Star weigh in her opinion, his frown growing heavier as she spoke. There was truth in her words, there always was, but he hated that the most. Her statement of him having a choice stung, knowing he did in fact have a choice but still led his life by the gun and the credits that can be gained through blood. He was always aware of the risk he faced in this line of work and hated hearing it out loud. He winced as she told him to think about those who cared for him if he didn't care for himself, hiding his shameful frown through the pain of his wounds as he tended to them. Isaac looked back up to Star to say something but found it was too late as she had already left the booth and disappeared into the nightclub. He stared off into the busy bar in thought before letting out a heavy sigh, applying the last of his bandages and downing the rest of his drink with a frown. He knew she was right, he's known for a while now, but what was he to do? Taking up the gun and selling his skills to others was the only reason he's come this far! He feels pride in his work, but why did he feel sick about it at the same time? He was making a living, he's crawled his way from those damn slums and come so close to the top! So why... why did all of his achievements feel so empty? Would he not be satisfied until he's killed by some prick who got off a lucky shot? Maybe he had already chosen to be stupid. The questions floating in his mind only grew more frustrating by the second as he glared into his empty glass, but before he could sink any further into his head he was pulled away as Aurora approached his booth and began wiping it down. As she assured him of Star simply worrying about him he sunk into his seat, unsure if she really did but keeping it to himself as he stared down at the table. After clearing the table Isaac looked up to her as she began to speak of her past, slightly surprised by the gesture as she tried to reach out to him. It was completely out of character for her, but he listened anyways with a thoughtful look in his eyes. She never went into details about the struggles she went through, but he wouldn't pry. As she stated she was happy with her choice of coming here he looked to the table, deep in thought as he let her words sink in. He smiled softly as she said she'd take care of his tab and chuckled as she went back to work. A slow sigh escaped his lips as he spent a few more moments on his thoughts before pushing himself out of his seat with a groan, doing his best to push past his throbbing wounds. Grabbing his coat and easing himself back into it Isaac made his way to the bar where Aurora was working. After digging into his wallet he slipped enough cash to pay for his tab and a generous tip her way. "Have a good night Aurora," he said before flashing her a friendly smile. "And thanks," he muttered before making his way to the club's exit. Once exiting the club he let out a heavy sigh as he was greeted by the nightlife of the Carme Promenade. Checking the time he decided it was a good time to call it a day, but before that, he would give Otto a call. As he began making his way to the metro line he waited for his partner to pick up, making sure to avoid or push past the crowds in his way. Soon enough a familiar voice answered the call. "Hey Vix, what's up? Was a just about to meet up with our clientele for payment." "Otto, I wanted to let you know to hold off on any more clients for a bit," Isaac stated simply as he spotted the entrance to the metro. "What? Seriously? Dude I know you're a bit banged up but I've been hearing about some really decent-paying jobs from some high rollers. Like, really big high rollers. If we don't go for em now we'll miss a really fat payday," he said, Isaac noticing a hint of frustration in his voice as he spoke about missing the chance to get paid. Isaac rolled his eyes though as he entered the metro line. "I'm not budging on this Otto, no jobs. For now anyway. I need to get some things settled. Besides, I won't be any good in this state," he said with a stern tone as he waited for the next train to arrive. "But Vix-" "Otto! No. Jobs," he stated firmly with a frown. Otto was silent for a moment before a groan could be heard from the other line. "Fine, no jobs. Get better soon Vix," he said with a defeated tone in his voice, Isaac noting a bit of nervousness in his voice towards the end. Before he could speak again Otto hung up first and left Isaac alone on the line. A heavy sigh escaped him as he shoved his phone back into his pants and stepped onto the train and took a seat alone. His tired mind drifted off to his thoughts, thinking of what Star and Aurora had to say tonight. Did he really have a choice anymore when it came to his future? Could there really be something else for him? Those questions floated in his mind as he closed his eyes and relaxed in his seat as the train took off.</s>

<|message|>Miss Catherine Leona Winters "I'm not falling in love with myself," Cat said, flicking down to the comments section. She frowned, then kept scrolling until she found a comment not laced with sexual harassment. "Though I suppose everyone should be able to love themselves a little. If you can't live with yourself, how will anyone else? Anyway, I'm just doing some research on how to be better at this thing." She set her phone on the table between them and turned it around so Angie could see the video playing. It was one of her earliest performances, done on a street corner rather than inside a reputable club like the Heritage. But renting a slot at the Heritage got expensive, and she could only do it because of her retail job, and though her performances were starting to eclipse what she made at SuperLife, she still needed that secondary income. She found the video horrendous, but hadn't taken it off of her account. Indeed, it still received new views and comments, though with less frequency than her newer material. She switched to one of those newer videos, and she could immediately tell the difference. Would Angie ever believe her if Cat said she felt like a different person when she performed? How could she even explain that? How could she describe the feeling she got when she put her costume on and became someone else? The costume, the mask, the colored hair and makeup changed her. She didn't become an entirely different person, but the persona still felt real to her. Like stepping into a role playing game with a character model and personality based off herself. One with a different name. "I just want to be better. I'm trying to play a role here, a different character. She isn't me, but I'm sometimes her. And I need to learn better how to be her if I want to get anywhere with these performances. The better I am at pretending, the more popularity I can get, and the better to spread what I'm trying to show."</s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Lilann Storyborn (Formerly Livean Shol) Symphony@Scribe of Thoth --- Damn. The man lowered his sword, but it didn't look like he was going to let them off the hook so easily. She recognized the bite in his voice, but the intent behind it was still hard to decipher. Was he doing this because they were Tainted? Surely there were easier ways to cause them trouble than to dog them all the way to the Bounty House, though she knew better than to underestimate the persistence of spiteful people. Perhaps he was just a different sort of sadist. There wasn't much time to worry over it before they were joined by even more newcomers. They didn't look like guards—though frankly, it was hard for halflings to look like proper guards even in full armor—but they did bear colors. Yellow robes, the mark of Zubil. Priests. Damn. They were performing rites, or giving resting prayers, or doing any number of the other inane things priests did to the dead. It hardly mattered what they were doing, the real rub was that they were getting closer. For now they were bickering, but soon enough they'd notice the absolute mess around them, and immediately thereafter, they'd notice the two Tainted held up by a man with his sword drawn. Not a good look for Kyreth and herself. "Yes, fine, sure," she said, quiet and hurried. "We'll take you with us if you can stand the company. But as I said, we don't mean to be late, so let's get going." With one last glance to the pair of priests, Lilann swallowed her nerves and gave the hedgeman her back, starting out of the cemetery and ushering Kyreth to follow her. She'd try to keep herself between the two of them, but at the moment it seemed more important that they get away from the halflings first. Then they could worry about being alone on the road with a man who gave his sword before his name.</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Soft Haven - Road to Bounty House ✧ Purse: 20 copper ✧ Interactions: @Hero ✧ The start of the path wasn't much to look at. Sparse tracks of caravans past, a few footprints that showed regular travel from days prior. Nothing new, and certainly no sight of whatever had left its mark by him this morning. As he pressed forward however, the sluggishness of the day before had seemed to slip away. Slowly being replaced by concern and fear as a new set of footprints had emerged. Larger, sunken marks that trampled across the way and through bushes. Areas flattened down by some gargantuan beast. Suddenly Ermes was very aware of the sound of his own heartbeat. Hearing it thrum inside his ears as his steps grew slower and slower, stopping to examine new bits of wreckage. He hadn't realized how much time had passed, nor did he particularly care, but there was the sound of footprints off in the distance behind him. Quickly his mind began to work in overdrive, trying to think of what he'd learned back at The Mist. Ermes wasn't always the best fighter, he preferred to divide his enemies attention between multiple targets. So he quietly slipped behind a tree, summoning a small skeletal cat that would last long enough to aid in battle without draining him too much. The bony structure leaped up onto his shoulder as he quietly made his way towards the sound, having it jump out first before he appeared behind his target. Ermes was ready for a tough battle, but what he saw wasn't a monster at all, and certainly didn't appear to have claws long enough to leave those gashes in the ground. His shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh before even speaking, his voice sounding more annoyed than anything. "Hey. You might want to be careful up ahead. I think there's a large creature roaming around. Left some marks not too far from here over by where I camped last night. For a second I thought it was you having come to finish the job." Ermes let out another sigh as he walked around Eila. He snapped his fingers and his small skeletal cat came pouncing back onto his shoulder, nuzzling inside the fur collar of his coat. "You're more than welcome to stick around with me if you'd like. Seems we're headed the same direction, unless this road leads elsewhere I didn't know of. After all, if you're looking for the Bounty House then you must have some form of skill, one that would hopefully work well against whatever's terrorizing these woods." Ermes said as he pointed behind him a bit further down the road where the trampled bushes lay.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios Who knew dirt roads were so impressionable? Not in a good way--Eila wasn't pleased to see that Valentina wasn't kidding when she said paved roads were a luxury. While she no longer stepped awkwardly from adjusting to uneven ground, she did find it interesting how it seemed to take in footsteps. Granted, the large footprints must have belonged to quite the character, but to have them stand out even after others walked was somewhat interesting. Eila looked at the ground as she walked, absorbed in her thoughts. Before her mind wandered too much, an odd cat appeared in front of her. Coming to a halt, it took her far longer than it should have to notice that said cat was missing some crucial features. As her head snapped up, she heard the sigh of someone unfamiliar. Hm, perhaps she looked vulnerable enough to approach. She was more adept at her bow than her dagger, but at minimum, she wasn't going to let them get away without spilling some blood. Perhaps it would discourage them from attacking? By the time she finished the thought, however, he spoke. A warning? She frowned as she turned around, though she was caught off guard by how...well, the would-be assailant was just a kid. A dirty one, poor thing. She meant that in the literal sense as his clothes bore specks of dust and his hair was--moving?! What was this?! She initially believed that perhaps it was a trick of the light, but that hair wasn't hair. It was difficult to describe, but it was truly fascinating to look at. Unfortunately, she hadn't heard a word he had said. By the time she turned back to his words, she managed to catch something about the Bounty House and skill. And something terrorizing the woods? Odd, she hadn't heard of such a thing at the inn, although she didn't go out of her way to question anyone aside from asking for some directions. A shame, she would have liked to investigate. Unless...this was a ruse? She had read something like that in the paper once, of a group that lured unsuspecting travelers by sending someone unassuming first. If there were others, however, she did not sense them. She wouldn't quite let down her guard, though she returned her gaze back to the boy. "And knowing this, you are alone?" She asked, a little incredulous. He didn't look like he could hold his own, though there was that...cat. "Curious, the Genesians I have met and studied were less obvious about their magic," She muttered, narrowing her eyes slightly, though she would speak louder as she continued, "Very well. If you require accompaniment to avoid the creature you claim is roaming around this part of the woods, I have no qualms about going to the Bounty House together." She wouldn't wait for a response as she continued the trek, though she did make sure she knew where her dagger was in case he did lure her to a trap. </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Ceolfric, Son of Ravangar --- Ceolfric briefly let his eyes wander to the commotion across the cemetary, confident the diminutive woman before him was less of a threat than the newly arrived interlopers. It seemed he guessed wrong, once he got a look at them. Local gravetenders, performing their consecrations over the dead in the name of whatever woeful deity that bade them wear those garish robes. The Tainted clearly wanted nothing to do with them, and while Ceolfric might've been inclined to ask these locals whether the marks in the ground were a common occurance, his options were limited if the halflings believed him one of the perpetrators. If this were Dranir, he'd have made hacksilver out of their sacred icons and drinking goblets out of their skulls for such an accusation, but this wasn't Dranir, and he'd win no friends butting heads with the local priesthood. "As you wish," The man responded quietly as he returned his sword to its scabbard. If they had the decency - or naivete - to turn their backs to him so easily, he doubted they had any plans of turning on him in the near future. He followed dutifully, always positioned behind the other two to watch for foul play on their parts. Once they were well out of earshot of the priests, he spoke up again. "So what were you doing, sleeping in that graveyard?" It seemed an odd place to find refuge, and their skittishness in the face of being witnessed suggested that they weren't there in any sort of official investigatory capacity. Plus, Freckles didn't seem the type to offer to sleep where monsters were known to roam. Which meant they likely weren't lying about being just as clueless as Ceolfric was. He really did make an unlucky pick. "There's quite a few highly aetheric-" He paused for want of a word, "entities in the woods around Soft Haven today. If it's not related to our mystery monster, I hope there's a different reason beyond simple entanglement in the gnarled skeins of fate." If that was even what he could call it; perhaps aether simply called to aether. Such a principle sounded ripe for catastrophe, if his last encounter with an aetherborn was anything to go off of, but in that mage's defense, he was attacked unprovoked. Perhaps his approach with the probable-siblings was a bit gruff in retrospect, if the people of the southern lands truly were as soft as he'd been led to believe. It was literally in the name, after all. --- @Obscene Symphony</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Soft Haven - Road to Bounty House ✧ Purse: 20 copper ✧ Interactions: @Hero ✧ Ermes couldn't help but notice the woman's starring. He matched her gaze with a deadpan stare, waiting for whatever marvel she was looking at to wear off. Given the choices he figured it was either his hair, his height, or his age. All of which had been centerholds for conversations whenever he first met someone. That is if they didn't just avoid him entirely. A part of him wanted to roll his eyes at her, it wasn't her fault by any means, after all she just met him, but he'd met dozens of her before. Ermes was waiting for all the usual questions to come in, but to his surprise there were none. Or at the very least none that were common. His eyes widened slightly as she mentioned his current state of being alone, before following up with strange statements. "Uh…" His mouth went agape trying to think of how to answer her, when she walked past him and continued on the way without him. Ermes quickly turned around, doubling his steps just to catch up with her before finally keeping pace alongside. "I didn't know that there was something out here. I woke up and the ground around me was clawed up quite deep. There was the feeling of a dreadful presence though…I don't feel it anymore. But the marks on this path are relatively fresh so I figure it's still out there. Besides, it's not like it could just vanish." He punctuated the ending with a sarcastic tone, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he had no further explanation for the events. He continued to look at her for a moment as they walked. Clearly in thought as to something she had said. "You mentioned Genesians. What is that? And why do you study them?" Ermes asked as his deadpan expression turned into one more for curiosity. He'd heard the word before, heard it whispered around Wilree or mention of it in talks he eavesdropped on, but never learned its actual meaning. Till now, he had assumed it was some form of slur. His dark eyes fixated on the strange cloaked woman, trying to peer through the hood and see what it was she was hiding.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios Eila listened to the young man's talk of claws and presences and vanishments with minor amusement. He seemed unsure of what it was that he saw, and despite his distress, it relaxed her a touch. He was sincere in his concern, at least, his tone reminding her much of a few of her classmates back at the Academy. He must have been young, perhaps fifteen or sixteen summers, if at that. And yet here he was, alone! And going to the Bounty House, if she took his words at face value. She supposed the state of the world must be worse than she initially assumed if children had to take to mercenary houses for work. He then asked her about Genesians. "What is--" Eila outright stopped in her tracks as the realization hit her, and she looked back down at the young man in complete surprise. "You aren't aware of your type of magic?" She couldn't help her incredulous tone at all. Her manners teacher would be mortified. Then again, her other teachers would be, too, seeing a Genesian display his magic so casually without understanding. Pursing her lips for a moment, she thought to herself as she slowly resumed her walk. Aetherborn came wherever the wind blew, so to speak, so it wouldn't be so strange to hear one not entirely aware of what type they could be. In fact, this was a prime teaching moment. The Empress must have seen their paths cross for this very reason. Nodding to herself, Eila finally gave the lad her full attention. "I have studied aether and magic for a majority of my life, you see. I am quite adept at recognizing all forms," She explained. "Genesian Aetherbon infuse their own aether into either objects or into their creations. Unless your creature has your aether infused through the corpse of an animal, I believe it to be a creation of yours." "As for your creature...I cannot say. I believe the tracks in the road belong to wagons and a very large orc, perhaps," She guessed, though she thought of something. She walked in front of him and bent down a touch so that they were eye-to-eye. "It isn't polite to assume people are monsters, young man. Remember, Iriganis is always watching, his hammer ready to strike after he sees your sins." Straightening up, she figured they were overdue for introductions. "Forgive my manners, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Eila Aurelios. And you are?" </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Lilann Storyborn (Formerly Livean Shol) --- It wasn't quite a crowd, but Lilann felt comfortable as their group nearly doubled in size. She shouldn't have, of course; for Tainted, more people usually meant more trouble, and emerging from the brush in a mask had likely not done much to settle the others. But that was by design. Mystique was its own form of natural protection, not unlike the bright colors of poisonous creatures, warning off potential predators. 'Observe, it said. 'admire, but think twice before you do something we may both regret.' It was hardly true, of course, but that was beside the point. As they made their way through Snakeburrow, she relaxed. She still kept close to Kyreth—he was the closest thing she had right now to an ally, and she figured the same went for him. He didn't seem like muscle, in fact she wasn't entirely sure what he could do, but that was fine. He was aetherborn, and that too was a sort of mystique. One they seemed to share with others. She eyed the boy with shadowy hair, who she had heard named as 'Ermes,' and who she assumed was his companion, the elf, 'Ei.' It seemed Lord Mystralath's business was attracting a rather interesting clientele, or perhaps it was more apt to call them would-be employees. Well, whatever their cause, she doubted they could be as bad as the hedgeman. When they finally reached the secluded lake, she halted on her way to the bridge. The man asleep at the gate was likely Jenson, who the orcish woman had warned them not to disturb. Something about answers and spears—not a mystery she was eager to solve, and not one she was particularly worried about. Passing him by shouldn't pose a problem for most of them. She was slight, as was Ermes, Kyreth was sneaky enough and Ei…well, she was an elf. Elves were quiet and nimble, right? They were in the stories anyway. That only left their brutish swordsman. She turned to him, voice hushed but pointed. "I don't suppose you do subtle, do you?"</s> <|message|>Ceolfric, Son of Ravangar --- Ceolfric would never admit it, but he was almost thankful for the motley crew that had assembled itself around him. With every strange phenomenon he passed, safety in numbers seemed a prudent choice for travel in the Snakeburrow Woods. Not that any one of them were the visage of a reliable warrior, but their aether didn't lie; they had to be capable of something, especially if they thought themselves fearsome enough to take up a career in mercenary work. Plus, it'd give him an easy opportunity to question the two newcomers on what the hell was wrong with this place later. 'Ermes' had to know something, proximate as he was to Ceolfric when he awoke, and he would've assumed the elf had been beside him the whole time if not for the fact that she looked far too clean to have spent the night in the woods. Perhaps she was the summoner, then. He had little time to dwell on it with the Bounty House coming into view in the distance, and it would be pointless to accost her in the middle of the road when he could simply wait until she was inside and entrapped herself without infinite directions in which to escape. He wasn't liable to get any support from the rest of the group either, with the Tainted siblings likely still sour from their own confrontation and the strange-haired boy clearly engaged in some prior rapport with her. Besides, the snoring on the wind told him that they were fast approaching whatever variety of creature the orc woman had warned them about, and that meant he had to bite his tongue. Once they arrived, however, Ceolfric was unimpressed. The thing that threatened to block their passage was just a man, and Ceolfric was not in the habit of fearing mere men. The bandit arched a brow at the masked girl as she posited her question, unsure whether it was meant to be inflammatory or a simple jest. The corners of his mouth quirked upward in dry amusement regardless - an argument would likely wake the gate guard up prematurely anyway, and the point would be moot - and Ceolfric turned his attention to the path before them. Did he do subtle? Not particularly, no. A geriatric doorkeeper was no slumbering bear to sneak past, nor was there any risk to him raising an alarm. Pestering questions and pointy sticks were no more threat to Ceolfric than any of his other would-be traveling companions, and he could have this 'Jenson' dancing a jig to whatever tune he wished if he needed to. Still, no reason to agitate more people than necessary without something to gain from it, and he doubted casting a spell on an employee made him appear particularly upstanding in the eyes of the House brokers. "I've been party to enough ambushes to avoid waking a doddering old man, if that's your concern," He mumbled in response, "Besides, if that monster of an orcess can make her way past without incident, I'd imagine I could stomp my way inside if I wanted to." --- @Obscene Symphony@Hero@Trainerblue192</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios What a curious crew indeed. Eila had expected to encounter a variety of people, but she was a little too fascinated by the others. They looked as organized as Ermes--which is to say not very--and they had this wariness about them. She could sympathize with having a need to keep up their guard, but surely they didn't believe her to be a threat? Perhaps she should take that as some sort of compliment as she would rather be seen as something to be wary of instead of being seen as a target. And to think, Mother said she should expect people to see her as weak! Her ego did inflate just a touch at the thought. That said, Ermes was thoroughly confused about what was rude and what wasn't. The poor thing clearly lacked in manner and etiquette. Nonetheless, Eila was a light of guidance first and a warrior second as she would make sure to correct this behavior in the future. A litte push in the right direction would do wonders for all that energy he carried. The others trailing behind the one warrior seemed rather shy. Poor things, she wondered if they simply followed the strongest voice. No matter, they were all children of the Goddess and deserved to be treated as such. The Bounty House was rustic and charming in its own way. The guard that had been mentioned was fast asleep. How curious. If he was a guard, was it not best that he be alert? Well, she supposed that was no trouble for them. "I believe this is...Jenson," She noted out loud to the group. "Shall we carry on without disturbing him?" </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Lilann Storyborn (Formerly Livean Shol) --- As the shadowy boy quipped at the hedgeman and stalked off onto the bridge, Lilann was glad for her mask. Something told her he wasn't fond of being grinned at, and as fun as it could be to tug someone's strings, she wasn't exactly eager to provoke him. It came as no surprise that he was familiar with—and the word he'd used was—ambushes, but the wild theories began to bloom nonetheless. What did surprise her was Kyreth snagging her by the arm and marching them right past Jenson. It had taken restraint not to yank herself away, but even radiating anxiety she still didn't get the sense that she should be afraid of him. He moved with all the clamor of a mouse across cotton, and though she was no stranger to soft-stepping, she felt like a stumbling oaf in his wake. How fascinating, was this some sort of mystical talent? Or was it simply practice? When it seemed they were far enough for his comfort, he hunched low—something that, once, she would have taken for a slight—and explained himself. He was worried, rightfully, but also concerned for her. Sweet boy. Alas she saw the lights beneath the murky water and, like a light beam in a room full of mirrors, her attention bounced again before she could manage a thank-you. Letting slip a little gasp, she scooched over to the jut of one of the bridge's balconies "Something off indeed! Look here, Kyreth, do you know what those are?" she asked, of course, rhetorically. "Wander's Warning. Pretty things, but you'd be hard-pressed to find an omen so ill as these. Heralds of death. Vows of vengeance so furious they transcend the realms of the real and the ab-real." Lilann stared down, but for as much vigor as she put into her words, she couldn't find it equaled within her. If Wander's Warnings really were the cries of the dead, she figured there'd be far too many angry Tainted spirits for it to have remained a sailor's tale. By design, Lilann didn't think much of the 'after'—by all accounts her kind didn't really get much of one. Her mind tended more towards the present, and the union between the two: legacy. Nonetheless, she turned back to Kyreth as the crotchety gateman briefly, albeit loudly, awoke from his slumber. When that was done, their just-as-grumpy companion marched right on by them. She exhaled, relieved; with any luck their little journey together was over, and they could put enough distance between them that it wouldn't matter what he told the officials. They. She caught herself, amused. "Perhaps he was right to be so on-edge. Perhaps you're both right," she said softly, looking back to the grim boy and the elf. "At your lead, Kyreth. Safety in numbers and all that. Though…" and she gently took her arm back, giggling beneath the mask. "I believe we're safe enough from the brute, now. Thank you, for looking out." --- Symphony, Everyone.</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Soft Haven - Road to Bounty House ✧ Purse: 20 copper ✧ Interactions: @Mcmolly@Obscene Symphony ✧ Ermes stood there, arms crossed looking around the gate towards those remaining. His eyes widened slightly, as if finally beginning to wake up, when the lanky man that had been previously hidden behind the tree's had grabbed the masked individuals hand and pulled them nimbly past the guard and then him. His gaze followed the pair as they stopped a ways down from him on the bridge, only turning back to face the gate when the swordsman began to make his move. The old guard sputtered awake, swinging his spear wide and nearly snagging the arm of the swordsman before falling back into his slumber. Ermes placed a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh so as to not wake the guard. Though his tone quickly shifted as the man made his way past them all, focused as ever to get towards the Bounty Hall's door. Ermes hadn't expected him to get upset over the little challenge, but then he began to realize that the swordsman wasn't the only one acting odd. The two from before were speaking in hushed tones, one of which was wearing a mask so both emotion and lips were hard to read. The other was a bit easier. He couldn't quite place what they were saying, but it was clear one of them was on edge. Nothing truly of note had happened so far however, save for the marks Ermes had found this morning, so why were they now so suddenly on edge? Ermes decided for a more direct approach. Making his way towards the pair and stopping just a few feet away from them so they didn't feel cornered in an already stressed space. "Hey, what're you two whispering about over here? The three of you seem to be a bit shaken up, but as far as I can tell it's the calmest spot I've ever been in. So what gives?" His tone was flat, both in nature but also because he was trying to sound as neutral as possible. If he wanted to intimidate them then he'd used vastly different methods.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios Goodness, what a skittish group. While Eila wouldn't call herself motherly, it was hard to admit that there wasn't some innate part of her that felt a touch of protectiveness over the more delicate members of the group. She couldn't quite put her finger on why either; she was never one to eavesdrop nor nose into a situation that didn't involve her. But she was curious. Perhaps they had a bad experience with strangers along the path. It certainly would explain why they had chosen to follow...hm. She had neglected to find out their names. Oh well, it would come up eventually. She was a touch startled by Jenson's sudden outburst but carried on. She supposed she would rather not intrude on the man's rest. He must be such a hard worker, needing a nap at this time of day. Once Ermes perked up and spoke to the hushed pair, however, she sighed. Teaching him manners would be quite an arduous task. "Now, now, Ermes, best we leave the discussion once we've entered the building," She told him. </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Kyreth ✧ Location: Soft Haven Bounty House ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @McMolly @Trainerblue192 @Hero ✧ The shadow-headed kid was just about as personable as a Buscon youth, too; which was to say, not very. He didn't seem happy about being addressed, and wasn't about to budge, either. Kyreth wasn't surprised. If anything, it was a very tame reaction to sharing close quarters with a pair of Tainted. What was unusual, though, was how chatty the kid was. Kyreth had come to expect little more than silent glares of warning or insults and thrown garbage, not a whole interrogation. The kid was suspicious of the pair of them, sure, and Kyreth supposed he couldn't blame him; hell, even he would get a little uneasy to see two strange Tainted whispering among themselves. Still, most normal people were either too smart or too scared to confront a Tainted alone. The boy took a step forward, and Kyreth stepped back, reflexively glancing around for the exits. The boy didn't look like he could do much damage, but that was irrelevant when Kyreth had no plans of fighting back. But even as he shrank away, he couldn't deny a little bit of his old self was chafing under the boy's advance. A familiar indignation brushed him, thinking this kid was awfully confident for someone his stature in a room full of strangers, confronting a pair of Tainted two-on-one. And what right did he have to look at them with that kind of scorn all over his face? Lilann must have been feeling it too. True to their shared nature, she didn't seem to take kindly to the boy's display, instead delivering a vaguely intimidating line before taking her turn with the bookman. Then, almost as if Selene herself was looking out for him, the boy's attention was drawn away by the piano player's grand display, allowing Kyreth to disengage. He rejoined Lilann near the bookman's desk. This situation was getting far too dicey for his liking. But as if she knew he was about to make his excuses and take his leave, Lilann pulled him into the conversation with the only words she could possibly have said to make him stay. "This is my close friend, whose employment is packaged with my own." It was a remarkable act of kindness that stunned Kyreth into silence, dumbly stepping forward at Lilann's direction. It was such a flawless trap that Kyreth might have smirked if he wasn't so confused. Why would she do that? Was she trying to pin down some security for herself by keeping him around? Or was it really just a selfless act? She'd been so kind to him in their brief time together, but it was so hard to trust a face so much like his own, Kyreth wasn't sure what to think. But there was no time to think; Berta told him once that Selene only helps those who deigned to help themselves, and he'd be an idiot to refuse the Mother of Outcast's guiding hand, no matter his reservations. "Y-yes, of course – good morning," he greeted not-at-all smoothly, a little unsettled by the dead tone of the bookman's voice. He heard him refer to the two of them as "Asvari", but what the hell was that? He wasn't about to correct the man – being mistaken for anything other than a Tainted was well in Kyreth's best interests – but he'd never heard of any race by that name before. "My name is Kyreth… um…" And he stumbled on the first hurdle. Shit, he didn't have a surname! "...Berta…sson. Sorry— Kyreth Bertasson," he clumsily recovered, using the first name that came to mind. Poor old Berta was the closest thing he ever had to family; hopefully she wouldn't mind him borrowing her name. "Lilann and I travel together. She finds us opportunities, and I fetch things from tall shelves," he continued, lying smoothly as he played off Lilann's lead. He chuckled, an awkward, close-lipped affair, hoping the joke would sell the facade of familiarity between the two of them. And hopefully not insult Lilann in the process. He cleared his throat. "Um, right. I'm originally from Buscon – erm, in Relfin. No next of kin either. I used to be a farmhand; I don't have many skills except mending roofs and fences, but I'm a hard worker, I learn quick and there's no job too small for me."</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Soft Haven - Bounty House ✧ Purse: 20 copper ✧ Interactions: ✧ Small cogs had begun to wind inside his mind. Taking in the motions of the lanky person now known as Kyreth. He hadn't fully anticipated him to step back while he went forth. Though it now marked him as an anti confrontational person. Someone of his stature should've stood tall, towered over him, and attempted to use it as an advantage to force him to shirk away. But Kyreth simply matched paces back as if reflexively moving in a manner he'd been used to his entire life. His partner however had much more confidence and control. Only later to admit to her uses as a proverbial bard having placed her either close enough to altercations to actually lend credit to his boast or having her had only listened to tales of those she met and using her charismatic showmanship make her seem more confident than she really was. Ermes couldn't help but listen in to what she was relaying to the receptionist. Key words standing out from Buscon, to Genisian, to the word Asvari being used twice. Once for her and another for her tall companion. His attention was split however, listening in and out to the tale Cerriac was tell Ceolfric about the beast that roams the lands. A supposed curse laid upon by an orcs final breath in a battle long ago. His answer however wasn't particularly satisfying. It amounted to little more than Yes we've heard of an issue and will handle it eventually. Ermes decidedly turned his full attention towards the blue pianist and away from Kyreth, arms crossed in his leather jacket as he had a slight pout. His right hand fiddled with the pommel of his sword as he thought about what to say. Finally he blew air towards a tuft of shadow that moved past his eye. He raised his hand up slightly before speaking, an old habit from back home that hadn't left him even after the years had passed. "I have a question." There was a short pause as he debated on if he should truly ask. It felt almost humiliating to do so but finally he spoke out again. "The man over there referred to those two as Asvari or something. What does that mean? Is it like another Classification of Aetherborn or?" Ermes lowered his hand once more, shoving them both into his pockets.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios Ceolfric nudged her towards Cerric--the latter of which was quite the character. A showman in a previous life, perhaps? He certainly had the timing for theatrics down pat and was even instructed to entertain them as they waited their turn. Eila wasn't sure who or what to address first, albiet she had mostly recovered by then, putting on a polite smile as she was addressed. She listened to the story of the creature that had apparently spooked the others (and finally understood the concern they carried) but just as easily she had relaxed, her eyebrows shot up once again. The Katya mentioned couldn't be... No, now wasn't the time to get buried in her thoughts. She gave what she hoped was a small, reassuring laugh."Forgive me, this is all very new," She apologized first and foremost--after all, she hadn't intended to be rude. "It can be a touch overwhelming as one attempts to drink in as much as possible!" Of course, it wouldn't do to leave it there, but she couldn't quite reveal herself. "I thought that the composition of Mirage Coral led to it existing solely in saltwaters, but it would seem there are many thriving in the lake," She said. "It is rather delicate and necessitates specific enviornments in order to maintain its aetheric charge, so I was quite curious about it." </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Kyreth ✧ Location: Snakeburrow Woods ✧ Purse: 12 copper ✧ @McMolly ✧ The tension in the air was almost as palpable as the aether; Eila loosed her arrow, and everyone held their breath, watching the crippled wolf for any sign of life. The tingling in Kyreth's fingers advanced to full-on buzzing, and he gripped his pack and knife with white knuckles, as if he could somehow squeeze the magic out of his hands. Then, all at once, action; the crashing of foliage and a great, horrible snarling, guttural and wrong, accompanied two more wolves as they burst out of the woods shouldering the path toward the caravan. Kyreth jumped back without thinking, taking shelter behind the wagon. While his companions were set upon, for the moment no wolf came for him; meanwhile, his fingertips buzzed a warning, magic thrumming under his skin with a primordial heat that seared him in pulses timed with the racing of his heart. In his urgency to cut off another catastrophe before it began, Kyreth grasped blindly at his belt, watching to his left and right as he untied his waterskin with trembling fingers and poured it out over his hands. He emptied the entire thing in his haste, coating his hands and arms and soaking his tunic sleeves. The water did little to soothe the burning thrum in his fingers, and had he been thinking clearly, Kyreth would have remembered what Lord Mystralath taught him about aether and realized that wetting his hands wouldn't stop him from producing fire. But he wasn't thinking clearly, and he didn't know what to do – this way, at least, if he did have a mishap, he might not set himself on fire. His strongest instinct was to run, but doubt was quick behind it; run where? Into the woods, where more wolves were probably waiting? Down the road, where he'd only single himself out for attack? Wait— "Lilann!" Kyreth cried, whipping around to find Lilann just where he left her – on the edge of the group, singled out and with a snarling, rotted wolf hot on her tail. There was no time – Kyreth was too far away and the wolf was faster than he was. So he did the first thing that came to mind: there was something in his hand (a now-empty waterskin), so he threw it in the wolf's direction, with absolutely no plan beyond that.</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Snakeburrow Woods ✧ Purse: 4 copper ✧ Interactions: ✧ The urge to smack his face in disbelief was fought back as Ceolfric killed any chance at a surprise and coordinated attack. Calling out with his boisterous mouth to the others rather than using discretion. What's more the idiot thought he could simply barter with their would be assailant for free passage. If they had planned on leaving empty handed they wouldn't have bothered to even lay a trap. Ermes couldn't even get a word in edgewise before Kyreth opened up his mouth to warn them of…something. Even he didn't know what it was that he was saying. Great I'm surrounded by idiots he thought as an arrow was loosed and shot into the dying wolf. Everything fell silent, Ermes hoped that that was the end of it. But he knew better. They were surrounded, undead wolves coming from either side, one emerging right from where he'd caught the presence. Damn that idiot. He was talking to an undead wolf He cursed to himself, swiftly sliding out from under the horse as Ceolfric dealt with both the horse and beast at the same time. Ermes wasn't much of a shield fighter, but watching the mercenary do his work was actually impressive. Again the merc snapped his fingers, and suddenly the horse calmed down. Interesting skill to say the least, he'd no idea the bandit was capable of animal handling. "That all depends on what these things are. For now, I have a temporary solution." Ermes called out, his voice showing the smallest hint of annoyance and enjoyment as he spoke. He held his right hand palm up with his fingers clawed as he jutted it upwards before closing it into a fist. "Restrain" His Aether pooled up beneath the wolf before him, the dirt beneath it began to get disturbed a large aged skeletal hand clawed its way from underground and wrapped itself around the wolf gripping its entire body. "I can hold it off for a bit, keep it from moving." Hopefully Kyreth could use his weird and extremely vague sense to find whoever was responsible for this. If they were constructs it'd be easy, if they were reanimated…he didn't want to think about it.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios This wasn't good at all. Dark magics were at work, unfriendly and dangerous to boot. The fact that there were multiple wolves was also very worrying. Necromancy was what it was called, if she recalled right. The absence of natural aether made the rotting bodies ideal to puppeteer, especially ones that had degraded so. Corpses made for attractive targets as no blows would injure them any further and they could move without worrying about any injuries in a fight like living creatures did. Horrifying stuff, really, and she would tut in disproval if the situation weren't so dire. Fortunately, this was a winnable fight. She let out a tiny squeak of horror as one nearly nipped her leg, hastily draping her bow across her chest as her free hand withdraw her dagger from its holster. "Simple blows will do nothing, we must disrupt their aethric circuits to prevent the magic from further controlling them!" She called out, wondering if she was able to decapacitate the creature. After a second, she realized they likely wouldn't understand. "If we destroy them fully or behead them, they'll be vanquished for good," She added. "They'll continue to be a threat otherwise!" </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Snakeburrow Woods ✧ Purse: 4 copper ✧ Interactions: ✧ Cut off the aetheric what now? Ermes was about to yell at her to speak in plain common, but Eila quickly corrected herself and restated what she said in a way that didn't sound like an academic paper he was fully incapable of reading. He examined the wolf as it snapped at his skeletal claws, seeing how thick its neck appeared to be. His sword would certainly take several swipes to even clean half of it off, and by the black dripping ooze that dribbled out of its mouth, Ermes concluded they didn't have that much time. He watched and waited for the body and head to crumble down to dust. Certain Eila would have a very sound explanation about how the aetheric circuit broke and caused it to collapse into aetheric particles that melded back into the world or something. Ermes watched the limp body, waiting and noticing the lack of deconstruction beyond decomposition. Fuck The large skeletal hand moved, pivoting at where the elbow would be as it wound back before tossing the body as far away as it could. The hand then scooped down, grabbing the head and repeating the motion in the opposite direction. "They're not constructs! Damned things are dripping with black ichor so watch out for its bite." He called out before him as he saw Eila holding one back with a bow. Hopefully whoever the puppet master was would give up on the discarded corpse so that they'd have less threats to deal with. Ermes quickly made his way towards Eila. He didn't think he could manage what Ceolfric had, and he feared that a lack of expediency would get her bitten and infected with whatever disease this black shit could do. So he did the next best thing that he could do. He wrapped his aether around the beast's maw just in time for it to snap shut as his Aether solidified. A bone muzzle wrapping itself around the snout and behind its head to keep it from Biting anyone. "Hey Ceolfric, care to do the honors?"</s> <|message|>Kyreth ✧ Location: Shit Creek ✧ Purse: No Paddle ✧ @McMolly ✧ Kyreth tried to avoid fights. He wasn't good at them. He had always been skinny and weaker than the other kids, they always had more friends than he did to back them up, and he learned pretty quickly that the momentary shame of acquiescing to whatever they wanted – usually a scrap of food or a spot to sleep – was less painful than putting up a fight. Missing a meal or sleeping on the floor were a pittance compared to nursing cuts and bruises for the next week, and he got enough of those without taking fights he didn't need. Besides, it was always just him paying the price; there was nobody else he needed to worry about. Not anymore. Kyreth's mind went blank as he watched Lilann pin the creature, though its writhing made clear it wouldn't be held for long. Heart pounding in his ears, he struggled to undo his cloak, dropping the pin the blacksmith had given him into the dirt with shaking hands as he let the fabric slide from his shoulders. His feet moved without command, eyes never leaving the putrid creature as it struggled. It got one leg under itself, then the other, and soon, having little purchase against the soft rotting flesh of the beast, the knife plunged straight through it with all the force of Lilann's will and into the ground. Freed of its captor, the wolf lunged toward Lilann— —And caught Kyreth's foot in the cheek. Kyreth was as surprised as the beast; it was like he woke up from a dream, with no plan, no idea when he moved, and now off balance from the kick. The wolf staggered sideways, but recovered in an instant, far faster than Kyreth. It turned its pale, dead gaze to him, lunging in his direction with a snarl. Defensively, Kyreth put his hands out, stretching his cloak in front of him like a net. The beast hit its mark, but by nothing more than Selene's divine mercy, its teeth were caught in the strong wool, staining the green fabric black as it tried to gnaw its teeth free. But its momentum continued, tumbling them both backwards, the wolf fighting like a demon against the fabric as Kyreth struggled to wind it tighter. They rolled, the wolf tearing long gashes in the cloak with its claws as it struggled to escape, until they came to a stop, Kyreth pinned to the ground with a snarling mass of green wool and black death on top of him. Then, all he saw was fire.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios At least her clarification had clicked in everyone's heads, albeit the blank stares and lack of a response beforehand made her degree cry a little. Fortunately, it gave some much-needed direction to the group. She wished she could say she was relieved, but unfortunately, she neglected to give herself more space from the wolf. It missed once and didn't seem to want to make the same mistake again, the sting on her shin letting her know she was careless. But that was just the tip of the iceberg as Eila found her back meeting the ground, an aggressive wolf snapping at her. Somehow, it took longer than it should have to register the events. It had lunged at her, but for some reason, her mind didn't realize what it meant. Was it because she was scared? She wouldn't lie and say she wasn't, but it just happened so fast. She greatly underestimated the creature, as even dead, it was stronger than she was. The sound of splintering wood made her realize much too late that it was aiming for her neck. Something so rudimentary slipped her mind, and it would've worked if she didn't switch to her dagger. It was still acting like an animal and wolves often aimed for the kill of any creature they hunted. Regardless of that kind of thinking, though, she was in trouble. Once the reality of the situation came in, Eila was surprised she hadn't started screaming in terror yet. No, that was caught in her throat, her hands struggling to push the thing off of her. Curse her past self for skipping physical education, building some muscle would have proved useful! She seemed to find her voice as the wolf clawed at her, but fortunately, something seemed to muzzle it. Drawing in both of her legs, she gave it a solid kick with both feet, finally freeing herself. She nearly gagged at the stench of whatever that black stuff that it slobbered all over her was, wanting nothing more than to jump in a river. The sudden warmth caught her attention as she got to her feet, and she let out a gasp as she watched what looked like a flaming wolf on top of the Tainted boy. "Kyreth!" </s>

