Datasets:

bilalck4

/

DDD_Batch_10

like 0

John lui a finalement donné un coup de pied et a pu traiter ce qui se passait. D'abord, il s'est rendu compte qu'il était maintenant couvert de sang... infecté. "Oh mon Dieu, oh merde." Il lui a tiré un os sur la poitrine. "Mon Dieu." Il a continué à murmurer des obscénités pour lui-même. Pas encore conscient que tous les yeux de la pièce le regardent directement. Son murmure non sensoriel ne fait qu'ajouter à la suspicion d'être infecté. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Une femme blonde paniquait, tout en se tenant debout. À en juger par la façon dont les deux se tenaient, John s'est rendu compte qu'elle connaissait probablement la fille à côté d'elle. "Il est infecté, tout le monde s'éloigne de lui!" Les mots ne semblaient pas déranger son amie, cependant, car elle avait déjà commencé à fouiller dans les poches de la marine morte à seulement quelques pieds de là. En prenant tout ce qu'elle jugeait utile, ce qui était surtout tout. Le sang ne semblait pas la déranger. "Je ne suis pas infecté. J'ai juste -- quoi?" La panique a commencé à planter dans la colonne vertébrale de John. Certains des autres survivants l'écoutaient, et avaient déjà commencé à se retirer. Leur peur brouillait les esprits avait déjà décidé. "Je, euh, non." La petite femme brune à cheveux qui avait pris presque tout de la marine morte était partie aussi vite qu'elle venait. Je peux prendre ça? Ou comptez-vous l'utiliser?" Une voix demandé de derrière lui, il ne pouvait pas placer l'accent, mais ça ne sonnait pas américain. Russe peut-être? Il a filé pour voir sa main sur la rafale. Le fusil! John l'a arraché sous sa main, craignant que les autres survivants ne l'attaquent. Il pourrait en avoir besoin pour se protéger. La décision de s'armer n'était pas bonne avec les autres, une femme avait même commencé à pleurer. Tout ce qu'ils ont vu, c'était un homme couvert de sang infecté, et des fragments d'os blancs, qui se tenaient là tenant une arme. Ceux qui étaient sur la clôture à propos de lui étant qu'il infectait étaient maintenant complètement sûrs de cela. "Regarde ici..." "Demandez-lui une question de maths," Une voix a appelé du catwalk, "l'infecté ne peut pas logiquer pour la merde." John ne voyait pas très bien qui l'avait dit. 7 fois 7!L'étranger a vite exigé. "Shit, euh..." Cela faisait un moment qu'il n'avait pas fait de multiplication, et le stress de la situation n'a pas aidé son cas. "Pour... quarante-neuf!" Il a enfin répondu. "Vous voyez? Je ne suis pas infectée!" Il a revendiqué triomphalement. Certains des survivants semblaient soupirer d'un soulagement, mais il pouvait dire que tout le monde n'était pas convaincu. -- Vous me croyez, n'est-ce pas? Il a demandé à la fille à côté de lui, celui qu'il a empêché de prendre le fusil.

Name: John Hemmy Gender: Male Age: 20 Nationality: United States/White Surviving Family: Sister and Niece Former Occupation: Fry Cook/was looking into college Backstory: The doctor motioned with his right hand for John to look at the camera as he spoke. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out before before speaking. “Well, uh, I was working the first night that it hit my town. No one had really expected it, we were led to believe that the virus hadn’t made it down that far south yet. It was around eleven at night when I first encountered someone who was infected. “My boss was going over some paperwork, and I was counting the inventory. I was in the walk in cooler when I heard the commotion coming from his office. Sounded like he, uh, smashed his window. I didn’t want to go in there, ‘cause I thought he was mad again. He had an awful temper, did shit like that all the time. But I had to run in there when he started screaming my name. When I rounded the corner to his office, I saw him, uh, fighting off what I thought was a pissed off customer. The customer was flailing a bat around, and my boss was using his barstool to keep him at a distance. “I didn’t really have time to think about it, so I just tackled the customer, and kept him pinned to the floor while my boss called the police. I didn’t realize it at the time, you know, that he was infected, but it clicked once my boss told me that he was trying to spit on him. I had heard that they can spread the virus with bodily fluids, is that true?” John asked, the doctor nodded his head yes. John cleared his throat and began again, “The next couple of days were pretty weird. No one was allowed to leave their house, complete lockdown. Such a stupid idea, people were practically trapped in their homes. Didn’t, uh, take long for the infected to start ripping the city apart. I tried going to my parents house to get them out, wanted to get everyone in the family out alive. When I got there…” John’s voice trailed off, “Well...you know. I tried my sister next, I was happy to find them alive. Her and my niece hopped in my truck, and we left town through the, uh, backroads. No particular destination in mind. “We stayed together for a few weeks, scavenging for food and fuel. I’d go into the towns, and she would watch the truck. Until about a month ago when we got separated. I was on my way back to the truck, when I saw the infected around the two of them; they were creeping up on the truck. I yelled for her to start the truck and drive away, then I got the attention of the all the infected and made them chase me. I don’t, uh, know how long I ran. It was definitely the longer than I ever had before. The infected were screaming and shouting the entire time they were chasing. I don’t know if I lost them, or if they just got bored and quit following. But about two hours after that, I collapsed in some woods and fell asleep. Woke up a few hours later, I was lost but still alive. And then for a month, I was alone. “Only saw two other sane people, but they didn’t last long. I was hiding in a, uh, dumpster while the two strangers got beat to death by a group of the infected. I’m sure the marines here would have jumped in to save those people, but I was scared. Fear keeps you alive out there,” John cleared his throat, “Anyway, uh, that’s pretty much my whole story. I found you guys two days ago, almost got shot introducing myself, and now I’m here.” John sighed, happy to have the interview done with. The doctor gave a gentle nod and shut the camera off. Appearance: John is 6 feet tall, and weighs around 125. Before the outbreak he had a healthier weight, and a slim athletic build, but the lack of food has thinned him out a little. Without any barbers around to have taken care of him, John’s hair has become uncharacteristically long; stopping just at his shoulders. His once full face, is now sunken and bruised. The overall rugged appearance makes his hazel eye color seem to pop. ((The appearance is a bit a rough, but it's four in the morning so it'll have to do for now.))

Etzer Kilono Traitement des survivants Il n'y a pas eu de réponse du casque, et Etzer a commencé à s'inquiéter. Et s'ils ne sont pas arrivés ici et que si le reste des infectés - Le reste des infectés! S'ils avaient entendu ce qu'il avait dit, ils avaient tous eu de gros ennuis ici dans le traitement des survivants. Il était sur le point de dire quelque chose quand l'homme qui avait tué le soldat infecté, avait été considéré infecté par une femme, qui avait soutenu de nouveau le mur. Etzer a aussi soutenu, inquiet que ce soit peut-être la fin de lui. L'homme était couvert de fragments de sang et d'os, tenant un fusil. Ce n'est pas la meilleure situation pour lui. Puis une voix retentit dans la cellule. "Demande lui une question de maths, l'infecté ne peut pas logiquer pour la merde." Tous les yeux étaient maintenant sur l'infecté, l'air devenant dans l'impasse avec le silence. Enfin un étranger a appelé, "7 fois 7!" Il a fallu un certain temps, mais l'homme a finalement répondu, et Etzer a laissé sortir un soupir de soulagement. C'était le tour d'Etzer. Il devait faire ce qu'il devait faire. Il s'est avancé en tremblant. Il s'est rasé la gorge à haute voix. "Nous devons sortir d'ici, ou nous sommes tous baisés! Les infectés savent où ici, et nous devons déménager, maintenant! La porte est déjà partiellement ouverte, si nous pouvons obtenir plus de gens, nous pouvons obtenir la porte ouverte, et faire une course pour elle." Tous les yeux qu'on a sur lui. Il pouvait sentir la pression de leurs yeux sur son crâne en attendant que quelqu'un agisse. Une femme a appelé du groupe des survivants. "Comment le sais-tu?" D'autres ont hurlé d'accord avec la femme, qui voulait aussi le savoir. Tout le corps d'Etzer tremblait maintenant, il ne voulait pas que tout le monde sache que c'est lui qui a envoyé le message. "Eh bien... J'ai rejoué le dernier message envoyé sur le casque des soldats, et quelqu'un a dit à tous les infectés que les survivants avaient besoin d'aide, et que nous étions en traitement des survivants. Si nous ne partons pas d'ici maintenant, nous allons tous mourir." Quelques secondes après, certains hommes ont commencé à marcher jusqu'à la porte, essayant de la forcer à s'ouvrir. D'autres s'y sont joints, l'un d'eux étant Etzer. Il les a eus dans cette situation, le moins qu'il puisse faire, c'est les aider à sortir.

Name: Etzer Kilono Gender: Male Age: 29 Nationality: From California Surviving Family: None that he knows of Former Occupation: Worked at a Donut Shop Backstory: Etzer lived in California with his mother and sister. Ever since his rich dad divorced his mom and left them alone with barely any money, Etzer has been living with them. Since his mom had to work to jobs, she had the car, while his sister was put in a cheap daycare. This went on for eight months before T-1C. The daycare his sister was in was raided by those... Things, and they killed everyone in it. He then watched his mother's throat get torn open, the jugular gushing blood like a fountain. He ran, and ran. It was all he could ever think about, all he could ever do. He eventually found an abandoned house, and lived of canned food, as he didn't want to risk anything that had been left out. After a week, living in an abandoned house, Etzer was surrounded by the things. He grabbed a knife, and killed them. It was the first time he ever killed, and something triggered inside him that told him it wouldn't be the last. Etzer moved from that house once it was torn up, and all the food was gone. He traveled, his food and water slowly diminishing, as well as his hope. The world had gone to shit, and his was on his own, the last drops of water in his bottle, stayed there until he couldn't bare it anymore and drank it. He was worn out, thirsty, hungry, weak, and soon, was almost lifeless. He laid on the ground and waited for the infected to come, but they didn't. He was left their to suffer. He was on the ground for a day. Only when he woke up, did he hear the screams of the infected around him. Only then, was he hopeful that he walls be put out of his dreadful misery. But he wasn't. That's when the rescue teams came in. He asked and asked to be killed, but they weren't having any of it. They gave him water, and it refreshed him, replenished him, into a new person. He wasn't weak anymore, he wasn't unstable. He was Etzer, the Badass Donut Shop guy who could kill an infected person. With that cheesy moral support he gave himself, he was able to hang on, and make it to the rig, which is where his story ends. It's not the most exciting, or, 'life-saving' story, but it was what happened. Appearance: Etzer is tall, standing at exactly 6'0. He is built strong, but what he went through wore him down, and now while he is built strong, he doesn't have the strength needed to accommodate his body. His once shoulder length brown hair, is cut short. He has soft brown eyes, but while they appear soft, they can become steel, and unforgiving at any moment. Besides his eyes, also decorating his face are many scars, indicated he's had a rough time out there.