<|description|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios 5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde "In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth." Age: 23 Gender: Female Appearance: Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times. Classification (Aetherborn Only): Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty) Abnormality: For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings. Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color Red - Anger Orange - Anxious Yellow - Focus Blue - Sadness Green - Happiness Purple - Curious Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts Grey - Emptiness Personality: Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need. Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings. Bio: The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step. Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether. There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way. Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure. Likes: * Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while * Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them. * She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe. Dislikes: * Not finding what she needs. * She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy. * Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to. * Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please. * Dirt. No explanation needed. Habits: * Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint. * Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking. * Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions. Inventory: * Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows * A satchel for her belongings * A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing * A silver dagger * A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer * Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.</s> <|message|>Ceolfric, Son of Ravangar --- Huh. The theory about their heads had been correct. Or they were waiting for a chance to spring up again, but the boy solved that quickly enough. Ceolfric would've preferred to keep the body where he could see it, but he'd settle for removing it from the equation altogether. The rest of their team didn't quite fare as well; they looked to be in varying degrees of distress - Freckles was a goner, Eila would probably join him soon enough - but then Kyreth veritably exploded. The bandit thought it a trick of the necromancer at first, a last ditch effort to kill them now that they'd discovered the trick to subduing the wolves, but given that the wolf already had Kyreth dead to rights and there was no reason to waste a corpse like that, it finally clicked that the fire might've come from the boy underneath. Cerric finally moved into action after Storyborn tossed the beast with her mind, only to douse the flames and nothing else. They could all fucking die, but gods forbid a tree burn down. Piece of shit. The damn horse didn't help either, it strained against its mental shackles just enough to keep Ceolfric consistently annoyed. The final nail in the coffin was Esvelee's pointless shrieking. Useless woman couldn't even control her own pack animal and she had the audacity to critique them while she cowered inside the wagon. Speaking of useless women, Eila still hadn't made any progress on her assailant and Ermes seemed to have noticed that he was evidently incapable of handling the wolf himself, given how he'd summoned Ceolfric to help. The bandit rushed past the cart, giving him opportunity to release the snare he held on the horse's mind now that he was no longer in stomping range. It would give Esvelee something to content herself with since she had time to whine. As the wolf reared back to lunge again, Ceolfric thrust the rim of his shield into the side of the beast's head, hoping to exploit its earlier show of poor balance and at least keep it from ripping another chunk out of Eila, if not collapse its other orbital. "And here I thought elves were nimble," he grunted tastelessly as he raised his sword and slashed wildly at the neck, "Another restraining spell would be nice, one of you." ---</s> <|message|>Ermes De Luca ✧ Location: Snakeburrow Woods ✧ Purse: 4 copper ✧ Interactions: ✧ Irrigans femur what the fuck was that? A burst of flames emerged out of Ermes's periphery. Where once laid one of the tainted entangled with a wolf, now was a ball of flames and the scent of burnt decaying flesh that began to permeate the air. He froze as images of his past flashed behind his eyes. The scent of burning flesh reminded him of the raids he'd encountered when he was younger. Scenes of oil lanterns being spilt over as it enclosed families within their house flames, parents braving the fires to rush their children's out to safety only for the parents to be struck down by the Sahagin menace, leaving nothing but an immolated corpse behind. This temporary lapse made him slow, unresponsive as the wolf had already chosen its new target. Whereas before he was prepared to strike, now he just stood there in the same pose, seemingly not there. Esvelees shout was enough to snap him back, shaking off the memories he'd tried to bury with the dead. Ceolfric seemed to have made it towards them, the fire had been handled, and for the most part the tainted twins were fine. Eila on the other- Dear gods. He nodded towards Ceolfrics request, but it'd be a waste of Aether to consistently conjure up solutions for their own shortcomings. He had a limit, one his perception made him gravely aware of. So Ermes beckoned his creation over, the large skeletal hand using its fingers to drag itself and crawl like a nightmarish creature towards them. Once it'd reached the wolf it came down, piercing its sides as it lay on the ground knocked over by Ceolfrics advances. The fingers went through and into the ground, pinning in place with the pinky through middle fingers while the thumb and forefinger pinned either side of the head to keep it straight and from moving. "You have your restraint, now finish the damned thing." Ermes replied, a slight edge to his usually melancholic voice. He went over towards Eila, his pointer finger out as he spun it in a circular motion, moving it backwards to create a spiral of Aether around Eilas calf before solidifying it into a bandage. "Enwrap. There, that should help with the bleeding, though you may want to readjust the pressure. I'm not exactly skilled at bandaging others yet." Ermes got up from his kneeled position making his way towards the wolf and Ceolfric, the head would fall faster if they alternated chops. So he pulled his sword up, aligning it with the extended neck and began to help hack away.</s>

<|message|>Eila Aurelios | Eilowyn Strigios It was the Goddess herself that must have protected Kyreth. He was not burned to cinders as the cloak left him and the creature and left to...set the forest on fire. Oh dear, that could be bad. That must have been Liliann, bless her and her brilliance in the heat of the moment. Eila was ssurprised to see the fire put out rather quickly--so their lives were of little consequence to be lost but heavens forbid some plants get set on fire! The thought alone made Eila bristle. Kyreth could have died! Why didn't he help him?! But the poor child likely needed her help, and despite not being physically adept, she could help him in another way. Of course, she was not only lacking in strength but also in awareness. A lifetime of being sheltered by city walls dulled her sense of safety, only for it to be torn down by the pain in her calf. She let out a squeak of shock, tripping over her own boots and landing on her knees. The pain had been sharp but it was nothing to the realization that she was a sitting duck. She looked at the wolf with wide eyes, the reality of the situation hitting her hard. She froze, body stiff as she watched the creature ready itself to attack her again. Her bow was already cracked, it wouldn't protect her neck a second time. She needed to move. But her legs refused--if anything, they clammed up further as she shrank back. Ceolfric came and bashed the wolf aside. He made it look so easy. His comment was entirely dismissive but it still hit whatever pride she had. She lowered her gaze, fighting back tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She was sitting there scared like a child instead of being dependable. Letting out a shaky breath, Eila did her best to collect herself properly. "Thank you," Eila said quietly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. She watched as Ermes' bandage wrapped itself around her leg, and she felt the shame creep up on her again. How humiliating. She placed her hand over the bandage, directing her aether to heal her wound. Ignoring the shaking of her legs, she forced herself to get up, ignoring the pair stabbing the wolf and walking over to Liliann and Kyreth. "Are you alright?" She asked the pair. "You must have gotten burned. Show me, I can heal your injuries at the very least." </s>

<|description|>Felix Dromas Race: Human and Tulak (Though he's almost indistinguishable from a normal human) Age: 24 Gender: male Appearance: Standing at a height of 5' 11" Felix is pretty unimposing. He doesn't look terribly muscular, but that's the cost of being mostly cybernetic. Equipment: 6 Flashbang grenades Stun Baton Rail Amp'd Hand Cannon- Felix's weapon of choice, only has three shots to the magazine. He generally carries eight mags on his person. Generally requires cybernetic limbs or at least specially designed braces to keep the user from snapping their wrist firing it at full power. Naturally he's gotta be a bit careful firing it near windows or weak points on the ship. Attunement/enhancements: Felix is about 50% prosthetic after his very close encounter with death. His arms, legs and eyes have been completely replaced with top of the line cybernetics. Unfortunately the human brain isn't meant to run this much equipment, so a standard VI was installed to help him regulate the functions of each and increase his overall effectiveness. His eyes, despite looking almost completely normal are also prosthetic. ProstheTech MK III artificial limbs- Between titanium alloys and carbon fiber joints, these limbs are pretty difficult to damage. The powerful mechanisms allow these limbs to exert more strength than their standard human counterparts while still looking the same using synthetic skin. Most people would be almost completely unable to distinguish the two unless they were damaged. ProstheTech MK II artificial eyes- Using enhanced cameras these devices simulate eyesight in those that either lost their own or never had it. This allows the user to bring up Heads Up Displays and other nifty functions through the neural interface. Virtus VI- More of a utility VI than anything else, the Virtus helps Felix keep all of his cybernetics running. It also allows him to run basic scans within a small (5 meter) radius. It only recognizes basic commands he gives it, but he still treats it like an AI with a mind of its own. Unique Abilities : Proximity scan: Felix's VI is able to scan nearby technology and to a lesser extent organic materials. As a combat-engineer however, his interest is purely in the tech. Overclock: Felix can overclock his cybernetic enhancements to dangerous levels in serious situations strengthening his limbs and allowing him to react faster. Like a computer, this produces a dangerous amount of heat and is only used in very specific situations. Personality: Felix has seen, no, experienced some things that no living being should. Being dismembered and tortured left deep mental scars that not even a psych expert can begin to decrypt. Other than that, he is a fairly charismatic individual that is surprisingly softhearted outside of combat. Due to his own circumstances, he fully believes that at least some of the prisoners weren't horrible enough to be sent on the Alcatraz. Bio: Felix was born to a Tulak mother and Human father, a union that was slightly unorthodox at the time. While the two races were fairly friendly towards one another, it was still taboo for Tulak to mate with outsiders. Because of this, Felix was raised on a human colony with his mother disguising her horns to fit in. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he joined the colony's militia. A band of raiders had been harassing the settlement and forcing them to give up their already meager rations. Of course, the militia's job was to prevent this...but the leaders decided against it due to the sheer number of raiders and the obvious result. Felix decided that it couldn't continue. What was the point of having a militia if it didn't protect anything? Why train citizens to wield weapons and then tell them they can't use them to fight back? Being the stupid kid he was, Felix sneaked to the raider camp in an attempt to deal with them once and for all. With the belief that he was saving his family and home, he took the shot that killed the raider leader. In an obvious turn of events, this didn't work out. His position was quickly found and he was tortured to a state that would make death seem like a mercy. His arms and legs ruthlessly ripped off and the sockets healed to prevent him from dying. The raider life wielder used their magic to keep him conscious the whole time as even his eyes were plucked from his head, leaving him a wailing torso and head that couldn't see anything as the raiders burned the colony to the ground. All he could do was scream as he heard everything he had set out to save being destroyed. Eventually his screaming turned to sobs as he heard the carnage around him. In the aftermath, the colony was essentially erased from the surface of the planet and Felix was left to die in the ruins. In perhaps a final act of defiance, Felix stayed alive for days until the shuttle that normally left supplies for the colony arrived. They picked up what was left of him and brought him back to earth to recover. The therapy, the prosthetic limbs, everything. It was all paid for by the reward for killing the raider leader. Apparently his bounty was in the millions, and the group that he had led slowly dispersed after his death. That was the closest thing to a victory Felix could claim for his actions, though the mountain of corpses that had resulted shadowed over it. It was an obvious choice to join the UN's military after that, fighting the bad guys and all that. Of course, that was also complicated when his bloodwork revealed his ancestry. Being half Tulak made Felix a potential diplomatic tool with the anti-human groups that constantly lobbying for war between the Tulak and Human races. It was on what was supposed to be a simple escort mission that everything fell apart once more. In a final effort to appeal to the leader of Tulak nationalist group, Felix's helmet was removed and the small nubs on his head were revealed. Though, instead of the intended effect of bridging the hostilities between the two groups, this enraged the man and led to a massacre on both sides that Felix was "lucky" to have survived. The diplomatic disaster that ensued after this was pegged on him as he was the sole survivor of the humans that had been present. Tulak citizens cried for his death, humans tried to defend him, the governments played tug of war as they do. The final result was him being stationed on board the Alcatraz as a guard and engineer. The fact that this compromise was acceptable to both governments was more frightening than comforting.</s> <|message|>Yvene Twiddling with her hair, Yvene laid back against the wall that connected with the cot. What else was she going to do? Maybe nap, maybe-.. Aw fuck.. Gunshots echoed through the cell block, screaming and just general chaos seeming to erupt at an all time high. Screams of terror were normal sure as well as the ocassional well timed warning shot. This, though, sounded as if there was either a full blown riot going on or the guards had lost their mind finally. Of course Yvene couldn't really blame them. She sure as shit wasn't going down without a fight in any scenario she could make up in her head. Her ears pricked as she heard some panicked chatter. She could only make our bits and pieces as they were semi-close and out of view. "..at least give us a fighting chance against whatever is causing.."-"someone like me would want to keep someone as useful as you alive.." She couldn't exactly see who it was and she wasn't particularly interested in whoever it was. The urge to get out of this prison cell rose in a way it hadn't since she got on the ship. The first week was spent throwing herself at the door, screaming at anyone who walked past in a blind fit of fury. Since then Yvene had truly calmed down and stayed complicit for the most part. Not today, today was not the day to stay complicit. She called out to whoever was talking, either person as she wasn't sure who was who. Clearly though one person stood out of the cells with what she presumed was a crumb of power to release them. "It would really, really suck for you to just keep us in here you know. I have no idea what's running through that little brain of yours, person I dunno but I hope you have a shred of morality. We might be criminals but we deserve some decency. Like uh, not sharing the fate of whatever is going on down there, and seemingly heading this way. So please?" She pleaded to the door, pressing up against it. Struggling to get a good look, Yvene slumped back. Anxiety floods her body, making her incredibly nauseous. The cells in her body wouldn't stop vibrating, out of fear and partial excitement. Something was going down, and something horrible. Though the thrill of anything other than a tiny cramped cell and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights brought a twinge of excitement. The fact of all of them might be released as well was certainly...A thought. There were no strong feelings either way about facing the rest of the beings stuck on this mechanical contraption. The worry more so laid on the sounds of death from the other block. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she silently cursed herself for not being able to keep her composure more. The promise of death tends to shake one up a bit.</s> <|message|>Ziola Ozro Ziola suppressed the urge to sigh. She hadn't expected the technician would let on much, so she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. "Nothing new then," she muttered, although she couldn't shake the feeling something was up. She slumped back onto the bed, looking away as she once again listened in. Coughs sounded from the feed, along with the voices of medics. Some kind of outbreak? The need to do something kicked in, instilled in her by years of medical training and practice, but it wasn't like she could any more. Her days as a doctor were long behind her. Fists clenched, she enhanced her hearing again, to pick up what the medics were saying. Just in time for a cacophony of screams and gunshots to bombard her ears. She gasped and ended the effect at once, reeling from both overwhelm and horror. While she'd dealt with some grisly situations during her career, nothing had ever compared to what she heard now. The staccato of gunfire gave way to crackling and snapping. Flames. Another shot. Silence. She stared at the two men, the technician's face paling as he took it all in. "Correction...Things aren't alright at all," he replied. Ziola gave a grim nod. "That's putting it mildly, by the sound of it. Y'know it's all hit the fan when a paranoid guy has every right to be." She stood, pressing a hand against the glass. Although she fought to breathe deeply, and kept her expression as composed as possible to tamp down panic, she'd probably gone as sickly pale as the technician. Other prisoners called out, trying to convince him to help - as if he was at all likely to do so. Right now, she wished more than ever she and the others could put faith in the staff here. Even so, there was nothing to lose by trying. "They're right. Please, listen to us. If part of your job is to watch over us, then it's also part of your job to make sure we don't end up as overcooked mincemeat." She edged closer to where her medical kit and surgical tools were stored, ready to grab them. "We'll all stand more of a chance if you let us out. All of us, including you."</s>

<|message|>Felix Dromas Felix's fear bled slightly into frustration at everyone suddenly trying to tell him what to do. His color returning a bit as a result. This was why he had requested portable terminals of some sort so he could operate with some level of privacy. Of course, he agreed with the prisoners...But hearing several people trying to pressure him into essentially breaking them out was a bit grating. He sighed, slightly exasperated before deciding to respond to them all at once. "I'm assigned purely as an engineer today, not a guard. My current duty is essentially keeping the lights and AC running, not watching over your safety." Felix clenched his fist. "That said, it means I'm also not currently in charge of keeping you all in those cells." With a few swipes of his fingers on the terminal that had started this whole mess, several cell doors opened as did the cases to their occupants' property. "Oh, it seems several prisoners have been marked as deceased. Must be something in the water." Of course, he immediately regretted this decision somewhat as he heard a sharp cough ring out nearby. He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead as he immediately realised what that meant. He had Virtus run a scan of his own vitals and was grateful to see nothing currently amiss. "Okay, everyone in earshot. We've got a few minutes at most to get out of here and get to the medical bay in the hopes that we're not just spreading some plague to the rest of the ship." If Felix had more time he'd get somebody down here to give all of these people a medical scan to clear them separately. He considered the random scientist's words from before. Releasing prisoners like this would be chaotic on a good day, and he wasn't exactly confident he could rally them to a cause of any sort. "Not like there's anything to lose." He said, shaking off his hesitation he began the process of opening the entire block...only to notice that the terminal had locked up. Either they were onto him, or things were kicking off ahead of schedule. Felix patched his radio to the med bay in an attempt to reach the ship's head doctor. "Lea, it's Felix. I don't have much time to talk, but I'm on my way up there with a few prisoners. It's an emergen-" Felix heard the connection sever. Okay, they were definitely onto him. At least he'd managed to free a few people beforehand. That's when an idea struck him, something a mischievous prisoner had done in the first year aboard. He sprinted over to a seemingly random point near the terminal and ripped off an inconspicuous wall panel. A nexus of wires was seen, much to both Felix's relief and disappointment. The wiring in these cell blocks was atrocious, like the containment of prisoners was a low priority on a vessel with zero chance of escape. Felix turned his stun baton to the highest shock setting and forced it into the nexus, causing a rolling blackout as a wave of short circuits forced much of the block and even the neighboring blocks into the ominous red glow that indicated emergency power. He felt slightly sick, it took him two months to rewire that block last time that happened. Obviously he couldn't communicate with all of the prisoners that his actions just freed, but them being able to grab their gear and cause some chaos would at least buy time. Internally he laughed at his own actions, within literally a few minutes he'd turned traitor and started what would likely become a huge riot. Then again, what were his superiors gonna do? Throw him in prison? "Maybe if we can let Dr.Bursmir know what's going on she can do something about whatever's spreading through the ship. I don't know, this wasn't exactly in the handbook." Felix said. A few more coughs rang out further down the block as some of the prisoners realised they were free. As rough as it was to just leave these prisoners to the Draughts, it seemed that whatever was ailing these people was considerably worse. The fact that one of the Sentries literally took himself out just because he had been coughed on. Plus the flamethrowers being used to finish things...Perhaps these people were already doomed. Felix shook his head and cleared himself of those thoughts. At least his actions allowed them to not simply die helpless in their cells. That justification didn't exactly make him feel great about the situation, but it did allow him to stick to the issue at hand.</s>

<|description|>Felix Dromas Race: Human and Tulak (Though he's almost indistinguishable from a normal human) Age: 24 Gender: male Appearance: Standing at a height of 5' 11" Felix is pretty unimposing. He doesn't look terribly muscular, but that's the cost of being mostly cybernetic. Equipment: 6 Flashbang grenades Stun Baton Rail Amp'd Hand Cannon- Felix's weapon of choice, only has three shots to the magazine. He generally carries eight mags on his person. Generally requires cybernetic limbs or at least specially designed braces to keep the user from snapping their wrist firing it at full power. Naturally he's gotta be a bit careful firing it near windows or weak points on the ship. Attunement/enhancements: Felix is about 50% prosthetic after his very close encounter with death. His arms, legs and eyes have been completely replaced with top of the line cybernetics. Unfortunately the human brain isn't meant to run this much equipment, so a standard VI was installed to help him regulate the functions of each and increase his overall effectiveness. His eyes, despite looking almost completely normal are also prosthetic. ProstheTech MK III artificial limbs- Between titanium alloys and carbon fiber joints, these limbs are pretty difficult to damage. The powerful mechanisms allow these limbs to exert more strength than their standard human counterparts while still looking the same using synthetic skin. Most people would be almost completely unable to distinguish the two unless they were damaged. ProstheTech MK II artificial eyes- Using enhanced cameras these devices simulate eyesight in those that either lost their own or never had it. This allows the user to bring up Heads Up Displays and other nifty functions through the neural interface. Virtus VI- More of a utility VI than anything else, the Virtus helps Felix keep all of his cybernetics running. It also allows him to run basic scans within a small (5 meter) radius. It only recognizes basic commands he gives it, but he still treats it like an AI with a mind of its own. Unique Abilities : Proximity scan: Felix's VI is able to scan nearby technology and to a lesser extent organic materials. As a combat-engineer however, his interest is purely in the tech. Overclock: Felix can overclock his cybernetic enhancements to dangerous levels in serious situations strengthening his limbs and allowing him to react faster. Like a computer, this produces a dangerous amount of heat and is only used in very specific situations. Personality: Felix has seen, no, experienced some things that no living being should. Being dismembered and tortured left deep mental scars that not even a psych expert can begin to decrypt. Other than that, he is a fairly charismatic individual that is surprisingly softhearted outside of combat. Due to his own circumstances, he fully believes that at least some of the prisoners weren't horrible enough to be sent on the Alcatraz. Bio: Felix was born to a Tulak mother and Human father, a union that was slightly unorthodox at the time. While the two races were fairly friendly towards one another, it was still taboo for Tulak to mate with outsiders. Because of this, Felix was raised on a human colony with his mother disguising her horns to fit in. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he joined the colony's militia. A band of raiders had been harassing the settlement and forcing them to give up their already meager rations. Of course, the militia's job was to prevent this...but the leaders decided against it due to the sheer number of raiders and the obvious result. Felix decided that it couldn't continue. What was the point of having a militia if it didn't protect anything? Why train citizens to wield weapons and then tell them they can't use them to fight back? Being the stupid kid he was, Felix sneaked to the raider camp in an attempt to deal with them once and for all. With the belief that he was saving his family and home, he took the shot that killed the raider leader. In an obvious turn of events, this didn't work out. His position was quickly found and he was tortured to a state that would make death seem like a mercy. His arms and legs ruthlessly ripped off and the sockets healed to prevent him from dying. The raider life wielder used their magic to keep him conscious the whole time as even his eyes were plucked from his head, leaving him a wailing torso and head that couldn't see anything as the raiders burned the colony to the ground. All he could do was scream as he heard everything he had set out to save being destroyed. Eventually his screaming turned to sobs as he heard the carnage around him. In the aftermath, the colony was essentially erased from the surface of the planet and Felix was left to die in the ruins. In perhaps a final act of defiance, Felix stayed alive for days until the shuttle that normally left supplies for the colony arrived. They picked up what was left of him and brought him back to earth to recover. The therapy, the prosthetic limbs, everything. It was all paid for by the reward for killing the raider leader. Apparently his bounty was in the millions, and the group that he had led slowly dispersed after his death. That was the closest thing to a victory Felix could claim for his actions, though the mountain of corpses that had resulted shadowed over it. It was an obvious choice to join the UN's military after that, fighting the bad guys and all that. Of course, that was also complicated when his bloodwork revealed his ancestry. Being half Tulak made Felix a potential diplomatic tool with the anti-human groups that constantly lobbying for war between the Tulak and Human races. It was on what was supposed to be a simple escort mission that everything fell apart once more. In a final effort to appeal to the leader of Tulak nationalist group, Felix's helmet was removed and the small nubs on his head were revealed. Though, instead of the intended effect of bridging the hostilities between the two groups, this enraged the man and led to a massacre on both sides that Felix was "lucky" to have survived. The diplomatic disaster that ensued after this was pegged on him as he was the sole survivor of the humans that had been present. Tulak citizens cried for his death, humans tried to defend him, the governments played tug of war as they do. The final result was him being stationed on board the Alcatraz as a guard and engineer. The fact that this compromise was acceptable to both governments was more frightening than comforting.</s> <|message|>Ziola Ozro @Emeth Swallowing down apprehension, Ziola hurried aboard the tram. Boarding this thing could well be suicide, but if they all stayed behind, their chances would be no better. Since there was no telling how fast it would go, she grabbed hold of a rail, bracing herself as she watched the countdown. Three. Two. One. The tram juddered forward, instead of hurtling at full speed as she'd feared. Of course, now there was a new danger to worry about - every so often, the machine stopped altogether. What if it didn't start up again? Keeping her breathing steady despite the smell of rust, Ziola remained as outwardly calm as she could, although her fist clenched around the rail so tightly her knuckles turned white. To her relief, after what felt like a much longer time than it likely was, a stuttering, static-filled message played out. They'd reached the medical bay after all. Not that the arrival was any smoother than the journey had been. The brakes slammed on at once, pitching everyone forward. Still clinging to the pole, Ziola stumbled a few steps, grunting as her shoulder seared. In front of her, Felix went flying into the front window hard enough to crack the glass. "Felix!" She let go and rushed over to him, rolling her shoulder, which ached but didn't feel badly damaged. "Are you alright?" Her eyes flicked around the new, albeit lesser, chaos as people picked themselves up. "Is everyone alr-" She fell silent, staring as a large feline form scampered through the tram. Piercing the quiet with its shrieks, it leapt out of a broken window and... distorted itself? Before Ziola could get a good look at its limbs stretching like putty, the creature had vanished. "Huh." She blinked a few times. While it was plausible that a cat could have snuck in before launch and lived on a diet of rat, the shifting was a tad bit harder to explain, other than by the possibility she could be hallucinating. Solitary confinement and a sudden life-or-death situation weren't the healthiest combination for the mind. "Did anyone else see that cat? Please tell me I wasn't the only one."</s> <|message|>Got my boi redone Typhon Leverenz After his introduction Typhon kept an eye on the others. With none of them admitting much about themselves he had plenty of unknowns to contend with. While he didn't expect much reaction to his profession given everyone here had most likely done something equally bad, he did wait to see if anyone reacted to his name. And sure enough, the other Tulak, Ziola, picked up on it. At least she decided not to be confrontational about it but he would still have to keep an eye on her, no clue who his parents had scorned. She didn't give her last name either so that she wasn't anyone important back home or she had something she wanted to keep hidden. But shortly after introductions had concluded the tram was finally up and running, after a shower of sparks that he almost thought broke the horrible machine before it started. He certainly wasn't a fan of entrusting his life to this scrap heap that was formerly a vehicle but it wasn't like he had much choice in the end. So he quickly boarded with the others before they went on their way. Surprisingly though it worked better than he had anticipated. Sure the thing was stuttery and definitely wasn't in perfect condition. And sure he's had smoother rides while hiding in a cargo truck to slip past security on some of his missions, but at least it worked! He leaned against the wall of the tram while watching the others. He certainly didn't trust the others enough to let his guard down. At least he had the advantage in terms of weapon variety, and hopefully in experience, should any of them try anything. He did notice their impromptu conductor had his eye on something for a part of the ride there before focusing on making sure nothing happened to the tram. It was far too dark for him to see anything but it still made him curious what Felix could have been seeing… While occupied with his thoughts he was distracted by the intercom warning them of their arrival. He let out a sigh of relief, just thankful they weren't crushed by a giant, rusted machine. At least until the brakes were slammed on with very little warning. He grabbed a nearby pole and held tightly, managing to at least not fall on his ass. He did get to see Felix slam straight into the front windshield however. Thankfully it held up or they'd have a whole different problem on their hands. But there was also a… strange figure was the only way to describe it, that slid out from under the seats. It unfurled into a feline form and hopped out the window before transforming again. He knew there had to be some ridiculous shit on this ship but what even was that. He was too stunned to even shoot at the creature before it could escape. As soon as the door to the tram slid open he rushed out with his weapon raised, checking all around him to see where the creature went. After clearing the area and seeing that nothing was there he signaled to the others that it was safe at least for now. He realized that they might not understand the hand sign so he lowered his weapon and told them cautiously, "looks like we're all good. I don't see it anywhere." Granted the darkness didn't help, especially when the creature was all black, but it was much better to get out of here and get somewhere safe. Not wanting to risk taking any kind of maintenance tunnels again or trying vents or something with that thing running around, he decided he'd try the door. The door that was welded shut, just like in the previous tram station. While it was mildly annoying it wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. Unfortunately with no protective gear of any kind he had to squint and turn away to keep his eyes safe as he used both hands to hold his plasma rifle steady as he got to work. Thankfully he wasn't really wasting ammo but he still hated using one of his prized weapons for such unceremonious work as trying to get a door opened. It took him a few minutes but eventually he was able to melt through the door enough to get the damned thing open. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead, swapping out one plasma rifle with the other to let it recharge. "Lead the way Felix."</s>

<|message|>Felix Dromas Felix nodded at Typhon before stepping through into the medical bay. He gestured for the assassin to keep his weapon down, they were going into a civilian area after all. If he'd had his tools handy they'd have been able to get through the door a bit more safely, but this had worked out just fine. Even so, it was a relief to get off of that death trap and exit the tunnels. Something hadn't been sitting right with him since he saw those 'people' further back. Had those really just been prisoners that managed to escape into the tunnels? Felix also hadn't seen the 'cat' that had startled some of the others, but he'd been busy picking himself out of the window at that point. "We should be pretty safe from here on assuming that 'cat' you saw wasn't something dangerous. Regardless, I doubt the sentries have any idea where we've gone." Naturally Felix again failed to mention the people he'd seen in the tunnel, but they'd been a fair distance away so it probably wasn't relevant. Maybe they should re-seal the door? Nah, no time. Every minute they wasted was another chance for something else to go wrong. Felix noted the fact that the med bay still looked perfectly normal despite the chaos going on. The staffing was quite a bit lighter than he'd remembered, but at least everything seemed up to code. The remaining medical staff rushed from one area to another, likely nursing a few unlucky prisoner's stab wounds or a guard that'd gotten too close to the bars. On a ship this size incidents were all but inevitable for the less cautious. He kept his ears open for any coughs, a sound that while practically associated with the sick bay, had much heavier implications given everything they'd seen. He guided the small group to the doctor's office to see...he wasn't exactly certain, but it kind of freaked him out. He put his hand on his holstered pistol but didn't draw it. Whatever this thing was seemed friendly for the moment, and the doctor seemed to be grabbing something for it. "Doctor?" He asked gesturing inquisitively towards the 'cat' person, still prepared to take action if necessary but trusting Lea's judgement. At minimum, it seemed, this creature wasn't involved with the trouble they were currently in. That was reason enough for Felix to lax his grip slightly. "Think we found your 'cat' Ziola." He said, still keeping his eyes locked on whatever the shapeshifter was. He wondered if this was one of the experiments the onboard scientists had been so obsessed with, not that he really understood the point of study on an isolated ship in deep space. He assumed something similar was the cause of whatever 'plague' the Sentries had been purging so efficiently.</s>

<|description|>Ziola Ozro Race: Tulak Age: 27 Gender: Female Appearance: While Ziola's pale colouring and delicate features make her appear soft, the way she carries herself is anything but. Her face is usually neutral, only the occasional small tell giving away any emotion. At 5'6" she's fairly average height, but stands tall even in fraught situation, her mannerisms either purposeful or defensive. Equipment: First aid kit, various surgical tools Attunement/enhancements: Ziola is attuned to Life, able to heal wounds, as well as affect the body in various ways - not all of them beneficial. While she prefers not to cause harm, she's capable of it if it's unavoidable, or if she's pushed too far. Unique Ability: Ziola is able to temporarily boost someone's physical functions, either her own or someone else's, such as strength, pain tolerance, or senses. She can only affect one person and one function at a time, and if she maintains the effect for more than five minutes, it becomes taxing on her - using this ability for too long will cause her to pass out. Aboard the ship, she can only use it to a tiny extent, and for a matter of seconds at a time. Personality: To those who don't know her, Ziola is difficult to read. Her face is an impassive mask most of the time. This emotional restraint, combined with her tendency towards dark humour, makes her appear cold - and what really adds to this is her wariness. She's slow to trust, and even slower to forgive. Those she's particularly cynical about are those in authority or those who are otherwise widely esteemed, as she knows firsthand there's often more to them that meets the eye. Gaining her trust, while not easy, will result in a loyal, protective friend - who will unleash her more brutal side to defend them if necessary. If that trust is broken, however, it'll be exceptionally difficult to rebuild. Bio: Money and power aren't everything, and Ziola is living proof of this. A medic of wealthy origins, she was married off to a high-ranking politician, Aedar, since her family wished to gain some political influence. Aedar was unable to use magic, and while non-mages typically compensated by seeking other forms of power, he still bitterly envied mages. Behind closed doors, he'd take out his resentment on Ziola. Frequently. If she spoke out, he told her, nobody would believe her. And if she tried to do anything to him, she'd suffer for it. Everyone, however, has a breaking point. Aedar forbade her from doing her job, claiming it was because she was meant to be devoted to him, but really it was because he envied her abilities. Nonetheless, she'd sneak out and continue to perform medicine on the sly. When he found out, Aedar was furious. He sent his men to track her down, one of them killing a patient to get at her while the others restrained her. They brought her back home, and the moment she was left alone with her husband was when she snapped. As he'd warned, she suffered for it - especially considering how brutal and drawn out his death was, multiple organs failing. Having taken the life of such an important figure, she was sent right away to the prison reserved for the worst criminals, the Alcatraz.</s> <|message|>Jasper With a huff, Jasper lowered himself onto the bed after some time fruitlessly willing the ship to crash or something with all of the floor-shoving. Sitting, arms resting on their knees as his head hung, he stared into the floor and then his hands, turning the palms up. This was a lonely haunt; all the threat of what reminders were scribbled on the clipboard hung beside the sliding door outside. In truth, he couldn't tell if was even still there...and the darkness of their thoughts began to sink back in with that single spark to reawaken old demons and fresh wounds. What if they all know? Lock the box and throw away the key, forget about the door and its contents, weld the door shut and nothing in his smooth metal tomb would change...for centuries. The worry made his throat tighten up once more, choking back the emotions that had once been released years ago as tireless screams of vocal cords that would re-knit themselves fresh with every breath. Forgotten~ Newspaper footnotes to be gawked over and then discarded~ "...How appalling! How Horrifying! Have you heard the news? Murders...murderers a-and..." Jasper looked up, thinking he heard something like a voice so clear he could have sworn it was right beside him. A palpable moment of stillness came and passed, waiting with a racing heart before lifting his hands to his face. Deep calming breaths dragged the seconds by, but the ghosts would not go so quietly. All the lies~ Imagine the spin they put on it, even~! Faces; expressions aghast with slacked jaws as they watched you do it, saint~ The trees are gone, now. You cut them down. You cut them all down with your own hands and drank their sap to spite their memories. It was then just a brief flicker of a woman's face, contorted in a dislocated yet silent scream. Their skin a pale grey, pulled taught over the bones and sinew, beneath, sunken and sallow like the hollow, accusing eyes. He was on his feet, retching and spasming even as he stretched to the tips of his toes, fingers twisting as they pressed into his face almost as if trying to crush his own skull. A soft gargle of a shivering inhale reluctantly hissed between his chattering teeth, the promise his ghosts demanded being made as his lips twisted into horror. Yet...before his anguish could break the silence in another fit of screams, another sound made the walls gently chime. Distant thumps and pops accompanied by the screams of others from beyond the walls. Audible rushes of air being devoured by flame and the snaps of doors sliding open, only for the voices and noise to continue anew, refreshed by the next victim. This tangible stimuli was a sickening comfort...that the hollow void of space would house fates as awful as his own waking nightmares. Jasper sank to his knees, arms swinging to the sides and dragging across the floor as his expression relaxed into an empty stare. If there were tears left in him, he would have been a mess at this point, but the bloodshot thousand-yard stare held a chilling reflection in the door of a repeatedly broken animal who came out the other end with an anticipatory realization. These sounds were not stopping...these ones were quite real...and they were getting closer. Standing once more, he swept up to the door, pressing his ear against the metal to listen to the sound of change. The world was once again alive with death; he was certain something was happening, and this singular detail teased the outline of a manic grin on the corners of his lips. The sounds were coming his way! The doors would be opened and...and whatever happened after...who knew? The unknown variables set alight his senses as if shaken awake, his heart fluttering with a desperation to join the sound...to make more of it. The elation spurred a brief maddened laugh as he looked around his room and then down to himself. Any other circumstance, the promise of entertaining guests would send him to and fro to make himself presentable and prepare hors d'oeuvres. Unfortunately, his state would have to suffice...and the guests would have to be the ones providing the snacks. Jasper shook the sudden pangs of hunger at the thought, easily distracting himself with equally unsound processes of contemplation. His mind swam with what his words would be, squirming and stumbling, indecisively, through a few terrible jokes as he failed to grasp the danger behind the noises.</s> <|message|>Yvene Twiddling with her hair, Yvene laid back against the wall that connected with the cot. What else was she going to do? Maybe nap, maybe-.. Aw fuck.. Gunshots echoed through the cell block, screaming and just general chaos seeming to erupt at an all time high. Screams of terror were normal sure as well as the ocassional well timed warning shot. This, though, sounded as if there was either a full blown riot going on or the guards had lost their mind finally. Of course Yvene couldn't really blame them. She sure as shit wasn't going down without a fight in any scenario she could make up in her head. Her ears pricked as she heard some panicked chatter. She could only make our bits and pieces as they were semi-close and out of view. "..at least give us a fighting chance against whatever is causing.."-"someone like me would want to keep someone as useful as you alive.." She couldn't exactly see who it was and she wasn't particularly interested in whoever it was. The urge to get out of this prison cell rose in a way it hadn't since she got on the ship. The first week was spent throwing herself at the door, screaming at anyone who walked past in a blind fit of fury. Since then Yvene had truly calmed down and stayed complicit for the most part. Not today, today was not the day to stay complicit. She called out to whoever was talking, either person as she wasn't sure who was who. Clearly though one person stood out of the cells with what she presumed was a crumb of power to release them. "It would really, really suck for you to just keep us in here you know. I have no idea what's running through that little brain of yours, person I dunno but I hope you have a shred of morality. We might be criminals but we deserve some decency. Like uh, not sharing the fate of whatever is going on down there, and seemingly heading this way. So please?" She pleaded to the door, pressing up against it. Struggling to get a good look, Yvene slumped back. Anxiety floods her body, making her incredibly nauseous. The cells in her body wouldn't stop vibrating, out of fear and partial excitement. Something was going down, and something horrible. Though the thrill of anything other than a tiny cramped cell and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights brought a twinge of excitement. The fact of all of them might be released as well was certainly...A thought. There were no strong feelings either way about facing the rest of the beings stuck on this mechanical contraption. The worry more so laid on the sounds of death from the other block. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she silently cursed herself for not being able to keep her composure more. The promise of death tends to shake one up a bit.</s>

<|message|>Ziola Ozro Ziola suppressed the urge to sigh. She hadn't expected the technician would let on much, so she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. "Nothing new then," she muttered, although she couldn't shake the feeling something was up. She slumped back onto the bed, looking away as she once again listened in. Coughs sounded from the feed, along with the voices of medics. Some kind of outbreak? The need to do something kicked in, instilled in her by years of medical training and practice, but it wasn't like she could any more. Her days as a doctor were long behind her. Fists clenched, she enhanced her hearing again, to pick up what the medics were saying. Just in time for a cacophony of screams and gunshots to bombard her ears. She gasped and ended the effect at once, reeling from both overwhelm and horror. While she'd dealt with some grisly situations during her career, nothing had ever compared to what she heard now. The staccato of gunfire gave way to crackling and snapping. Flames. Another shot. Silence. She stared at the two men, the technician's face paling as he took it all in. "Correction...Things aren't alright at all," he replied. Ziola gave a grim nod. "That's putting it mildly, by the sound of it. Y'know it's all hit the fan when a paranoid guy has every right to be." She stood, pressing a hand against the glass. Although she fought to breathe deeply, and kept her expression as composed as possible to tamp down panic, she'd probably gone as sickly pale as the technician. Other prisoners called out, trying to convince him to help - as if he was at all likely to do so. Right now, she wished more than ever she and the others could put faith in the staff here. Even so, there was nothing to lose by trying. "They're right. Please, listen to us. If part of your job is to watch over us, then it's also part of your job to make sure we don't end up as overcooked mincemeat." She edged closer to where her medical kit and surgical tools were stored, ready to grab them. "We'll all stand more of a chance if you let us out. All of us, including you."</s>

<|description|>Amaryllis *Note: While she may look human in this pic, she is still a wooden construct made out of plant fibers and vines. Hers is more flower based. (OOC: The pic is the closest approximation to how I envision the character's appearance) Amaryllis Wooden One Druid 3 AC 16 HP 18/18 Speed 30ft Str 8 (-1) Dex 16 (3) Con 11 (0) Wis 20 (5) Int 10 (0) Cha 16 (3) Attacks Quarterstaff +1 1d6/1d8-1 Shillelagh +7 1d6/1d8+5 Wisdom +2. Wisdom Cap increased to 22. Charisma +2. Charisma cap increased to 22. +1 to a different stat of choice (DEX). Size - Medium Speed - 30 One With Nature - You have Climb and Swim speeds equal to your walking speed. Forest Construct - You do not need to eat, drink, or breathe to survive. Through sounds and gestures, you can communicate simple ideas with Beasts. Warden of the Heartlands - You are proficient with the Animal Handling skill and the Nature skill. The Blessings of Water - While it is raining or you have access to a large body of water such as a river or lake and are standing or submerged in it, you may spend Hit Dice as an action to regain hit points. Add your proficiency modifier to hit die expended in this way. The Warmth of the Sun - While you are in direct Sunlight, your Move Speed is increased by 10. The Tendrils of the Everbloom - You may, as a bonus action, touch a tree and travel through its root systems and emerge from another tree within 60 feet of the one you touched. You may do this a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency modifier. Everbloom's Fabled Freezing - You are vulnerable to Cold Damage; in addition, your movement speed is reduced by 10 until the end of your next turn whenever you take cold damage. This may stack to a movement speed of 0. Druidic: You know Druidic, the secret language of druids. You can speak the language and use it to leave hidden messages. You and others who know this language automatically spot such a message. Others spot the message's presence with a successful DC 15 Wisdom (Perception) check but can't decipher it without magic. Starting at 2nd level, you can use your action to magically assume the shape of a beast that you have seen before. You can use this feature twice. You regain expended uses when you finish a short or long rest. Your druid level determines the beasts you can transform into, as shown in the Beast Shapes table. At 2nd level, for example, you can transform into any beast that has a challenge rating of 1/4 or lower that doesn't have a flying or swimming speed. Beast Shapes Level Max. CR Limitations Example 2nd 1/4 No flying or swimming speed Wolf 4th 1/2 No flying speed Crocodile 8th 1 — Giant eagle You can stay in a beast shape for a number of hours equal to half your druid level (rounded down). You then revert to your normal form unless you expend another use of this feature. You can revert to your normal form earlier by using a bonus action on your turn. You automatically revert if you fall unconscious, drop to 0 hit points, or die. While you are transformed, the following rules apply: Your game statistics are replaced by the statistics of the beast, but you retain your alignment, personality, and Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma scores. You also retain all of your skill and saving throw proficiencies, in addition to gaining those of the creature. If the creature has the same proficiency as you and the bonus in its stat block is higher than yours, use the creature's bonus instead of yours. If the creature has any legendary or lair actions, you can't use them. When you transform, you assume the beast's hit points and Hit Dice. When you revert to your normal form, you return to the number of hit points you had before you transformed. However, if you revert as a result of dropping to 0 hit points, any excess damage carries over to your normal form. For example, if you take 10 damage in animal form and have only 1 hit point left, you revert and take 9 damage. As long as the excess damage doesn't reduce your normal form to 0 hit points, you aren't knocked unconscious. You can't cast spells, and your ability to speak or take any action that requires hands is limited to the capabilities of your beast form. Transforming doesn't break your concentration on a spell you've already cast, however, or prevent you from taking actions that are part of a spell, such as call lightning, that you've already cast. You retain the benefit of any features from your class, race, or other source and can use them if the new form is physically capable of doing so. However, you can't use any of your special senses, such as darkvision, unless your new form also has that sense. You choose whether your equipment falls to the ground in your space, merges into your new form, or is worn by it. Worn equipment functions as normal, but the DM decides whether it is practical for the new form to wear a piece of equipment, based on the creature's shape and size. Your equipment doesn't change size or shape to match the new form, and any equipment that the new form can't wear must either fall to the ground or merge with it. Equipment that merges with the form has no effect until you leave the form. Star Map: You've created a star chart as part of your heavenly studies. It is a Tiny object and can serve as a spellcasting focus for your druid spells. You determine its form by rolling on the Star Map table or by choosing one. A stone tablet with fine holes drilled through it While holding this map, you have these benefits: You know the guidance cantrip. You have the guiding bolt spell prepared. It counts as a druid spell for you, and it doesn't count against the number of spells you can have prepared. You can cast guiding bolt without expending a spell slot. You can do so a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus, and you regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest. If you lose the map, you can perform a 1-hour ceremony to magically create a replacement. This ceremony can be performed during a short or long rest, and it destroys the previous map. Starry Form: As a bonus action, you can expend a use of your Wild Shape feature to take on a starry form, rather than transforming into a beast. While in your starry form, you retain your game statistics, but your body becomes luminous; your joints glimmer like stars, and glowing lines connect them as on a star chart. This form sheds bright light in a 10-foot radius and dim light for an additional 10 feet. The form lasts for 10 minutes. It ends early if you dismiss it (no action required), are incapacitated, die, or use this feature again. Whenever you assume your starry form, choose which of the following constellations glimmers on your body; your choice gives you certain benefits while in the form: Archer. A constellation of an archer appears on you. When you activate this form, and as a bonus action on your subsequent turns while it lasts, you can make a ranged spell attack, hurling a luminous arrow that targets one creature within 60 feet of you. On a hit, the attack deals radiant damage equal to 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier. Chalice. A constellation of a life-giving goblet appears on you. Whenever you cast a spell using a spell slot that restores hit points to a creature, you or another creature within 30 feet of you can regain hit points equal to 1d8 + your Wisdom modifier. Dragon. A constellation of a wise dragon appears on you. When you make an Intelligence or a Wisdom check or a Constitution saving throw to maintain concentration on a spell, you can treat a roll of 9 or lower on the d20 as a 10. Discovery: The quiet seclusion of your extended hermitage gave you access to a unique and powerful discovery. The exact nature of this revelation depends on the nature of your seclusion. It might be a great truth about the cosmos, the deities, the powerful beings of the outer planes, or the forces of nature. It could be a site that no one else has ever seen. You might have uncovered a fact that has long been forgotten, or unearthed some relic of the past that could rewrite history. It might be information that would be damaging to the people who or consigned you to exile, and hence the reason for your return to society. Work with your DM to determine the details of your discovery and its impact on the campaign. Free Feat: Skill Expert You have honed your proficiency with particular skills, granting you the following benefits: *Increase one ability score of your choice by 1, to a maximum of 20. (CHA) *You gain proficiency in one skill of your choice. (Insight) *Choose one skill in which you have proficiency. You gain expertise with that skill, which means your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make with it. The skill you choose must be one that isn't already benefiting from a feature, such as Expertise, that doubles your proficiency bonus. (Survival) Born from a union between a Wooden One and a Human, Amaryllis appears almost human herself. Ten years she was just a seed, and for thirty years after, she grew in isolation and meditation. While her heritage as a Wooden One is apparent, she received her fascination of the stars and the heavens above from her Human parent, her father. Why was she isolated? Amaryllis is aware that her situation amongst other Wooden Ones in the Heartlands is complicated. On one hand, she was to be treated as lesser than other Wooden Ones because one of her parents was a human. But her mother is current Druid, and Amaryllis herself has shown a talent for the Druidic arts. So leadership, or advising the next leader at the very least, would fall to Amaryllis. So, it was decided that her life was to be spent in isolation, so that she may focus on her studies and tending to the world around her. Amaryllis worked diligently in her own area of the Heartlands, away from any other contact. In her studies, she found a way to unite the light of the stars with druidic magic. One day, in her own isolation, she learned something important: A portent of the future from the stars as well as present signs from nature around her. With this portent and signs, Amaryllis realized that sitting around in her grove would not help matters. So, she left. She realizes that the best course of action would be to speak with the leaders. Starting with the Princess of the Dale Folk. Oh? She's already sent out a Summons? Even better! Amaryllis takes the opportunity to accept the summons in order to speak with the Princess. During Amaryllis's journey out of the Heartlands, she realizes the isolation caused her own heart to freeze on the surface. She can be blunt, and more often than not, appear aloof to others. However, deep down, she wants to be accepted into a group. She wants to be a part of a community, to have friends and loved ones of her own. But she also tells herself that that is not as important as the problem at hand now.</s> <|message|>Amaryllis Amaryllis Some time after meeting with the Princess, Amaryllis had asked the Princess for permission to go to the Library for research. After receiving approval, Amaryllis made her way there with haste and purpose in her stride. Once in there, she takes in the atmosphere and the library's appearance. This was the first time she had been in such a place. So this was how the Dale Folk learned? She proceeds to look around for subjects that could help her learn anything at all about the Rot that now grips the Heartlands. Not once does she stop to talk to anyone here.</s> <|message|>I'Rajith ℑ'ℜ𝔞𝔧𝔦𝔱𝔥 __________________________________________________ Libraries were curious places for Noctem. While they primarily used them for research as other folk did, their study experience was quite different. They took no notes. They found misinformation and embellishments where others saw fact, having learnt ancient truths since birth. No Noctem ever picked up a book and read it from cover to cover, either; such would have been an awful waste of time - and if there was something a singular Noctem did not have in abundance, it was time. No, books - or rather, individual chapters or passages - were used to give context to facts that existed without from, to tie together the beginning and the end, to reveal questions the Noctem only knew the answers to. So as I'Rajith threw another book into a mounting pile of tomes, it wasn't because he'd finished reading it. He'd simply finished needing it. The book had concerned gardening, of all things. Of late, the Conference had talked about the topic often, if always disjointedly. It wasn't a field I'Rajith had much personal interest in, but if there was something more painful than ignorance, it was knowing only half the story. Now he knew all about the ideal environment for growing tomatoes, and could close that chapter in his brain. He'd managed to close quite a few of them of late, in fact - all thanks to the Princess who, in her plight, had accepted the Noctem's offer of help in exchange for access to this very place. Now, the next topic... hm? I'Rajith wasn't the most perceptive of all Noctem, but the library was quiet, and someone's steps were not. He slid off the table he'd been sitting on and peeked past the mountain of books he'd piled on the floor. There, he spotted a Wooden One wandering amidst the shelves. "Is it a book you seek?" came the calm, almost ethereal voice of the Noctem, accompanied by an awful crack as he tilted his head abnormally far to the side. "Ask. I know the books here. The good, the bad, the blatant lies."</s>

<|message|>Amaryllis Amaryllis turns her gaze to the Noctem who spoke to her. She tilted her head, realizing that she does not recognize him. She answers the Noctem, "I do not seek just a book. I seek knowledge. Information that can help me combat the Rot, and heal the Heartlands and Wooden Ones there. If you know where I can find such information, your assistance would be greatly appreciated," After she speaks, her gaze goes back to the books as she seeks anything related to the topic.</s>