M A R L A M I L E R "Hurry, je chasse." Et comme ça, la sécurité a été arrachée de son emprise. "Qu'est-ce que...?" Marla hurla dans l'indignation alors qu'elle fouettait la tête pour regarder le délinquant, une autre brune qui tentait de faire ce qu'elle avait échoué. Elle avait un demi-esprit pour commencer une scène sur la perte de son arme à feu et ouvrait juste sa bouche pour crier à nouveau quand elle se rappelait qu'il y avait une autre scène, plus importante se déroulant. Avec le poids du soldat toujours rassurant au-dessus d'elle, Marla a laissé la colère dégonfler d'elle alors qu'elle abaissait à nouveau sa tête, bien qu'elle ait gardé les yeux sur le théif maintenant en train de viser. Les coups de feu tirés de l'arme de la marine voyous étaient si bruyants et si abondants dans leur salle de détention que Marl n'aurait pas pu dire à la femme qu'elle avait tiré si son corps n'avait pas réagi au léger recul du pistolet. Soudain, les coups de feu ont cessé, ne serait-ce que momentanément. Est-ce qu'elle l'a eu? "Vous l'avez eu?" Sa voix était croustillante à cause des cris et petite à cause de la peur qui vivait encore à la base de sa gorge. Respirant lourdement, Marla a jeté un coup d'œil à la porte au-dessus du casque du gardien, qui blindait sa propre tête, juste à temps pour qu'un autre flot de tirs soit relâché. Un shriek l'échappa alors qu'elle s'enfuyait, les bras enveloppés au-dessus de sa tête pendant qu'elle versait une ficelle de mots sur le sol glacé en carrelage appuyant sur sa joue. Une fois de plus, le tir avait pris fin, mais elle a attendu une minute ou deux avant de lever la tête au cas où il y aurait un autre tireur à traiter. Quand elle a finalement décidé de se redresser assez pour qu'elle s'appuie sur ses avant-bras, son estomac s'est hissé et presque dans sa gorge. Sa bouche s'est ouverte alors qu'elle bâillonnait involontairement. Elle aurait voulu rester à terre. Elle aurait souhaité que les soldats ne l'interrompent pas dans cette pièce avec sa sœur. La pièce était une place sur le côté perdant d'un champ de bataille. Le blanc avait été devenu rose et la joie qui avait été dans l'air il y a quelques instants a été remplacée par des cris horribles de perte et des whimpers de douleur. Marla a eu de la chance de ne pas avoir mangé en quelques heures. Elle s'est encore assourdie et a poussé le corps encore inconscient du soldat, en s'asseyant pour qu'elle puisse la presser à nouveau dans le mur. Peut-être que si elle pressait assez fort, elle pourrait disparaître à travers ça. Ses genoux étaient enroulés dans sa poitrine et ses deux mains couvraient sa bouche encore ouverte, les yeux larges alors qu'elle regardait le grotesque Jackson Pollock sur les combinaisons de saut de tout le monde. Son attention a été attirée loin du gorille par la femme qui avait pris son pistolet. C'est drôle, la dame lui tenait la même chose, s'excusant de l'avoir saisie. Complètement pris par surprise, il a fallu quelques secondes à Marla pour réagir. "Oh, euh..." Elle s'est sillonnée le front à la chose, puis à la femme, mais avant qu'elle ne puisse dire quoi que ce soit, l'arme a été remise dans ses mains. "Er, c'est bon..." elle murmura vers son dos alors qu'elle commença à s'en aller, "Merci..." Claquant l'arme latérale à sa poitrine maintenant, Marla a regardé comme l'héroïne du groupe s'est déplacée vers les deux hommes à l'entrée. Il y avait le héros qui avait abattu le premier soldat avec les grenades. Apparemment, son complexe de héros n'était pas encore épuisé. Il était couché sous le gars qu'elle croyait être leur deuxième agresseur, complètement couvert de tout ce qui était sorti à cause du fusil. "Ouah,ouah,ouah,ouah! Il est infecté, tout le monde s'éloigne de lui!" Et alors même que son partenaire criait cela, la brune d'avant qui avait enlevé le couteau de son bouclier humain courut vers l'infecté qui venait d'être écarté et lui dépouillé de son armure et de ses provisions. L'armure et les approvisionnements qui étaient maintenant contaminés par le sang infecté. Sérieusement? Le sourcil de Marla s'est finalement cogné. La nana était folle. C'est une note mentale pour être clair. Mais apparemment elle n'était pas la seule folle dans la foule, car beaucoup d'autres personnes - y compris le tireur féminin - sont allées piller son corps. Secouant la tête en désaccord, Marla a commencé à se pousser du sol, toujours en craquant son arme contre sa poitrine. Ce n'est qu'en étant parfaitement droite qu'elle a réalisé à quel point elle tremblait. Elle se tenait contre le mur pour le soutien, les yeux méfiants observaient encore ceux à l'avant même de la pièce. Les survivants qui étaient capables étaient maintenant debout et à peu près, essayant de trouver comment procéder avec tout. Et puis une autre voix a ajouté au pot: "Demande lui une question de maths, l'infecté ne peut pas logiquer pour la merde." "Shit, euh... pour... quarante-neuf! Vous voyez? Je ne suis pas infectée!" "Eh bien... J'ai rejoué le dernier message envoyé sur le casque des soldats, et quelqu'un a dit à tous les infectés que les survivants avaient besoin d'aide, et que nous étions en traitement des survivants. Si nous ne partons pas d'ici maintenant, nous allons tous mourir." Non plus que la commotion, elle a attiré son attention sur la marche au-dessus d'eux, essayant de voir qui avait suggéré le test de maths, mais n'a vu que le premier soldat mort. Se moquant de l'étrangeté d'une présence disparue mais utile, elle remit son attention à la situation actuelle. Les gens étaient toujours pillés, tandis que d'autres aidaient à ouvrir la porte en métal lourd. Elle enquêtait sur sa zone immédiate, et était sur le point de repartir à l'endroit où les deux grenades ont été laissées intactes quand quelque chose l'a arrêtée. Pas à quatre pieds à gauche de l'endroit où ses jambes avaient été quand elle était sujette, une petite fille était couchée sous un mâle assez grand qui saignait encore d'une blessure par balle à la tête. Elle se moquait d'elle, mais ce n'était pas utile; l'homme était trop grand et elle était piégée. Comme si sur le signal, une image d'Abby autour de cet âge se présentait dans le fond de l'esprit de Marla, et comme si elle ignorait ce qu'elle faisait, ses pieds flottaient le reste de son corps vers la pauvre chose. Marl a mis l'arme dans sa botte de combat noire droite. Elle a établi un contact visuel avec la fille pendant un moment, lui a offert un sourire court mais chaleureux de confort, avant qu'elle ne commence à pousser le gars. Ça a pris quelques minutes, car il était beaucoup plus lourd qu'elle ne pensait et la force physique n'était vraiment pas le truc de Marla. Mais quelques coups de pied et beaucoup de grognements plus tard, le mâle était couché mort sur son côté et le petit était libre de se lever. "Voilà," murmura-t-elle, s'accrochant à ses mains maintenant ensanglantées. Elle les a essuyés sur sa combinaison avant de regarder en arrière la fille et de lui offrir une main vers le haut. "Tu es blessé?"

Name? There was a pause, during which she looked up at M through her mascara-clumped lashes, before she inhaled deeply. He could catch a slight rolling of her eyes before she spoke. "Marla Miller." Gender: "Female." Age: "23." Nationality: She scoffed a little under her breath. "English - if you can't tell by my accent." Appearance: "Er... I'm 5'5", yeah? I'm pretty slim, even before the lack of food - unfortunately that means no boobs. I've got an alright ass, though." She smirked at her own cheekiness. "Eyes are hazel-green, hair is almost bleach blonde, with this blue streak in it." Flicking the strands with her black painted fingernail, she continued. "I've got some tattoos... And a small birthmark in the shape of Alaska on my inner left thigh." Surviving Family: Remaining quiet, she simply let her gaze drift away before pointedly shrugging once. Former Occupation: "I did lighting design and tech for local venues." Backstory: Pursing her lips, Marla shifted in the chair. "Umm," she breathed out, idly watching her thumbs trace circles around each other, "I was staying at my parents' for the week, and saw my mother go first. Apparently, one of her patients at the clinic accidentally sneezed in her face, and she'd been complaining about her eyes stinging... Then a few days later, she went bat shit on my step-dad... He was holding her off, shouting at me to take my sister into the room and stay there. Obviously I wasn't going to question it, so I grabbed...I grabbed Abigail's hand - Abby's my sister - and dragged her into my room, locking the door behind me..." Marla took a moment to breathe, then continued. "Her eyes were so fucking big... And she kept- she kept asking me what was happening. I mean, I didn't know fuck either so I just told her that mum was on her period and not to mind it, and I grabbed my blue headphones from the desk and fit them over her ears so that the music would drown out the screaming..." "But, you know, she was fourteen and not a complete idiot, so... Anyway, she kept the headphones on and kept quiet. I think she felt badly that I had to listen..." Marla faded into silence, and didn't resume the story until prodded by the doctor. "After James was..." She cleared her throat softly. "After my dad was done, mum tried busting down the door. That actually scared me pretty badly, and I practically jumped into Abby's arms - she had taken off the headphones by this point and just pulled me onto the bed with her." Her slender, fair hand reached up to scratch the back of her neck. "It was probably more than an hour before I guess my mum gave up... It got quiet, at least. And then, we waited." "Abby looked all of it up online and that's how we educated ourselves: about the virus, about its destruction. I crept out of the bedroom and made sure we were alone before barricading the entrance. And, er... After cleaning up what I could of my father, I let Abby join me in the rest of the place, and we survived on the canned shit they had. It must've been nearly three weeks that we stayed there... But the food wasn't going to last forever." "When I told Abigail that I would be going out to get us more, she basically threw a fit until I agreed to let her come with me. And me being a complete pussy when it comes to her... Heh. Well I fucking caved. And then she told me... More like, ordered me, not to let her become one of them." There was a pause, and a flicker of a smile across her face. "Like some goddamn teen movie." Suddenly she leaned forward on the table and hid her face behind her hands, running them down until they rested underneath her chin. "So we promised each other, that night, under that stupid kitchen lamp mum loved, that we wouldn't let each other turn." Another longer pause, followed by a click of her tongue. "Yeah, well... A few days after we grew enough balls to go out and find more supplies. We were alright for about another week, holing up in empty cars with our loot. And then we ran into an ambush at some drugstore. We got away, and I thought we were fine, but... She had a deep scratch on her right shoulder. I cleaned it out best I could..." Her eyes began to lose focus, and her voice had dropped in volume. "...It was her that told me to leave it... And she gave me... She gave me a long hug... And then, the gun..." "I did what I promised." Marla returned to herself, and finally turned her apathetic gaze back onto him. "And then your men found me before I could pull the trigger on myself."

Capitaine Iroquois Pliskin, Corps des Marines des États-Unis Located: Au-dessus du traitement des survivants Les Iroquois ont atteint un sommet au coin de la rue, grogneant de satisfaction lorsque le civil a répondu correctement à la question des maths. Il n'a pas résolu tous les problèmes, mais il a contrecarré une menace immédiate pour sa mission : faire passer ces gens à l'avant. Il a atteint la poche de son EDR, et a sorti un épais cigare d'alligator, et l'a emparé dans sa bouche. Aujourd'hui s'est avéré être un Heck d'une course de montagnes russes. Il a allumé une lumière avec une allumette, et a allumé le rêve de tabac qu'il avait savouré depuis le 22ème arrêt des opérations au sol. Aujourd'hui serait aussi bon un jour que n'importe qui pour s'étouffer sur cette douce et douce fumée. Il tira, le goût familier et agréable de la fumée qui donne le cancer acride tourbillonnant dans sa bouche. Il en a soufflé un peu, et a inhalé le reste. Et puis il était temps de mettre ses cartes sur la table; ces gens avaient besoin de son aide, et ne tiendraient pas une seconde sans lui. Il se leva, laissa son M4A1 accrocher librement sur sa bandoulière, et sortit sur la passerelle, les bras levés. Son cigare brillait paresseusement dans sa bouche, et roulait légèrement comme il le mâchait. Son entraînement militaire a commencé immédiatement, et il a commencé à évaluer la milice de fortune, en analysant ses forces et ses faiblesses. Ils avaient commencé à s'armer; deux femmes portaient des gilets balistiques légèrement surdimensionnés, quelques-uns étaient armés et avaient des grenades plissées des camarades d'Iroquois. C'était bien, ils pensaient sur leurs pieds; s'assurer une défense forte, et l'utiliser pour lancer une forte offense. Il aimait ces gens, ils avaient une chance. Bien qu'il ait aussi vu la peur dans certains, peut-être même la dissidence; la méfiance et l'égoïsme - ce serait un clou dans le cercueil. Puis, encore une fois, il a vu un enfant, piégé sous un corps du pas-si-fortuné. Une femme l'aidait. L'abnégation, la compassion... Oui, ce serait aussi un clou. "Si vous voulez rester en vie," a-t-il appelé. "Restez avec moi." Les Iroquois tirèrent une corde de son harnais de combat, l'attachèrent à la rampe, et la jetèrent au-dessus du bord. «Par cette porte, c'est la zone de décontamination; c'est tout un tas de petites cellules, de salles d'eau, de laboratoires d'adhock et de points de contrôle de sécurité. Il y a une armure qui va vous mettre dehors dans le dernier et le meilleur que les États-Unis d'A a à offrir », a-t-il dit, expulsant un nuage de fumée de cigare. "Le seul problème, c'est que nous avons perdu le contact avec cette zone il y a quinze minutes, donc vous pouvez parier que votre ami ne sera pas le dernier fou à venir." Puis il se déplaça sur la corde. "Ou, si vous avez la force du haut du corps, vous pouvez monter cette corde à la liberté. Ce devrait être une belle promenade facile d'ici à l'héliport, où en environ cinq minutes un Blackhawk plein de Navy Seals est sur le point d'extraire vos culs tout-important." "Ca-Capitaine?" Une voix familière mais faible gémit du milieu de la pièce. PFC James Corville, Corps des Marines des États-Unis Situé: Traitement des survivants Le monde s'est assombri, puis il a clignoté un blanc éclatant; de grands bruits de bourdonnement ont résonné à travers son esprit, mais ils ont été déformés, comme s'il était sous l'eau. Puis il se sentit levé, et balancé; l'image angélique et trop brillante du visage d'une femme s'écrase contre son cerveau. Puis tout est redevenu noir. James s'éveilla avec un début, la tête tournante; la bile se leva à la gorge, et il vomit sur le sol immédiatement devant son visage. Ses yeux lui donnaient des images déformées, des silhouettes ; ses oreilles hantées par un bruit intense. Où suis-je putain? ont été ses premières pensées cohérentes. Et puis il s'est souvenu de tout ; la passerelle, la brèche de niveau 5, ses ordres de tuer les civils - Jones! James s'empare de son fusil pour trouver le tissu de ses fatigues. Où était son armure? Il s'est assis, se frottant la tête, essayant de tout assembler. Mais rien n'avait de sens, sa mémoire s'était coupée du moment où il avait quitté la passerelle. En regardant autour de lui, il se rendit compte qu'il était au milieu des civils; la moitié d'entre eux étaient couverts de sang, certains étaient morts, d'autres se préparaient à la guerre. "Ou, si vous avez la force du haut du corps, vous pouvez monter cette corde à la liberté. Ce devrait être une belle promenade facile d'ici à l'héliport, où en environ cinq minutes un Blackhawk plein de Navy Seals est sur le point d'extraire vos culs tout-important." Cette voix! James ne s'est jamais trompé sur ce velours fumant du capitaine Pliskin. "Ca-Capitaine?" Il a dit, aussi fort qu'il le pouvait, de se tenir debout. "Quatre divisés par deux," la voix husky s'est enflammée contre lui. James n'a pas immédiatement compris, "Quoi?" Une vague de peur déchirante du cœur perça sa conscience ajoutée, alors que l'horrible réalisation lui apparut qu'il avait probablement une milliseconde avant que le capitaine ne mette une balle dans son cerveau. "Quatre!" C'est pas vrai! "Non! Deux! C'est deux!" «Bienvenue à la fête, soldat», a-t-il entendu le capitaine dire ; l'homme était encore flou aux yeux de James. James réussit à se mettre aux pieds, ses yeux regagnant lentement leur bonne vision 20/20. Les survivants le regardaient, mais ils n'avaient pas l'air inquiets, plus énervés que tout. "Nous devons les neutraliser, Monsieur, le Colon-" James a essayé de dire, peut-être imprudemment vu sa situation. « Les ordres ont changé en privé, ces hommes et ces femmes sont maintenant notre priorité absolue. Le colonel les veut du côté supérieur », interlude le capitaine. Il s'est adressé aux survivants. "Alors qu'est-ce que ça va être? Une rampe dans le ventre de la bête? Ou une montée rapide vers la liberté? Faites vite, comme Einstein vient de le faire remarquer, nous n'avons pas beaucoup de temps. » Jamie Alycia Reyes Lieu: Traitement des survivants L'armure était lourde sur Jamie. C'était le genre de fille qui prenait bien soin d'elle-même, pas obsédément, mais elle s'enorgueillit de ses séances d'entraînement de style New York Minute qu'elle avait englouties à chaque occasion d'une vie dont elle pouvait à peine se souvenir. Pourtant, le poids des plaques céramiques, les boucles et le Kevlar s'additionnent à la double gravité. Elle a déplacé son poids vers la gauche, puis vers la droite, essayant de jauger une sorte de médium heureux. Ça la garderait en vie, et ce serait super pour cardio, mais elle n'était pas si sûre que ça lui ferait du bien. "Ça va?" Kahleen a demandé, Jamie l'a regardée. Ces grands et merveilleux yeux verts éclipsent tout. Jamie pouvait dire que Kahleen voulait que ce cauchemar soit fini, mais qui ne le ferait pas? Jamie commençait à se rappeler qui elle était, à se souvenir des paroles de son père. L'andrénaline s'était asséchée, et la froide ruée de la raison revenait à un rythme impressionnant. "Je vais bien bébé," Jamie a dit, patting aux poches sur l'armure du corps. "Ce type est devenu fou? Tu devrais peut-être me donner cette arme et je peux le poser." "Demande-lui une question de maths," une voix criait d'en haut, "l'infecté ne peut pas logiquer pour la merde." Jamie repoussa Kahleen et se tint devant elle. Il était temps pour elle d'être l'héroïne! "Reste derrière moi, bébé. On dirait qu'un autre de ces putains de soldats veut un morceau! » Les yeux de Jamie se rétrécissaient sur la porte en haut, et pendant une seconde fendue, elle a vu les jambes tournantes d'un bandanna souffler autour du bord du cadre de la porte. "Et si tu te baisaisais," elle s'est bourdonnée, avant de se tourner vers Kahleen. "Je n'aime pas ça, on doit sortir d'ici." "Pour... quarante-neuf!" a appelé le clown meurtrier potentiel de l'autre côté de la pièce, Jamie a entendu des soupirs audibles de soulagement. "Idiots", chuchotait-elle à Kahleen. "Vraiment? Une question de maths? Ces gens peuvent piloter des avions!" Et puis le gars de l'armée #4 était sur la passerelle, donnant un discours rappelant un film d'action des années 90. Si Jamie avait une arme, elle l'aurait abattu; les soldats avaient réussi à descendre au bas de sa « liste de confiance ». C'était un voyou grizzli, et jamie était comme ça inclinée, elle l'a peut-être trouvé à mi-chemin pour être séduisant, mais elle n'était pas, et ce genre de conneries de macho ne s'est pas approché de la toucher. Et puis il a jeté une corde vers le bas. Sérieusement? Jamie a regardé Kahleen, "Je ne peux pas grimper ça, est-ce qu'il est fou?" Elle a fait une pause : "Bien sûr qu'il est fou." "Ca-Capitaine?" Jamie a regardé de l'autre côté de la pièce, et a vu le soldat #1 commencer à se lever. C'est pas vrai. Elle a marché à travers la pièce vers le soldat, alors même qu'il conversait accidentellement avec son pote au sommet d'une manière qui a fait croire à Jamie qu'il avait fait une vodka de trop. Quoi qu'il soit sain d'esprit, fou, juste un connard ou un crétin, ça n'avait pas d'importance. Il allait tous les tuer il y a quelques minutes. Elle marcha vers lui, et lança son pied droit dans ses organes génitaux non protégés. Il est tombé avec un fouet. "Ouais baise-toi," dit-elle en lui crachant dessus. "J'en ai fini avec l'armée. Vous pouvez tous aller avec le capitaine Crunch si vous voulez, mais moi et Kahleen allons prendre nos chances de l'autre côté de cette porte!" Elle s'est tournée vers Kahleen, "Allons, bébé, sortons d'ici."