<|description|>Sean Conway Age: 12 Appearance: Wave dark hair, slightly scrawny, grey eyes. Usually wears swimming trunks and whatever shirts his mom gets him. Key item: Old rod Personality: Sean is quite airheaded and is usually off in his own little world. He seems rather irresponsible, though he has his own sense of responsiblity. As whimsical as he is, it's quite easy to change his mind as he jumps from one thought to the other. Quite a simple boy, he can come off as somewhat immature given his age, but he is simply doing as his heart tells him to do. History: Sean's family is the wandering type, never settling down for very long. His father is a fisherman, and the young Sean would often accompany him on his fishing trips. At a certain point in time, his father decided that it was time for the boy to catch his own fish, giving him an old rod of his. Sean immediately hooked the rod with the closest bait he had to hand - one of his own socks. To his father's surprise, he actually caught something. A wooper, which the young boy christened "Woop". A rather uncreative name by any measure, his father noted, and the amphibian in question seemed to agree as it only ever seemed to respond to the name half the time. Nevertheless the two formed an inseperable bond. Sean would go from place to place and Woop would follow him, slowly. Eventually, the family settled in the Sinnoh region. His father had found some stable work there and they bought a house to live in by the sea. Sean settled with them, met some people, made some friends. Sometimes he played with them and sometimes he didn't, he came and went like the ocean waves. But if they ever got into mischief, he was always there, ready to go. And their latest adventure is no exception. Nickname: Woop Species: Whooper Appearance: Location caught: A river in Johto * Mud shot * Rain dance * Tail whip * Water gun Notes: Quite a slow pokemon, will often take some time to process Sean's commands. Misc: Used to let Woop out of the pokeball often, but after getting him lost several times, Sean has learned to be more careful.</s> <|message|>Shin Ashwood Shin watched as his friends suddenly left the area, leaving both himself and Woop. He looked down at Woop who Crocker approached and the two Pokemon began mingling as normal. Well, he could wait and— suddenly someone collided into him in a hug. He looked down and saw Niko, an old friend from another town. His face grew brighter. "Niko! Hey! Didn't expect to see you in Sandgem." Before he could explain why he was there in the first place, another familiar face came into town. "Melody, good morning! Hi Arcanine." He greeted the two and waved them over. "This is Niko, by the way. He's a friend of mine. So, yeah, the whole reason I'm here is because Professor Rowan tasked me to fill up this Pokedex." He waved the device in front of him, showing it off to everyone. He looked down at Crocker who had made his way back to his side and patted his head. "It basically scans a captured Pokemon and gives us all of the info we need to know." As timely as ever, Sean had made his way back to the group with a Magikarp at the end of his rod. "Yeah, give me a second..." He brought the Pokedex to scan the Magikarp before turning around again so that everyone could view the results of the Pokedex. Unfortunately, it would seem that the Magikarp only knew Splash as a move. "Works just like that! I can scan your Pokemon too if you want? So we can fill it up faster?" He suggested to the others. Flame@Fandom Princess@Spin The Wheel</s> <|message|>Rich Redgrave Rich stood at the phone in the Pokemon Center. A picture of his Grandmother appeared. "Rich, my favourite grandbaby!" She smiled at him. "Your ONLY Grandbaby." He sighed. "Well, that still makes you my favourite." She smiled. "Sadly, your granny was never trained as a psychic so unless you wanna cough up that soul for me to ask, best tell me why ye called." "I'm... In a bit of a jam. A pal of mine wants me to take a trip with him." "Sounds like a great time to me." She replied. "What does this have to do with me?" "Well, you see... This isn't exactly a... Short trip." He scratched the back of his head. "Ah, gap-year?" She asked. "Pretty much." He replied. "A friend of mine-" "Sean? You hold him in such high regard. What trouble are you getting into now?" She asked. "He's got a Pokedex and he wants to-" "Go off on the same damn idealistic crusade as your father?" She butted in again. "If that Sean has drilled it into your head that you need to go find Lugia, i'm sending a Sableye to hex him!" She growled. Rich shuddered at the mere thought of a Sableye. But then waved his hand to indicate she should stop. "Please not the Sableye..." He groaned. "It's not that. We're looking for just REGULAR pokemon. The absolutely real, not potentially tall-tales pokemon. He's got a Pokedex and he wants me to help him fill it." He watched the toothy grin creek across his grandmothers face as she began to let out a long, hearty belly-laugh. "Wait, wait, wait..." She managed to wheeze out. "You're doing the ol' "I wanna be the very best like no-one ever was!" Routine?" She then continued to laugh. Rich looked around as he saw several people looking at him. "Ok, ok, ok..." she finally finished. "Go on and get it out of your system. Just one question, you still got that Abra with you?" She asked. "Yeah, he's a great partner-" "Still a lazy coward?" She asked him. "He is a conscientious objector and i respect his boundaries." Rich sighed. "Look, bairn, i am willing to let you go out on your own, but i ain't letting you go out there without someone to watch your back." She took a pokeball and placed it on the machine before pressing some buttons. At that point a pokeball appeared in front of him. "He's a bit young, but he's a scrapper. Also, it'll give you a chance to practice that Spirit Medium skills i taught you." He picked up the Pokeball and looked at it. "Is it Sableye? Because if it is i'm releasing it." "If ye wanna catch them all, you're gonna have to get over that Dark type fear you've got!" She sighed. "They're... Freaky... They've got no Psychic presence, it's like they're not there..." "It's not Sableye." She laughed. "Although it's tempting to make ya, i thought your granny should actually give you something you'd appreciate." He pressed the button and through the Pokeball to the floor with Yamask popping out. "He's also pretty easy for channeling with that mask of his." Yamask wrapped its arms around Rich's head. "Thanks Grammy..." He smiled at her. He then pressed a button to recall him to the Pokeball. "Well, i promised to meet Niko and Sean down by the beach. Sun's good out there and me and the boys wanna catch some rays." He smiled, before waving goodbye to his Grandmother and hanging up. **** As the group looked at the Magicarp slailing around on the end of the rod, desperately trying to smite its enemies with the fearsome "Splash" attack, Shin would hear "I think it wants to go back to the water. Damn when that one evolves it's going to kill you and everyone you love" From over his shoulder. As he turned around he would see Rich wearing a large straw hat, a pair of budgie-smugglers, a back-pack and Flip-Flops, Abra stood next to him holding an ice-cream cone that his long, thin tongue slowly lapped at. "Great seeing ya guys!" He threw his hands wide seeing who wanted a hug. Abra throwing his non-ice-cream holding arm wide inviting the same, but still lapping at the frozen treat with the thin tongue.</s> <|message|>Sean Conway "Aw, ok." Sean said, slightly disappointed. He had seen many magikarp before and this one was quite a fine specimen. But it did look quite angry, so he supposed he had bothered it enough. He grabbed it by the mouth and unhooked the fishing line from inside of it. The red fish responded by thumping the boy in his chest with its tail, causing both to fall over into the sand. "A lively one, for sure" sean muttered to himself as he got back up. He dusted himself off before making his way over to the flopping fish, picking it up and stowing it under his arm. "Come on little guy, just a bit further." Seemingly unaware of the irony of his statement, the boy struggled towards the beach with the magikarp about half as large as he was. He chucked it into the water before returning to his friends. "So anyway, what are we all doing here today?" It had been some time since he had seen them all in the same place at the same time, though there seemed to be one missing. The airheaded Sean wondered what the occassion was.</s> <|message|>Niko Watanabe Fay did her best to try to help Woop back on his feet. Not an easy task when you have stubby little arms. She struggled to get him back on his feet. "Cleffa!" She exclaimed proudly when the Wooper was upright. Shin explained that he had gotten a Pokedex, and scanned Sean's Magikarp. "That's really cool Shin!" He gave his friend a thumbs up. Soon more friends began to arrive. His eyes went wide at the sight of a girl and an Arcanine. "OMG! ARCANINE IS SO FLUFFY!" He shouted as he shoved his face onto Arcanine's soft fur. Then stopped shortly after that because the fire type probably wouldn't like that. "Sorry." He then proceeded to give his friend Rich a hug, because he was asking for it. "Nice to see you too Richie-kun." Then Sean asked what they were all doing here, and Niko was quick to answer. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm here to become a contest star!" Niko struck a pose, and then dug through his backpack, and pulled out his poffin case. "My mom got me a Poffin Case. Not as fancy as a pokedex, but I can feed my Pokémon some special treats to help them in contests! I just need some berries to make them…" North@Fandom Princess@Spin The Wheel@mattmanganon</s> <|message|>Shin Ashwood "I'll be sure to warn my parents of a Gyarados who's out to get them or something." Shin responded as Rich headed over them. It felt nice to be surrounded by his friends as they talked. He had originally thought that he wouldn't run into anyone familiar until well into his journey. He watched as Sean headed back to the beach where he had caught the Magikarp. "Great seeing you too, man." Sean came back soon after to ask them what they were doing in Sandgem town. Shin idly raised the Pokedex again. It was where Professor Rowan's laboratory was located so he had to pack up and travel all the way down. He turned to Nikko who explained that he was keen on going to Pokemon contests. Shin's eyes lit up. "That would be so cool. I've only ever seen Pokemon contests on television but I'm sure you can do it, Niko." He encouraged. He slid the Pokedex back into his pocket and looked around. He personally knew that it might be too hard to fill the Pokedex on his own and it might get a little bumpy during the adventure, not to mention lonely if it was just Crocker and him. With a nod to himself, he decided. "You guys wouldn't be interested in joining me, would you? It's gonna be a long adventure if we want to fill up the Pokedex and it'll be a little lonely. Besides," he turned to Niko. "We can go to some Pokemon contest venues while we're at it and cheer you on!"</s> <|message|>Chance ◈ Seaver His aunt Phoebe insisted on driving her as-pink-as-Shellos pick-up truck, so the idyllic ride from Eterna City was somewhat pleasant. Chance Seaver in his loose white hoodie and Luxury his groomed Shinx lazily lied prone on their backs. Their bodies hopped with the truck over bumps and hills. In comfortable silence they did nothing but gaze up at the summery sky. It was the shine of gold as clouds scrolled by with the looming Mt Coronet, not the sky blue that shone from his eyes. Luxury was sleepy however Chance was not. For as long as he was outside, he was alert for any Combees. The allergy wasn't a major concern but a precaution on his mind nevertheless. There were not many things that he could control or knew how to, so avoiding Combees was simple enough. Not before long, they were parking full stop in Sandgem Town. Amber curls and bangs rattled as Phoebe in overalls, boots, and gardening gloves sang hootfully with thrilled little claps, "Here you go! ~ ❀ Off you pop, Chancey! Visit home everyday you hear me? And never walk into tall grass without Luxury, you don't have health insurance ~ ❁ Seriously call if you need anything. Toodles, hun!" Chance waved and Luxury growled endearingly as aunt Phoebe drove away in her sputtering pink pick-up truck. He and his Shinx turned from the north facing south and curiously looked around Sandgem Town. A quaint place set nearby the beach even further to the south, fragranced with the salty scent of the sea. The Pokémon Center was next to the Pokémon Research Lab, the landmark of Sandgem, where Prof. Rowan worked. Sure enough, Chance could see other Trainers he knew from school gathering with their Pokémon and headed over there to greet them. "You're kidding! ~ ✧ Came all this way from Eterna to see the Professor. Guess I have to go back, oy! ~ ✦ " Sheepishly smiling, he flashed them dazzling teeth. "If you're heading there, I'll join. Also, did someone say Berries?" Luxury screamed at its playmates, "Shiiii!"</s>

<|message|>Sean Conway It was plain for all to see that Sean was quite happy, the wide smile on his face was practically identical to the one his Wooper wore as it hung around his friends' own pokemon. It had been quite some time since he had been together with all of his friends, given that some of them lived quite far away. With the arrival of Chance, the group finally felt complete. "Sure, I'll come with you all." He said in reply to Shin. He wasn't really sure if they could catch all the pokemon, and truth be told, he didn't really care. After all, what really mattered was friendship, right?</s>

<|description|>Niko Watanabe Age: 12 Appearance: Niko stands at 5'1". He has a round face, upturned brown eyes, and often has a huge smile on his face. His hair color is naturally dark brown, almost black, but he dyes it pink because pink is just a more fun color. He is very happy that he goes to a school doesn't have natural hair colors as part of the dress code. He has a slim build. As far as his fashion sense is concerned, Niko doesn't really have one. He just wears stuff he thinks looks cute. His favorite color is pink though, so your bound to see a lot of that in his wardrobe. Key Item: Poffin Case Personality: Niko acts like a happy go lucky kid. He smiles and laughs and acts like nothing bothers him. He tries not to show his negative emotions around others. If they see him cry or be sad, it will only push people away even more. He is very affectionate, and is quick to get attached to others, and freely gives hugs to people he feels needs them. He cares very much for people, and do whatever he can to make others happy. He likes the color pink, cute things, and generally stuff that is considered girly by most people. He gets excited easily and he starts yelling and screaming and bouncing all over the place when he gets in one of his moods. History: His mother and father are divorced, and he lives with his mother and little sister in Hearthome City. He always had a fascination for cute things. He played with stuffed animals while other boys played sports. He even dyed his hair pink because he thought it was a more fun color than his natural brown. For this, he was often bullied. Niko always wore a smile on his face, and acted like the bullying never bothered him. He wanted to set an example for his little sister to look up to. He was the one who had to look after her when his mother was working. He also helped make dinners for the family, which gave him an interest in cooking. Additionally, Niko is estranged from his father. He wanted a son who would become the Pokémon League Champion one day. Obviously, Niko was not that. He was interested in Contests, and preferred to be a coordinator. While his mother was supportive, he was often yelled at and called a sissy by his father on the rare occasions they do see each other. Even still Niko doesn't hate his dad, and hopes to reconcile with him. Nickname:Fay Species: Cleffa Appearance: Location caught: Mt. Coronet * Sing * Disarming Voice * Sweet Kiss * Magical Leaf</s> <|message|>Sean Conway "Aw, ok." Sean said, slightly disappointed. He had seen many magikarp before and this one was quite a fine specimen. But it did look quite angry, so he supposed he had bothered it enough. He grabbed it by the mouth and unhooked the fishing line from inside of it. The red fish responded by thumping the boy in his chest with its tail, causing both to fall over into the sand. "A lively one, for sure" sean muttered to himself as he got back up. He dusted himself off before making his way over to the flopping fish, picking it up and stowing it under his arm. "Come on little guy, just a bit further." Seemingly unaware of the irony of his statement, the boy struggled towards the beach with the magikarp about half as large as he was. He chucked it into the water before returning to his friends. "So anyway, what are we all doing here today?" It had been some time since he had seen them all in the same place at the same time, though there seemed to be one missing. The airheaded Sean wondered what the occassion was.</s> <|message|>Niko Watanabe Fay did her best to try to help Woop back on his feet. Not an easy task when you have stubby little arms. She struggled to get him back on his feet. "Cleffa!" She exclaimed proudly when the Wooper was upright. Shin explained that he had gotten a Pokedex, and scanned Sean's Magikarp. "That's really cool Shin!" He gave his friend a thumbs up. Soon more friends began to arrive. His eyes went wide at the sight of a girl and an Arcanine. "OMG! ARCANINE IS SO FLUFFY!" He shouted as he shoved his face onto Arcanine's soft fur. Then stopped shortly after that because the fire type probably wouldn't like that. "Sorry." He then proceeded to give his friend Rich a hug, because he was asking for it. "Nice to see you too Richie-kun." Then Sean asked what they were all doing here, and Niko was quick to answer. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm here to become a contest star!" Niko struck a pose, and then dug through his backpack, and pulled out his poffin case. "My mom got me a Poffin Case. Not as fancy as a pokedex, but I can feed my Pokémon some special treats to help them in contests! I just need some berries to make them…" North@Fandom Princess@Spin The Wheel@mattmanganon</s> <|message|>Shin Ashwood "I'll be sure to warn my parents of a Gyarados who's out to get them or something." Shin responded as Rich headed over them. It felt nice to be surrounded by his friends as they talked. He had originally thought that he wouldn't run into anyone familiar until well into his journey. He watched as Sean headed back to the beach where he had caught the Magikarp. "Great seeing you too, man." Sean came back soon after to ask them what they were doing in Sandgem town. Shin idly raised the Pokedex again. It was where Professor Rowan's laboratory was located so he had to pack up and travel all the way down. He turned to Nikko who explained that he was keen on going to Pokemon contests. Shin's eyes lit up. "That would be so cool. I've only ever seen Pokemon contests on television but I'm sure you can do it, Niko." He encouraged. He slid the Pokedex back into his pocket and looked around. He personally knew that it might be too hard to fill the Pokedex on his own and it might get a little bumpy during the adventure, not to mention lonely if it was just Crocker and him. With a nod to himself, he decided. "You guys wouldn't be interested in joining me, would you? It's gonna be a long adventure if we want to fill up the Pokedex and it'll be a little lonely. Besides," he turned to Niko. "We can go to some Pokemon contest venues while we're at it and cheer you on!"</s> <|message|>Chance ◈ Seaver His aunt Phoebe insisted on driving her as-pink-as-Shellos pick-up truck, so the idyllic ride from Eterna City was somewhat pleasant. Chance Seaver in his loose white hoodie and Luxury his groomed Shinx lazily lied prone on their backs. Their bodies hopped with the truck over bumps and hills. In comfortable silence they did nothing but gaze up at the summery sky. It was the shine of gold as clouds scrolled by with the looming Mt Coronet, not the sky blue that shone from his eyes. Luxury was sleepy however Chance was not. For as long as he was outside, he was alert for any Combees. The allergy wasn't a major concern but a precaution on his mind nevertheless. There were not many things that he could control or knew how to, so avoiding Combees was simple enough. Not before long, they were parking full stop in Sandgem Town. Amber curls and bangs rattled as Phoebe in overalls, boots, and gardening gloves sang hootfully with thrilled little claps, "Here you go! ~ ❀ Off you pop, Chancey! Visit home everyday you hear me? And never walk into tall grass without Luxury, you don't have health insurance ~ ❁ Seriously call if you need anything. Toodles, hun!" Chance waved and Luxury growled endearingly as aunt Phoebe drove away in her sputtering pink pick-up truck. He and his Shinx turned from the north facing south and curiously looked around Sandgem Town. A quaint place set nearby the beach even further to the south, fragranced with the salty scent of the sea. The Pokémon Center was next to the Pokémon Research Lab, the landmark of Sandgem, where Prof. Rowan worked. Sure enough, Chance could see other Trainers he knew from school gathering with their Pokémon and headed over there to greet them. "You're kidding! ~ ✧ Came all this way from Eterna to see the Professor. Guess I have to go back, oy! ~ ✦ " Sheepishly smiling, he flashed them dazzling teeth. "If you're heading there, I'll join. Also, did someone say Berries?" Luxury screamed at its playmates, "Shiiii!"</s> <|message|>Sean Conway It was plain for all to see that Sean was quite happy, the wide smile on his face was practically identical to the one his Wooper wore as it hung around his friends' own pokemon. It had been quite some time since he had been together with all of his friends, given that some of them lived quite far away. With the arrival of Chance, the group finally felt complete. "Sure, I'll come with you all." He said in reply to Shin. He wasn't really sure if they could catch all the pokemon, and truth be told, he didn't really care. After all, what really mattered was friendship, right?</s> <|message|>Rich Redgrave As Niko approached Rich for a hug, he pulled him in tight, before letting go. "Honestly, i'm glad you decided to come with us!" Abra then looked around as nobody seemed to take him up on his offer for a hug, so instead wrapped his arms and legs around Rich's leg, a dollop of freezing Ice-cream dropping straight onto Rich's foot which sent an uncomfortable shiver straight up his leg. "AaAaAaAaAaAaH!" He listened to the others talking about their reasons for coming along as he picked up Abra and held him like a toddler, Abra sitting in the crook of his arm. "Personally, i'm just hoping to put some of the Psychic and Spirit Mediuming training to the test." He walked over to Arcanine and placed a hand on it's head, trying to communicate... "I'm sensing..." He said. The Arcanine growled at Abra as it continued to lick its ice-cream "... That you don't like ice-cream..." He said, throwing his hands up and turning around, before walking back to the group. As Sean decided to get the group moving, Rich looked down at himself. "Mind if i get changed first, because, this isn't exactly walking gear" He motioned to the get-up that everyone else had been too polite to tell him made him look like a moron.</s> <|message|>Lochlan Gallagher Grumbling could be heard over the gentle roar of the engine of the compact car. A young strawberry blond woman at the wheel, her green eyes watching the dirt covered road as she navigated through the country side. Sinéad Gallagher was the youngest daughter and one of Lochlan's sisters. She had taken it upon herself to drop her youngest and only brother off in Sandgem town, despite his vocal protests. "Come on pup, it was either me or Saoirse." She started with a smirk, eyes never leaving the practically deserted road. The rosette didn't even let the young boy respond before continuing, "I doubt you wanted to spend the last few hours hearing her gripe about how Periwinkle clashes with her skin but brings out her Milotic's azure scales." Beside her sat the pup in question, his brows furrowed in displeasure at both the situation and the thought of being subjected to his middle sister's ranting. He loved his sisters's despite the huge difference in age and opinion but there were times where Sinéad really was the only one he could deal with. This being one of them. Sighing in defeat, the red head finally spoke. "Fine! Doesn't mean I have to like it though, 'Néad." A giggle was his only response. Well than and a soft "Bun?" from the pleasant wieght of warmth and fluff in his lap. With a smile, he snuggled the rabbit-like pokemon before giving him a small kiss on the forehead. "We're almost there Caelan." "I still don't get how someone as rough as you can bond with such a sweet little buneary." Sinéad responded to the display as they finally entered the town and began to slow to a stop before local Poke-Mart, just in sight of the beach. A beach that seemed to contain quite a few familiar faces to the more vibrant red head. "Well...thanks for the ride." Lochlan muttered as he quickly unbuckled and got out of the car, his buneary hopping about to rest on his shoulder. Just as he was closing the door he added an awkward and hasty "Love-you-see-ya-tell-the-girl-and-dad-I-love-them!" before racing to the beach to engage with his school-mates. The obnoxious sound of his sister laughing following him. ~~~`~ Upon reaching the beach, he was greatly appreciating his own boots as he fought through the sand. He just managed to catch Rich's reaction to the cold ice cream and his attempt to commune with an Arcanine that he could only assume belonged to Melody. "Now why didn't I get an Invite to this party?" The dark clad red head asked with a cocky smirk, hopefully surprising the resident psychic. Meanwhile Caelan hesitated for a moment before heading to the small congregation of pokemon to the side and attempted to aid the fallen Wooper with a small grunt of "Bu-buneary."</s>

<|message|>Niko Watanabe Niko's eyes went wide with excitement when Shin made the offer for all of them to travel together. "Omg! Yes yes yes!" Niko started bouncing up and down. "You all can watch my contests, and we can find some cute Pokémon! It'll be so much fun!" He then walked up to Chance, took his hands, and started jumping up and down. "And we can pick berries together! I need them to make treats for my Pokémon!" Then he gave Chance a hug. Rich asked if he could change clothes, and Niko tilted his head confused. "I think you look fine. Why do you want to change?" Of course Niko was wearing a pink dress shirt and tie with a pink bunny hat, so maybe he wasn't the best person to ask for fashion advice. Then, Lochlan arrived, and Niko gave him a hug. "Lochy-kun! You made it!"</s>

<|description|>Chance ◈ Seaver Age: 12 Appearance: Snow white swept hair, sky blue irises, a kind face. Loose and soft white hoodie. Key Item: Sprayduck (used to water Berry Trees) Personality: Obsessed with collecting rare Pokémon and Berries. Curious. History: Has stuck his nose in books. Has idolized professors. Has been interested in the PokéDex! His older siblings and their parents, the Seavers, are hardcore Trainers originally from Johto currently overseas at other Regions while he has stayed with his aunt Phoebe helping her tend to her gardens in Eterna City, Sinnoh for the past six years. While Chance has enjoyed his time here, he is ever eager to join the rest of the Seavers who still travel and battle abroad. Misc: Allergic to Combees. Recently failed to catch a shiny pink Heracross and took it hard. Nickname: Luxury Species: Shinx Appearance: Location caught: Fuego Ironworks * Quick Attack * Thundershock * Bite * Thunder Fang Notes: Inspired by a Adamant nature, Intimidate ability build.</s> <|message|>Sean Conway The wooper rolls onto it back, smiling as it sees a pink pokemon arive in its vicinity. A friend had arrived, so he was happy. He tried to get up to greet the friend - a futile effort given the lack of arms and a heavy head. Nevertheless, try it did, heaving up and down in the sand. Perhaps a helping hand would be in order. Meanwhile, its master paraded back up the beach with a heavy fishing pole. Spying his friends nearby, Sean started waving enthusiastically as he thundered up the beach. "Hey guys!" The boy said, as if oblivious to the magikarp floundering helplessly on the end of his line. He skidded to a stop just in front of the group. "Hey, let it get a peep of this." He said, holding up the magikarp by the hook in the fish's mouth. "Can you check what moves it has?" Flame@Polaris North@Fandom Princess</s> <|message|>Shin Ashwood Shin watched as his friends suddenly left the area, leaving both himself and Woop. He looked down at Woop who Crocker approached and the two Pokemon began mingling as normal. Well, he could wait and— suddenly someone collided into him in a hug. He looked down and saw Niko, an old friend from another town. His face grew brighter. "Niko! Hey! Didn't expect to see you in Sandgem." Before he could explain why he was there in the first place, another familiar face came into town. "Melody, good morning! Hi Arcanine." He greeted the two and waved them over. "This is Niko, by the way. He's a friend of mine. So, yeah, the whole reason I'm here is because Professor Rowan tasked me to fill up this Pokedex." He waved the device in front of him, showing it off to everyone. He looked down at Crocker who had made his way back to his side and patted his head. "It basically scans a captured Pokemon and gives us all of the info we need to know." As timely as ever, Sean had made his way back to the group with a Magikarp at the end of his rod. "Yeah, give me a second..." He brought the Pokedex to scan the Magikarp before turning around again so that everyone could view the results of the Pokedex. Unfortunately, it would seem that the Magikarp only knew Splash as a move. "Works just like that! I can scan your Pokemon too if you want? So we can fill it up faster?" He suggested to the others. Flame@Fandom Princess@Spin The Wheel</s> <|message|>Rich Redgrave Rich stood at the phone in the Pokemon Center. A picture of his Grandmother appeared. "Rich, my favourite grandbaby!" She smiled at him. "Your ONLY Grandbaby." He sighed. "Well, that still makes you my favourite." She smiled. "Sadly, your granny was never trained as a psychic so unless you wanna cough up that soul for me to ask, best tell me why ye called." "I'm... In a bit of a jam. A pal of mine wants me to take a trip with him." "Sounds like a great time to me." She replied. "What does this have to do with me?" "Well, you see... This isn't exactly a... Short trip." He scratched the back of his head. "Ah, gap-year?" She asked. "Pretty much." He replied. "A friend of mine-" "Sean? You hold him in such high regard. What trouble are you getting into now?" She asked. "He's got a Pokedex and he wants to-" "Go off on the same damn idealistic crusade as your father?" She butted in again. "If that Sean has drilled it into your head that you need to go find Lugia, i'm sending a Sableye to hex him!" She growled. Rich shuddered at the mere thought of a Sableye. But then waved his hand to indicate she should stop. "Please not the Sableye..." He groaned. "It's not that. We're looking for just REGULAR pokemon. The absolutely real, not potentially tall-tales pokemon. He's got a Pokedex and he wants me to help him fill it." He watched the toothy grin creek across his grandmothers face as she began to let out a long, hearty belly-laugh. "Wait, wait, wait..." She managed to wheeze out. "You're doing the ol' "I wanna be the very best like no-one ever was!" Routine?" She then continued to laugh. Rich looked around as he saw several people looking at him. "Ok, ok, ok..." she finally finished. "Go on and get it out of your system. Just one question, you still got that Abra with you?" She asked. "Yeah, he's a great partner-" "Still a lazy coward?" She asked him. "He is a conscientious objector and i respect his boundaries." Rich sighed. "Look, bairn, i am willing to let you go out on your own, but i ain't letting you go out there without someone to watch your back." She took a pokeball and placed it on the machine before pressing some buttons. At that point a pokeball appeared in front of him. "He's a bit young, but he's a scrapper. Also, it'll give you a chance to practice that Spirit Medium skills i taught you." He picked up the Pokeball and looked at it. "Is it Sableye? Because if it is i'm releasing it." "If ye wanna catch them all, you're gonna have to get over that Dark type fear you've got!" She sighed. "They're... Freaky... They've got no Psychic presence, it's like they're not there..." "It's not Sableye." She laughed. "Although it's tempting to make ya, i thought your granny should actually give you something you'd appreciate." He pressed the button and through the Pokeball to the floor with Yamask popping out. "He's also pretty easy for channeling with that mask of his." Yamask wrapped its arms around Rich's head. "Thanks Grammy..." He smiled at her. He then pressed a button to recall him to the Pokeball. "Well, i promised to meet Niko and Sean down by the beach. Sun's good out there and me and the boys wanna catch some rays." He smiled, before waving goodbye to his Grandmother and hanging up. **** As the group looked at the Magicarp slailing around on the end of the rod, desperately trying to smite its enemies with the fearsome "Splash" attack, Shin would hear "I think it wants to go back to the water. Damn when that one evolves it's going to kill you and everyone you love" From over his shoulder. As he turned around he would see Rich wearing a large straw hat, a pair of budgie-smugglers, a back-pack and Flip-Flops, Abra stood next to him holding an ice-cream cone that his long, thin tongue slowly lapped at. "Great seeing ya guys!" He threw his hands wide seeing who wanted a hug. Abra throwing his non-ice-cream holding arm wide inviting the same, but still lapping at the frozen treat with the thin tongue.</s> <|message|>Sean Conway "Aw, ok." Sean said, slightly disappointed. He had seen many magikarp before and this one was quite a fine specimen. But it did look quite angry, so he supposed he had bothered it enough. He grabbed it by the mouth and unhooked the fishing line from inside of it. The red fish responded by thumping the boy in his chest with its tail, causing both to fall over into the sand. "A lively one, for sure" sean muttered to himself as he got back up. He dusted himself off before making his way over to the flopping fish, picking it up and stowing it under his arm. "Come on little guy, just a bit further." Seemingly unaware of the irony of his statement, the boy struggled towards the beach with the magikarp about half as large as he was. He chucked it into the water before returning to his friends. "So anyway, what are we all doing here today?" It had been some time since he had seen them all in the same place at the same time, though there seemed to be one missing. The airheaded Sean wondered what the occassion was.</s> <|message|>Niko Watanabe Fay did her best to try to help Woop back on his feet. Not an easy task when you have stubby little arms. She struggled to get him back on his feet. "Cleffa!" She exclaimed proudly when the Wooper was upright. Shin explained that he had gotten a Pokedex, and scanned Sean's Magikarp. "That's really cool Shin!" He gave his friend a thumbs up. Soon more friends began to arrive. His eyes went wide at the sight of a girl and an Arcanine. "OMG! ARCANINE IS SO FLUFFY!" He shouted as he shoved his face onto Arcanine's soft fur. Then stopped shortly after that because the fire type probably wouldn't like that. "Sorry." He then proceeded to give his friend Rich a hug, because he was asking for it. "Nice to see you too Richie-kun." Then Sean asked what they were all doing here, and Niko was quick to answer. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm here to become a contest star!" Niko struck a pose, and then dug through his backpack, and pulled out his poffin case. "My mom got me a Poffin Case. Not as fancy as a pokedex, but I can feed my Pokémon some special treats to help them in contests! I just need some berries to make them…" North@Fandom Princess@Spin The Wheel@mattmanganon</s> <|message|>Shin Ashwood "I'll be sure to warn my parents of a Gyarados who's out to get them or something." Shin responded as Rich headed over them. It felt nice to be surrounded by his friends as they talked. He had originally thought that he wouldn't run into anyone familiar until well into his journey. He watched as Sean headed back to the beach where he had caught the Magikarp. "Great seeing you too, man." Sean came back soon after to ask them what they were doing in Sandgem town. Shin idly raised the Pokedex again. It was where Professor Rowan's laboratory was located so he had to pack up and travel all the way down. He turned to Nikko who explained that he was keen on going to Pokemon contests. Shin's eyes lit up. "That would be so cool. I've only ever seen Pokemon contests on television but I'm sure you can do it, Niko." He encouraged. He slid the Pokedex back into his pocket and looked around. He personally knew that it might be too hard to fill the Pokedex on his own and it might get a little bumpy during the adventure, not to mention lonely if it was just Crocker and him. With a nod to himself, he decided. "You guys wouldn't be interested in joining me, would you? It's gonna be a long adventure if we want to fill up the Pokedex and it'll be a little lonely. Besides," he turned to Niko. "We can go to some Pokemon contest venues while we're at it and cheer you on!"</s>

<|message|>Chance ◈ Seaver His aunt Phoebe insisted on driving her as-pink-as-Shellos pick-up truck, so the idyllic ride from Eterna City was somewhat pleasant. Chance Seaver in his loose white hoodie and Luxury his groomed Shinx lazily lied prone on their backs. Their bodies hopped with the truck over bumps and hills. In comfortable silence they did nothing but gaze up at the summery sky. It was the shine of gold as clouds scrolled by with the looming Mt Coronet, not the sky blue that shone from his eyes. Luxury was sleepy however Chance was not. For as long as he was outside, he was alert for any Combees. The allergy wasn't a major concern but a precaution on his mind nevertheless. There were not many things that he could control or knew how to, so avoiding Combees was simple enough. Not before long, they were parking full stop in Sandgem Town. Amber curls and bangs rattled as Phoebe in overalls, boots, and gardening gloves sang hootfully with thrilled little claps, "Here you go! ~ ❀ Off you pop, Chancey! Visit home everyday you hear me? And never walk into tall grass without Luxury, you don't have health insurance ~ ❁ Seriously call if you need anything. Toodles, hun!" Chance waved and Luxury growled endearingly as aunt Phoebe drove away in her sputtering pink pick-up truck. He and his Shinx turned from the north facing south and curiously looked around Sandgem Town. A quaint place set nearby the beach even further to the south, fragranced with the salty scent of the sea. The Pokémon Center was next to the Pokémon Research Lab, the landmark of Sandgem, where Prof. Rowan worked. Sure enough, Chance could see other Trainers he knew from school gathering with their Pokémon and headed over there to greet them. "You're kidding! ~ ✧ Came all this way from Eterna to see the Professor. Guess I have to go back, oy! ~ ✦ " Sheepishly smiling, he flashed them dazzling teeth. "If you're heading there, I'll join. Also, did someone say Berries?" Luxury screamed at its playmates, "Shiiii!"</s>

<|description|>Holly Age: 16 Background: Her family frequently traveled in space, but Holly doesn't know why, because when she was quite young, the ship she was on was set upon by pirates shortly before arriving at Mars. Holly was taken in as human debris, and bounced back and forth as she was bought, sold and traded among the usual unsavory outer sphere criminals. When around twelve(she doesn't know her exact age or birth date) she was acquired by the Jolly Rogs From there, she was thrust unceremoniously into a Man Rodi, and served as a diversionary target for the rest of the crew. It transpired that Holly was quite good at avoiding enemy fire, and she actually performed quite well. Personality and Reputation: Generally friendly, but fiercely independent. Loyal, very concerned with paying perceived debts(or repaying perceived slights). Has a habit of tallying what she owes and what she believes she is owed. Mobile Suit: Name: Big Boi Frame: UGY-R41, Man Rodi. Equipment: Head Mounted Vulcan Guns, 90mm Submachine Gun, a "hammer chopper." Mobile Suit: Name: Stolas Frame: ASW-G-36 Gundam Stolas Equipment: Alaya Vijnana System Macuahuitl, a sort of club-sword with diamond-hard blades embedded at intervals. It can be wielded with one or both hands, and makes heavy strikes while the blades tear at the target. Ahab Thrusters Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine. A muted sigh escaped him, They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy. Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist. "Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too. "Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him. Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose. He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt gazed outside the window of the Mercurial Witch, the occasional piece of debris floating by. This was nothing out of the ordinary as the pirate ship was passing through the Debris Zone, a floating field of broken tech and reactors. While some people would be freaked out about traveling through such a densely packed part of space, Kurt had gotten used to it during his time mining asteroids. But Kurt's longing look into the space beyond the ship was interrupted by the sound of boxes hitting the floor. Kurt turned to see another Human Debris fallen over, floating in the zero gravity with several boxes floating next to them. Kurt just sighed before helping them grab the boxes that they had dropped. Kurt knew that if anyone who was free on the crew spotted this accident, there would be harsh discipline on this Human Debris. While Kurt didn't know his name, he could tell that this Human Debris was a few years younger than himself. And frequently these younger Human Debris were treated worse than those who were old enough to do significant work for the Jolly Rogs. So Kurt was glad that he was able to grab all the boxes quickly. "Thank you," said the young Human Debris as he took the boxes from Kurt, all the while keeping his head down, "I need to get going. Thank you again." And with that, he rushed down the hallway, bringing these mystery boxes to somewhere else on the ship. But Kurt figured that it was none of his business what those boxes were. All that was really his business was piloting, his assigned role on the Mercurial Witch. But those duties were needed as the alarms calling for battle stations came over the speakers. Luckily for Kurt he was just down the hallway from the hangar. Kurt floated down the hallway as fast as he could, bursting through the doors to the hangar. In the center of the hangar Kurt could see Bosun and Holly, blood floating in front of her. That probably meant that Bosun was in a bad mood. So Kurt tried to sneak past him and float over to his Graze Cosmo. "Hey, you!" shouted Bosun, "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here on standby, not loitering around." "Sorry boss," Kurt replied, just loud enough for the head of the mobile suit squad to hear. Kurt hoped that he hadn't been the last pilot to show up, as if he was he could expect a beating when they came back to the ship. But Kurt was used to tolerating beatings, even from before being Human Debris, back at the orphanage. But Kurt decided to focus on the now, floating up to his Graze. As the cockpit opened, Kurt took a seat in the damaged mobile suit. Clearly Lefty hadn't been able to fully repair his suit as there were several slashes into its armor and the shield on his arm had a large chunk missing. But Kurt still thought that it was good enough to go back into battle. Just having a Graze at all was better than some other pirates he had seen. It was with this in mind that Kurt connected to his mobile suit through the Alaya Vijinana System. Kurt gasped as he became one with the machine, a jolt of pain traveling down his back. But then the pain calmed down, just being a dull throbbing in his back. Once again in control of his body, Kurt put his hands on the controls of the mobile suit. As he waited for the order to launch, Kurt vowed that he would survive this, a vow he had repeated many times since being a child.</s> <|message|>Fox After they'd finished their last sortie, Fox had fallen into his usual routine; helping Lefty with repairs. Well, it was less "helping" and more handing the older woman tools as she requested them or holding components in place so they could be more easily worked on. A lack of a proper education limited what the wiry teen could do. Still, no mechanic worth their salt turned down an extra pair of reliable hands. When the battle stations alarm rang out, Fox took a couple of moments to ensure that Lefty's tools were properly secured, knowing full well how badly the crusty mechanic would chew him out if he let any of her precious equipment float off. Ignoring the usual tit for tat between Holly and Lefty, the teen also seemed to pay the Bosun no mind; though those familiar with the boy's mannerisms would notice the slight tensing of his posture and minute tilt of his head as listened to the older man's movements. "Tools secured. Moving to station." He announced quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the metallic din of the hanger and the blaring alarm. Not waiting for the Bosun's attention to fall on him, Fox gave the securing for the mechanic's tools one last glance before smoothly flipping himself over the edge of the maintenance platform's handrail. Moving with the grace one gained by growing up in space, the teen coiled like a spring against the platform's rim before launching off towards "his" Hugo. The fancy movements the quiet teen's way of "showing off." Having pushed off with fair bit more force than necessary, Fox let out a slight grunt as he strained his arm catching the grab handle of the elevated seat of the mobile suit. His momentum arrested, Fox slapped himself into the seat with sleek, deft movements. Connecting the Alaya Vijinana system, the teen quickly brought the mobile suit out of rest mode. With the thrum of systems coming online, the teen jerked from the sudden jarring sensation of the man-machine interface flooding his senses with input. A feral, half-snarl, half-smile pulled at the boy's lips. The fox had his fangs once more.</s>

<|message|>Holly Holly floated to her extended cockpit and pulled herself into her seat, fighting the inertia of her kick off the floor. As the cockpit retracted and closed around her, she strapped herself in and plugged the Alaya-Vijnana interface in with practiced motions. The interface engaged, and her hands convulsed in her lap, her already-bleeding nose giving a particularly strong gush. She wiped it savagely with the back of her hand. The "Big Boi," as she called her Rodi, was lowered to the catapult deck first, and Holly grabbed her normal suit helmet off the floor and put it on. After everything was checked, she announced into the comm feed: "Holly, Familiar One, Man Rodi, taking off." ~~~ Captain Brun drifted into the bridge, where the Witch's command and control staff was already gathered. Carrot was standing dutifully by the Captain's seat(the only one that looked reasonably comfortable), and only glanced briefly before announcing "Captain on the deck!" Brun took her seat and looked over the monitors. There wasn't a lot to see yet, so she glanced at the cockpit feeds in the five sortying mobile suits. "Blood on that one's face. Did it take such a bad hit out there?" Carrot answered at once, "No, ma'am. Her suit sustained some damage, but she was uninjured when she checked it. I suspect the Bosun bloodied her nose for her." The Captain sighed, "If he's not more careful with his playthings, he'll break them. And then how will he entertain himself?" As she spoke, her hand reached out and absently stroked Carrot's hair. The girl bore this stoically. ~~~ Holly gritted her teeth against the force of the catapult, even with her inertial control working overtime. As her Rodi's speed leveled out, she glanced around at her displays. There wasn't a lot to see in the visual scans yet. The Debris zone was full of detritus from destroyed ships, pulled together by the unnatural gravity of abandoned Ahab reactors. If you didn't know to look for it, the Mercurial Witch didn't look all that different from some of the larger chunks. There were a few other full ships just sitting out here, but this was so deep in the Zone that trying to recover one was simply infeasible. Local area mapping was almost worse. Radar was useless, so the mapping was based on a conglomeration of visual data, with Ahab waves layered on top. This is what she was scanning, after a quick look to confirm that her squad was following on. "I've sent the wave signature to your mobile suits," Mick's voice came over the LCS comm. "But it's moving into an area with particularly high wave density, so keep sharp. And try not to break the LCS line." "Don't stretch your leashes, rats," the captain's voice cut in, "Remember where you have to return." Holly murmured with her microphone off, "Yeah yeah," before opening the channel and speaking aloud, "Yes, cap'n." Holly spotted the wave in her mapping, but it was in an area that even her visual data was failing to generate. The Big Boi's thrusters propelled it forward into the cloud of debris, putting on reverse thrust to slow it down as it approached a particularly large chunk of armor plating. She maneuvered around it, and stared into her displays, eyes wide and pupils flitting back and forth. "There," she said, "Sending visual, do you see? Looks like a Graze, but… fancy?" There was a ship here, a proper battle ship of old. Holly could just make out the emblem of Gjallarhorn in faded and scuffed paint. The size of the ship, and particularly the Ahab reactor inside, had attracted a great many smaller ships and other space garbage. Two things stood out, however: the first was a set of boosters resting gently against the hull. It was obviously much newer, and looked like it was meant to attach to a mobile suit. This explained how a suit had gotten all the way out here, and the suit itself was the second thing. It was painted yellow, and had more flourishes in its armor than any of the ones on board a Jolly Rog ship. "That's a Schwalbe Graze!" Mick said, in some amount of surprise. "Those are rare as hell." "And probably working for Gjallarhorn," the captain cut across in some alarm, "Do not let it escape to report back!" Though the body was facing a rent in the hull of the Gjallarhorn ship, the head was turned, and the shroud around its sensor orb was retracted as it stared directly at Holly's mobile suit.</s>

<|description|>Holly Age: 16 Background: Her family frequently traveled in space, but Holly doesn't know why, because when she was quite young, the ship she was on was set upon by pirates shortly before arriving at Mars. Holly was taken in as human debris, and bounced back and forth as she was bought, sold and traded among the usual unsavory outer sphere criminals. When around twelve(she doesn't know her exact age or birth date) she was acquired by the Jolly Rogs From there, she was thrust unceremoniously into a Man Rodi, and served as a diversionary target for the rest of the crew. It transpired that Holly was quite good at avoiding enemy fire, and she actually performed quite well. Personality and Reputation: Generally friendly, but fiercely independent. Loyal, very concerned with paying perceived debts(or repaying perceived slights). Has a habit of tallying what she owes and what she believes she is owed. Mobile Suit: Name: Big Boi Frame: UGY-R41, Man Rodi. Equipment: Head Mounted Vulcan Guns, 90mm Submachine Gun, a "hammer chopper." Mobile Suit: Name: Stolas Frame: ASW-G-36 Gundam Stolas Equipment: Alaya Vijnana System Macuahuitl, a sort of club-sword with diamond-hard blades embedded at intervals. It can be wielded with one or both hands, and makes heavy strikes while the blades tear at the target. Ahab Thrusters Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham Thom's stomach settled as his 'Whiskers' dialed in, attempting to wash away his discomfort. An annoyed breath punctuated the comms after Martyn's request and bluster. The ambient hum of his machine took back over while he lingered on whether to dig in or simply carry on in typical Thom fashion. A heavy pause rested on the line while he gathered an understanding of their situation. "You don't think of anyone else but yourself... I'll do my part." He retreated into his mind. Thom had known so little and felt so much. He wasn't intelligent, his education was put on hold by the Jolly Rogs that day. The nausea was back now, another knot in his gut. "Something big is going to happen." Thom said in a low, assured tone. He closed in on the target with the others, keeping the space between himself and the enemy in mind. He brandished his battle blade and readied his shield. Martyn had spat out some orders, Thom hesitated to give himself room to adapt. He maneuvered his Graze-Z out the way of the others and eyed the Schwalbe Graze's reaction to the attack.</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer The dull throbbing in Kurt's back continued as he booted up his mobile suit. The modified, beat up Graze hummed with energy as its computer systems turned on, the HUD appearing in front of Kurt. As the mobile suit came alive, Kurt placed his normal suit helmet on his head, completing his readiness for sortie. As he placed his hands on the controls, Kurt and his Graze was lowered onto the catapult deck. As the feet of the purple mobile suit was lined up on the tracks of the catapult, Kurt took a deep breath in, still feeling the Alaya Vijinana System connection course throughout his body. Kurt then announced himself on the comms channel, "Kurt, taking off in the Graze." Kurt's Graze then shout out from the catapult, following his comrades into space. Kurt gritted his teeth against the G-force, trying to keep his hands stable on the controls. Once the Graze was a decent ways away from the Mercurial Witch, Kurt looked at his display, currently seeing nothing but space debris. Mick then sent over the wave signature of the mobile suit they were looking for. But before Kurt could thank him, the Captain told the pilots to stay on their leash and remember where they have to return. Through gritted teeth, Kurt said a yes captain over the comms. Holly then took the lead, being the first to get a visual on the mobile suit. According to Mick it was a Schwalbe Graze, a rare mobile suit. All Kurt knew about that suit is that it was a better version of his Graze, especially since his was not in pristine condition. But what was more interesting to Kurt was the Gjallarhorn ship. Usually they didn't bother to patrol this area. Martyn then offered a possible scenario, that Gjallarhorn was looking for something of value. While it was an interesting idea, Kurt was dubious about it. Usually the best you found in the debris field was some spare parts or maybe an engine if you were lucky. But Martyn kept with his idea, saying that they should take the pilot of the Schwalbe Graze alive. He then gave some orders, to which Kurt wondered who made him commander. But he followed the commands, seeing that unity would be needed in this battle. Kurt guided his Graze Cosmo to along the sides of the Gjallarhorn mobile suit, raising his old 120mm rifle. As Kurt flanked the yellow Graze variant, Thom said he felt like something big was going to happen. Kurt hoped that the fellow Graze pilot was wrong. Given how hard their last battle had been, Kurt wished that this one would be as simple as a five on one. "Just be ready," said Kurt over the comms channel, "We don't know if they have any other suits to sortie." As Kurt spoke, he caused his mobile suit to raise its rifle, trying to line it up with Schwalbe Graze. He then continued to take deep breaths, ready to fire as soon as the battle began.</s> <|message|>Fox Once they were in open space, Fox said little, having cleared the launch catapult with little fanfare. Now that they had their target in sight and an impromptu battleplan, there was reason for words, if only a few. "Acknowledged. Familiar Five, breaking formation to flank." Came the young man's reply to Martyn's impromptu orders. Accelerating towards their target, Fox leveled the Hugo's 110mm machine gun at the Schwalbe Graze and fired off a couple of short bursts. At this range, the 110m did little more than scatter a couple of dents across the Schwalbe's armor, most of the rounds impacting around their target given the weapon's shorter barrel. Firing another burst as he closed, the wiry pilot considered that to be enough of a distraction and changed tact. The Hugo smoothly twisted and fired off an anchor claw, connecting with a particularly large piece of debris. Killing his thrusters and locking the claw's line, the much larger mass of the wrecked spaceship abruptly changed the Hugo's direction, swinging the mobile suit in an arc directly towards the debris field proper. "Fox, I swear to god, if you fucking pull another one of your god-damned bloody fucking stunts, I'm going to!-" The Boson roared into the comms. Fox didn't hear the rest of the man's tirade as he disappeared into The Shoals, loosing LCS as he often did when fighting here. He let out soft sigh of relief at the silence, happy to work in peace. Having pulled back the claw not a moment too soon, the quiet teen spun and twisted the Hugo like a marionette, weaving the nimble mobile suit through the wreckage at anything but safe speeds. With any and all instruments effectively useless here, Fox flew by spatial memory alone. He narrowly juked and dodged around jagged bits of shrapnel, only peripherally aware that a single misstep here would likely be fatal. After a minute or so of seat of the pants flying, Fox settled onto a large piece of ruined ship hull looking "down" on the unfolding battle below. With LCS restored, he spoke up when he heard the comms crackle back to life. "Familiar Five in position."</s>

<|message|>Holly "What?" Holly barked shrilly as Martyn tried to give orders. The odds seemed stacked in their favor, and she wasn't worried, but if he kept taking charge like this he was going to sow confusion in their own ranks. "Fine, but Ku- er, Familiar Three. Break off, destroy that boosters pod," she tapped her display, her hand moving nimbly so that it only left the controls for a bare moment. "That's prolly how he got out here all by his lonesome. Don't let him leave with it." Fox, crazy as his namesake, was already following Martyn's orders, and dove into the weeds, breaking their contact briefly. Holly wasn't super concerned. He usually followed the spirit of his orders more than anything, and wasn't one to be micromanaged in the first place. As they moved in, the fancy yellow Graze kicked off the lip of the hold in the wreck's hull, and boosted backwards. It moved in a serpentine pattern, dodging the bulk of bullets sprayed haphazardly in its direction, all the while clinging close to the decrepit Gjallarhorn ship. It raised a gun(it looked like an updated version of the 120 that her Graze piloting comrades used), and sprayed back as it retreated astern of the great wreck. The Big Boi moved in with the rest of the pirates. Holly just barely got the idea that the Schwalbe's creepy sensor orb was focused on her when it corrected its wild fire. She finally heard the shots(silent in the void until they hit you), but she could only laugh. At this range, most of their ballistic weapons were little more a nuisance. Holly set her LCS comm to an open channel and taunted. "You're all alone out here, rich boy! Come quiet and we might - Agh!" There was a distinct popping sound, reverberating through the mobile suit from somewhere above the cockpit, and all of her visual feed went blank. Her comrades on the outside, however, could see as a very lucky(or perhaps incredibly skillful) shot pierced the head of Big Boi in the crack where the nanolaminate had been chipped away. Holly was knocked off course, and felt herself hit something big(the side of the old ship, she realized). She tumbled along it briefly, but managed to catch onto part of it with her mobile suit's arm, a move that would be impossible without the spacial awareness granted by the AVS. She cursed violent, but tested to ensure her comms were still up. "Forget me, go get him. Martyn, I guess you're im charge after all."</s>

<|description|>Holly Age: 16 Background: Her family frequently traveled in space, but Holly doesn't know why, because when she was quite young, the ship she was on was set upon by pirates shortly before arriving at Mars. Holly was taken in as human debris, and bounced back and forth as she was bought, sold and traded among the usual unsavory outer sphere criminals. When around twelve(she doesn't know her exact age or birth date) she was acquired by the Jolly Rogs From there, she was thrust unceremoniously into a Man Rodi, and served as a diversionary target for the rest of the crew. It transpired that Holly was quite good at avoiding enemy fire, and she actually performed quite well. Personality and Reputation: Generally friendly, but fiercely independent. Loyal, very concerned with paying perceived debts(or repaying perceived slights). Has a habit of tallying what she owes and what she believes she is owed. Mobile Suit: Name: Big Boi Frame: UGY-R41, Man Rodi. Equipment: Head Mounted Vulcan Guns, 90mm Submachine Gun, a "hammer chopper." Mobile Suit: Name: Stolas Frame: ASW-G-36 Gundam Stolas Equipment: Alaya Vijnana System Macuahuitl, a sort of club-sword with diamond-hard blades embedded at intervals. It can be wielded with one or both hands, and makes heavy strikes while the blades tear at the target. Ahab Thrusters Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) "Thanks!" Martyn said as his Man Rodi began to shoot at the Graze Scwalbe's legs, still hoping for a nonfatal hit. He then continued to say over the comms, "Keep hammering at him and make sure that he does not reach his booster pod! In fact, blow the latter up if the guy doesn't surrender!" The Graze Schwalbe's pilot was clearly skilled enough to avoid his shots and the maneuvers of his - Well technically Holly's - team. As it fired back at the foes ringing it, Martyn moved a little closer, earning a jab by the Graze's lance. As he pulled his Man Rodi back, the young man, barely out of boyhood, glanced at what his team was doing, before shouting through the comms, "Familiar Three - Kurt - Do what Holly said and destroy that pod! Familiar Five, fire your anchor wire when ready; we'll try and herd the enemy to your position." He then pushed his Man Rodi forward again, before telling Familiar Two, aka Theo, "You're right, I am thinking of myself. But if I'm right, all of us can get what we want as well. So follow me, Soldier; I haven't led you wrong, have I?" Martyn was banking on the fact that he had known Theo for years, and observed him and the others for that long, to try and get Theo's agreement to follow his orders. The Graze Schwalbe, somehow sensing Theo's indecision, was now rushing at the latter's Graze, trying to impale it with his lance. To him, Theo was the weak link in the ring of foes, a weak link to be broken and shattered. Martyn, seeing this as well, threw caution to the wind and rushed at the Schwalbe, before shouting to Fox, "Fox, Fire your wire anchor now! Hit the Graze Schwalbe!" Hopefully, it would all go perfectly. Hopefully, the Graze Schwalbe and its pilot would be captured or at worst, the latter might be killed. But Martyn had made his calculations; he can and will apply for amnesty whatever happened, even if the process for applying for amnesty meant accepting the prospect of being watched and thus not being able to implement his plans...</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham From his place in the dead of space, amongst his comrades and the wreckage of rocks and ships, Thom watched with cold interest. Fox's wild maneuver was met with a skillful offset, he eyed the enemy's Graze with renewed purpose. He's experienced. Good enough to hold his composure against bad odds, he determined, hands gripping the controls. This is all falling apart because of Martyn's impulsiveness. Then Martyn's words tore through him like a punch from Bosun. It was invasive and tasteless but it brought him back to reality. Reminded him that as member of the Mercurial Witch's mobile suit team; results were demanded. It pushed out the remainder of his doubt, the scorch of battle sharpening his focus. In a sudden burst, Thom drove the Graze-Z towards the enemy Graze. His shield which had been in a ready position was brought closer to his chest, just enough to anticipate the aim of the lance. Thom exhaled the tension building inside as the distance closed. He eased on his boosters, knowing impact at that speed would harm him just as bad as a direct hit. Martyn was closing in too, trying to play the hero as always, risking everyone's life for his own goals. It was infuriating. Time collapsed on itself for Thom as the yellow Graze reached him with its lance. CLANG!!! Thom swatted aside the lance with his shield, a hole tearing through the slab of metal and its wielding-arm. Without skipping a beat, his Graze-Z raised its axe and aimed to decapitate the enemy Graze's lance-arm. The screech of metal reverberated through his machine as the arm was chopped off. But he found dread filling his chest as he peered through his screen. The pilot of the yellow Graze was hardened, his rifle raising to open fire on Thom's cockpit. "Come on!" he grumbled. "Don't let me die!"</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt held the controls of his Graze as steadily as possible as he lined up the shot on the Gjallarhorn mobile suit. While the teenager was waiting for the order to fire, Fox in his Hugo sped past him, firing his rifle. Kurt knew that at this distance those shots would do very little damage but he could see them as warning shots. As Fox took up a position in some debris, Holly ordered Kurt to take out the enemy Graze's booster pods. As this was the logical thing to do, Kurt had no problem with the order. Pumping his thrusters, Kurt launched his Graze toward the enemy mobile suit. Raising his rifle, Kurt adjusted its aim, trying to hone in on the Graze Schwalbe's boosters. Hoping that the Schwalbe wouldn't notice him, Kurt hid his Graze between a particularly large piece of debris. Holly then taunted the Schwalbe pilot over an open channel, only to be knocked off course by some gunfire. Martyn took the opportunity to take lead, ordering Kurt to take out the booster pods. "I know, I know," replied Kurt over the comms system, "I just need a clear shot." The enemy Graze then left the area, heading toward Thom. Taking advantage of this, Kurt left the safety of the debris field and went over to where the Graze Schwalbe had first been spotted. Using his own boosters, Kurt blasted toward the Gjallarhorn wreck and the booster pods that floated near it. "Alright, here we go," muttered Kurt. Once in range, Kurt lined his Graze's rifle at the booster pods. Letting loose with gunfire, Kurt could only watch as the projectiles barreled through the void of space. As he held his breath, Kurt saw the bullets hit their mark, ripping into one of the pods. Breathing out strongly, Kurt was pretty sure that he had accomplished his mission. But over his comms he heard Thom say to not let him die. Without thinking, Kurt whipped his Graze around, pointing back at the battle. His stomach felt like it dropped at the prospect of losing another comrade. While he wouldn't say he was friends with Thom, he did know him enough that he didn't want him to die. "Damn it. Hold on," shouted Kurt over the comms. Hoping that the booster pods had been rendered unusable, Kurt boosted his Graze back over to the battle. Seeing the Graze Schwalbe right in front of Thom's Graze-Z, Kurt pushed his mobile suit to the max. He had precious few seconds to get into firing range of the yellow mobile suit, knowing that if he fired now his shots would do nothing.</s> <|message|>Fox "Familiar Two, brace yourself." Was the only warning Thom received as Fox's quiet tenor crackled over the LCS. Having taken careful aim, the young man opened fire from his perch with the Hugo's machine gun. Almost all of the rounds flew harmlessly between the two Grazes, a few punching dents in their opponent's armor with only one finding it's intended target. But one was enough. Punching clean through the magazine of the Schwalbe's rifle, the impact threw off the gun's aim off... and detonated the ammunition within. The resulting explosion took the Schwalbe's gun hand with it, while Thom's Graze was blasted with molten shrapnel, leaving visually impressive, but mostly superficial damage on the other human debris' mobile suit. "Familiar Five securing target. Captain, requesting further orders for Familiar Squad." Fox announced calmly, an odd contrast to his Hugo's aggressive movements, the space superiority mobile suit already rocketing into the "fight". Instead of slowing down he merely fired one of the Hugo's anchor claws, catching the golden Schwalbe on the way past and sending them both tumbling through space. Down an arm, a hand and against a pilot with the Alaya Vijinana System, the Schwalbe Graze's pilot stood little chance in the ensuing melee. Before too long, Fox had the Gjallarhorn mobile suit tangled up in the anchor claw's line, the Hugo's foot mounted claws further pinning his target in place. Leaning in, Fox pressed the barrel of his machine gun against the Schwalbe's vulnerable inner frame through a gap in it's armor. "If you'd like to live, I suggest surrender." The young man advised in his usual emotionless tenor, having activated an open comms channel.</s>

<|message|>Holly "Wait, did you get him?" Holly questioned over the comm as she heard some of the chatter coming from Fox. Her displays were down for good, it seemed, and she couldn't see any of what was happening. Her mapping was still partially functional, based on the last known images, but the Ahab wave ovelay seemed to still be operating in real time. Using this, Holly turned the Big Boi so that its back was to the fancy Graze, and hit the control to open her cockpit. She heard the wirring of servos as the armor plates moved out of the way, then the hatch in front of her opened forth. She could see now that her sidelong tumble had been stopped by grabbing the edge of the hole in the old wrecked ship's hull. What she saw inside stopped her dead. "Uh, stand by, my system isn't working right..." The rent in the bulkhead opened to the ship's hangar bay, and there were five mobile suits lined up. Each was unique, and Holly did not recognize any of them. She disconnected her AV and the harness that kept her secured in her seat, then kicked off from the cockpit and drifted into the bay. It was dark, and she realized the only reason she could see is that there was a computer terminal that was still active after all this time. She drifted over and looked at the screen. It was cracked down the middle, and the only word she could make out was "Wake," which seemed to be part of a button or prompt. She reached a gloved hand out, her breath caught in her throat, and pressed it. ~~~ On the bridge of the Mercurial Witch, Brun was watching with a satisfied smile as her rats tangled the interloper up. Her reverie was interupted by a bleeping from the console, and Mick spoke up. "Uh... there's new Ahab waves... I don't even know where they came from! They're right on top of Familiar One, but I don't see anything..." "Could it be an error? Maybe one of the old reactors shifted when the feral one flew through the debris." "It's possible..." he sounded like he doubted it, "I don't recognzie the signatures, so it would make sense if they're from older reactors." ~~~ Holly gasped as new light came on in the vast dimness. Five pairs of eyes suddenly flared to life, glaring down at her. As one, their armor shifted, silent in the vacuum, revealing the opening cockpit hatches in their chests. It seemed incredible that any part of them could still work, but Holly chose the friendliest looking one, and kicked off the floor towards it. She pulled herself past the armor plating and into the cockpit. It was light up brightly from all the displays and controls. Unlike the computer terminal out in the hangar, nothing could get to these electronics to damage them. The cockpit looked remarkably similar to what she was used to. The seat was cushier, but she noticed the Alaya Vijnana interface embedded in it. The controls were also comparable, though without the scratches, scuffs, burns, and other little marks from long, hard use. Without thinking nearly as much as she should have, Holly plugged the interface in. She made a choked groaning sound as the man-machine interface connected, her body convulsing wildly in the plush seat. The feedback was worse even than her Rodi. As her body relaxed, she gasped out the word "Stolas..."</s>

<|description|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) Appearance: Age: 18 Background: The En-Issue Family was a cadet branch of the Issue Family which claimed to have branched off from the Main House a full hundred years ago, doing the things which the Issues were too 'honorable' to dirty their hands with. This caused them to resent the Main House, and later, when the latter's last member died out, they resented McGillis Fareed for taking over the Issue Family's assets instead of letting them (Martyn's parents) have it. And when McGillis himself fell seven to eight years ago, they found, to their dsiappointment, that the new leader of Gjallarhorn, Rustal Elion, would rather abolish the Seven Stars system where a number of noble families held a monopoly on military power than let them have what they were 'entitled' to. So in a huff, the En-Issue family left for space with half-assed intentions of going to the Jupiter Colonies to 'live it up' as upper class nobles and maybe even start a conspiracy or two against Rustal Elion and his pragmatic attempts to purge the corruption in Gjallarhorn that he himself had turned a bline eye to (at best) until McGillis Fareed's attempt at revolution. They never made it that far. For they were intercepted by pirates on the way and Martyn's parents were robbed and killed while Martyn himself was taken captive and turned into Human Debris. This shift in life taught the boy not to take anything for granted, even the knowledge of how to read and write which he had enjoyed before his captivity and which was lacking among many of his peers. Actually, it took him some time for him to think of his fellow Human Debris as friends and even equals, realizing that despite their lack of education and refinement... They were children like him. And he had a duty to earn his freedom, fight for their rights as well as his' own, and eventually, considering what he knew and what his parents have taught him, break the system which only cleaned up its act only under duress. That's right; if Tekkadan and McGillis can do it, why couldn't he with the benefit of hindsight? Personality and Reputation: Martyn tries his best to sweet-talk his captors, particularly Carrot, into giving him information and extra food which he passes on to the rest of his group while trying to impress the other pirates through sheer prowess in battle against enemy Mobile Suits. He is also known for trying to keep the others in his team alive, as well as trying to earn his freedom from Human Debris-hood through 'loyal service' to the higher-ups. He has also tried to find spare time to teach some of the younger people how to read and write, something incredibly dangerous for his 'progress'... Mobile Suit: gundam.fandom.com/wiki/UGY-R41_Man_Rodi Name: Unit-4. Frame: Rodi. Appearance:</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham Thom's stomach settled as his 'Whiskers' dialed in, attempting to wash away his discomfort. An annoyed breath punctuated the comms after Martyn's request and bluster. The ambient hum of his machine took back over while he lingered on whether to dig in or simply carry on in typical Thom fashion. A heavy pause rested on the line while he gathered an understanding of their situation. "You don't think of anyone else but yourself... I'll do my part." He retreated into his mind. Thom had known so little and felt so much. He wasn't intelligent, his education was put on hold by the Jolly Rogs that day. The nausea was back now, another knot in his gut. "Something big is going to happen." Thom said in a low, assured tone. He closed in on the target with the others, keeping the space between himself and the enemy in mind. He brandished his battle blade and readied his shield. Martyn had spat out some orders, Thom hesitated to give himself room to adapt. He maneuvered his Graze-Z out the way of the others and eyed the Schwalbe Graze's reaction to the attack.</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer The dull throbbing in Kurt's back continued as he booted up his mobile suit. The modified, beat up Graze hummed with energy as its computer systems turned on, the HUD appearing in front of Kurt. As the mobile suit came alive, Kurt placed his normal suit helmet on his head, completing his readiness for sortie. As he placed his hands on the controls, Kurt and his Graze was lowered onto the catapult deck. As the feet of the purple mobile suit was lined up on the tracks of the catapult, Kurt took a deep breath in, still feeling the Alaya Vijinana System connection course throughout his body. Kurt then announced himself on the comms channel, "Kurt, taking off in the Graze." Kurt's Graze then shout out from the catapult, following his comrades into space. Kurt gritted his teeth against the G-force, trying to keep his hands stable on the controls. Once the Graze was a decent ways away from the Mercurial Witch, Kurt looked at his display, currently seeing nothing but space debris. Mick then sent over the wave signature of the mobile suit they were looking for. But before Kurt could thank him, the Captain told the pilots to stay on their leash and remember where they have to return. Through gritted teeth, Kurt said a yes captain over the comms. Holly then took the lead, being the first to get a visual on the mobile suit. According to Mick it was a Schwalbe Graze, a rare mobile suit. All Kurt knew about that suit is that it was a better version of his Graze, especially since his was not in pristine condition. But what was more interesting to Kurt was the Gjallarhorn ship. Usually they didn't bother to patrol this area. Martyn then offered a possible scenario, that Gjallarhorn was looking for something of value. While it was an interesting idea, Kurt was dubious about it. Usually the best you found in the debris field was some spare parts or maybe an engine if you were lucky. But Martyn kept with his idea, saying that they should take the pilot of the Schwalbe Graze alive. He then gave some orders, to which Kurt wondered who made him commander. But he followed the commands, seeing that unity would be needed in this battle. Kurt guided his Graze Cosmo to along the sides of the Gjallarhorn mobile suit, raising his old 120mm rifle. As Kurt flanked the yellow Graze variant, Thom said he felt like something big was going to happen. Kurt hoped that the fellow Graze pilot was wrong. Given how hard their last battle had been, Kurt wished that this one would be as simple as a five on one. "Just be ready," said Kurt over the comms channel, "We don't know if they have any other suits to sortie." As Kurt spoke, he caused his mobile suit to raise its rifle, trying to line it up with Schwalbe Graze. He then continued to take deep breaths, ready to fire as soon as the battle began.</s> <|message|>Fox Once they were in open space, Fox said little, having cleared the launch catapult with little fanfare. Now that they had their target in sight and an impromptu battleplan, there was reason for words, if only a few. "Acknowledged. Familiar Five, breaking formation to flank." Came the young man's reply to Martyn's impromptu orders. Accelerating towards their target, Fox leveled the Hugo's 110mm machine gun at the Schwalbe Graze and fired off a couple of short bursts. At this range, the 110m did little more than scatter a couple of dents across the Schwalbe's armor, most of the rounds impacting around their target given the weapon's shorter barrel. Firing another burst as he closed, the wiry pilot considered that to be enough of a distraction and changed tact. The Hugo smoothly twisted and fired off an anchor claw, connecting with a particularly large piece of debris. Killing his thrusters and locking the claw's line, the much larger mass of the wrecked spaceship abruptly changed the Hugo's direction, swinging the mobile suit in an arc directly towards the debris field proper. "Fox, I swear to god, if you fucking pull another one of your god-damned bloody fucking stunts, I'm going to!-" The Boson roared into the comms. Fox didn't hear the rest of the man's tirade as he disappeared into The Shoals, loosing LCS as he often did when fighting here. He let out soft sigh of relief at the silence, happy to work in peace. Having pulled back the claw not a moment too soon, the quiet teen spun and twisted the Hugo like a marionette, weaving the nimble mobile suit through the wreckage at anything but safe speeds. With any and all instruments effectively useless here, Fox flew by spatial memory alone. He narrowly juked and dodged around jagged bits of shrapnel, only peripherally aware that a single misstep here would likely be fatal. After a minute or so of seat of the pants flying, Fox settled onto a large piece of ruined ship hull looking "down" on the unfolding battle below. With LCS restored, he spoke up when he heard the comms crackle back to life. "Familiar Five in position."</s> <|message|>Holly "What?" Holly barked shrilly as Martyn tried to give orders. The odds seemed stacked in their favor, and she wasn't worried, but if he kept taking charge like this he was going to sow confusion in their own ranks. "Fine, but Ku- er, Familiar Three. Break off, destroy that boosters pod," she tapped her display, her hand moving nimbly so that it only left the controls for a bare moment. "That's prolly how he got out here all by his lonesome. Don't let him leave with it." Fox, crazy as his namesake, was already following Martyn's orders, and dove into the weeds, breaking their contact briefly. Holly wasn't super concerned. He usually followed the spirit of his orders more than anything, and wasn't one to be micromanaged in the first place. As they moved in, the fancy yellow Graze kicked off the lip of the hold in the wreck's hull, and boosted backwards. It moved in a serpentine pattern, dodging the bulk of bullets sprayed haphazardly in its direction, all the while clinging close to the decrepit Gjallarhorn ship. It raised a gun(it looked like an updated version of the 120 that her Graze piloting comrades used), and sprayed back as it retreated astern of the great wreck. The Big Boi moved in with the rest of the pirates. Holly just barely got the idea that the Schwalbe's creepy sensor orb was focused on her when it corrected its wild fire. She finally heard the shots(silent in the void until they hit you), but she could only laugh. At this range, most of their ballistic weapons were little more a nuisance. Holly set her LCS comm to an open channel and taunted. "You're all alone out here, rich boy! Come quiet and we might - Agh!" There was a distinct popping sound, reverberating through the mobile suit from somewhere above the cockpit, and all of her visual feed went blank. Her comrades on the outside, however, could see as a very lucky(or perhaps incredibly skillful) shot pierced the head of Big Boi in the crack where the nanolaminate had been chipped away. Holly was knocked off course, and felt herself hit something big(the side of the old ship, she realized). She tumbled along it briefly, but managed to catch onto part of it with her mobile suit's arm, a move that would be impossible without the spacial awareness granted by the AVS. She cursed violent, but tested to ensure her comms were still up. "Forget me, go get him. Martyn, I guess you're im charge after all."</s>