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Michelin Chef Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegetarian. Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian Background: Jamie has never been one to care much for the opinions of others, and has spent the better part of her life trying to stand firmly away from the crowd. Her parent's expectations of her life meant little, and although she had always loved them, something inside her detested everything they had in store for their "little princess". She was a smart kid, an A grade student, but with a taste for life's more colorful endevours. She would always be found hanging out with kids much older than her, and drugs became a favorite past time of her teenage-self. Not the heavy stuff though, she put the red line firmly at cocaine. At the age of 14, she started to figure out that she wasn't quite like your average girl. Whilst her female friends doted over the class hotties, she found herself doting over aforementioned female friends. There was something that appealed to her more when it came to members of her own gender, than boys. Girls were beautiful, they had curves and oh-so-kissable skin. Men in comparison were rugged and rigid, their frames leaving little for the imagination to truly explore. The young Jamie would take a nice pair of feminine thighs over a hardened and chiseled male abdomen any day. Her parents caught on to her quickly arising sexual orientation early, after stumbling upon her internet search history. Her mother thought it was just a phase, and her father was oddly delighted at the prospect of not having to worry about Jamie getting involved with the "wrong boy". However, when Jamie realized her secret had been uncovered, she tried desperately hard to cover her tracks. She started dating guys, and suppressing her homosexual tendencies. This went on, until she was 19, sitting aside her father's hospital bed. Her father was a good man, kind and caring; his energy knew no bounds when it came to helping others. Yet now, there he was, riddled with cancer and undergoing a painful and undignified death. Jamie cried harder than she ever had, during this dark period of her life, but her father managed to bring this to end with the kind of advice one only reserves for his daughter. "Jamie," he said weakly. "You're not you. You're not my daughter. The Jamie I knew was chaotic, nothing ever got her down; she spent most of her time giving me a heart attack with all those morons you kept bringing home. When she wasn't doing that, she was making her mom's life a misery by doing the exact opposite of what she was told. She didn't sit there brooding about the cards she was dealt, no, she eagerly picked up the deck and played the game. You're your own woman, and as a father's dying wish, I would have you carry on living as one. The world is your oyster, and your freedom is limited only by how much you value the opinions of others. If what they say or think doesn't fit your picture, then do away with them. Better that, than to sit in your death bed, years from now, and regret everything." Her father passed a few hours later, and Jamie walked out of the hospital a changed woman. Or rather, a reverted woman. Her facade was set to crumble; the last few years of trying to be someone she wasn't, quickly became a bad memory. She ended up in a cell that night, after beating her boyfriend to pulp when he touched her inappropriately at an inappropriate time. Her mother secured her bail, and the judge threw the subsequent case out, given the emotional circumstances (her father's recent death). But that was it, she was done with men, she was going back to where she came from. With a kiss on her mom's cheek, she hopped a plane to New York, and threw herself into a simple yet ever present passion: cooking. She bounced from restaurant to restaurant, slowly acquiring qualifications and references, working her way up the culinary ladder, until BAM: she got herself a job at Jean-Georges, a Michelin star French-style restaurant. The work was hard, and the pay could've been better, but she was moments from hitting fame, and she knew it. It was during this time that she met Kahleen, a brown haired German beauty with that kind of feminine perfection that Jamie lusted after. Their meeting was a chance one, at some bus stop on some street that she didn't remember, but they hit it off immediately. Three years of romantic bliss later, and they had themselves their own home, Jamie had gained the position of Head Cheff, and two young women were looking towards a bright future. ... Until T-1C hit the streets, and everything became a nightmare.

Je vais bien bébé, dit Jamie. Voir Jamie dans cette armure a donné à Kahleen une petite pause pour s'inquiéter. Il peut peser lourd sur eux deux et il a pressé le blanc démangeaison globale sur leur peau, mais il était un peu de protection. C'était un soupçon de sécurité. "Ce type est devenu fou? Tu devrais peut-être me donner cette arme et je peux le poser." Est-ce que sa petite amie végétarienne qui aime les animaux a suggéré de mettre fin à la vie de quelqu'un? Kahleen n'a pas beaucoup réfléchi à ce changement de personnalité de ses amants. Dans la minute suivante, il s'est passé beaucoup de choses. Kahleen ne savait pas comment y réagir. Un homme a fait remarquer qu'un abruti avait renoncé à sa position et à son état de vie. D'une seconde à l'autre, il pourrait y avoir un tas d'infections qui explosent à travers la porte pour les tuer ou les infecter. Certains survivants avaient réussi à ouvrir la porte assez large pour qu'ils puissent glisser un par un. Le premier instinct de Kahleen a été de fuir par la porte avant que quoi que ce soit d'autre puisse les mettre en danger dans cette pièce enfermée à nouveau. Mais quelqu'un lui a donné une deuxième option. Quelqu'un qui s'est avéré être un autre gars de l'armée était entré dans la pièce. Il était armé et la première chose que Kahleen voulait ramener Jamie. Mais elle a été surprise quand elle était celle qui a été tirée derrière son amant pour la protection. "Reste derrière moi, bébé. On dirait qu'un autre de ces putains de soldats veut un morceau! » Elle a saisi la main de la femme et l'a pressée doucement. Le soldat qui est entré leur a donné la possibilité soit de passer par la porte où ils auraient à se battre à travers de nombreuses étapes de personnes infectées ou de grimper une corde pour atteindre les 20 pieds au-dessus de la passerelle et sortir facilement de là-bas. Tout comme Kahleen pensait que l'option était réaliste pour elle, sa petite amie a pris la décision. "Je ne peux pas grimper ça, est-ce qu'il est fou?" Elle a fait une pause : "Bien sûr qu'il est fou." Kahleen devait convenir que l'escalade n'était pas non plus une option pour elle. Elle n'y arriverait pas. C'est pour être paresseux en cours de sport. Elle ne voulait pas aller voir les fous. Elle ne voulait plus être en danger. C'était assez d'action pour elle toute sa vie! Kahleen a cherché une autre sortie, ce qui était évidemment stupide. Ils sont dans cette pièce depuis assez longtemps pour savoir qu'il n'y a pas d'autre moyen. Échapper est une question de temps, le fou pourrait être ici n'importe quel battement de coeur. Elle a ouvert la bouche, pas vraiment sûr de ce qu'elle allait dire. Mais ça n'avait pas d'importance. Jamie sortit sa main de sa poignée douce et marcha jusqu'au soldat qui s'éveillait lentement sur le sol. Kahleen se demandait si elle avait quelque chose d'utile à saisir ou quoi que ce soit, mais au lieu de cela, elle l'a frappé dans les couilles dur. La mâchoire de Kahleen est tombée, littéralement. Sa bouche est ouverte. Jamie, doux et tendre, est devenu furieux. Pleine de colère et de haine. "Ouais baise-toi," dit-elle en lui crachant dessus. "J'en ai fini avec l'armée. Vous pouvez tous aller avec le capitaine Crunch si vous voulez, mais moi et Kahleen allons prendre nos chances de l'autre côté de cette porte!" Kahleen n'avait jamais vu sa petite amie aussi furieuse. Et cracher sur lui était tellement différent d'elle. Kahleen a ressenti la même colère à l'égard de l'armée. Mais elle ne leur crachait pas dessus. Pas encore. La blonde s'est tournée vers Kahleen, "Allons, bébé, sortons d'ici." Sa tête tournait avec l'information et cherchait chaque action logique. Kahleen a senti qu'elle avait entendu quelque chose qui lui a fait sonner l'esprit. La même cloche qui avait sonné chaque fois qu'un enfant de son école maternelle avait dit un mensonge. Elle a froncé et parlé. "Peux-tu même rejouer les messages envoyés sur un casque? Je pensais que c'était juste pour la communication et pas pour l'enregistrement." Elle ne voulait pas pointer un doigt parce qu'en fait elle n'avait aucune idée s'ils pouvaient jouer des messages déjà parlés. Elle pensait que ce n'était pas le cas. Pensant que ce n'était pas le pire problème, elle a retourné son attention à Jamie. "Si vous êtes sûr que c'est pour notre mieux, allons-y. Tout ce que je sais, c'est que je ne veux pas être seule dans cette guerre." Elle se sentait faible parce qu'elle chuchotait la phrase suivante, mais elle devait le dire. "S'il vous plaît, ne me quittez pas." Voir Jamie prendre en charge leur situation avait Kahleen est devenu faible. Elle s'est sentie comme protéger Jamie était beaucoup plus facile avec elle étant cette forte badass fille. Et juste un moment, ça a dû être bien pour Kahleen d'être faible et de parler de ses peurs. La vérité était dure, mais c'était la vérité. Elle n'a pas pu survivre seule.