<|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) "Thanks!" Martyn said as his Man Rodi began to shoot at the Graze Scwalbe's legs, still hoping for a nonfatal hit. He then continued to say over the comms, "Keep hammering at him and make sure that he does not reach his booster pod! In fact, blow the latter up if the guy doesn't surrender!" The Graze Schwalbe's pilot was clearly skilled enough to avoid his shots and the maneuvers of his - Well technically Holly's - team. As it fired back at the foes ringing it, Martyn moved a little closer, earning a jab by the Graze's lance. As he pulled his Man Rodi back, the young man, barely out of boyhood, glanced at what his team was doing, before shouting through the comms, "Familiar Three - Kurt - Do what Holly said and destroy that pod! Familiar Five, fire your anchor wire when ready; we'll try and herd the enemy to your position." He then pushed his Man Rodi forward again, before telling Familiar Two, aka Theo, "You're right, I am thinking of myself. But if I'm right, all of us can get what we want as well. So follow me, Soldier; I haven't led you wrong, have I?" Martyn was banking on the fact that he had known Theo for years, and observed him and the others for that long, to try and get Theo's agreement to follow his orders. The Graze Schwalbe, somehow sensing Theo's indecision, was now rushing at the latter's Graze, trying to impale it with his lance. To him, Theo was the weak link in the ring of foes, a weak link to be broken and shattered. Martyn, seeing this as well, threw caution to the wind and rushed at the Schwalbe, before shouting to Fox, "Fox, Fire your wire anchor now! Hit the Graze Schwalbe!" Hopefully, it would all go perfectly. Hopefully, the Graze Schwalbe and its pilot would be captured or at worst, the latter might be killed. But Martyn had made his calculations; he can and will apply for amnesty whatever happened, even if the process for applying for amnesty meant accepting the prospect of being watched and thus not being able to implement his plans...</s>

<|description|>Thom Abraham Appearance: Of shorter-than average height (5'6") for his age, Thom is a youth with a self-assured body language. Acceptance seemingly radiates through his weakened movements. Oddly enough, his gold eyes smolder with a goal and his dark hair, both unkempt and oily with grime, seems to lay heavy on his scalp. After receiving the Alaya Vijnana surgery twice, two growths protrude from his upper spine. He calls them whiskers. Like the others, his clothes are fairly ragged. He usually sticks to the plain t-shirts and shorts for his meager lifestyle. Age: 17 Background: His memory is dusky and has never been the best since his abduction but Thom can recall a few portent people from his past. He remembers his grandfather was in Gjallarhorn, that he may have been influential though he's unsure what rank or political power he held. His mother and father's fate remains a mystery to him, despite knowing they traveled with him on the shuttle. And under the spell of sleep, Thom can see the flashing of gunfire interrupting the ruddy lights of the pirated shuttle. The thought that, right before things went horribly south, that he would still visit Mars. See the birth place of the Orga Itsuka and the Tekkadan he forged. Like many others however, he was made Human Debris, brought aboard the Jolly Rogs Fleet, specifically the Mercurial Witch's crew, and made into a Rat. Personality and Reputation: Overall Thom projects obedience. To most of the Mercurial Witch's crew, he's a silent presence, fierce and trained. He never questions his orders and follows them precisely, to the letter almost. Long as his survival is not on the line; he very rarely goes beyond his station. Most of them call him "The Pawn". To the other Human Debris, he's become something of a guardian figure and projects an almost unifying fearlessness in their shared suffering. With them the silence breaks and the real him rolls out. He's mirthless but he is protective and caring of the younger ones. Even more so of the dumber ones. Still, its his cold mental state that allows him to maintain a survivor's composure. He's fickle but once his mind is made up, he becomes annoyingly stubborn. Mobile Suit: EB-06s Graze Commander Type Name: Graze-Z Frame: Graze Commander Type Appearance: Graze-Z is a weathered green mobile suit maintained by the Mercurial Witch's mechanics. Equipment | * Alaya Vijinana System * Head Sphere Sensor (standard) * Booster Unit (standard) * GR-W01 120mm Rifle (short rifle/weapon) * GR-H02 Battle Blade (weapon/ its chipped) * GR-E01 8.8m Shield (armament)</s> <|message|>Holly A ship, once sleek but now many times patched and repaired, sat nestled between two ships in even worse condition. This was the Debris Zone, sometimes called The Shoal. Here hundreds of Ahab reactors still produce both power and gravity in the destroyed shells of hundreds of ships and mobile suits. The ship in question is the only one in sight that is still truly space-worthy, and it rests here to avoid being seen while the crew recover from a recent fight. The side of the hull is painted with the name: The Mercurial Witch. ~~~ Captain Brun sat in her personal cabin(the only one on board) massaging her temples and enjoying the silence. It had been a successful raid on a smaller pirate ship, but celebrating with her crew was never her way. Her satisfied reverie was interrupted by the comm bleeping, as a message came through from the bridge. "Captain!" Her head tipped up to look at the speaker box on the wall; it was Mick, the sensor technician. Little as she wanted to have a conversation, Brun knew what a call from him could mean. "What is it?" she barked toward the wall. "There's a new Ahab wave reaction. It's moving." "Could it be loose debris?" she asked impatiently, "There's so many reactors out here, what's special about this one?" "It's not moving in an orbital pattern, it keeps changing directions. Like it's... looking for something?" he sounded uncertain, but Brun knew Mick well. He had good instincts, and had analyzed a lot of flight patterns from his chair on the bridge. "A salvage ship? We can send a sortie to discourage them." "Too small, Captain. I thought a mobile suit, only it's strange it's out here alone." Brun sat up straight for the first time, and spoke in something close to alarm now, "Who is flying a mobile suit out here? Widen the range, find the ship that it launched from. And order a sortie now. Get a look at it, and catch it. If it's out here alone it might not be able to send a message back." Even as the captain stood to make her way to the bridge, the alarm for battle stations sounded. ~~~ In the mobile suit hangar, the various suits of the Jolly Rog crew were undergoing minor repairs. Most hadn't gotten more than a few nicks and chips in the nanolaminate, and the cranky old mechanic was preparing the depositor to make the repair. "Lefty!" A girl floated down from the catwalk(not much use when the gravity was off), and the mechanic in question closed her eyes and clenched her jaw as she summoned what little patience she was capable of. "You're underfoot, Holly," she growled. "I'm above you. Actually, neither. There's no up or down here, y'know. But listen, make sure you paint the scratch on my mobile suit's head the right color! I had to trade so many favors to get that, don't ruin it!" "First of all, this ain't your mobile suit. If anything, it's mine, and if I wanna paint it white with a target on the head I'll do that. Now go have a ration or something, you're not wanted in here." "Come on!" Holly weedled, "I'll... polish all your wrenches? For a month!" Finally Lefty looked at her, a scowl on her face, "If I want 'em polished you'll do it, whatever color I paint my machines. Now get-" She was cut off by the battle station alarm. Lefty rolled her eyes, but kept on working. She was interrupted again by the arrival of the Bosun. "Mouse," he addressed Holly, "You're gonna sortie, get in your suit before I throw you in myself." "The repairs aren't done," Lefty cut in. "I didn't ask, crone. If she didn't want a damaged suit, she shouldn'ta got hit, right?" "Crone, am I? And here I thought you cared if you could rely on your repairs..." The Bosun's hand lashed out in a wicked strike, but it was Holly that he struck, right across the face. She clamped a hand to her nose and kicked back off the deck to float up to her cockpit, blood floating behind her.</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) Martyn looked at the Bosun, his old enemy, and knew from experience that interfering would not do anything for Holly; not that it didn't make his blood boil to just see this happening. Either way, the young man was in his pilot suit - Even these goons knew that to be shirtless in space was suicide - And hooking his AVs up into his Man Rodi. As the cockpit closed, he waited for the order to launch, even as he looked over to see if he still had his secret stash of medical goods, as well as candy. Being eighteen and good-looking had made it easier for him to charm those sorts of items, as well as extra food, from other people; not in a way which would be morally dubious and/or scarring, but just easier for him to sweet-talk the Free Pilots, especially Carrot. He needed the goodwill of his Human Debris peers more than ever, with the institution of slavery illegal again and Gjallarhorn actually being tasked with freeing them. Because he was going to plan a revolt, a revolt once he had the measure of the Captain, the Bosun, and the Free Pilots (which may or may not include Carrot). Speaking of Carrot, at eighteen, he was probably old enough that he could probably ask her out on a 'date', once he was free, and it won't look weird or creepy. This meant that he could probably get her help in his planned rebellion by, well, resorting to 'romance'. But first, he had to take out the lone ship or mobile suit which came into their line of sight, and whose Ahab signature was visible in his sensors - Did its pilot have a death wish? If so, Martyn needed the loot, especially if he can filch some of it for himself for use as bribes or gifts. But if it was a ship and it had civilians in it... Let's just say that Martyn had always held himself back from the act of enslaving other children and only killed when he could not avoid it. Then again, it was the experienced, 'free' pirates who thought it was a privilege to indulge in that. Either way, when he had launched, he'd follow the Squad Captain's lead, hoping, deep inside his heart, that he was getting enough goodwill for all the Human Debris to participate in the planned revolt once he sparked it. For there will be a spark; these pirates were not the only ones who've learned from the short-lived career of Tekkadan - He'd show them that the abused will bite back...</s>

<|message|>Thom Abraham The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine. A muted sigh escaped him, They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy. Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist. "Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too. "Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him. Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose. He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.</s>

<|description|>Thom Abraham Appearance: Of shorter-than average height (5'6") for his age, Thom is a youth with a self-assured body language. Acceptance seemingly radiates through his weakened movements. Oddly enough, his gold eyes smolder with a goal and his dark hair, both unkempt and oily with grime, seems to lay heavy on his scalp. After receiving the Alaya Vijnana surgery twice, two growths protrude from his upper spine. He calls them whiskers. Like the others, his clothes are fairly ragged. He usually sticks to the plain t-shirts and shorts for his meager lifestyle. Age: 17 Background: His memory is dusky and has never been the best since his abduction but Thom can recall a few portent people from his past. He remembers his grandfather was in Gjallarhorn, that he may have been influential though he's unsure what rank or political power he held. His mother and father's fate remains a mystery to him, despite knowing they traveled with him on the shuttle. And under the spell of sleep, Thom can see the flashing of gunfire interrupting the ruddy lights of the pirated shuttle. The thought that, right before things went horribly south, that he would still visit Mars. See the birth place of the Orga Itsuka and the Tekkadan he forged. Like many others however, he was made Human Debris, brought aboard the Jolly Rogs Fleet, specifically the Mercurial Witch's crew, and made into a Rat. Personality and Reputation: Overall Thom projects obedience. To most of the Mercurial Witch's crew, he's a silent presence, fierce and trained. He never questions his orders and follows them precisely, to the letter almost. Long as his survival is not on the line; he very rarely goes beyond his station. Most of them call him "The Pawn". To the other Human Debris, he's become something of a guardian figure and projects an almost unifying fearlessness in their shared suffering. With them the silence breaks and the real him rolls out. He's mirthless but he is protective and caring of the younger ones. Even more so of the dumber ones. Still, its his cold mental state that allows him to maintain a survivor's composure. He's fickle but once his mind is made up, he becomes annoyingly stubborn. Mobile Suit: EB-06s Graze Commander Type Name: Graze-Z Frame: Graze Commander Type Appearance: Graze-Z is a weathered green mobile suit maintained by the Mercurial Witch's mechanics. Equipment | * Alaya Vijinana System * Head Sphere Sensor (standard) * Booster Unit (standard) * GR-W01 120mm Rifle (short rifle/weapon) * GR-H02 Battle Blade (weapon/ its chipped) * GR-E01 8.8m Shield (armament)</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) Martyn nodded and said, "Roger!" through public comms before saying in a lower tone, one meant for Holly and the others even though the lack of private channels meant that the others can listen in as well, "A Schwalbe and the accompanying Ace Pilot would only be sent here if Gjallarhorn thinks there's something worth looking for in this hellhole, and it clearly ain't pirates no matter how much they say they want to get rid of them. There must be a treasure somewhere, considering the fact that they won't send a lone machine, no matter how good, just to take us down." It wasn't out of the question, considering how even today, people still dreamt of finding Calamity War tech. And if so, Martyn could see an opportunity for freedom, but he had to be decisive, even to the point of foolhardiness, in taking it - And make sure that none of them died. "Familiar One," the young man said, "Allow me to give orders - We're going to need teamwork to take down this Graze Schwalbe without a single casualty; we're taking this 'Ace Pilot' alive so that he can lead us to the 'gold' he's looking for. If anyone objects, they can blow me up in the middle of a fight; just remember that you won't find a 'Space Rat' as good as I am for long years afterwards!" He hoped that was the right amount of defiance, bragging, and appeal to greed mixed with factual truth to save his life. A moment for the others to respond as they neared the Graze Schwalbe, which by now was registering the presence of pirates in a variety of stolen Grazes, Rodis, and a Hugo and was readying its weapons. Old habits died hard, it seemed, including foolhardy courage in the face of overwhelming odds. Martyn then moved closer to the Schwalbe, holding out his own Mech's 'Hammer Chopper' while shouting, "Familiar One, with me! Familiars Two and Three, come at the enemy mech to the sides! Familiar Five, you're the fastest, so try and get behind the enemy unit and use your Anchor Claw to yank out its thrusters! If all goes well, we're getting a Graze Schwalbe, a Pilot, and a lead to whatever they're looking for which most definitely aren't our little ol' selves..." @FlappyTheSpybot@Martian@Renny@Dezuel</s> <|message|>Charles Le Greif "Damnable pirates, that they would travel through the Debris Zone of all places. Are they really that desperate or is it madness? Eh Major?" A gruff sounding captain spoke up from his seat, a man in his fourties with a scar at his chin. The man's darkbrown eyes scanned the sight before him, his equally dark wavy hair neatly kept in place by his military cap, the man also sported some impressive sideburns. Behind his seat stood another man, dressed in a red uniform with gold details, his chest decorated with many medals and bearing the rank of Major. The far younger man bore a set of piercing blue eyes and blonde hair, his physical build was that of an acrobat rather than a bruiser. "True survivors do with what they have at their disposal in order to survive, if the Tekkadan taught us something, it is that the more cornered an animal is, the more likely it will lash out and fight to the end. No matter what that end may be, captain. These pirates aren't that much different, especially those who employ pilots which use the AVS. To a regular pilot of the Gjallarhorn army, these pilots are what a wolf is to a deer. Armed with sharp fangs. Hunting in a pack. Coordinated and ferocious. The outcome should be obvious in most cases. However there are things even wolves know to stay clear of. Bears. No matter how much they howl, bite or co-ordinate they won't take it down." The blonde rose up from his leaning position and walked past the seated captain, his eyes wandering over the view that lay ahead. The captain soon offered his reply. "Heh. You fancy yourself a bear then sir?" The captain said with a grin, before he took a sip from his coffee-cup that was just within reach. "Something like that. A predator cannot understand a prey or vice versa. Yet a fellow predator can respect and understand the hunger another predator feels." The major crossed his arms as he squinted out through the vast window, out at the field of debris floating around. "I just don't understand, Major. Why are you piloting that old, pardon me from saying. That old scrapheap." It didn't take long for the captain to receive his answer, it came just as he was putting down his coffee-cup. "Don't underestimate my Gullinkambe, captain. The Geirail while being an old model, and considered outdated by most. Is still a weapon. A small cut can end a man's life if you know where to aim. It were my first mobile suit. I specifically tracked down my training machine and requested to use it in battle. You could say it is kind of like a brother to me. It enjoys to hunt down bigger prey." The major raised one of his hands to adjust his hair, twirling a finger at a lock at his neck. "U-understood... I am not questioning your impressive record, Major Charles Le Greif. I was just intrigued." The captain said with a slight sweatdrop at his cheek. "It's fine. We all have things that intrgue us, captain. One of those things for me is to fight the strong. You cannot become a better pilot by fighting the meek or by having the machine do all the lifting for you. We live in a world where things often can be settled by the push of a trigger. I think we all remember the sight of the Dainsleif on the battlefield..." Charles couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the memory, a very unfortunate turn of events. He began to ponder, just how far would the Tekkadan and the revolutionary fleet have gotten had it not been for those wretched weapons. "Aye. I do remember it... but that's war. You do what you have to do in order to win, right?" The captain said while grabbing a cookie from the plate next to his coffee-cup. "Indeed." The blonde major replied, a slight upturn at the corner of his lips as he stood with his back against the captain. "There has been some who put too much reliance on the performance of their machine, rather than the performance of themselves. I think that can be said for the Gundam Bael's last pilot. It is people you are to rely upon, including yourself and those who share your dream. Not by waving a flag or icon, like a child whose found his father's sword. Many swords are double-edged, it is easy to get cut if you are being foolish." Charles began to walk up the stairs of the command bridge to put himself back at the same elevation as the captain, looking into his eyes as he did. "Mhm. Understood sir." The captain nodded before calling out to one of the crew which were handling transmissions. "Any word from the scout yet?" The captain said impatiently, drumming his fingers on his armrest, while leaning his head into his other hand. "Nothing so far, sir." The crew-man replied in a quick manner, before returning to check in his headset. "A hunter must be patient, captain. Time you spend waiting, is time well spent. Those who are rash usually don't last long. Remember this well captain." The blonde nodded his head towards the captain. "A-ah... yes sir." The gruff looking captain adjusted himself in his seat, having slid down into too much of a comfortable position. "Though I must admit, the existance of the gundams make me shiver with anticipation. Now imagine....A gundam and a pilot connected by an AVS. Now that is a hunt. What could possibly be a more suitable foe to face in battle? Perhaps a mobile armor. But those are even more rare. If there's still any remaining. I like to think there are. Because people are resourceful, who knows what could be locked away in some old dark room. Just waiting to be rediscovered." The young major allowed himself a brief chuckle as he began to lean on the captain's backrest again. "You sure is something else, Major." The captain said while one of the crewmembers filled up his coffee-cup again. "I am human. Nothing more, nothing less. We are what we set out to be, our actions speak for themselves. Sometimes however, a single man or woman can alter history as we know it. It isn't Bael which has shaped Gjallarhorn into what it is today, it has been it's pilots and the actions of other people which has stood in it's path. Every little drop of water upon a leaf will eventually gather together into something bigger before falling off. Same can be said of the people which were with the Tekkadan. It wasn't that their mobile suits were necessarily stronger, but rather the sheer fanatism which seemed to seep into the people piloting those machines. It made them relentless, desperate opponents. The kind which can strike fear into the hearts of people. Which can have varying effects, such as creating allies who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end, while on the other side also create enemies who would like nothing more than swat that buzzing fly." Charles made a fingersnap with his left hand, then reached out for one of the cookies still remaining on the captain's plate. Picking it up with his left hand, using only his thumb and the finger next to it to hold it up with his white glove, as if it wasn't a cookie at all but a coin. "Much like this cookie, which has sweet topping at one side, and is barren on the other. Some people are incapable of seeing things from the other side. If you want to truly bring defeat to your enemy, you must first understand how he thinks. Then you can take the appropriate actions. At the same time, you must keep yourself aware that they may try to do the same to you. Do you know why I keep an open channel in battle?" He asked, while placing the cookie back to it's plate, before sitting down this time into his own seat on the bridge. "Enlighten me." The captain said, motioning with his broad arm and hands for the major to continue. "Because an enemy you know, is an enemy harder to kill. An enemy which bears a face or name. When they see their opponent as someone, rather than something. That is when many will hesitate to pull the trigger. How do I know this? Because that is how we humans are. Different. Yet also so very alike. When you have your enemy pondering if what he is doing is nothing short of killing himself, his mental state or his soul if you so wish. That is when you know you have him." The blonde major crossed his legs and momentarily threw a glance to his polished black boots, taking a brief pause before continuing. "You never know if the pilots you capture will end up having valuable information, thus it's fruitful to incapacitate them instead of outright killing them, whenever such is possible. The easiest way is to attack their ship, without a place to resupply, repair their damaged machines or means of retreat. They will be forced to surrender or be outright destroyed in a battle they cannot truly win with their lives intact. If they do surrender, you will not only have valuable captives which have information, but you will also be able to capture their machines. Perhaps even their very souls..." Charles held up a finger as to make a point to the captain, before the major's gaze fell back to staring at the debris zone before them. "If there will not be a reply from your scout soon, I will ask for your permission to sortie, captain. This is your ship after all, ranks aside." The blonde leaned back in his seat, looking at his gloved right hand before tightening it into a fist. "Permission granted..." The captain adjusted his hat and tried to make himself more presentable as he sat there in his seat.</s>

<|message|>Thom Abraham Thom's stomach settled as his 'Whiskers' dialed in, attempting to wash away his discomfort. An annoyed breath punctuated the comms after Martyn's request and bluster. The ambient hum of his machine took back over while he lingered on whether to dig in or simply carry on in typical Thom fashion. A heavy pause rested on the line while he gathered an understanding of their situation. "You don't think of anyone else but yourself... I'll do my part." He retreated into his mind. Thom had known so little and felt so much. He wasn't intelligent, his education was put on hold by the Jolly Rogs that day. The nausea was back now, another knot in his gut. "Something big is going to happen." Thom said in a low, assured tone. He closed in on the target with the others, keeping the space between himself and the enemy in mind. He brandished his battle blade and readied his shield. Martyn had spat out some orders, Thom hesitated to give himself room to adapt. He maneuvered his Graze-Z out the way of the others and eyed the Schwalbe Graze's reaction to the attack.</s>

<|description|>Thom Abraham Appearance: Of shorter-than average height (5'6") for his age, Thom is a youth with a self-assured body language. Acceptance seemingly radiates through his weakened movements. Oddly enough, his gold eyes smolder with a goal and his dark hair, both unkempt and oily with grime, seems to lay heavy on his scalp. After receiving the Alaya Vijnana surgery twice, two growths protrude from his upper spine. He calls them whiskers. Like the others, his clothes are fairly ragged. He usually sticks to the plain t-shirts and shorts for his meager lifestyle. Age: 17 Background: His memory is dusky and has never been the best since his abduction but Thom can recall a few portent people from his past. He remembers his grandfather was in Gjallarhorn, that he may have been influential though he's unsure what rank or political power he held. His mother and father's fate remains a mystery to him, despite knowing they traveled with him on the shuttle. And under the spell of sleep, Thom can see the flashing of gunfire interrupting the ruddy lights of the pirated shuttle. The thought that, right before things went horribly south, that he would still visit Mars. See the birth place of the Orga Itsuka and the Tekkadan he forged. Like many others however, he was made Human Debris, brought aboard the Jolly Rogs Fleet, specifically the Mercurial Witch's crew, and made into a Rat. Personality and Reputation: Overall Thom projects obedience. To most of the Mercurial Witch's crew, he's a silent presence, fierce and trained. He never questions his orders and follows them precisely, to the letter almost. Long as his survival is not on the line; he very rarely goes beyond his station. Most of them call him "The Pawn". To the other Human Debris, he's become something of a guardian figure and projects an almost unifying fearlessness in their shared suffering. With them the silence breaks and the real him rolls out. He's mirthless but he is protective and caring of the younger ones. Even more so of the dumber ones. Still, its his cold mental state that allows him to maintain a survivor's composure. He's fickle but once his mind is made up, he becomes annoyingly stubborn. Mobile Suit: EB-06s Graze Commander Type Name: Graze-Z Frame: Graze Commander Type Appearance: Graze-Z is a weathered green mobile suit maintained by the Mercurial Witch's mechanics. Equipment | * Alaya Vijinana System * Head Sphere Sensor (standard) * Booster Unit (standard) * GR-W01 120mm Rifle (short rifle/weapon) * GR-H02 Battle Blade (weapon/ its chipped) * GR-E01 8.8m Shield (armament)</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham From his place in the dead of space, amongst his comrades and the wreckage of rocks and ships, Thom watched with cold interest. Fox's wild maneuver was met with a skillful offset, he eyed the enemy's Graze with renewed purpose. He's experienced. Good enough to hold his composure against bad odds, he determined, hands gripping the controls. This is all falling apart because of Martyn's impulsiveness. Then Martyn's words tore through him like a punch from Bosun. It was invasive and tasteless but it brought him back to reality. Reminded him that as member of the Mercurial Witch's mobile suit team; results were demanded. It pushed out the remainder of his doubt, the scorch of battle sharpening his focus. In a sudden burst, Thom drove the Graze-Z towards the enemy Graze. His shield which had been in a ready position was brought closer to his chest, just enough to anticipate the aim of the lance. Thom exhaled the tension building inside as the distance closed. He eased on his boosters, knowing impact at that speed would harm him just as bad as a direct hit. Martyn was closing in too, trying to play the hero as always, risking everyone's life for his own goals. It was infuriating. Time collapsed on itself for Thom as the yellow Graze reached him with its lance. CLANG!!! Thom swatted aside the lance with his shield, a hole tearing through the slab of metal and its wielding-arm. Without skipping a beat, his Graze-Z raised its axe and aimed to decapitate the enemy Graze's lance-arm. The screech of metal reverberated through his machine as the arm was chopped off. But he found dread filling his chest as he peered through his screen. The pilot of the yellow Graze was hardened, his rifle raising to open fire on Thom's cockpit. "Come on!" he grumbled. "Don't let me die!"</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt held the controls of his Graze as steadily as possible as he lined up the shot on the Gjallarhorn mobile suit. While the teenager was waiting for the order to fire, Fox in his Hugo sped past him, firing his rifle. Kurt knew that at this distance those shots would do very little damage but he could see them as warning shots. As Fox took up a position in some debris, Holly ordered Kurt to take out the enemy Graze's booster pods. As this was the logical thing to do, Kurt had no problem with the order. Pumping his thrusters, Kurt launched his Graze toward the enemy mobile suit. Raising his rifle, Kurt adjusted its aim, trying to hone in on the Graze Schwalbe's boosters. Hoping that the Schwalbe wouldn't notice him, Kurt hid his Graze between a particularly large piece of debris. Holly then taunted the Schwalbe pilot over an open channel, only to be knocked off course by some gunfire. Martyn took the opportunity to take lead, ordering Kurt to take out the booster pods. "I know, I know," replied Kurt over the comms system, "I just need a clear shot." The enemy Graze then left the area, heading toward Thom. Taking advantage of this, Kurt left the safety of the debris field and went over to where the Graze Schwalbe had first been spotted. Using his own boosters, Kurt blasted toward the Gjallarhorn wreck and the booster pods that floated near it. "Alright, here we go," muttered Kurt. Once in range, Kurt lined his Graze's rifle at the booster pods. Letting loose with gunfire, Kurt could only watch as the projectiles barreled through the void of space. As he held his breath, Kurt saw the bullets hit their mark, ripping into one of the pods. Breathing out strongly, Kurt was pretty sure that he had accomplished his mission. But over his comms he heard Thom say to not let him die. Without thinking, Kurt whipped his Graze around, pointing back at the battle. His stomach felt like it dropped at the prospect of losing another comrade. While he wouldn't say he was friends with Thom, he did know him enough that he didn't want him to die. "Damn it. Hold on," shouted Kurt over the comms. Hoping that the booster pods had been rendered unusable, Kurt boosted his Graze back over to the battle. Seeing the Graze Schwalbe right in front of Thom's Graze-Z, Kurt pushed his mobile suit to the max. He had precious few seconds to get into firing range of the yellow mobile suit, knowing that if he fired now his shots would do nothing.</s> <|message|>Fox "Familiar Two, brace yourself." Was the only warning Thom received as Fox's quiet tenor crackled over the LCS. Having taken careful aim, the young man opened fire from his perch with the Hugo's machine gun. Almost all of the rounds flew harmlessly between the two Grazes, a few punching dents in their opponent's armor with only one finding it's intended target. But one was enough. Punching clean through the magazine of the Schwalbe's rifle, the impact threw off the gun's aim off... and detonated the ammunition within. The resulting explosion took the Schwalbe's gun hand with it, while Thom's Graze was blasted with molten shrapnel, leaving visually impressive, but mostly superficial damage on the other human debris' mobile suit. "Familiar Five securing target. Captain, requesting further orders for Familiar Squad." Fox announced calmly, an odd contrast to his Hugo's aggressive movements, the space superiority mobile suit already rocketing into the "fight". Instead of slowing down he merely fired one of the Hugo's anchor claws, catching the golden Schwalbe on the way past and sending them both tumbling through space. Down an arm, a hand and against a pilot with the Alaya Vijinana System, the Schwalbe Graze's pilot stood little chance in the ensuing melee. Before too long, Fox had the Gjallarhorn mobile suit tangled up in the anchor claw's line, the Hugo's foot mounted claws further pinning his target in place. Leaning in, Fox pressed the barrel of his machine gun against the Schwalbe's vulnerable inner frame through a gap in it's armor. "If you'd like to live, I suggest surrender." The young man advised in his usual emotionless tenor, having activated an open comms channel.</s> <|message|>Holly "Wait, did you get him?" Holly questioned over the comm as she heard some of the chatter coming from Fox. Her displays were down for good, it seemed, and she couldn't see any of what was happening. Her mapping was still partially functional, based on the last known images, but the Ahab wave ovelay seemed to still be operating in real time. Using this, Holly turned the Big Boi so that its back was to the fancy Graze, and hit the control to open her cockpit. She heard the wirring of servos as the armor plates moved out of the way, then the hatch in front of her opened forth. She could see now that her sidelong tumble had been stopped by grabbing the edge of the hole in the old wrecked ship's hull. What she saw inside stopped her dead. "Uh, stand by, my system isn't working right..." The rent in the bulkhead opened to the ship's hangar bay, and there were five mobile suits lined up. Each was unique, and Holly did not recognize any of them. She disconnected her AV and the harness that kept her secured in her seat, then kicked off from the cockpit and drifted into the bay. It was dark, and she realized the only reason she could see is that there was a computer terminal that was still active after all this time. She drifted over and looked at the screen. It was cracked down the middle, and the only word she could make out was "Wake," which seemed to be part of a button or prompt. She reached a gloved hand out, her breath caught in her throat, and pressed it. ~~~ On the bridge of the Mercurial Witch, Brun was watching with a satisfied smile as her rats tangled the interloper up. Her reverie was interupted by a bleeping from the console, and Mick spoke up. "Uh... there's new Ahab waves... I don't even know where they came from! They're right on top of Familiar One, but I don't see anything..." "Could it be an error? Maybe one of the old reactors shifted when the feral one flew through the debris." "It's possible..." he sounded like he doubted it, "I don't recognzie the signatures, so it would make sense if they're from older reactors." ~~~ Holly gasped as new light came on in the vast dimness. Five pairs of eyes suddenly flared to life, glaring down at her. As one, their armor shifted, silent in the vacuum, revealing the opening cockpit hatches in their chests. It seemed incredible that any part of them could still work, but Holly chose the friendliest looking one, and kicked off the floor towards it. She pulled herself past the armor plating and into the cockpit. It was light up brightly from all the displays and controls. Unlike the computer terminal out in the hangar, nothing could get to these electronics to damage them. The cockpit looked remarkably similar to what she was used to. The seat was cushier, but she noticed the Alaya Vijnana interface embedded in it. The controls were also comparable, though without the scratches, scuffs, burns, and other little marks from long, hard use. Without thinking nearly as much as she should have, Holly plugged the interface in. She made a choked groaning sound as the man-machine interface connected, her body convulsing wildly in the plush seat. The feedback was worse even than her Rodi. As her body relaxed, she gasped out the word "Stolas..."</s>