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Chef at a fancy restaurant Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegeterian Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian All of the above is what I imagine her like. Please feel free to adjust and change her to your pleasure. But make sure it fits Kahleen Cuthald's story please. If anyone is interested, be my guest. Edit: Character has been taken over. Thank you.

Tout ce que Nat savait c'était une minute qu'elle se préparait à prendre le fusil, et le prochain trou du cul l'avait attrapé sous ses mains. Comme c'est impoli. Bien sûr, elle a fait la même chose plus tôt, mais cette fois c'était un peu différent. L'homme n'avait pas l'air d'aller le rendre. Nat brouillait à l'envers quelques pieds, avec ses fesses encore sur le sol. Vous voyez? Je ne suis pas infecté!... Vous me croyez, n'est-ce pas? L'homme la fixait, tenant l'arme qu'elle voulait prendre. Ce n'était pas le moment de l'appeler impoli, ni de se faire un cul. Pour tout ce qu'elle savait, il était instable, et ce pistolet ferait une jolie peinture d'éclaboussure d'elle en un rien de temps. Nataliya a réussi à trouver sa voix, son accent russe est devenu plus important alors qu'elle est devenue nerveuse, Uhm.. yea. Comme tu voudras. Ce n'était toujours pas très gentil qu'elle se maudite. Avec un sourire doux, Nat jeta ses mains en un "je donne" une sorte de façon. S'il vous plaît, ne me tirez pas dessus, d'accord? Elle a regardé l'homme, pas entièrement confiant qu'il était sain d'esprit. "Si vous voulez rester en vie, restez avec moi." L'odeur soudaine et forte du tabac lui a frappé le nez et soudain Nataliya a été rappelée à son père. L'odeur douce et amère l'a ramenée à beaucoup une nuit assise dans le salon avec une tasse de thé, et son père lisant un journal, un long cigare accroché à ses doigts. C'était juste une petite fille à l'époque. Nataliya regarda autour et vit le marine sortir de derrière la porte. "Par cette porte est la zone de décontamination... Ou, si vous avez la force du haut du corps, vous pouvez monter cette corde à la liberté. Nataliya a regardé la corde. Elle était certaine qu'elle pouvait l'escalader. Ayant passé de nombreux étés à grimper des arbres dans la forêt, elle savait que sa force de bras pouvait la soulever jusqu'au sommet. Elle pourrait même porter la petite fille qu'elle a vue tout à l'heure. En regardant autour de lui, elle a remarqué que peu de civils étaient trop ravis de cette option. Nat sentit un peu de regret dans sa poitrine quand elle regarda les gens autour d'elle. Il était évident que peu de gens pouvaient utiliser une arme, et quelques-uns n'étaient pas très brillants non plus. Elle ne pouvait pas aider les blessés plus tôt, mais elle était sûre que l'enfer pourrait offrir de l'aide maintenant. Le moins qu'elle puisse faire, c'est d'être un bon tireur, et d'aider à se débarrasser de l'infecté. Une fois de plus, Nataliya est restée silencieuse, attendant le prochain mouvement du capitaine.

Name: Nataliya Arnikova Gender: Female Age: 25 Nationality: Latvian/Russian Surviving Family: A brother, maybe? Former Occupation: Worked on a farm with her grandparents Appearance: Nataliya, or Nat for short, is a rather average looking girl. She stands at 5’4” and was roughly 135 lbs last time she checked. Working on the farm has given her strong arms and legs, and the muscle definition can clearly be seen. Her eyes are a light green, speckled with brown and her skin has a warm tan to it. Her hands are rough and calloused, from years of hard work. Backstory: My whole family, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, everyone, moved from Russia over to the small country of Latvia when I was very little. I remember very little of that time, but I do remember the long train ride from St. Petersburg all the way to Riga, Latvia. My grandparents had bought a small farm just outside of the capital and for a very long time all of us, all 15 or 16 of us, lived in that small wooden cottage. Soon, my parents bought an apartment in the city, but I chose to stay with Papa and Nana. On the farm we had two goats, a mother and her son, a cow, a flock of chickens and the various cats and dogs that would come and go as they pleased. My grandparents were old, and Papa had suffered a stroke back in Russia so his mobility was limited. But together we planted fruits and vegetables, we looked after our small patch of land and even renovated the house a bit. Because of this, I’m good at identifying plants, hunting and I can chop some wood pretty good if I do say so myself. Living in this remote area, we obviously didn’t get much TV or phone connections. I talked to my parents every few weeks but that was all. Our nearest neighbor was a 15 minute walk away, and the only grocery store in the area was a 30 minute bike ride through the country. That… that’s why we didn’t hear about the infection. My grandparents probably wouldn’t have believed the news anyways, they were old fashioned like that. One day I came home from a walk and Papa.. my grandfather was acting very strange. Nana was doting over him, saying he was sick and he must rest. She tried to feed him. In a flash he was on her and.. and. I’m sorry, I really don’t want to talk about that anymore. I ran as fast as I could, grabbed my bike and a few supplies and was gone. I didn’t know what was happening, but soon I started seeing those.. those things, just like my Grandpa, all over. They just kept multiplying. My neighbors, the store owner, nowhere was safe. I went to the only place I knew, the forest behind my house. I biked and walked through there for days.. weeks. I stayed close to the edge, where all the farms were, and occasionally went out to scavenge for food. I slept in the trees. Turns out, those things can’t climb very well. And if they can, they make enough of a racket to wake me up. I.. I don’t think my parents made it. They were never the smart ones. They probably ignored the news and kept on living their lives. My brother.. my brother is 16, and he’s always been the smartest in the family! He was a straight A student, and excelled in sports and all sorts of things.. I hope.. somehow.. I’m sorry.. can we talk about something else now?

John s'inclina la tête sur le côté quand la femme jeta les bras, mendissant pratiquement. "Je viens de prouver -- je ne vais pas te tirer dessus." Il a pointé le fusil sur le soldat mort, "Je ne suis pas l'un d'eux." Il était sur le point de plaider davantage son cas, mais le capitaine a pris les projecteurs, cigare à la main. Cela rappelait à John des films d'action et des jeux vidéo, des choses qu'il avait manquées. "Le seul problème, c'est que nous avons perdu le contact avec cette zone il y a quinze minutes, donc vous pouvez parier que votre ami ne sera pas le dernier fou à venir." Cette partie a attiré l'attention de John, ce n'était pas vraiment une pensée agréable. "Ca-Capitaine?" James était enfin venu à, bien qu'il semblait encore paresseux de la chute. John soupira, heureux que les choses commencent à se lever. Sa prise sur le fusil s'est lentement apaisée. Il y avait deux soldats maintenant, et ils allaient s'occuper des survivants. Mais, même après avoir prouvé qu'il n'était pas parmi les infectés, James fut immédiatement fermé d'un coup de pied à l'aine. C'était la même blonde qui avait accusé John d'être infecté, il commençait à penser qu'elle était une vraie salope. Une salope compréhensible, vu le stress de la situation. La blonde sifflait, et lui crachait dessus. J'en ai fini avec l'armée. Vous pouvez tous aller avec le capitaine Crunch si vous voulez, mais moi et Kahleen allons prendre nos chances de l'autre côté de cette porte!" John pouvait comprendre pourquoi elle était si dure, après tout ce que le soldat allait tirer quelques instants plus tôt. La petite interaction lui a donné le temps de réfléchir à ce qu'il voulait faire. "Nope, baise ça." Il avait assez de ces démons pour le moment, il a ramassé les trois magazines à ses pieds et a fait son chemin vers la corde. En plus qu'il savait que l'obtention d'une puissance de feu supplémentaire ne lui ferait probablement pas beaucoup de bien. Après tout, il n'était pas un soldat entraîné. Un fusil était probablement tout ce qu'il pouvait gérer. Juste avant de saisir la corde, il a vu quelque chose à travers la pièce qui lui a volé son attention, l'enraciner dans un arrêt. Une petite fille couverte dans le sang de l'un des défunts, pour une seconde John sentit une bosse dans sa gorge. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Il s'est cogné les yeux. C'est pas vrai. La petite fille n'était pas elle, Ava avait des cheveux roux et des taches de rousseur; cette fille ne l'a pas fait. John sentit une fosse dans son estomac, réalisant qu'il ne pourrait plus jamais revoir sa sœur ou sa nièce. John a jeté le fusil sur son dos, coincé l'un des magazines dans sa bouche, jeté les deux autres au capitaine, espérant qu'il les attraperait, puis a commencé son ascension. Tout comme les cours de gym, il pensait que chaque traction vers le haut était une lutte, le faisant grogner. Le seul véritable exercice qu'il avait obtenu récemment était de courir, il n'a pas vraiment aidé avec le haut du corps. Finalement, après avoir presque fait glisser tout le chemin vers le bas, John a atteint le sommet. Il a sorti le magazine de sa bouche, "Jo-John", il ne pouvait s'empêcher de bégayer. Le capitaine intimidait de près. Je suppose que je suis avec toi, et avec ce John est tombé derrière l'homme. En attendant que les autres suivent, si l'un d'eux a même décidé de les rejoindre.

Name: John Hemmy Gender: Male Age: 20 Nationality: United States/White Surviving Family: Sister and Niece Former Occupation: Fry Cook/was looking into college Backstory: The doctor motioned with his right hand for John to look at the camera as he spoke. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out before before speaking. “Well, uh, I was working the first night that it hit my town. No one had really expected it, we were led to believe that the virus hadn’t made it down that far south yet. It was around eleven at night when I first encountered someone who was infected. “My boss was going over some paperwork, and I was counting the inventory. I was in the walk in cooler when I heard the commotion coming from his office. Sounded like he, uh, smashed his window. I didn’t want to go in there, ‘cause I thought he was mad again. He had an awful temper, did shit like that all the time. But I had to run in there when he started screaming my name. When I rounded the corner to his office, I saw him, uh, fighting off what I thought was a pissed off customer. The customer was flailing a bat around, and my boss was using his barstool to keep him at a distance. “I didn’t really have time to think about it, so I just tackled the customer, and kept him pinned to the floor while my boss called the police. I didn’t realize it at the time, you know, that he was infected, but it clicked once my boss told me that he was trying to spit on him. I had heard that they can spread the virus with bodily fluids, is that true?” John asked, the doctor nodded his head yes. John cleared his throat and began again, “The next couple of days were pretty weird. No one was allowed to leave their house, complete lockdown. Such a stupid idea, people were practically trapped in their homes. Didn’t, uh, take long for the infected to start ripping the city apart. I tried going to my parents house to get them out, wanted to get everyone in the family out alive. When I got there…” John’s voice trailed off, “Well...you know. I tried my sister next, I was happy to find them alive. Her and my niece hopped in my truck, and we left town through the, uh, backroads. No particular destination in mind. “We stayed together for a few weeks, scavenging for food and fuel. I’d go into the towns, and she would watch the truck. Until about a month ago when we got separated. I was on my way back to the truck, when I saw the infected around the two of them; they were creeping up on the truck. I yelled for her to start the truck and drive away, then I got the attention of the all the infected and made them chase me. I don’t, uh, know how long I ran. It was definitely the longer than I ever had before. The infected were screaming and shouting the entire time they were chasing. I don’t know if I lost them, or if they just got bored and quit following. But about two hours after that, I collapsed in some woods and fell asleep. Woke up a few hours later, I was lost but still alive. And then for a month, I was alone. “Only saw two other sane people, but they didn’t last long. I was hiding in a, uh, dumpster while the two strangers got beat to death by a group of the infected. I’m sure the marines here would have jumped in to save those people, but I was scared. Fear keeps you alive out there,” John cleared his throat, “Anyway, uh, that’s pretty much my whole story. I found you guys two days ago, almost got shot introducing myself, and now I’m here.” John sighed, happy to have the interview done with. The doctor gave a gentle nod and shut the camera off. Appearance: John is 6 feet tall, and weighs around 125. Before the outbreak he had a healthier weight, and a slim athletic build, but the lack of food has thinned him out a little. Without any barbers around to have taken care of him, John’s hair has become uncharacteristically long; stopping just at his shoulders. His once full face, is now sunken and bruised. The overall rugged appearance makes his hazel eye color seem to pop. ((The appearance is a bit a rough, but it's four in the morning so it'll have to do for now.))

Etzer avait deux choix, la corde, ou l'armement. Même si ça voulait dire tomber dans quelques-uns infectés, plus d'armes serait bien d'avoir. Il ne savait pas où ils étaient emmenés, et ne savait pas s'il aurait besoin d'être armé, donc il a traversé le long chemin. Il était sur le point de passer par la porte quand, hors du coin de l'œil, il a vu une petite fille. Ça lui rappelait sa sœur. La douce fsce, les longs cheveux bruns, tout revenait à lui. Il est passé à la jeune fille en sang à genoux à côté d'elle. Il ne sait pas quoi faire. Il n'avait passé que des mois avec sa sœur qui était un peu plus âgée que la façon dont cette fille semblait paraître, ce qui signifiait qu'elle était plus facile à approcher. Il s'est débarrassé de la gorge. "Avez-vous besoin d'aide? Je m'en vais. Je serais plus que prêt à vous aider." Plus il regardait la fille, plus il semblait avoir l'impression de la connaître. Le silence entre eux a été brisé par des cris, et gronde à travers la porte. C'était bruyant, mais ça semblait lointain. Ils avaient encore le temps d'obtenir des armes si lui et la fille se dépêchaient. Les cris et les grondements continuèrent, plus fort, mais encore lointains. Il ne semblait pas qu'ils aient encore atteint les armes, ce qui était bon, et ce qui voulait dire que lui et la fille pouvaient y arriver en premier. Il n'y a pas eu de réponse de la fille. Elle avait peur de parler. Il ne voulait pas la quitter, mais il avait besoin d'une réponse, et bientôt.