<|message|>Thom Abraham "Damn it. Hold on," shouted Kurt over the comms. Thom had believed he was the kind of man who would face his death with open eyes. He usually told himself this while laying battered and bruised in his rusted cot. Trying to convince himself that he was tough enough not to shy away from the fear. But he was wrong. In that moment, the fear shut his eyes from the barrel of the rifle. And he found whispers of shame and self hate in the darkness of his eyelids. He waited for the hot shells and crumpling shards of metal to erase him. ..."Familiar Two, brace yourself," Fox warned. Not a moment too late, dense rounds flushed the space between them. Loud pieces bounced against his Graze-Z, echoing the pelting into clear noise. The flashes of hot orange blinded him a moment before he instinctively boosted away from the action. Once clear, he watched with hard eyes as Fox twisted the veteran Graze into submission. A cool one-liner tossed in for good measure. After spotting his missing arm and shield floating slowing between ship plating wreckage, Thom dared to thank Fox and Kurt but Holly's voice came over the line first. Thom spoke up, "Yeah, thanks to Fox. It pays to be crazy sometimes." Her next response furrowed his brows. "Copy, Familiar One. I'll come back you up... not much else to do here." Thom pulled on his controls, following Holly's Ahad-Wave. He found her bulky "Big Boi" nestled on the ship, his own mangled Graze-Z landing next to her Man Rodi. He noticed that her cockpit was empty and relayed that info to the others. "Holly's not in Big Boi... I'm getting out to check the hull. Those new signals got me worried." Thom unlatched himself from his harness and felt the pressure-release of his AV system. He slid his console into its rest position and opened his own cockpit. An electric glow lit the rented hull, that was suspicious. Then he thought seriously of Holly and knew it was just enticing enough to pique her curiosity. He pushed off the metal with tense legs, floating through the hull, and knew his eyes had went wide with shock. "Stolas..." was blasted from the cockpit of one of mobile suits. Thom floated on quietly, eyes baring down on a red infernal mobile suit. "Holly that you?" he asked aloud, feeling stupid but close enough to the empty suit to defend himself if needed.</s>

<|description|>Kurt Bauer Appearance: Standing at 5'9'', Kurt is of average height. Initially he seems to have a slim build, but hidden beneath his clothes is a heavily toned body, formed from his years of hard labor. Kurt's skin is very pale, a side effect of spending many years in the darkness of space. Kurt keeps his haircut simple, as he cuts himself, with his brown hair going down to his ears. Kurt's eyes are the blue color of the oceans of Earth, a sight he has never seen in person. His body is also marked with cuts and bruises from the rough life he has lived. Kurt has no sense of style as his financial situation has never allowed for frivolous spending. So he wears basic t-shirts, jeans, and a jacket, or whatever else the pirates provide. If given the choice between colorful and white, black, or grey clothes, Kurt will almost always go with the darker clothing. Age: 17 Background: Born on Phobos, one of the moons of Mars, the only parent Kurt was aware of having was a mother. What he has been told is that she worked in a brothel and had no clue who his father was. Kurt's mother would only to handle being a mother for a few months before she abandoned Kurt. Left at a local church, Kurt would then be put into the broken child service system. Kurt would then be shipped down to Mars itself, where he would be placed in an overcrowded orphanage. It was in these early formative years that Kurt learned that he had to fight for everything. The conditions in the orphanage were bad, with the owner only doing it for the government support checks. Kurt would frequently get into trouble, often getting physically abused as a punishment. Eventually Kurt and two other orphans had enough and planned to escape the orphanage and make their way to Jupiter. And then one night, after weeks of planning, the trio slipped away from the orphanage and headed to the big city. Upon reaching the city, one of the orphans chickened out and decided to remain on Mars. Kurt and his friend Alto went ahead without him. As they didn't have much money, Kurt and Alto signed up for a job mining the Asteroid Belt that divided Mars and Jupiter. The company involved had some very loose regulations, hiring the pair even though they were clearly minors. So Kurt became an employee of the company, taking the surname Bauer for any official documents. Kurt and Alto were taken to Asteroid GL-2814, where they began training with mobile workers in order to mine the rock. Kurt and Alto would do this for about a year, never making enough money to move on to Jupiter. Kurt would begin to get angry with the mining company. This was only increased when Alto died in a work accident, with the company clearly being at fault. Without his one friend, Kurt went into a depressive state, the only thing keeping him going was the thought of leaving the asteroid. He would get a chance when the mining operation was raided by pirates, stealing the metals that had been mined and seizing their mining equipment. The captain of the pirate decided to capture most of the mobile worker pilots, turning them into human debris. Life was just as hard for Kurt as human debris as it had been a misused miner. He was tapped to become a mobile suit pilot, requiring him to get the Alaya Vijinana System surgery. While he survived it, it did leave him with recurrent pain in his back. Once he was able to prove himself as a pilot for the pirates, he was sent to serve aboard the Merculiar Witch. Personality and Reputation: Kurt projects an aura of gentleness, never being a hard person to be around. As such he is well like among the human debris, and even other members of the crew. He is known for being of much help with machines given his background in asteroid mining. As such he is considered a key part of the crew. But this is an image that Kurt consciously constructs, as he always wants to appear of use. Beneath his kind eyes is a simmering rage, one focused at everyone to have ever wronged him. Kurt is convinced that conflict is at the center of all life. One must always stake their claim, or show themselves of use to someone stronger than them. Because of this view, Kurt is always trying to become more skilled, more stronger. His greatest fear would be to become a liability to those around him. Not being able to hold his own would be the worst thing in Kurt's mind. Mobile Suit: Modified EB-06 Graze Name: Graze Cosmo Frame: Graze Frame Appearance: Equipment: * Alaya Vijinana System (Added in repairs to the Graze) * Head Sphere Sensor * Booster Unit (for space use) * GR-W01 120mm Rifle (standard, short range weapon) * GR-H01 9.8m Battle Axe (standard, close range weapon) * GR-E01 8.8m Shield (standard, heat resistant shield) Mobile Suit: ASW-G-34 Furfur Name: Gundam Furfur Frame: ASW-G-34 Furfur Frame Appearance: Equipment: * Alaya Vijinana System * Ahab Thrusters (back and waist) * Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters * Battle Zweihander (Large, two handed, blade weapon) * Head Mounted Vulcan Gun (Small round, short range weapon)</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) Martyn looked at the Bosun, his old enemy, and knew from experience that interfering would not do anything for Holly; not that it didn't make his blood boil to just see this happening. Either way, the young man was in his pilot suit - Even these goons knew that to be shirtless in space was suicide - And hooking his AVs up into his Man Rodi. As the cockpit closed, he waited for the order to launch, even as he looked over to see if he still had his secret stash of medical goods, as well as candy. Being eighteen and good-looking had made it easier for him to charm those sorts of items, as well as extra food, from other people; not in a way which would be morally dubious and/or scarring, but just easier for him to sweet-talk the Free Pilots, especially Carrot. He needed the goodwill of his Human Debris peers more than ever, with the institution of slavery illegal again and Gjallarhorn actually being tasked with freeing them. Because he was going to plan a revolt, a revolt once he had the measure of the Captain, the Bosun, and the Free Pilots (which may or may not include Carrot). Speaking of Carrot, at eighteen, he was probably old enough that he could probably ask her out on a 'date', once he was free, and it won't look weird or creepy. This meant that he could probably get her help in his planned rebellion by, well, resorting to 'romance'. But first, he had to take out the lone ship or mobile suit which came into their line of sight, and whose Ahab signature was visible in his sensors - Did its pilot have a death wish? If so, Martyn needed the loot, especially if he can filch some of it for himself for use as bribes or gifts. But if it was a ship and it had civilians in it... Let's just say that Martyn had always held himself back from the act of enslaving other children and only killed when he could not avoid it. Then again, it was the experienced, 'free' pirates who thought it was a privilege to indulge in that. Either way, when he had launched, he'd follow the Squad Captain's lead, hoping, deep inside his heart, that he was getting enough goodwill for all the Human Debris to participate in the planned revolt once he sparked it. For there will be a spark; these pirates were not the only ones who've learned from the short-lived career of Tekkadan - He'd show them that the abused will bite back...</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine. A muted sigh escaped him, They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy. Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist. "Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too. "Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him. Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose. He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.</s>

<|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt gazed outside the window of the Mercurial Witch, the occasional piece of debris floating by. This was nothing out of the ordinary as the pirate ship was passing through the Debris Zone, a floating field of broken tech and reactors. While some people would be freaked out about traveling through such a densely packed part of space, Kurt had gotten used to it during his time mining asteroids. But Kurt's longing look into the space beyond the ship was interrupted by the sound of boxes hitting the floor. Kurt turned to see another Human Debris fallen over, floating in the zero gravity with several boxes floating next to them. Kurt just sighed before helping them grab the boxes that they had dropped. Kurt knew that if anyone who was free on the crew spotted this accident, there would be harsh discipline on this Human Debris. While Kurt didn't know his name, he could tell that this Human Debris was a few years younger than himself. And frequently these younger Human Debris were treated worse than those who were old enough to do significant work for the Jolly Rogs. So Kurt was glad that he was able to grab all the boxes quickly. "Thank you," said the young Human Debris as he took the boxes from Kurt, all the while keeping his head down, "I need to get going. Thank you again." And with that, he rushed down the hallway, bringing these mystery boxes to somewhere else on the ship. But Kurt figured that it was none of his business what those boxes were. All that was really his business was piloting, his assigned role on the Mercurial Witch. But those duties were needed as the alarms calling for battle stations came over the speakers. Luckily for Kurt he was just down the hallway from the hangar. Kurt floated down the hallway as fast as he could, bursting through the doors to the hangar. In the center of the hangar Kurt could see Bosun and Holly, blood floating in front of her. That probably meant that Bosun was in a bad mood. So Kurt tried to sneak past him and float over to his Graze Cosmo. "Hey, you!" shouted Bosun, "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here on standby, not loitering around." "Sorry boss," Kurt replied, just loud enough for the head of the mobile suit squad to hear. Kurt hoped that he hadn't been the last pilot to show up, as if he was he could expect a beating when they came back to the ship. But Kurt was used to tolerating beatings, even from before being Human Debris, back at the orphanage. But Kurt decided to focus on the now, floating up to his Graze. As the cockpit opened, Kurt took a seat in the damaged mobile suit. Clearly Lefty hadn't been able to fully repair his suit as there were several slashes into its armor and the shield on his arm had a large chunk missing. But Kurt still thought that it was good enough to go back into battle. Just having a Graze at all was better than some other pirates he had seen. It was with this in mind that Kurt connected to his mobile suit through the Alaya Vijinana System. Kurt gasped as he became one with the machine, a jolt of pain traveling down his back. But then the pain calmed down, just being a dull throbbing in his back. Once again in control of his body, Kurt put his hands on the controls of the mobile suit. As he waited for the order to launch, Kurt vowed that he would survive this, a vow he had repeated many times since being a child.</s>

<|description|>Kurt Bauer Appearance: Standing at 5'9'', Kurt is of average height. Initially he seems to have a slim build, but hidden beneath his clothes is a heavily toned body, formed from his years of hard labor. Kurt's skin is very pale, a side effect of spending many years in the darkness of space. Kurt keeps his haircut simple, as he cuts himself, with his brown hair going down to his ears. Kurt's eyes are the blue color of the oceans of Earth, a sight he has never seen in person. His body is also marked with cuts and bruises from the rough life he has lived. Kurt has no sense of style as his financial situation has never allowed for frivolous spending. So he wears basic t-shirts, jeans, and a jacket, or whatever else the pirates provide. If given the choice between colorful and white, black, or grey clothes, Kurt will almost always go with the darker clothing. Age: 17 Background: Born on Phobos, one of the moons of Mars, the only parent Kurt was aware of having was a mother. What he has been told is that she worked in a brothel and had no clue who his father was. Kurt's mother would only to handle being a mother for a few months before she abandoned Kurt. Left at a local church, Kurt would then be put into the broken child service system. Kurt would then be shipped down to Mars itself, where he would be placed in an overcrowded orphanage. It was in these early formative years that Kurt learned that he had to fight for everything. The conditions in the orphanage were bad, with the owner only doing it for the government support checks. Kurt would frequently get into trouble, often getting physically abused as a punishment. Eventually Kurt and two other orphans had enough and planned to escape the orphanage and make their way to Jupiter. And then one night, after weeks of planning, the trio slipped away from the orphanage and headed to the big city. Upon reaching the city, one of the orphans chickened out and decided to remain on Mars. Kurt and his friend Alto went ahead without him. As they didn't have much money, Kurt and Alto signed up for a job mining the Asteroid Belt that divided Mars and Jupiter. The company involved had some very loose regulations, hiring the pair even though they were clearly minors. So Kurt became an employee of the company, taking the surname Bauer for any official documents. Kurt and Alto were taken to Asteroid GL-2814, where they began training with mobile workers in order to mine the rock. Kurt and Alto would do this for about a year, never making enough money to move on to Jupiter. Kurt would begin to get angry with the mining company. This was only increased when Alto died in a work accident, with the company clearly being at fault. Without his one friend, Kurt went into a depressive state, the only thing keeping him going was the thought of leaving the asteroid. He would get a chance when the mining operation was raided by pirates, stealing the metals that had been mined and seizing their mining equipment. The captain of the pirate decided to capture most of the mobile worker pilots, turning them into human debris. Life was just as hard for Kurt as human debris as it had been a misused miner. He was tapped to become a mobile suit pilot, requiring him to get the Alaya Vijinana System surgery. While he survived it, it did leave him with recurrent pain in his back. Once he was able to prove himself as a pilot for the pirates, he was sent to serve aboard the Merculiar Witch. Personality and Reputation: Kurt projects an aura of gentleness, never being a hard person to be around. As such he is well like among the human debris, and even other members of the crew. He is known for being of much help with machines given his background in asteroid mining. As such he is considered a key part of the crew. But this is an image that Kurt consciously constructs, as he always wants to appear of use. Beneath his kind eyes is a simmering rage, one focused at everyone to have ever wronged him. Kurt is convinced that conflict is at the center of all life. One must always stake their claim, or show themselves of use to someone stronger than them. Because of this view, Kurt is always trying to become more skilled, more stronger. His greatest fear would be to become a liability to those around him. Not being able to hold his own would be the worst thing in Kurt's mind. Mobile Suit: Modified EB-06 Graze Name: Graze Cosmo Frame: Graze Frame Appearance: Equipment: * Alaya Vijinana System (Added in repairs to the Graze) * Head Sphere Sensor * Booster Unit (for space use) * GR-W01 120mm Rifle (standard, short range weapon) * GR-H01 9.8m Battle Axe (standard, close range weapon) * GR-E01 8.8m Shield (standard, heat resistant shield) Mobile Suit: ASW-G-34 Furfur Name: Gundam Furfur Frame: ASW-G-34 Furfur Frame Appearance: Equipment: * Alaya Vijinana System * Ahab Thrusters (back and waist) * Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters * Battle Zweihander (Large, two handed, blade weapon) * Head Mounted Vulcan Gun (Small round, short range weapon)</s> <|message|>Holly "What?" Holly barked shrilly as Martyn tried to give orders. The odds seemed stacked in their favor, and she wasn't worried, but if he kept taking charge like this he was going to sow confusion in their own ranks. "Fine, but Ku- er, Familiar Three. Break off, destroy that boosters pod," she tapped her display, her hand moving nimbly so that it only left the controls for a bare moment. "That's prolly how he got out here all by his lonesome. Don't let him leave with it." Fox, crazy as his namesake, was already following Martyn's orders, and dove into the weeds, breaking their contact briefly. Holly wasn't super concerned. He usually followed the spirit of his orders more than anything, and wasn't one to be micromanaged in the first place. As they moved in, the fancy yellow Graze kicked off the lip of the hold in the wreck's hull, and boosted backwards. It moved in a serpentine pattern, dodging the bulk of bullets sprayed haphazardly in its direction, all the while clinging close to the decrepit Gjallarhorn ship. It raised a gun(it looked like an updated version of the 120 that her Graze piloting comrades used), and sprayed back as it retreated astern of the great wreck. The Big Boi moved in with the rest of the pirates. Holly just barely got the idea that the Schwalbe's creepy sensor orb was focused on her when it corrected its wild fire. She finally heard the shots(silent in the void until they hit you), but she could only laugh. At this range, most of their ballistic weapons were little more a nuisance. Holly set her LCS comm to an open channel and taunted. "You're all alone out here, rich boy! Come quiet and we might - Agh!" There was a distinct popping sound, reverberating through the mobile suit from somewhere above the cockpit, and all of her visual feed went blank. Her comrades on the outside, however, could see as a very lucky(or perhaps incredibly skillful) shot pierced the head of Big Boi in the crack where the nanolaminate had been chipped away. Holly was knocked off course, and felt herself hit something big(the side of the old ship, she realized). She tumbled along it briefly, but managed to catch onto part of it with her mobile suit's arm, a move that would be impossible without the spacial awareness granted by the AVS. She cursed violent, but tested to ensure her comms were still up. "Forget me, go get him. Martyn, I guess you're im charge after all."</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) "Thanks!" Martyn said as his Man Rodi began to shoot at the Graze Scwalbe's legs, still hoping for a nonfatal hit. He then continued to say over the comms, "Keep hammering at him and make sure that he does not reach his booster pod! In fact, blow the latter up if the guy doesn't surrender!" The Graze Schwalbe's pilot was clearly skilled enough to avoid his shots and the maneuvers of his - Well technically Holly's - team. As it fired back at the foes ringing it, Martyn moved a little closer, earning a jab by the Graze's lance. As he pulled his Man Rodi back, the young man, barely out of boyhood, glanced at what his team was doing, before shouting through the comms, "Familiar Three - Kurt - Do what Holly said and destroy that pod! Familiar Five, fire your anchor wire when ready; we'll try and herd the enemy to your position." He then pushed his Man Rodi forward again, before telling Familiar Two, aka Theo, "You're right, I am thinking of myself. But if I'm right, all of us can get what we want as well. So follow me, Soldier; I haven't led you wrong, have I?" Martyn was banking on the fact that he had known Theo for years, and observed him and the others for that long, to try and get Theo's agreement to follow his orders. The Graze Schwalbe, somehow sensing Theo's indecision, was now rushing at the latter's Graze, trying to impale it with his lance. To him, Theo was the weak link in the ring of foes, a weak link to be broken and shattered. Martyn, seeing this as well, threw caution to the wind and rushed at the Schwalbe, before shouting to Fox, "Fox, Fire your wire anchor now! Hit the Graze Schwalbe!" Hopefully, it would all go perfectly. Hopefully, the Graze Schwalbe and its pilot would be captured or at worst, the latter might be killed. But Martyn had made his calculations; he can and will apply for amnesty whatever happened, even if the process for applying for amnesty meant accepting the prospect of being watched and thus not being able to implement his plans...</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham From his place in the dead of space, amongst his comrades and the wreckage of rocks and ships, Thom watched with cold interest. Fox's wild maneuver was met with a skillful offset, he eyed the enemy's Graze with renewed purpose. He's experienced. Good enough to hold his composure against bad odds, he determined, hands gripping the controls. This is all falling apart because of Martyn's impulsiveness. Then Martyn's words tore through him like a punch from Bosun. It was invasive and tasteless but it brought him back to reality. Reminded him that as member of the Mercurial Witch's mobile suit team; results were demanded. It pushed out the remainder of his doubt, the scorch of battle sharpening his focus. In a sudden burst, Thom drove the Graze-Z towards the enemy Graze. His shield which had been in a ready position was brought closer to his chest, just enough to anticipate the aim of the lance. Thom exhaled the tension building inside as the distance closed. He eased on his boosters, knowing impact at that speed would harm him just as bad as a direct hit. Martyn was closing in too, trying to play the hero as always, risking everyone's life for his own goals. It was infuriating. Time collapsed on itself for Thom as the yellow Graze reached him with its lance. CLANG!!! Thom swatted aside the lance with his shield, a hole tearing through the slab of metal and its wielding-arm. Without skipping a beat, his Graze-Z raised its axe and aimed to decapitate the enemy Graze's lance-arm. The screech of metal reverberated through his machine as the arm was chopped off. But he found dread filling his chest as he peered through his screen. The pilot of the yellow Graze was hardened, his rifle raising to open fire on Thom's cockpit. "Come on!" he grumbled. "Don't let me die!"</s>

<|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt held the controls of his Graze as steadily as possible as he lined up the shot on the Gjallarhorn mobile suit. While the teenager was waiting for the order to fire, Fox in his Hugo sped past him, firing his rifle. Kurt knew that at this distance those shots would do very little damage but he could see them as warning shots. As Fox took up a position in some debris, Holly ordered Kurt to take out the enemy Graze's booster pods. As this was the logical thing to do, Kurt had no problem with the order. Pumping his thrusters, Kurt launched his Graze toward the enemy mobile suit. Raising his rifle, Kurt adjusted its aim, trying to hone in on the Graze Schwalbe's boosters. Hoping that the Schwalbe wouldn't notice him, Kurt hid his Graze between a particularly large piece of debris. Holly then taunted the Schwalbe pilot over an open channel, only to be knocked off course by some gunfire. Martyn took the opportunity to take lead, ordering Kurt to take out the booster pods. "I know, I know," replied Kurt over the comms system, "I just need a clear shot." The enemy Graze then left the area, heading toward Thom. Taking advantage of this, Kurt left the safety of the debris field and went over to where the Graze Schwalbe had first been spotted. Using his own boosters, Kurt blasted toward the Gjallarhorn wreck and the booster pods that floated near it. "Alright, here we go," muttered Kurt. Once in range, Kurt lined his Graze's rifle at the booster pods. Letting loose with gunfire, Kurt could only watch as the projectiles barreled through the void of space. As he held his breath, Kurt saw the bullets hit their mark, ripping into one of the pods. Breathing out strongly, Kurt was pretty sure that he had accomplished his mission. But over his comms he heard Thom say to not let him die. Without thinking, Kurt whipped his Graze around, pointing back at the battle. His stomach felt like it dropped at the prospect of losing another comrade. While he wouldn't say he was friends with Thom, he did know him enough that he didn't want him to die. "Damn it. Hold on," shouted Kurt over the comms. Hoping that the booster pods had been rendered unusable, Kurt boosted his Graze back over to the battle. Seeing the Graze Schwalbe right in front of Thom's Graze-Z, Kurt pushed his mobile suit to the max. He had precious few seconds to get into firing range of the yellow mobile suit, knowing that if he fired now his shots would do nothing.</s>

<|description|>Fox Appearance: With a small, lanky figure, Fox doesn't even break four foot six. Clearly a born spacer, the boy's slight frame is wrapped in a lean musculature built from a hard life. Age: 14-16 Exact age unknown. Background: If Fox had a childhood outside of servitude, the teenager has never said so, opting instead to play his cards close his chest, so to speak. For those who've bothered to remember would know that Fox is one of the longest living human debris within the Jolly Rogs fleet; the borderline feral young man having some survived for several years as a member of the boarding crew before earning his seat as a mobile suit pilot. Personality and Reputation: The quiet one. The odd one. The feral one. The Fox. Fox is broadly regarded by most of the pirates as a tool who is tolerated for his usefulness in spite of his unsettling behavior and irritating habits. Outside of a combat, Fox almost completely silent; opting to use as few words as possible, substituting looks and gestures in the place of words whenever he can. More infamously is his habit of passively resisting punishments. Ducking unwarranted punitive blows, politely refusing to bow and scrap to his "betters" along with a complete disinterest in playing "the game" as it were has earned Fox the hatred of Bosun and dislike of several of his fellow debris; as many a punitive action meant for Fox has fallen on their shoulders instead. The only reason Fox hasn't been tossed suitless out an airlock is because of his workaholic total obedience of "legitimate" orders and his skill in a mobile suit. By contrast, this has earned him what just might be the respect of Lefty, the quiet teen showing the older woman an uncharacteristic amount of deference in turn. Name: Hugo-F1 Frame: Hexa Frame Appearance: Stock Image Equipment: Stock, minus the buster sword and long rifle. Name: Gundam Morax Frame: ASW-G-21 Morax Appearance: Something akin the the Helmwige Reincar. Clad in cream gray and burnt umber armor, the only only visual indicator that this mobile suit may in fact be a Gundam is it's brassy gold trim and twin Ahab Reactors. With a hulking upper frame, oversized forward swept bladed horns, digitigrade legs and hoof-like feet, this bruiser of a mobile suit conjures images of a minotaur, much like it's namesake. Equipment: - Breaker Gauntlets: A set of three oversized armored "fingers" that can extend over each of the mobile suits hands from it's forearms via high-powered pneumatic joints. They are capable of forming armored, mace-like fists to greatly improve the Morax's brawling capabilities. When used as fingers, the Morax can use them easily pry larger plates of armor off of enemies thanks to the higher strength of their pneumatics in comparison to those in the Gundam's actual hands. - Charger Horns: Supported by heavily reinforced neck joints, the Morax mounts a set of large forward swept bladed horns. While capable of inflicting horrific damage should they actually find their mark, more practically the Charger Horns can discharge a powerful electrostatic shock to fry and overload the electrical systems of any enemies that the Gundam grapples with. - Ahab Thrusters - Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters</s> <|message|>Martyn Light (Martin En-Issue) Martyn looked at the Bosun, his old enemy, and knew from experience that interfering would not do anything for Holly; not that it didn't make his blood boil to just see this happening. Either way, the young man was in his pilot suit - Even these goons knew that to be shirtless in space was suicide - And hooking his AVs up into his Man Rodi. As the cockpit closed, he waited for the order to launch, even as he looked over to see if he still had his secret stash of medical goods, as well as candy. Being eighteen and good-looking had made it easier for him to charm those sorts of items, as well as extra food, from other people; not in a way which would be morally dubious and/or scarring, but just easier for him to sweet-talk the Free Pilots, especially Carrot. He needed the goodwill of his Human Debris peers more than ever, with the institution of slavery illegal again and Gjallarhorn actually being tasked with freeing them. Because he was going to plan a revolt, a revolt once he had the measure of the Captain, the Bosun, and the Free Pilots (which may or may not include Carrot). Speaking of Carrot, at eighteen, he was probably old enough that he could probably ask her out on a 'date', once he was free, and it won't look weird or creepy. This meant that he could probably get her help in his planned rebellion by, well, resorting to 'romance'. But first, he had to take out the lone ship or mobile suit which came into their line of sight, and whose Ahab signature was visible in his sensors - Did its pilot have a death wish? If so, Martyn needed the loot, especially if he can filch some of it for himself for use as bribes or gifts. But if it was a ship and it had civilians in it... Let's just say that Martyn had always held himself back from the act of enslaving other children and only killed when he could not avoid it. Then again, it was the experienced, 'free' pirates who thought it was a privilege to indulge in that. Either way, when he had launched, he'd follow the Squad Captain's lead, hoping, deep inside his heart, that he was getting enough goodwill for all the Human Debris to participate in the planned revolt once he sparked it. For there will be a spark; these pirates were not the only ones who've learned from the short-lived career of Tekkadan - He'd show them that the abused will bite back...</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine. A muted sigh escaped him, They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy. Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist. "Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too. "Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him. Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose. He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer Kurt gazed outside the window of the Mercurial Witch, the occasional piece of debris floating by. This was nothing out of the ordinary as the pirate ship was passing through the Debris Zone, a floating field of broken tech and reactors. While some people would be freaked out about traveling through such a densely packed part of space, Kurt had gotten used to it during his time mining asteroids. But Kurt's longing look into the space beyond the ship was interrupted by the sound of boxes hitting the floor. Kurt turned to see another Human Debris fallen over, floating in the zero gravity with several boxes floating next to them. Kurt just sighed before helping them grab the boxes that they had dropped. Kurt knew that if anyone who was free on the crew spotted this accident, there would be harsh discipline on this Human Debris. While Kurt didn't know his name, he could tell that this Human Debris was a few years younger than himself. And frequently these younger Human Debris were treated worse than those who were old enough to do significant work for the Jolly Rogs. So Kurt was glad that he was able to grab all the boxes quickly. "Thank you," said the young Human Debris as he took the boxes from Kurt, all the while keeping his head down, "I need to get going. Thank you again." And with that, he rushed down the hallway, bringing these mystery boxes to somewhere else on the ship. But Kurt figured that it was none of his business what those boxes were. All that was really his business was piloting, his assigned role on the Mercurial Witch. But those duties were needed as the alarms calling for battle stations came over the speakers. Luckily for Kurt he was just down the hallway from the hangar. Kurt floated down the hallway as fast as he could, bursting through the doors to the hangar. In the center of the hangar Kurt could see Bosun and Holly, blood floating in front of her. That probably meant that Bosun was in a bad mood. So Kurt tried to sneak past him and float over to his Graze Cosmo. "Hey, you!" shouted Bosun, "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here on standby, not loitering around." "Sorry boss," Kurt replied, just loud enough for the head of the mobile suit squad to hear. Kurt hoped that he hadn't been the last pilot to show up, as if he was he could expect a beating when they came back to the ship. But Kurt was used to tolerating beatings, even from before being Human Debris, back at the orphanage. But Kurt decided to focus on the now, floating up to his Graze. As the cockpit opened, Kurt took a seat in the damaged mobile suit. Clearly Lefty hadn't been able to fully repair his suit as there were several slashes into its armor and the shield on his arm had a large chunk missing. But Kurt still thought that it was good enough to go back into battle. Just having a Graze at all was better than some other pirates he had seen. It was with this in mind that Kurt connected to his mobile suit through the Alaya Vijinana System. Kurt gasped as he became one with the machine, a jolt of pain traveling down his back. But then the pain calmed down, just being a dull throbbing in his back. Once again in control of his body, Kurt put his hands on the controls of the mobile suit. As he waited for the order to launch, Kurt vowed that he would survive this, a vow he had repeated many times since being a child.</s>