Name: Etzer Kilono Gender: Male Age: 29 Nationality: From California Surviving Family: None that he knows of Former Occupation: Worked at a Donut Shop Backstory: Etzer lived in California with his mother and sister. Ever since his rich dad divorced his mom and left them alone with barely any money, Etzer has been living with them. Since his mom had to work to jobs, she had the car, while his sister was put in a cheap daycare. This went on for eight months before T-1C. The daycare his sister was in was raided by those... Things, and they killed everyone in it. He then watched his mother's throat get torn open, the jugular gushing blood like a fountain. He ran, and ran. It was all he could ever think about, all he could ever do. He eventually found an abandoned house, and lived of canned food, as he didn't want to risk anything that had been left out. After a week, living in an abandoned house, Etzer was surrounded by the things. He grabbed a knife, and killed them. It was the first time he ever killed, and something triggered inside him that told him it wouldn't be the last. Etzer moved from that house once it was torn up, and all the food was gone. He traveled, his food and water slowly diminishing, as well as his hope. The world had gone to shit, and his was on his own, the last drops of water in his bottle, stayed there until he couldn't bare it anymore and drank it. He was worn out, thirsty, hungry, weak, and soon, was almost lifeless. He laid on the ground and waited for the infected to come, but they didn't. He was left their to suffer. He was on the ground for a day. Only when he woke up, did he hear the screams of the infected around him. Only then, was he hopeful that he walls be put out of his dreadful misery. But he wasn't. That's when the rescue teams came in. He asked and asked to be killed, but they weren't having any of it. They gave him water, and it refreshed him, replenished him, into a new person. He wasn't weak anymore, he wasn't unstable. He was Etzer, the Badass Donut Shop guy who could kill an infected person. With that cheesy moral support he gave himself, he was able to hang on, and make it to the rig, which is where his story ends. It's not the most exciting, or, 'life-saving' story, but it was what happened. Appearance: Etzer is tall, standing at exactly 6'0. He is built strong, but what he went through wore him down, and now while he is built strong, he doesn't have the strength needed to accommodate his body. His once shoulder length brown hair, is cut short. He has soft brown eyes, but while they appear soft, they can become steel, and unforgiving at any moment. Besides his eyes, also decorating his face are many scars, indicated he's had a rough time out there.

Jamie Alycia Reyes Lieu: Traitement des survivants Jamie sourit à Kahleen, brièvement pris dans un souvenir de passage d'un meilleur moment. Puis son sourire s'est endurci à une ligne serrée; être mignon et cudly, nostalgique et aimant, était un bon moyen de se distraire, et être distrait était un bon moyen de se faire tuer ou pire. "Tu ne seras jamais seul, Kal, maintenant tiens-toi à moi comme du caramel... Je vais nous sortir de là, d'une façon ou d'une autre », a-t-elle dit, ne pas trop insister sur ce qu'elle voulait dire par « l'autre ». En passant par la porte, elle est immédiatement tombée sur le corps d'un autre soldat; son arme n'était pas sur sa personne, mais par son corps était un couteau de combat teinté de sang. Il lui a fallu trois secondes pour rassembler ce qui s'était passé - il avait embusqué son camarade, qui lui avait à son tour tiré dessus mort, mais qui s'était lui-même infecté. C'est la victime de ce soldat tombé qui avait ouvert le feu sur les survivants dans la pièce au-delà. En tenant le couteau, elle se sentait un peu plus en sécurité, mais pas beaucoup. Elle évitait n'importe quel fils de pute qui offrait une chance, mais alors elle savait que ce fils de pute serait armé de quelque chose qui pourrait l'emmener à un demi-mille de distance. Ça le ferait, mais elle aurait besoin de quelque chose de plus. Une brève pensée est passée par elle, elle devrait prendre l'arme de Kahleen. Jamie avait ce qu'il fallait pour tuer des gens, non pas qu'elle l'ait jamais fait, mais l'adrénaline pure qui s'est précipitée à travers elle l'avait convaincue qu'elle était plus que capable. Kahleen était un tournesol en comparaison, elle ne le ferait jamais à moins d'être pressée, et il pourrait alors être trop tard - pour les deux. C'est pas vrai. Kahleen devrait se voir offrir tous les éléments de protection que Jamie pouvait offrir, et le pistolet était de loin le plus grand morceau de kit qu'elle avait. Ça le ferait pour l'instant. Avec une profonde respiration, elle a commencé à se déplacer dans le couloir, où elle a traversé une intersection à quatre sens. Aucun signe n'a tenté d'en profiter, alors elle est allée droit sur une intuition. Les taches de sang et les enveloppes usées jonchaient les sols en métal râpé, mais aucun corps ne se présenta, et elle devint très suspecte. À l'heure actuelle, la bataille pour le Rig était finie, aucun tir d'arme n'avait fait écho à la structure, et donc elle ne pouvait que deviner qu'une bataille avait été gagnée... même s'il n'y avait pas de supposition du vainqueur. Passant à travers ce qui semblait être un bloc de prison, son pied a donné un coup de pied; un fusil d'assaut, le même modèle que tous les soldats avaient utilisé. Il était couvert de sang, et elle a fait de son mieux pour essuyer la substance malade du rail et de la poignée. Elle savait des choses sur les armes à feu; son père était un passionné passionné, et a été en mesure d'éjecter le magazine. Sept balles sont restées, il avait été tiré presque pour s'épuiser, mais où était le corps? "Babe, où es-tu?" Jamie a dit, offrant un aperçu derrière elle. "Restez avec moi." Le couloir se terminait par une grande porte hydraulique, et un panneau au-dessus lisait « Armory ». Peut-être que sa chance allait changer rapidement? Capitaine Iroquois Pliskin, Corps des Marines des États-Unis Located: Au-dessus du traitement des survivants -- Vous avez choisi sagement Jean, dit Iroquois, en offrant son meilleur sourire. "On dirait que tes amis sont plus enclins à mourir." Il a empoché les deux magazines que le survivant lui avait transmis, sans avoir à en parler. -- Colonel, dit-il, parlant dans son casque. "Combien de ces bosos avez-vous besoin?" "On va le faire", est venu la réponse déformée du Dr Morgan. "Mais plus, plus nos chances sont grandes." Iroquois soupira, et regarda en arrière les survivants. Une amazon-wannabe blonde poilue avait perdu l'intrigue, et était partie pour le ventre de la bête. Un autre l'avait suivie. Les autres survivants étaient occupés à compter leurs étoiles et à être tous compatissants avec ceux qui avaient été moins chanceux. Un petit peu d'arithmétique métallique lui a dit que ce John allait être tout ce qu'il pouvait sauver. Et sur son signal, la voix du colonel s'est évanouie dans son casque. "Pliskin! Vous êtes à l'intérieur, six hostiles. Ils se rapprochent de Survivor Processing, de la zone de décontamination." "Damn", le capitaine de marine grizzli s'en est sorti, en braquant son cigare. Son fusil est monté. "Bien sûr," a-t-il appelé les survivants, "six fous vous dirigent. Montez la corde, ou combattez-les. Quoi qu'il en soit, ce type ici est le seul assez brillant pour avoir vu le sens." Un brin de culpabilité a frappé l'esprit de fer du capitaine, et il a décidé de faire ce qu'il pouvait. Il a jeté son M4A1 sur le côté de la rampe, et il a frappé bruyamment sur le plancher en métal en dessous. Il a aussi gâché ses magazines de rechange. "Dieu accélère." En ce qui concerne John, Iroquois hoche la tête, "le temps d'y aller, suivez-moi." Le capitaine s'est déplacé par la porte, est retourné sur l'allée extérieure du Rig, et a commencé à remonter la structure. Il avait dessiné son Colt 1911, mais ne s'attendait pas à trop d'ennuis. Lui et John sont venus à une autre porte, et se sont retrouvés à l'intérieur du Rig. "Helipad est tout droit devant, prendre à gauche au bout du couloir", a-t-il dit. "C'est bes-" L'éclat de la rage d'un fusil d'assaut s'éclairait de ce qui ressemblait à un soldat tombé à quelques mètres de là; le fou était posé sur le sol à un angle étrange, son seul bras de travail se posa vers John et Iroquois. Les balles se déchirèrent dans la poitrine du capitaine de marine, le jetant contre le mur. Jean frémit pour une réponse alors que le temps se ralentissait, sa vie se précipitant devant ses yeux. Quelque part au loin, on pouvait entendre le bruit de bourdonnement des pales du rotor d'un hélicoptère.

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Michelin Chef Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegetarian. Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian Background: Jamie has never been one to care much for the opinions of others, and has spent the better part of her life trying to stand firmly away from the crowd. Her parent's expectations of her life meant little, and although she had always loved them, something inside her detested everything they had in store for their "little princess". She was a smart kid, an A grade student, but with a taste for life's more colorful endevours. She would always be found hanging out with kids much older than her, and drugs became a favorite past time of her teenage-self. Not the heavy stuff though, she put the red line firmly at cocaine. At the age of 14, she started to figure out that she wasn't quite like your average girl. Whilst her female friends doted over the class hotties, she found herself doting over aforementioned female friends. There was something that appealed to her more when it came to members of her own gender, than boys. Girls were beautiful, they had curves and oh-so-kissable skin. Men in comparison were rugged and rigid, their frames leaving little for the imagination to truly explore. The young Jamie would take a nice pair of feminine thighs over a hardened and chiseled male abdomen any day. Her parents caught on to her quickly arising sexual orientation early, after stumbling upon her internet search history. Her mother thought it was just a phase, and her father was oddly delighted at the prospect of not having to worry about Jamie getting involved with the "wrong boy". However, when Jamie realized her secret had been uncovered, she tried desperately hard to cover her tracks. She started dating guys, and suppressing her homosexual tendencies. This went on, until she was 19, sitting aside her father's hospital bed. Her father was a good man, kind and caring; his energy knew no bounds when it came to helping others. Yet now, there he was, riddled with cancer and undergoing a painful and undignified death. Jamie cried harder than she ever had, during this dark period of her life, but her father managed to bring this to end with the kind of advice one only reserves for his daughter. "Jamie," he said weakly. "You're not you. You're not my daughter. The Jamie I knew was chaotic, nothing ever got her down; she spent most of her time giving me a heart attack with all those morons you kept bringing home. When she wasn't doing that, she was making her mom's life a misery by doing the exact opposite of what she was told. She didn't sit there brooding about the cards she was dealt, no, she eagerly picked up the deck and played the game. You're your own woman, and as a father's dying wish, I would have you carry on living as one. The world is your oyster, and your freedom is limited only by how much you value the opinions of others. If what they say or think doesn't fit your picture, then do away with them. Better that, than to sit in your death bed, years from now, and regret everything." Her father passed a few hours later, and Jamie walked out of the hospital a changed woman. Or rather, a reverted woman. Her facade was set to crumble; the last few years of trying to be someone she wasn't, quickly became a bad memory. She ended up in a cell that night, after beating her boyfriend to pulp when he touched her inappropriately at an inappropriate time. Her mother secured her bail, and the judge threw the subsequent case out, given the emotional circumstances (her father's recent death). But that was it, she was done with men, she was going back to where she came from. With a kiss on her mom's cheek, she hopped a plane to New York, and threw herself into a simple yet ever present passion: cooking. She bounced from restaurant to restaurant, slowly acquiring qualifications and references, working her way up the culinary ladder, until BAM: she got herself a job at Jean-Georges, a Michelin star French-style restaurant. The work was hard, and the pay could've been better, but she was moments from hitting fame, and she knew it. It was during this time that she met Kahleen, a brown haired German beauty with that kind of feminine perfection that Jamie lusted after. Their meeting was a chance one, at some bus stop on some street that she didn't remember, but they hit it off immediately. Three years of romantic bliss later, and they had themselves their own home, Jamie had gained the position of Head Cheff, and two young women were looking towards a bright future. ... Until T-1C hit the streets, and everything became a nightmare.

La fille n'a pas répondu. Elle devait avoir peur de bouger. Etzer ne voulait pas le faire, mais il a dû la quitter s'il voulait survivre. Il courait jusqu'à la porte quand il a entendu le soldat d'en haut leur dire qu'il y avait six des infectés venant leur chemin, et il a largué son fusil sur le sol. Etzer se précipita pour le ramasser, et au moment où il le fit, le rugissement d'un fusil sonna à travers la cellule, et il vit le capitaine se jeter de sa position au-dessus. Etzer est passé par la porte ouverte. Sur le sol, un autre soldat était couché sur le sol avec une tache de sang sur la poitrine. Etzer n'arrêtait pas de courir, son arme pointée vers le bas. Il a failli l'éteindre quand il est tombé sur deux femmes debout devant la porte hydraulique, étiquetée "Armory" "Alors, on va entrer? On ne peut pas attendre ici toute la journée." C'est là qu'Etzer entendit les bruits venant de derrière la porte, les cris affreux et les cris, et le claquage de métal qui venait des armes chargées, les infectés sortiraient de cette porte à tout moment. Etzer se tenait à côté de la porte, hors de vue s'ils sortaient, prêts à tirer sur les infectés qui seraient en train de progresser vers Survivor Processing. Il a pris un souffle nerveux et a attendu.

Name: Etzer Kilono Gender: Male Age: 29 Nationality: From California Surviving Family: None that he knows of Former Occupation: Worked at a Donut Shop Backstory: Etzer lived in California with his mother and sister. Ever since his rich dad divorced his mom and left them alone with barely any money, Etzer has been living with them. Since his mom had to work to jobs, she had the car, while his sister was put in a cheap daycare. This went on for eight months before T-1C. The daycare his sister was in was raided by those... Things, and they killed everyone in it. He then watched his mother's throat get torn open, the jugular gushing blood like a fountain. He ran, and ran. It was all he could ever think about, all he could ever do. He eventually found an abandoned house, and lived of canned food, as he didn't want to risk anything that had been left out. After a week, living in an abandoned house, Etzer was surrounded by the things. He grabbed a knife, and killed them. It was the first time he ever killed, and something triggered inside him that told him it wouldn't be the last. Etzer moved from that house once it was torn up, and all the food was gone. He traveled, his food and water slowly diminishing, as well as his hope. The world had gone to shit, and his was on his own, the last drops of water in his bottle, stayed there until he couldn't bare it anymore and drank it. He was worn out, thirsty, hungry, weak, and soon, was almost lifeless. He laid on the ground and waited for the infected to come, but they didn't. He was left their to suffer. He was on the ground for a day. Only when he woke up, did he hear the screams of the infected around him. Only then, was he hopeful that he walls be put out of his dreadful misery. But he wasn't. That's when the rescue teams came in. He asked and asked to be killed, but they weren't having any of it. They gave him water, and it refreshed him, replenished him, into a new person. He wasn't weak anymore, he wasn't unstable. He was Etzer, the Badass Donut Shop guy who could kill an infected person. With that cheesy moral support he gave himself, he was able to hang on, and make it to the rig, which is where his story ends. It's not the most exciting, or, 'life-saving' story, but it was what happened. Appearance: Etzer is tall, standing at exactly 6'0. He is built strong, but what he went through wore him down, and now while he is built strong, he doesn't have the strength needed to accommodate his body. His once shoulder length brown hair, is cut short. He has soft brown eyes, but while they appear soft, they can become steel, and unforgiving at any moment. Besides his eyes, also decorating his face are many scars, indicated he's had a rough time out there.

Helipad est tout droit en avant; prendre à gauche au bout du couloir, a-t-il dit. "C'est bes-" Dans une scission de seconde Jean a été jeté dans le chaos, tout son espoir s'est emporté en une seule seconde. Iroquis tomba sur le mur incapable de terminer sa phrase, le liquide cramoisi sortit des trous dans sa poitrine, et son corps glissa lentement au sol. John savait qu'il n'avait pas le temps de paniquer. Cependant, les coups de feu tonnés l'avaient laissé ébranlé, alors il n'avait qu'un moment à réfléchir. Avec le fusil à la hanche, il a tiré sur la gâchette, renvoyant aveuglément le feu en aspergeant six balles dans le couloir, avant de retourner à la porte, et de se planter fermement contre le mur. "Fuck", exhala-t-il, réalisant qu'il retenait son souffle. Il y avait des gémissements dans le couloir, suivi d'un chanfrein doux, et quelque chose qui ressemblait à un brouillage. John a réussi à gagner le courage dont il avait besoin pour regarder au coin de la rue. La vue l'a refroidi jusqu'à l'os. Le soldat infecté rampait vers lui, se tirant d'un pouce à l'autre, les ongles trouvant de la traction sur le sol. Une main tira son corps, l'autre traîna son fusil derrière lui. "Viens ici, mon garçon. J'ai un cadeau pour vous! » Sa voix alternait entre les notes hautes et basses, il chantait à John. John s'est enfui derrière le mur. Trois balles lui sont tombées dessus, manquant de près sa tête. Toujours en train de chanter, ne sois pas si timide maintenant! John, sans regarder, a tiré au coin de la rue. Quatre coups de feu tirés de son fusil, deux ont frappé l'infecté. L'un lui déchira l'oreille et l'autre se déchira l'épaule. Le soldat n'arrêta que brièvement son avance avant de continuer, apparemment non affectée par les dégâts. John pouvait l'entendre rire, et il s'est vite rendu compte pourquoi. Son doigt presse encore fermement la gâchette, mais l'arme n'a répondu qu'avec un clic inoffensif. Il a rempli sa voix de désespoir. Ses doigts sont tombés au-dessus de l'arme, à la recherche de l'interrupteur qui éjecterait le clip. "Fuck, baise, baise." Ne t'inquiète pas, j'ai plein de balles pour toi. Il suffit de mettre ce joli petit visage dehors pour moi, laissez-moi les voir jolies lèvres!.Le infecté continue à le taquiner, John a fait de son mieux pour l'accorder. Le shuffling était de plus en plus fort, l'infecté était presque à la porte. John a éjecté le clip, enlevé son dernier magazine, et l'a fait entrer dans le fusil. Avec un peu d'hésitation, il a regardé le fusil autour du coin et a appuyé une fois de plus sur la détente. Le fusil lui a donné des coups de pied dans les bras, et les balles sont sorties de l'arme. Huit balles ont été tirées autour de la pièce, la plupart ont ricoché les murs et y ont été intégrées, mais deux ont trouvé leurs marques. John regarda lentement la tête au coin de la rue. L'infecté s'est effondré, du sang s'est déversé sur son corps. Deux nouveaux trous étaient apparus, l'un dans la poitrine et l'autre dans le front. "C'était plus sûr que moi." Sa voix s'enfuyait, alors que ses yeux s'égaraient vers le capitaine. L'iroquis s'était enroulé dans la position foetale et s'était saigné pendant la fusillade. C'était triste pour l'homme intimidant. John n'avait connu que quelques minutes, mais il se sentait toujours coupable à sa mort. L'homme avait risqué sa vie pour lui, étant donné qu'il avait reçu l'ordre de le faire. La culpabilité, cependant, n'a pas empêché Jean de le dépouiller de son gilet et de le soulager de son arme de poing. Désolé, Jean a offert alors qu'il prenait le bandeau du soldat mort. Il n'avait peut-être pas l'air aussi bon sur John, mais cela a aidé à empêcher ses cheveux louches de le mettre dans les yeux. Jean décida de pleurer plus tard, non seulement pour Iroquis, mais pour tout le peuple qui était mort ce jour-là. "Gotta continue de bouger," Il s'est dit encore et encore. Il a placé l'arme de poing à l'intérieur du gilet et a avancé prudemment dans le couloir. L'hélicoptère devenait de plus en plus bruyant, tandis que John passait devant le soldat mort qu'il avait tué. Finalement, il est arrivé au tournant. Il l'a arrondi lentement, prudent de danger, mais il espère toujours que son sauvetage est imminent.

Name: John Hemmy Gender: Male Age: 20 Nationality: United States/White Surviving Family: Sister and Niece Former Occupation: Fry Cook/was looking into college Backstory: The doctor motioned with his right hand for John to look at the camera as he spoke. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out before before speaking. “Well, uh, I was working the first night that it hit my town. No one had really expected it, we were led to believe that the virus hadn’t made it down that far south yet. It was around eleven at night when I first encountered someone who was infected. “My boss was going over some paperwork, and I was counting the inventory. I was in the walk in cooler when I heard the commotion coming from his office. Sounded like he, uh, smashed his window. I didn’t want to go in there, ‘cause I thought he was mad again. He had an awful temper, did shit like that all the time. But I had to run in there when he started screaming my name. When I rounded the corner to his office, I saw him, uh, fighting off what I thought was a pissed off customer. The customer was flailing a bat around, and my boss was using his barstool to keep him at a distance. “I didn’t really have time to think about it, so I just tackled the customer, and kept him pinned to the floor while my boss called the police. I didn’t realize it at the time, you know, that he was infected, but it clicked once my boss told me that he was trying to spit on him. I had heard that they can spread the virus with bodily fluids, is that true?” John asked, the doctor nodded his head yes. John cleared his throat and began again, “The next couple of days were pretty weird. No one was allowed to leave their house, complete lockdown. Such a stupid idea, people were practically trapped in their homes. Didn’t, uh, take long for the infected to start ripping the city apart. I tried going to my parents house to get them out, wanted to get everyone in the family out alive. When I got there…” John’s voice trailed off, “Well...you know. I tried my sister next, I was happy to find them alive. Her and my niece hopped in my truck, and we left town through the, uh, backroads. No particular destination in mind. “We stayed together for a few weeks, scavenging for food and fuel. I’d go into the towns, and she would watch the truck. Until about a month ago when we got separated. I was on my way back to the truck, when I saw the infected around the two of them; they were creeping up on the truck. I yelled for her to start the truck and drive away, then I got the attention of the all the infected and made them chase me. I don’t, uh, know how long I ran. It was definitely the longer than I ever had before. The infected were screaming and shouting the entire time they were chasing. I don’t know if I lost them, or if they just got bored and quit following. But about two hours after that, I collapsed in some woods and fell asleep. Woke up a few hours later, I was lost but still alive. And then for a month, I was alone. “Only saw two other sane people, but they didn’t last long. I was hiding in a, uh, dumpster while the two strangers got beat to death by a group of the infected. I’m sure the marines here would have jumped in to save those people, but I was scared. Fear keeps you alive out there,” John cleared his throat, “Anyway, uh, that’s pretty much my whole story. I found you guys two days ago, almost got shot introducing myself, and now I’m here.” John sighed, happy to have the interview done with. The doctor gave a gentle nod and shut the camera off. Appearance: John is 6 feet tall, and weighs around 125. Before the outbreak he had a healthier weight, and a slim athletic build, but the lack of food has thinned him out a little. Without any barbers around to have taken care of him, John’s hair has become uncharacteristically long; stopping just at his shoulders. His once full face, is now sunken and bruised. The overall rugged appearance makes his hazel eye color seem to pop. ((The appearance is a bit a rough, but it's four in the morning so it'll have to do for now.))