<|message|>Fox After they'd finished their last sortie, Fox had fallen into his usual routine; helping Lefty with repairs. Well, it was less "helping" and more handing the older woman tools as she requested them or holding components in place so they could be more easily worked on. A lack of a proper education limited what the wiry teen could do. Still, no mechanic worth their salt turned down an extra pair of reliable hands. When the battle stations alarm rang out, Fox took a couple of moments to ensure that Lefty's tools were properly secured, knowing full well how badly the crusty mechanic would chew him out if he let any of her precious equipment float off. Ignoring the usual tit for tat between Holly and Lefty, the teen also seemed to pay the Bosun no mind; though those familiar with the boy's mannerisms would notice the slight tensing of his posture and minute tilt of his head as listened to the older man's movements. "Tools secured. Moving to station." He announced quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the metallic din of the hanger and the blaring alarm. Not waiting for the Bosun's attention to fall on him, Fox gave the securing for the mechanic's tools one last glance before smoothly flipping himself over the edge of the maintenance platform's handrail. Moving with the grace one gained by growing up in space, the teen coiled like a spring against the platform's rim before launching off towards "his" Hugo. The fancy movements the quiet teen's way of "showing off." Having pushed off with fair bit more force than necessary, Fox let out a slight grunt as he strained his arm catching the grab handle of the elevated seat of the mobile suit. His momentum arrested, Fox slapped himself into the seat with sleek, deft movements. Connecting the Alaya Vijinana system, the teen quickly brought the mobile suit out of rest mode. With the thrum of systems coming online, the teen jerked from the sudden jarring sensation of the man-machine interface flooding his senses with input. A feral, half-snarl, half-smile pulled at the boy's lips. The fox had his fangs once more.</s>

<|description|>Fox Appearance: With a small, lanky figure, Fox doesn't even break four foot six. Clearly a born spacer, the boy's slight frame is wrapped in a lean musculature built from a hard life. Age: 14-16 Exact age unknown. Background: If Fox had a childhood outside of servitude, the teenager has never said so, opting instead to play his cards close his chest, so to speak. For those who've bothered to remember would know that Fox is one of the longest living human debris within the Jolly Rogs fleet; the borderline feral young man having some survived for several years as a member of the boarding crew before earning his seat as a mobile suit pilot. Personality and Reputation: The quiet one. The odd one. The feral one. The Fox. Fox is broadly regarded by most of the pirates as a tool who is tolerated for his usefulness in spite of his unsettling behavior and irritating habits. Outside of a combat, Fox almost completely silent; opting to use as few words as possible, substituting looks and gestures in the place of words whenever he can. More infamously is his habit of passively resisting punishments. Ducking unwarranted punitive blows, politely refusing to bow and scrap to his "betters" along with a complete disinterest in playing "the game" as it were has earned Fox the hatred of Bosun and dislike of several of his fellow debris; as many a punitive action meant for Fox has fallen on their shoulders instead. The only reason Fox hasn't been tossed suitless out an airlock is because of his workaholic total obedience of "legitimate" orders and his skill in a mobile suit. By contrast, this has earned him what just might be the respect of Lefty, the quiet teen showing the older woman an uncharacteristic amount of deference in turn. Name: Hugo-F1 Frame: Hexa Frame Appearance: Stock Image Equipment: Stock, minus the buster sword and long rifle. Name: Gundam Morax Frame: ASW-G-21 Morax Appearance: Something akin the the Helmwige Reincar. Clad in cream gray and burnt umber armor, the only only visual indicator that this mobile suit may in fact be a Gundam is it's brassy gold trim and twin Ahab Reactors. With a hulking upper frame, oversized forward swept bladed horns, digitigrade legs and hoof-like feet, this bruiser of a mobile suit conjures images of a minotaur, much like it's namesake. Equipment: - Breaker Gauntlets: A set of three oversized armored "fingers" that can extend over each of the mobile suits hands from it's forearms via high-powered pneumatic joints. They are capable of forming armored, mace-like fists to greatly improve the Morax's brawling capabilities. When used as fingers, the Morax can use them easily pry larger plates of armor off of enemies thanks to the higher strength of their pneumatics in comparison to those in the Gundam's actual hands. - Charger Horns: Supported by heavily reinforced neck joints, the Morax mounts a set of large forward swept bladed horns. While capable of inflicting horrific damage should they actually find their mark, more practically the Charger Horns can discharge a powerful electrostatic shock to fry and overload the electrical systems of any enemies that the Gundam grapples with. - Ahab Thrusters - Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham Thom's stomach settled as his 'Whiskers' dialed in, attempting to wash away his discomfort. An annoyed breath punctuated the comms after Martyn's request and bluster. The ambient hum of his machine took back over while he lingered on whether to dig in or simply carry on in typical Thom fashion. A heavy pause rested on the line while he gathered an understanding of their situation. "You don't think of anyone else but yourself... I'll do my part." He retreated into his mind. Thom had known so little and felt so much. He wasn't intelligent, his education was put on hold by the Jolly Rogs that day. The nausea was back now, another knot in his gut. "Something big is going to happen." Thom said in a low, assured tone. He closed in on the target with the others, keeping the space between himself and the enemy in mind. He brandished his battle blade and readied his shield. Martyn had spat out some orders, Thom hesitated to give himself room to adapt. He maneuvered his Graze-Z out the way of the others and eyed the Schwalbe Graze's reaction to the attack.</s> <|message|>Kurt Bauer The dull throbbing in Kurt's back continued as he booted up his mobile suit. The modified, beat up Graze hummed with energy as its computer systems turned on, the HUD appearing in front of Kurt. As the mobile suit came alive, Kurt placed his normal suit helmet on his head, completing his readiness for sortie. As he placed his hands on the controls, Kurt and his Graze was lowered onto the catapult deck. As the feet of the purple mobile suit was lined up on the tracks of the catapult, Kurt took a deep breath in, still feeling the Alaya Vijinana System connection course throughout his body. Kurt then announced himself on the comms channel, "Kurt, taking off in the Graze." Kurt's Graze then shout out from the catapult, following his comrades into space. Kurt gritted his teeth against the G-force, trying to keep his hands stable on the controls. Once the Graze was a decent ways away from the Mercurial Witch, Kurt looked at his display, currently seeing nothing but space debris. Mick then sent over the wave signature of the mobile suit they were looking for. But before Kurt could thank him, the Captain told the pilots to stay on their leash and remember where they have to return. Through gritted teeth, Kurt said a yes captain over the comms. Holly then took the lead, being the first to get a visual on the mobile suit. According to Mick it was a Schwalbe Graze, a rare mobile suit. All Kurt knew about that suit is that it was a better version of his Graze, especially since his was not in pristine condition. But what was more interesting to Kurt was the Gjallarhorn ship. Usually they didn't bother to patrol this area. Martyn then offered a possible scenario, that Gjallarhorn was looking for something of value. While it was an interesting idea, Kurt was dubious about it. Usually the best you found in the debris field was some spare parts or maybe an engine if you were lucky. But Martyn kept with his idea, saying that they should take the pilot of the Schwalbe Graze alive. He then gave some orders, to which Kurt wondered who made him commander. But he followed the commands, seeing that unity would be needed in this battle. Kurt guided his Graze Cosmo to along the sides of the Gjallarhorn mobile suit, raising his old 120mm rifle. As Kurt flanked the yellow Graze variant, Thom said he felt like something big was going to happen. Kurt hoped that the fellow Graze pilot was wrong. Given how hard their last battle had been, Kurt wished that this one would be as simple as a five on one. "Just be ready," said Kurt over the comms channel, "We don't know if they have any other suits to sortie." As Kurt spoke, he caused his mobile suit to raise its rifle, trying to line it up with Schwalbe Graze. He then continued to take deep breaths, ready to fire as soon as the battle began.</s>

<|message|>Fox Once they were in open space, Fox said little, having cleared the launch catapult with little fanfare. Now that they had their target in sight and an impromptu battleplan, there was reason for words, if only a few. "Acknowledged. Familiar Five, breaking formation to flank." Came the young man's reply to Martyn's impromptu orders. Accelerating towards their target, Fox leveled the Hugo's 110mm machine gun at the Schwalbe Graze and fired off a couple of short bursts. At this range, the 110m did little more than scatter a couple of dents across the Schwalbe's armor, most of the rounds impacting around their target given the weapon's shorter barrel. Firing another burst as he closed, the wiry pilot considered that to be enough of a distraction and changed tact. The Hugo smoothly twisted and fired off an anchor claw, connecting with a particularly large piece of debris. Killing his thrusters and locking the claw's line, the much larger mass of the wrecked spaceship abruptly changed the Hugo's direction, swinging the mobile suit in an arc directly towards the debris field proper. "Fox, I swear to god, if you fucking pull another one of your god-damned bloody fucking stunts, I'm going to!-" The Boson roared into the comms. Fox didn't hear the rest of the man's tirade as he disappeared into The Shoals, loosing LCS as he often did when fighting here. He let out soft sigh of relief at the silence, happy to work in peace. Having pulled back the claw not a moment too soon, the quiet teen spun and twisted the Hugo like a marionette, weaving the nimble mobile suit through the wreckage at anything but safe speeds. With any and all instruments effectively useless here, Fox flew by spatial memory alone. He narrowly juked and dodged around jagged bits of shrapnel, only peripherally aware that a single misstep here would likely be fatal. After a minute or so of seat of the pants flying, Fox settled onto a large piece of ruined ship hull looking "down" on the unfolding battle below. With LCS restored, he spoke up when he heard the comms crackle back to life. "Familiar Five in position."</s>

<|description|>Charles Le Greif "A name can mean many things, or nothing at all." "How one looks is important. But not as important as to know how to behave." Appearance:</s> <|message|>Fox "Familiar Two, brace yourself." Was the only warning Thom received as Fox's quiet tenor crackled over the LCS. Having taken careful aim, the young man opened fire from his perch with the Hugo's machine gun. Almost all of the rounds flew harmlessly between the two Grazes, a few punching dents in their opponent's armor with only one finding it's intended target. But one was enough. Punching clean through the magazine of the Schwalbe's rifle, the impact threw off the gun's aim off... and detonated the ammunition within. The resulting explosion took the Schwalbe's gun hand with it, while Thom's Graze was blasted with molten shrapnel, leaving visually impressive, but mostly superficial damage on the other human debris' mobile suit. "Familiar Five securing target. Captain, requesting further orders for Familiar Squad." Fox announced calmly, an odd contrast to his Hugo's aggressive movements, the space superiority mobile suit already rocketing into the "fight". Instead of slowing down he merely fired one of the Hugo's anchor claws, catching the golden Schwalbe on the way past and sending them both tumbling through space. Down an arm, a hand and against a pilot with the Alaya Vijinana System, the Schwalbe Graze's pilot stood little chance in the ensuing melee. Before too long, Fox had the Gjallarhorn mobile suit tangled up in the anchor claw's line, the Hugo's foot mounted claws further pinning his target in place. Leaning in, Fox pressed the barrel of his machine gun against the Schwalbe's vulnerable inner frame through a gap in it's armor. "If you'd like to live, I suggest surrender." The young man advised in his usual emotionless tenor, having activated an open comms channel.</s> <|message|>Holly "Wait, did you get him?" Holly questioned over the comm as she heard some of the chatter coming from Fox. Her displays were down for good, it seemed, and she couldn't see any of what was happening. Her mapping was still partially functional, based on the last known images, but the Ahab wave ovelay seemed to still be operating in real time. Using this, Holly turned the Big Boi so that its back was to the fancy Graze, and hit the control to open her cockpit. She heard the wirring of servos as the armor plates moved out of the way, then the hatch in front of her opened forth. She could see now that her sidelong tumble had been stopped by grabbing the edge of the hole in the old wrecked ship's hull. What she saw inside stopped her dead. "Uh, stand by, my system isn't working right..." The rent in the bulkhead opened to the ship's hangar bay, and there were five mobile suits lined up. Each was unique, and Holly did not recognize any of them. She disconnected her AV and the harness that kept her secured in her seat, then kicked off from the cockpit and drifted into the bay. It was dark, and she realized the only reason she could see is that there was a computer terminal that was still active after all this time. She drifted over and looked at the screen. It was cracked down the middle, and the only word she could make out was "Wake," which seemed to be part of a button or prompt. She reached a gloved hand out, her breath caught in her throat, and pressed it. ~~~ On the bridge of the Mercurial Witch, Brun was watching with a satisfied smile as her rats tangled the interloper up. Her reverie was interupted by a bleeping from the console, and Mick spoke up. "Uh... there's new Ahab waves... I don't even know where they came from! They're right on top of Familiar One, but I don't see anything..." "Could it be an error? Maybe one of the old reactors shifted when the feral one flew through the debris." "It's possible..." he sounded like he doubted it, "I don't recognzie the signatures, so it would make sense if they're from older reactors." ~~~ Holly gasped as new light came on in the vast dimness. Five pairs of eyes suddenly flared to life, glaring down at her. As one, their armor shifted, silent in the vacuum, revealing the opening cockpit hatches in their chests. It seemed incredible that any part of them could still work, but Holly chose the friendliest looking one, and kicked off the floor towards it. She pulled herself past the armor plating and into the cockpit. It was light up brightly from all the displays and controls. Unlike the computer terminal out in the hangar, nothing could get to these electronics to damage them. The cockpit looked remarkably similar to what she was used to. The seat was cushier, but she noticed the Alaya Vijnana interface embedded in it. The controls were also comparable, though without the scratches, scuffs, burns, and other little marks from long, hard use. Without thinking nearly as much as she should have, Holly plugged the interface in. She made a choked groaning sound as the man-machine interface connected, her body convulsing wildly in the plush seat. The feedback was worse even than her Rodi. As her body relaxed, she gasped out the word "Stolas..."</s> <|message|>Thom Abraham "Damn it. Hold on," shouted Kurt over the comms. Thom had believed he was the kind of man who would face his death with open eyes. He usually told himself this while laying battered and bruised in his rusted cot. Trying to convince himself that he was tough enough not to shy away from the fear. But he was wrong. In that moment, the fear shut his eyes from the barrel of the rifle. And he found whispers of shame and self hate in the darkness of his eyelids. He waited for the hot shells and crumpling shards of metal to erase him. ..."Familiar Two, brace yourself," Fox warned. Not a moment too late, dense rounds flushed the space between them. Loud pieces bounced against his Graze-Z, echoing the pelting into clear noise. The flashes of hot orange blinded him a moment before he instinctively boosted away from the action. Once clear, he watched with hard eyes as Fox twisted the veteran Graze into submission. A cool one-liner tossed in for good measure. After spotting his missing arm and shield floating slowing between ship plating wreckage, Thom dared to thank Fox and Kurt but Holly's voice came over the line first. Thom spoke up, "Yeah, thanks to Fox. It pays to be crazy sometimes." Her next response furrowed his brows. "Copy, Familiar One. I'll come back you up... not much else to do here." Thom pulled on his controls, following Holly's Ahad-Wave. He found her bulky "Big Boi" nestled on the ship, his own mangled Graze-Z landing next to her Man Rodi. He noticed that her cockpit was empty and relayed that info to the others. "Holly's not in Big Boi... I'm getting out to check the hull. Those new signals got me worried." Thom unlatched himself from his harness and felt the pressure-release of his AV system. He slid his console into its rest position and opened his own cockpit. An electric glow lit the rented hull, that was suspicious. Then he thought seriously of Holly and knew it was just enticing enough to pique her curiosity. He pushed off the metal with tense legs, floating through the hull, and knew his eyes had went wide with shock. "Stolas..." was blasted from the cockpit of one of mobile suits. Thom floated on quietly, eyes baring down on a red infernal mobile suit. "Holly that you?" he asked aloud, feeling stupid but close enough to the empty suit to defend himself if needed.</s>

<|message|>Charles Le Greif The major had excused himself from the bridge, and instead found himself gearing up to sortie alongside two other pilots, Abdul and Meyer. A veteran mobile suit pilot and a rookie. There were usually pairs like these found on the battlefield, having an older pilot along was reassuring for the young, while the old felt good in having some eager fresh fighters to brag or teach to. Charles was in the locker room, alongside the two other pilots. He pressed the command panel over by the door, which connected him directly to the bridge. "Anything? Captain?" The major asked. "Nothing yet sir. I'll have Abdul and Meyer sortie and look over the ship in case you find some trouble major." The captain said, his voice over the comms were gruff and... odd... almost as if he was crunching on something. "Finding trouble is what we are here for, captain. I'll head into the zone to find your missing pilot..." Charles slid his hand over the panel and shut off the connection, before nodding towards the two other pilots then the doorway. "Remember your captain's orders, stay with the ship. If the enemy engage you, pull away from the debris. Do not engage them. They'll shoot you down. Stay within range to your ship and captain." Charles said aloud as he moved down the corridors with the other two pilots in tow. It didn't take him or the other two long to enter their respective machines, and as soon as the ready came for them to launch they did. One after the other. The two darkblue grazes were first to launch, and they indvidually landed on each side of the ship, landing in places which were meant to be platforms for cargo and less mobile mobile suits or mobile workers. Soon after their launch it was Charles turn, his custom Geirail taking off with a not too extraordinary speed. But that might be as he was only using the standard Geirail ones at the time being. As he gradually proceeded into the debris zone he put his propulsion at very low, so that he might better conceal his presence amidst all the remnants scattered over the area. Some of the old reactors scattered over the place were likely still functioning. Such finds would eventually find themselves into the hands of scavengers or pirates. 'Control is of outmost importance, not only in a mobile suit but the world as a whole. In chaos none is safe. But is the order which Rustal Elion stands for to be victorious in the end, or will it be...' Charles snapped out of his thought process as his slow drifting amidst the debris was picking up some odd object ahead. Was it the missing scout? Much like himself, this particular scout had been transfered to the vessel. Why would they specifically transfer that one man of no significant rank to this place? Dwelling on the reasonings of the military higher ups generally provided more headaches than answers, and thus Charles decided to leave it be. What use was it to ponder upon something which he might find out soon enough. The scout couldn't have gotten far. As Charles and his machine, the Gullinkambe drifted closer towards the distant object it turned out to be a ship. An old ship. It was likely a Gjallarhorn one. But Charles couldn't place what type of class the ship were. But there was clear activity there. He could see things swarming by it, like flies around a carcass. 'Looks like the scout was the one being scouted, but even hunters can be hunted...' Charles had a smile begin to crawl up on his lips as he reached out with his arms at the controls. It was time to move, he had gotten close enough and from what he could tell the scout was still alive. That it would be pirates fighting amongst each other in a place like this was rare, and it wasn't profitable for them. Charles finally allowed his machine to fully use all it's thrusters and he pushed his custom Geirail forth. How Charles loved how it felt, the pressure on his ribcage, how his breathing would be strained, how he could feel his body tense up in anticipation of what would come. The force in which the thrusters of his machines were operating at, was deemed dangerous by many pilots. Even some of the better ones. Then now and again there would be someone who would scoff at the very idea of piloting an outdated model. "Let us awaken the dormant to fight, Gullinkambe!" Charles said in an eager manner, he wanted to see just what opponents he would encounter this fateful day. He had already passed beyond the point where he could no longer contact the ship which he had launched from, the amount of debris would cause interference. However within a short distance in the field such would surely... "This is Le Greif! Come in, Ortega! Status report? Over!" He called out on the signal ID which the scout should have had according to the captain, before turning on the open channel. "This is Major Charles Le Greif, of the Arianrhod fleet. Unknown mobile suit pilots, under the laws of Gjallarhorn you are to state your intentions and if it is regarded as unlawful we demand that you surrender. You will not be harmed. I repeat, you will not be harmed if you comply. Over." Charles said in a loud if not abit stoic manner over the channel, no doubt there would be some reaction. A part of him was craving for battle, while the other was craving for knowledge just what was going on here. If he would be lucky, perhaps he could obtain both. Being all formal and speaking of the current laws of Gjallarhorn was making him partly ill on the inside. It was far simpler to just do battle, and letting someone else do the talking. It wasn't that he disliked to talk, on the contrary, Charles was fond of speaking with others. But not in the formal kind. Philosophical, existencial discussions were more to his liking. And matters regarding the near future, and what could be done to make it better. Better was such a subjective word.</s>

<|description|>ERRANT Mina Han is a plain, somewhat mediocre student with the polar opposite of a work ethic. She's lazy, selfish, judgemental, and complains about nearly everything, with few if any friends. That's not to say she'd a bad person, she could even be described as having a kind and gentle heart in the right circumstances! She's not even an especially... unpleasant person. She's just an irritating pain in the ass. Dame Theophania was a knight-errant of old, quiet and forthright, with a strong sense of duty and justice. Born to humble beginnings, she earned everything she had, fighting tooth and nail to earn her knighthood. In life, Theophania was possessed of a peculiarity which allowed her to stride across a battlefield in a single step - as she would explain it, it isn't that she is particularly fast, but rather that the world is simply... smaller for her.</s> <|message|>ERRANT Silently, she drifted through the cold and the dark, hair billowing out around her like the graceful bell of a jellyfish. Ah, a jellyfish… no thought, no intent, just a peaceful existence of nothingness until stimuli provoked otherwise. Stimuli, like that horrible, terrible, beautiful song, calling out to her through void tides like it always had so long, long ago. Long? Had it been long? How much everything had slipped past since it had last wrung its enchanting, ugly melody in her mind? A moment, a millennium? It reached out to her with loving, wretched hands, yearning to wrap her in its embrace yet again, and she so longed to reach out to it in turn, to lose herself in its discordant, miserable, wonderful glory… No. A single whispered defiance cut through the aria, and her eyes snapped open, suddenly and irrevocably herself again. Of course, of course, "no"... how could she ever allow it to be otherwise? The very idea of the disappointment which must have been written across their faces if she did… Heh. "No." She turned her face upward, looking to that circling ring of light above her, and willed herself to move. Upward, upward, upward, she glided like a knife through the waves, urging herself to break the surface once more. There were things to be done, and this time they would be. They would be. The halo of sunlight drew closer, closer, closer, until she could reach out with her hand to touch it, pass through it, and then- She burst out of the water, gasping in a long breath of air as she got shakily to her feet. She cast her gaze around, taking in the place she'd found herself in; a stone courtyard of some kind? Shops lay all around, bearing gaudy signs illuminated by some unknown sorcery. The square seemed to be bustling with people, enough to fill a town it seemed; some kind of festival? The more she looked, the more she saw. What she took as a square seemed to be more of an intersection - the shops with their glass storefronts, displaying all manner of treasures and incredible luxuries, stretched on in four cardinal directions, and that was but one of two distinct floors, capped by a ceiling of vaulted glass. Not a square then, but some kind of incredible trade center? How many kingdoms must be represented here? "Mommy, why is that lady in the fountain?" A child's voice caught her ear; a young girl it seemed, no more than four or five. She straightened, squaring her shoulders. This child was yet one example of all that stood to be lost if she failed. She stepped over the small wall of the fountain she had risen out of, gesturing to herself with one hand and throwing the other wide. "Fret not, dear girl, for I am the Witch of the Waters, and I have come to defend you all from the evil which threatens this age!" "Don't stare, sweetie," the girl's mother chided gently, beginning to pull her away. "That nice lady's just having a breakdown, it's none of our business." A breakdown?! What gall! The Witch of the Waters was no simple madwoman! Had truly so much time passed that even she had been forgotten? Then what of the great foe? Had he, too, fallen into obscurity? But if so, then… what manner of defenses must be in place to protect the people? If the warnings of his return had been lost, then… She must move quickly. "Bye, crazy lady!" the child called after her. "Good luck!" "Thank you, child!" she called behind her, waving her arm in farewell. "I shall surely have need it!"</s> <|message|>ERRANT Mina leaned back on the back legs of her chair, strawberry frappuccino sitting half-forgotten on the patio table in front of her. She gestured vaguely with her hands as she spoke, in the way people did without realizing as if the motions somehow aided in the act of speech. Her hair spilled over the back of her chair despite the ends caught between it and her back, and one of her feet rested against the leg of the table, pushing on it slightly to rock her chair gently back and forth. "Like what was she really expecting with that, you know?" "Uh…" "Like everyone already knew what was going on with her and Mackenzie and then she suddenly shows up after spring break with her hair dyed flamingo pink and she just expects no one to realize what happened?" "Ah…" It's like who does she really think she's fooling, you know?" "Uhuh…" "And you know they think they're gonna be slick about it, acting like no one realizes. God, they're so obnoxious, right? Like they're so in-your-face about it, right?!" "Um." Mina's increasingly reluctant conversation partner cleared his throat, raising one hand. "Mina, I uh. I mean, I'm really flattered you accepted my confession, and I'm happy you invited me out so quickly… Like, immediately…" "Nn-hn. What about it?" Mina took a sip of her frappuccino, having recalled its presence in the brief gap where she wasn't talking. It wasn't really cold anymore, and the bottom of the cup seemed to just be strawberry juice at this point, but she didn't seem to care. The boy, Martin, cleared his throat again, seeming to wither under her gaze. "I mean, uh. I- I can't help but wonder if you're really just going to, um. Just uh… talk about them the whole time…?" "Nn-hn," Mina answered, with zero hesitation. She set her dissolved beverage back on the table. "You said you were interested in me, yeah? So you're interested in what I have to say about stuff, yeah?" Martin hesitated, his eyes dropping to the surface of the table beneath Mina's sudden accusatory tone. "Yeah, of- of course I am, really!I just- its just. Different than I was expecting, is all…" "So?" Mina's eyes dragged themselves over to the street the cafe sat on, suddenly transfixed on the students walking home or crowding into the various stores and small restaurants lining it. "That's just an issue with your own expectations, right?" Martin's mouth hung open for a moment, processing possible replies for a moment before he cleared his throat again with an uncomfortable chuckle. "Yeah, I uh. I suppose you're right, sorry. Do you uh.. Do you mind if I go to the bathroom real quick?" Mina grunted noncommittally, not bothering to look at the boy as he scurried away from their table. Honestly, the nerve of that guy! How could he talk about expectations when they'd never even spoken before? Unless they had. To be honest, she hadn't even remembered the guy existed until he'd asked her to meet him behind the school. What a cliche, Mina was willing to bet the guy just stayed at home watching anime all day. She scowled at the handful of young couples she spotted holding hands as they passed. Honestly, just die already. She sighed, and the front legs of her chair re-established contact with the ground. Mina slumped over the patio table, pushing the cup with her elbow as she rested her chin in her hand. She supposed she could try to be a bit nicer to the guy. She had absolutely no intention of maintaining this charade past today, but she may as well try to make the act convincing for now. There wouldn't be much point to this otherwise, right? Where was he, anyway? It had probably been like ten minutes or so, and Martin still wasn't back yet. Was he constipated or something? Geez! Mina craned her neck over her shoulder, seeing if she could spot him, but no, nothing - actually, would she be able to spot him anyway? He didn't exactly stand out. Seriously, what a bland guy. But still, where was he?! Mina started to rise from the table, thinking she might just go get him from the bathroom herself, then froze when she spotted something on the street. A shock of bright pink hair, bobbing in the crowd. Oh no! Oh no no no! Mina dove under the table; there was no way she was about to get caught alone. Ugh, stupid Martin and his digestive problems! Why did he think she even bothered to bring him here?! And he had the nerve to disappear before the most important part?! She peeked out of her hiding place, tracking that stupid pink flag through the crowd. Ugh, and she had her groupies with her - what, was her boyfriend busy? She had to dust off those shrill little soccer club nobodies? Mina could almost swear she was being mocked right now. Mina ducked back down under the table, sitting cross-legged while she waited for her adversary to pass. Forget being nice, she was gonna wring Martin's stupid neck the next time she saw him. She sighed, head in her hand as she waited some minutes until the coast was clear, ignoring the occasional glance from passersby wondering what she was doing under the table. Once she felt enough time had passed, Mina crawled out from under the table, stretching and dusting off the seat of her pants. Ugh, the cafe staff really needed to clean this patio better. She glanced around, but still saw no sign of Martin. Jerk. She grabbed her drink off the table and tossed it at the nearest trashcan like a baseball. Instead of going in, the cup rebounded off the rim, spilling all over the ground. Someone was playing a prank on her, they had to be.</s>

<|message|>ERRANT The darkness was close, she could feel it; one of his servants must be nearby, and she would have to act quickly if they were to repel their machinations. The Witch of the Waters, stepped briskly down the street, her long hair sweeping over the concrete like a cloak. As she was now, after her long slumber, she did not think she would be able to repel them alone, yet she knew not where to find suitable warriors to stand in her stead. Perhaps… Perhaps a summoning was in order. Draw strength from the past, to find and aid those with the capacity to act in the present. Yes, that would present a viable solution for now - though, how many would answer? And in her current state, how many could she really call forth? She supposed it would depend on how readily she could find a source of power to draw from, but aside from the fountain she'd found herself in, the Witch wasn't sure of where she could look. A river, a lake, a pond - surely there must be some sizeable body of water to draw from, she could feel it. This street she was on was lined with merchants and eateries, offering luxuries she had never seen before. Somehow, she could feel the flow of water all through this place, in a thousand tiny streams she couldn't see. Were they buried in the ground, beneath the buildings? Perhaps. Even so, she may be able to call on their power to fuel her magic - she need only find a place strong enough to channel it, and then… Yes, with the power on this street, she may be able to call forth some few warriors. Hardly a match for the armies the adversary would call to his will, but it would provide a starting point. It would be enough, for now. She would make sure of it. That just left the question… from where would his servant launch an attack? And when? --- --- The lights of the arcade cabinet reflected off his sunglasses, his hand flying across the buttons in impenetrable combo techniques that were probably just mindless button mashing. Sure he probably wasn't that great, but did that matter? It was fun. It was a game, and he loved games. This one was something called a "fighting game", which he thought was kind of funny. It had bright, flashing colors, and the characters looked cool. Not as cool as him, but still cool. "Oi." He ignored the large man leaning against the wall next to him. He was totally about to wipe the floor with his opponent at the opposite cabinet, he didn't have time to entertain his companion's nagging. The man looked at him sidelong, crossing his arms. "Ugh, piss off, man," he groaned, waving the man away. "Can't you see I'm busy right now? I can do it later, just let me- Agh!" He cried out in frustration as the words YOU LOSE flashed across his screen. "One more time!" he insisted, reaching into the pocket of his jorts for more coins. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see a line had formed behind him without him noticing. He grimaced at each of the students behind him in turn, then looked back at his companion to see the large man smirking at him. "Ugh, fine, I'll do it. Man, what a pain." He pushed past the line of arcade gamers, paying no mind to their shouts of indignation as he stepped on their feet or pushed them away, making his way back out onto the street outside. He stretched and cracked his neck, casting his gaze around for somewhere suitable. "So many noisy kids here, geez," he muttered, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jorts. He chose to ignore the look his companion gave him. There were a lot of birds on this street. Yeah, he supposed he could start here- at least he wouldn't have to walk that far. "Alright, I got this covered," he said with a yawn. "You can piss off for now. You're cramping my space." The larger man crossed his arms again, each the size of a tree trunk. "Ugh, don't give me that look!" he complained, kicking the man in the shin with the size of one flip flop-clad food. "I said I'd do it, so I'll do it! Geez!" "Dick," he muttered, after his companion vanished. Now to find a quiet place to hang out and nap. Or uh, work.</s>