Jamie Alycia Reyes Lieu: Traitement des survivants Le bruit des armes à feu chargées, et les sanglots et les applaudissements des soldats foudroyés pouvaient être entendus clairement par la porte de l'armurerie. Jamie avait joué, presque obtenu sa part, mais avait tout perdu en une seule seconde; l'armurerie était occupée, il n'y aurait pas de montage de style hollywoodien concernant les trois survivants s'armant aux dents. Une voix, élevée sur le sang d'un esprit fou, résonna dans le couloir. "WOOP! Allez! LET'S BRING SUR LA PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN) est un projet qui a été mis en oeuvre dans le cadre d'un projet de loi sur la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de Jamie regarda en arrière la façon dont ils étaient venus; elle savait que les fous étaient venus pour ceux qui étaient encore dans Survivor Processing, bien qu'ils étaient hors de vue, au-delà de la section T. Si les trois d'entre eux se dirigeaient vers le dos, et prenaient à gauche, alors ils couraient sans doute sur eux et se faisaient fusiller. De plus, essayer de les esquiver en traversant la section en t pourrait les faire repérer et les poursuivre. Encore une fois, qu'y avait-il d'autre? Qui savait combien étaient dans l'armurerie? "Awww baise", a dit Jamie, jetant son fusil vers le bas en démission. "Fuck, baise, baise." La porte siffla soudain, ses mécanismes hydrauliques poussant et broyant. Un feu rouge au-dessus du cadre de la porte est devenu vert. Jamie a ramassé son fusil plus vite qu'elle ne l'avait jeté, et alors que la porte blindée commençait à s'ouvrir, elle criait dans la fureur primale. Son fusil a craqué brièvement, sept balles envoyées dans l'armurerie et au-delà. Trois soldats assaillis Lieu: Armory Jeremy a ri hystériquement comme une balle de fusil s'est soudainement arraché la joue, brisant sa mâchoire et scintillant les dents. La douleur était hilarante! C'était si bien! Très bien! Il s'est retourné, loin de la porte, et s'est jeté derrière un comptoir métallique stérile - sur lequel étaient placés plusieurs chargeurs de fusils et grenades à main. Ted n'a pas eu la chance, parce qu'il était debout juste devant la porte quand elle s'est ouverte. Il est tombé à l'envers, en riant comme du sang gelé de sa bouche. L'ancien capitaine Dawson de l'USMC n'a même pas fléchi, car un fusil s'est ricoché de l'armoire, manquant de près sa tête. Au lieu de cela, il s'est ridiculisé, mais a à peine offert une réaction au-delà de cela. Au lieu de cela, il a patiemment cherché une LAW (un coup de bazooka, en gros) qu'il venait de creuser à partir de son douille renforcée et a commencé à planter les vues. Jeremy, son visage une ruine de sang et d'os, a dirigé son fusil sur Jamie, Kahleen et Etzer. Il semblait que la blonde femme-fatal était hors de balles, à en juger par la drôle de façon qu'elle menaçait et qu'elle cherchait un couteau. Il semblait que les trois n'aient eu qu'un moment pour tuer Jeremy, avant qu'il ne les déchire tous. Et puis, bien sûr, il s'agissait du capitaine Dawson qui préparait une arme antichar en arrière-plan. Six soldats assaillis Lieu: Traitement des survivants "WOOP! Allez! LET'S BRING SUR LA PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN) est un projet qui a été mis en oeuvre dans le cadre d'un projet de loi sur la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de la gestion de C'était la dernière chose que les civils de Survivor Processing entendaient avant qu'un groupe de soldats n'apparaisse à la porte, leurs visages tous sourires et folies. Ils n'ont pas immédiatement ouvert le feu, au lieu de cela ils ont regardé chacune de leurs victimes, comme s'ils évaluaient la situation - une rare démonstration de retenue des infectés, qui n'ont jamais été connus pour leur hésitation. -- Eh bien, qu'avons-nous là? a demandé à l'un des soldats d'aller de l'avant. Il était un guerrier musclé, devenu gris à travers de longues années - peut-être un 60 physiquement en forme, ou un 50 banal. "On dirait qu'on a des gens qui ne veulent pas s'amuser." "Fucking KILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL aboyer l'un des autres soldats, un gros mâle noir avec des biceps de la taille d'un homme moyen de la tête. "Néant", le premier soldat s'en est pris. "Amusons-nous", a-t-il dit, souriant follement, et regardant une petite blonde poilue. Elle était armée, un pistolet dans la main, mais elle avait gelé comme un lièvre pris dans les phares de la tête - ou peut-être qu'elle attendait qu'ils fassent un mouvement? Oh non, attends, elle semblait protéger une petite fille derrière elle. "Je vais te baiser dans le cul, salope!" Sa dernière remarque semblait faire revenir la femme dans la réalité, et son pistolet s'est envolé dans un mouvement rappelant les films occidentaux de John Wayne... pour tout le bien qu'il lui a fait. Le groupe de marins foudroyés a ouvert le feu, leurs fusils d'assaut réduisant la femme en un tas de viande hachée en quelques secondes. Le reste des civils a paniqué, et les soldats se sont retournés contre eux, libérant un barrage aveugle dans la masse des corps. L'homme et les femmes sont tombés, perforés et sanglants des blessures par balle, jusqu'à ce qu'aucun reste debout. "Aww, ce n'était pas aussi amusant que je le pensais," le premier soldat snickered. "Ah bien." Une femme a crié, bien que non pas de l'intérieur Survivor Processing, mais de l'au-delà - dans la direction de l'armurerie. "On dirait qu'on a des rats dehors. L'un d'entre vous reste ici!" Et avec ça, cinq des marines sont sortis de la pièce aussi vite qu'ils étaient venus, hurlant un meurtre sanglant. Le dernier marin s'est ébranlé, et a commencé à marcher parmi les cadavres. Son fusil était tenu paresseusement à ses côtés, et de temps en temps, il s'arrêtait pour rire au hasard. Les ennuis étaient la dernière chose qu'il attendait. Donc dans les respirations mesurées, Nataliya Arnikova a tracé son prochain mouvement entre deux corps encore chauds de ses anciens compagnons de cellule. La corde était toujours accrochée à la passerelle, et tout à coup elle semblait être une bonne idée... mais ce marine devait d'abord y aller. Elle pouvait soit le vomir alors qu'il s'approchait d'elle, soit provoquer une sorte de distraction. Et la jeune fille? Avait-elle survécu? Son bien - être a - t - il même pénétré dans l'esprit de la femme russe en cette période particulièrement stressante? Équipe du sceau Lieu: L'hélipède de Rig Le Blackhawk a dévié à gauche, puis à droite; deux missiles stinger qui manquaient étroitement son extérieur élégant. À l'intérieur, une équipe de douze Sceaux de la Marine américaine s'assombrit dans le calme grizzli alors que leur pilote combattait une guerre de manœuvres évasives avec les nouveaux résidents du Rig. Tirant vers l'arrière, était un canon Apache, envoyé de Dieu pour libérer la justice divine sur ceux qui menaceraient sa sœur non armée. Une goupille de fusée s'écoulait dans l'ordre court, et un canon était enfilé, tandis que la machine de mort planait sur le côté nord du Rig dans le feu et les éclats. Plus de piqueurs après ça. Le Blackhawk toucha la ville sur l'héliport; son contenu sautait déjà sur le béton avant qu'il n'ait touché. Les Sceaux de la Marine étaient une relique d'un monde perdu depuis longtemps - le meilleur de l'humanité, et pour tout ce que les membres de l'équipe savaient, ils étaient le dernier des derniers. Leur mission? Extraire un survivant immunisé... le premier rapport de ce genre depuis le début de la crise. Les Sceaux se rencontrèrent avec résistance au moment où ils débarquèrent; Crazies pleuva le feu sur eux à partir des différentes plates-formes qui parsemaient la structure. L'humanité a le mieux tiré en peu de temps, leur entraînement et leur discipline ont rapidement abandonné les ennemis de gauche et de droite. Pendant ce temps, l'Apache a continué de rôder, tirant sur tout ce qui s'est montré sur ses capteurs de chaleur. Il y avait peu de respect pour les incidents bleus à ce stade de la guerre. Le Rig avait été envoyé à son sort; tout ce qui n'était pas un civil se faisait un bon coup, peu importe ce qu'il avait à dire sur les choses. Mais les fous n'arrêtaient pas de venir; le virus savait d'une manière ou d'une autre collectivement qu'il faisait face à sa première menace sérieuse, et les phoques avaient du mal à s'éloigner de l'héliport. Ils ont tiré, maudit et grognonné alors que la mère de toutes les batailles d'armes éclatait. L'Apache a fait un pass, libérant le feu de canon, et faisant exploser plusieurs des infectés au royaume viennent avant de se retirer pour éviter un tir de missile stinger de l'intérieur du Rig. Si les survivants voulaient quitter la structure, alors ils allaient devoir courir le gant des phoques assiégés et enragés Crazies. C'était une zone de guerre.

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Michelin Chef Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegetarian. Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian Background: Jamie has never been one to care much for the opinions of others, and has spent the better part of her life trying to stand firmly away from the crowd. Her parent's expectations of her life meant little, and although she had always loved them, something inside her detested everything they had in store for their "little princess". She was a smart kid, an A grade student, but with a taste for life's more colorful endevours. She would always be found hanging out with kids much older than her, and drugs became a favorite past time of her teenage-self. Not the heavy stuff though, she put the red line firmly at cocaine. At the age of 14, she started to figure out that she wasn't quite like your average girl. Whilst her female friends doted over the class hotties, she found herself doting over aforementioned female friends. There was something that appealed to her more when it came to members of her own gender, than boys. Girls were beautiful, they had curves and oh-so-kissable skin. Men in comparison were rugged and rigid, their frames leaving little for the imagination to truly explore. The young Jamie would take a nice pair of feminine thighs over a hardened and chiseled male abdomen any day. Her parents caught on to her quickly arising sexual orientation early, after stumbling upon her internet search history. Her mother thought it was just a phase, and her father was oddly delighted at the prospect of not having to worry about Jamie getting involved with the "wrong boy". However, when Jamie realized her secret had been uncovered, she tried desperately hard to cover her tracks. She started dating guys, and suppressing her homosexual tendencies. This went on, until she was 19, sitting aside her father's hospital bed. Her father was a good man, kind and caring; his energy knew no bounds when it came to helping others. Yet now, there he was, riddled with cancer and undergoing a painful and undignified death. Jamie cried harder than she ever had, during this dark period of her life, but her father managed to bring this to end with the kind of advice one only reserves for his daughter. "Jamie," he said weakly. "You're not you. You're not my daughter. The Jamie I knew was chaotic, nothing ever got her down; she spent most of her time giving me a heart attack with all those morons you kept bringing home. When she wasn't doing that, she was making her mom's life a misery by doing the exact opposite of what she was told. She didn't sit there brooding about the cards she was dealt, no, she eagerly picked up the deck and played the game. You're your own woman, and as a father's dying wish, I would have you carry on living as one. The world is your oyster, and your freedom is limited only by how much you value the opinions of others. If what they say or think doesn't fit your picture, then do away with them. Better that, than to sit in your death bed, years from now, and regret everything." Her father passed a few hours later, and Jamie walked out of the hospital a changed woman. Or rather, a reverted woman. Her facade was set to crumble; the last few years of trying to be someone she wasn't, quickly became a bad memory. She ended up in a cell that night, after beating her boyfriend to pulp when he touched her inappropriately at an inappropriate time. Her mother secured her bail, and the judge threw the subsequent case out, given the emotional circumstances (her father's recent death). But that was it, she was done with men, she was going back to where she came from. With a kiss on her mom's cheek, she hopped a plane to New York, and threw herself into a simple yet ever present passion: cooking. She bounced from restaurant to restaurant, slowly acquiring qualifications and references, working her way up the culinary ladder, until BAM: she got herself a job at Jean-Georges, a Michelin star French-style restaurant. The work was hard, and the pay could've been better, but she was moments from hitting fame, and she knew it. It was during this time that she met Kahleen, a brown haired German beauty with that kind of feminine perfection that Jamie lusted after. Their meeting was a chance one, at some bus stop on some street that she didn't remember, but they hit it off immediately. Three years of romantic bliss later, and they had themselves their own home, Jamie had gained the position of Head Cheff, and two young women were looking towards a bright future. ... Until T-1C hit the streets, and everything became a nightmare.

Etzer était prêt, la porte sifflait, et un feu vert devint rouge, signalant que la porte s'ouvrirait bientôt. Il a glissé ouvert, révélant des soldats infectés. La femme à côté de lui a tiré furieuse dans l'armurerie, en enlevant l'un d'eux, et en trempant le fsce de l'un d'eux en lambeaux, mais il était toujours debout. Etzer a entendu des cris et des coups de feu derrière lui. Les personnes infectées sont arrivées au traitement des survivants, et il ne fait aucun doute qu'elles viendront ensuite. Ils devaient entrer dans l'armurerie et s'y enfermer. L'un d'eux cherchait une loi, l'autre une colombe derrière un comptoir, avec des magnésines et des grenades. Des grenades. Etzer pointa son fusil en direction des grenades et tira. Dès que les balles ont pris contact avec les grenades, la pièce s'est remplie de coups et d'explosions. Au bout de quelques secondes, les explosions s'étaient arrêtées, et les soldats foudroyés ont été réduits à une pulpe sanglante. Leurs restes ont été éparpillés à travers la pièce comme de la peinture rouge, et le trio était libre de marcher à l'intérieur. Etzer a cherché le panneau de contrôle, mais quand il l'a trouvé, c'était aussi une victime de l'explosion. Leur seul moyen d'échapper était une porte au bout de l'armurerie. Il y avait encore des armes dans les sections renforcées de l'armurerie. Quand Etzer eut fini avec un court coup de raclage à travers l'armurerie, il se trouva armé d'un nouveau M4A4 avec huit magazines attachés à une sangle, un pistolet Colt M1911, une fusée éclairante, et attaché à sa ceinture, un couteau de combat. Il y avait des conversations assez bruyantes provenant du traitement des survivants, mais Etzer ne pouvait pas tout à fait comprendre ce qu'ils disaient. Tout ce qu'il savait c'était qu'ils devaient sortir d'ici. Sur la porte, il y avait un bouton rouge. Etzer l'a appuyé, et la porte a glissé ouverte, révélant un couloir sombre. Il s'est tourné vers les deux femmes. "Vous venez ou pas? Le reste des infectés sera là d'un moment à l'autre." Il s'est retourné dans le couloir sombre. Il a tiré une fusée dans le couloir, c'est de la lumière révélant aucune porte, sauf à l'extrémité, et qu'il n'y avait pas d'infection. Etzer a commencé à marcher dans le couloir, vers la faible lumière de l'éruption qui allait bientôt s'évanouir.

Name: Etzer Kilono Gender: Male Age: 29 Nationality: From California Surviving Family: None that he knows of Former Occupation: Worked at a Donut Shop Backstory: Etzer lived in California with his mother and sister. Ever since his rich dad divorced his mom and left them alone with barely any money, Etzer has been living with them. Since his mom had to work to jobs, she had the car, while his sister was put in a cheap daycare. This went on for eight months before T-1C. The daycare his sister was in was raided by those... Things, and they killed everyone in it. He then watched his mother's throat get torn open, the jugular gushing blood like a fountain. He ran, and ran. It was all he could ever think about, all he could ever do. He eventually found an abandoned house, and lived of canned food, as he didn't want to risk anything that had been left out. After a week, living in an abandoned house, Etzer was surrounded by the things. He grabbed a knife, and killed them. It was the first time he ever killed, and something triggered inside him that told him it wouldn't be the last. Etzer moved from that house once it was torn up, and all the food was gone. He traveled, his food and water slowly diminishing, as well as his hope. The world had gone to shit, and his was on his own, the last drops of water in his bottle, stayed there until he couldn't bare it anymore and drank it. He was worn out, thirsty, hungry, weak, and soon, was almost lifeless. He laid on the ground and waited for the infected to come, but they didn't. He was left their to suffer. He was on the ground for a day. Only when he woke up, did he hear the screams of the infected around him. Only then, was he hopeful that he walls be put out of his dreadful misery. But he wasn't. That's when the rescue teams came in. He asked and asked to be killed, but they weren't having any of it. They gave him water, and it refreshed him, replenished him, into a new person. He wasn't weak anymore, he wasn't unstable. He was Etzer, the Badass Donut Shop guy who could kill an infected person. With that cheesy moral support he gave himself, he was able to hang on, and make it to the rig, which is where his story ends. It's not the most exciting, or, 'life-saving' story, but it was what happened. Appearance: Etzer is tall, standing at exactly 6'0. He is built strong, but what he went through wore him down, and now while he is built strong, he doesn't have the strength needed to accommodate his body. His once shoulder length brown hair, is cut short. He has soft brown eyes, but while they appear soft, they can become steel, and unforgiving at any moment. Besides his eyes, also decorating his face are many scars, indicated he's had a rough time out there.

Kahleen était en état de choc. Dès que les grenades ont explosé, elle est revenue à la réalité. Il était temps qu'elle devienne forte. Pour elle et pour Jamie aussi. La brune tenait sur son arme, elle était prête à tirer sur qui pouvait les mettre en danger. Elle a hurlé à Etzer. "Allons-y." Avec un regard vers son amant, elle a mis un tas de munitions dans ses mains. Elle a pris elle-même des magazines pour son arme aussi. Kahleen s'est muré dans le couloir sombre. C'était la seule façon d'aller et l'hésitation ne leur apporterait aucun bien en ce moment. Tout ce qu'ils savaient, c'était que les fous étaient déjà en route pour eux. "Restez ensemble, les gars." Elle a mis un visage courageux alors que l'adrénaline se précipitait dans ses veines. Y avait-il encore un endroit sûr sur terre? Ou auraient-ils besoin de courir et de se battre pour le reste de leur vie effrayée?

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Chef at a fancy restaurant Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegeterian Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian All of the above is what I imagine her like. Please feel free to adjust and change her to your pleasure. But make sure it fits Kahleen Cuthald's story please. If anyone is interested, be my guest. Edit: Character has been taken over. Thank you.

Cinq soldats assaillis Lieu: Armory L'équipe de soldats fous n'a pas ralenti leur rythme, pas plus qu'ils n'ont réfléchi à la doctrine tactique. Ils s'étaient précipités dans les couloirs, leurs esprits brisés possédant encore une connaissance intime de la disposition du Rig. Ils savaient qu'ils avaient des survivants dans l'armurerie, et, à en juger par l'explosion qui venait de basculer dans la structure, ils savaient qu'ils manquaient de plaisir! L'escouade atteignit la section T et se limita à droite; l'armurerie était devant, fumant de la porte ouverte. Ils ont applaudi et ri, et ont commencé à courir en avant, tirant leurs fusils sporadiquement. Des balles pénétrèrent le travail en métal, ricochetant les murs. Jamie Alycia Reyes Lieu: Armory Jamie avait fini de charger son fusil, et de fixer un tas de magazines à la ceinture d'équipement de son armure du corps. Elle s'était aussi trouvée des grenades, et les avait accrochées à sa poitrine. Il y avait beaucoup d'autres canons et du matériel impressionnant dans l'armurerie, mais elle n'avait aucune idée de comment cela fonctionnait, alors elle a décidé de s'en tenir à celui qui lui avait bien servi jusqu'à présent. Puis le bruit de bottes sur le métal l'a surpris, et elle s'est jetée derrière le comptoir, attrapant Kahleen. « Je n'irai nulle part avant d'avoir tué ces fils de pute, j'en ai marre de courir », a-t-elle sifflé, posant son fusil au-dessus du comptoir et regardant ses yeux. "Kal, tire sur tout ce qui bouge." Un groupe de marins a tourné le coin devant, et a commencé à courir et à tirer. Jamie a déprimé la gâchette de son fusil, en envoyant des balles vers la direction de leurs agresseurs. Deux des marines sont tombés, leur corps protégeant ceux derrière de la fusillade de Jamie. Rifles s'éclaboussait, et Jamie a été forcé de se cacher comme des balles se déchiraient dans le compteur de métal.

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Michelin Chef Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegetarian. Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian Background: Jamie has never been one to care much for the opinions of others, and has spent the better part of her life trying to stand firmly away from the crowd. Her parent's expectations of her life meant little, and although she had always loved them, something inside her detested everything they had in store for their "little princess". She was a smart kid, an A grade student, but with a taste for life's more colorful endevours. She would always be found hanging out with kids much older than her, and drugs became a favorite past time of her teenage-self. Not the heavy stuff though, she put the red line firmly at cocaine. At the age of 14, she started to figure out that she wasn't quite like your average girl. Whilst her female friends doted over the class hotties, she found herself doting over aforementioned female friends. There was something that appealed to her more when it came to members of her own gender, than boys. Girls were beautiful, they had curves and oh-so-kissable skin. Men in comparison were rugged and rigid, their frames leaving little for the imagination to truly explore. The young Jamie would take a nice pair of feminine thighs over a hardened and chiseled male abdomen any day. Her parents caught on to her quickly arising sexual orientation early, after stumbling upon her internet search history. Her mother thought it was just a phase, and her father was oddly delighted at the prospect of not having to worry about Jamie getting involved with the "wrong boy". However, when Jamie realized her secret had been uncovered, she tried desperately hard to cover her tracks. She started dating guys, and suppressing her homosexual tendencies. This went on, until she was 19, sitting aside her father's hospital bed. Her father was a good man, kind and caring; his energy knew no bounds when it came to helping others. Yet now, there he was, riddled with cancer and undergoing a painful and undignified death. Jamie cried harder than she ever had, during this dark period of her life, but her father managed to bring this to end with the kind of advice one only reserves for his daughter. "Jamie," he said weakly. "You're not you. You're not my daughter. The Jamie I knew was chaotic, nothing ever got her down; she spent most of her time giving me a heart attack with all those morons you kept bringing home. When she wasn't doing that, she was making her mom's life a misery by doing the exact opposite of what she was told. She didn't sit there brooding about the cards she was dealt, no, she eagerly picked up the deck and played the game. You're your own woman, and as a father's dying wish, I would have you carry on living as one. The world is your oyster, and your freedom is limited only by how much you value the opinions of others. If what they say or think doesn't fit your picture, then do away with them. Better that, than to sit in your death bed, years from now, and regret everything." Her father passed a few hours later, and Jamie walked out of the hospital a changed woman. Or rather, a reverted woman. Her facade was set to crumble; the last few years of trying to be someone she wasn't, quickly became a bad memory. She ended up in a cell that night, after beating her boyfriend to pulp when he touched her inappropriately at an inappropriate time. Her mother secured her bail, and the judge threw the subsequent case out, given the emotional circumstances (her father's recent death). But that was it, she was done with men, she was going back to where she came from. With a kiss on her mom's cheek, she hopped a plane to New York, and threw herself into a simple yet ever present passion: cooking. She bounced from restaurant to restaurant, slowly acquiring qualifications and references, working her way up the culinary ladder, until BAM: she got herself a job at Jean-Georges, a Michelin star French-style restaurant. The work was hard, and the pay could've been better, but she was moments from hitting fame, and she knew it. It was during this time that she met Kahleen, a brown haired German beauty with that kind of feminine perfection that Jamie lusted after. Their meeting was a chance one, at some bus stop on some street that she didn't remember, but they hit it off immediately. Three years of romantic bliss later, and they had themselves their own home, Jamie had gained the position of Head Cheff, and two young women were looking towards a bright future. ... Until T-1C hit the streets, and everything became a nightmare.

Allez! Allez! LET'S BRING SUR LA PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Nat gelé. Ses genoux pliés, sa respiration rapide mais silencieuse. Heureusement, elle n'était pas à l'avant de la ligne, entre les corps blottis qu'elle pouvait à peine distinguer les soldats fous de la foule. Ils parlaient entre eux pendant un moment, faisant des blagues et riant. Nataliya a eu un contact visuel avec l'un des infectés, et son sang a refroidi. Son corps s'est tendu, et elle s'est préparée à l'inévitable. Tout le monde avec une arme était déjà parti, et dans sa distraction pour trouver une arme de sa propre, l'avait laissée loin derrière. Sa propre stupidité lui avait causé des ennuis. Non, pas juste des ennuis. Dans des ennuis morts. Nataliya a avalé fort. De la foule, elle pouvait juste distinguer les cheveux blonds de la fille à qui elle avait parlé plus tôt. Malheureusement pour elle, cette fille était devant et au centre de la foule. "Je vais te baiser dans le cul, salope!" En quelques secondes, la fille sortit de son choc et s'ouvrit en tirant sur la foule de fous. C'était une erreur. En quelques secondes, la fille était partie, soufflée dans une pulpe par les soldats infectés. Nataliya a giflé une main sur sa bouche, à la fois pour l'empêcher de crier et pour l'empêcher de vomir. La foule a paniqué, ils ont commencé à pousser, crier, essayer de faire une course pour elle mais en vain. Après qu'ils aient fini avec la blonde, les infectés ont ouvert le feu sur la foule. Nataliya n'a pas eu le temps de penser, elle n'a pas épargné une respiration, ses genoux ont cédé et elle est tombée comme un rocher au sol. Se couchant sur l'estomac, elle ferma les yeux et sentit des corps tomber autour d'elle. Elle a pensé à la fille qui s'était cachée sous un corps tombé plus tôt et a retenu son souffle, espérant que la même tactique fonctionnerait. Quelque chose de chaud et humide l'a dégoulinée dans le dos. Nataliya a fermé les yeux et est venue face à face avec une femme, peut-être à la fin de la trentaine, ses yeux encore grands ouverts, son visage s'envoler juste en dessous de sa narine gauche. Nataliya a pleuré et a essayé de regarder loin sans faire trop de bruit. En regardant la femme morte, elle a remarqué une petite lueur de métal pas trop loin. Dans l'agitation, le pistolet avait été frappé à environ 10 pieds d'elle. Nat regardait le marine avec un œil alors qu'il se promenait entre les corps, après le départ de ses autres amis infectés. Chaque fois qu'il s'approchait d'elle, Nat retenait son souffle et s'arrêtait parfaitement jusqu'à ce qu'il s'en aille. Pendant des minutes, il a entouré la pièce jusqu'à ce qu'elle ait un plan. Nataliya a attendu patiemment jusqu'à ce que le marine l'ait entourée et à l'autre bout de la pièce. Alors qu'il se tournait le dos, elle ne perdit pas de temps à s'emparer d'une position foetale et à glisser la chaussure du pied droit. Les coups de feu dans la distance ont masqué tous les bruits de son mouvement, et ont également distrait la marine assez pour ne pas remarquer ses mouvements. Il était évident que le soldat infecté devenait agité dans la pièce, et voulait se joindre à l'amusement. Nat a attendu qu'il passe à nouveau, en lui griffant la chaussure pour qu'il ne soupçonne rien de ce qui s'était passé. Dès que son dos a été tourné, Nataliya a fouetté la chaussure aussi loin qu'elle le pouvait par la porte. Il ricochete sur le mur et atterrit hors de vue dans le hall. Qu'est-ce que c'était? Le marin a pris l'appât et a suivi le bruit jusqu'à la porte. Nataliya est sortie de sa position, et s'est jetée pour le pistolet. La sensation du métal froid contre sa paume a presque fait éclater Nat en larmes. Elle lâcha un rire nerveux avant que le coup des pieds ne l'attirait soudainement à l'attention. J'ai su que vous étiez encore en vie! Les marins criaient alors qu'il arrondissait le coin. Nat n'a pas perdu de temps à tirer presque toutes les munitions restantes dans le marine infecté.

Name: Nataliya Arnikova Gender: Female Age: 25 Nationality: Latvian/Russian Surviving Family: A brother, maybe? Former Occupation: Worked on a farm with her grandparents Appearance: Nataliya, or Nat for short, is a rather average looking girl. She stands at 5’4” and was roughly 135 lbs last time she checked. Working on the farm has given her strong arms and legs, and the muscle definition can clearly be seen. Her eyes are a light green, speckled with brown and her skin has a warm tan to it. Her hands are rough and calloused, from years of hard work. Backstory: My whole family, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, everyone, moved from Russia over to the small country of Latvia when I was very little. I remember very little of that time, but I do remember the long train ride from St. Petersburg all the way to Riga, Latvia. My grandparents had bought a small farm just outside of the capital and for a very long time all of us, all 15 or 16 of us, lived in that small wooden cottage. Soon, my parents bought an apartment in the city, but I chose to stay with Papa and Nana. On the farm we had two goats, a mother and her son, a cow, a flock of chickens and the various cats and dogs that would come and go as they pleased. My grandparents were old, and Papa had suffered a stroke back in Russia so his mobility was limited. But together we planted fruits and vegetables, we looked after our small patch of land and even renovated the house a bit. Because of this, I’m good at identifying plants, hunting and I can chop some wood pretty good if I do say so myself. Living in this remote area, we obviously didn’t get much TV or phone connections. I talked to my parents every few weeks but that was all. Our nearest neighbor was a 15 minute walk away, and the only grocery store in the area was a 30 minute bike ride through the country. That… that’s why we didn’t hear about the infection. My grandparents probably wouldn’t have believed the news anyways, they were old fashioned like that. One day I came home from a walk and Papa.. my grandfather was acting very strange. Nana was doting over him, saying he was sick and he must rest. She tried to feed him. In a flash he was on her and.. and. I’m sorry, I really don’t want to talk about that anymore. I ran as fast as I could, grabbed my bike and a few supplies and was gone. I didn’t know what was happening, but soon I started seeing those.. those things, just like my Grandpa, all over. They just kept multiplying. My neighbors, the store owner, nowhere was safe. I went to the only place I knew, the forest behind my house. I biked and walked through there for days.. weeks. I stayed close to the edge, where all the farms were, and occasionally went out to scavenge for food. I slept in the trees. Turns out, those things can’t climb very well. And if they can, they make enough of a racket to wake me up. I.. I don’t think my parents made it. They were never the smart ones. They probably ignored the news and kept on living their lives. My brother.. my brother is 16, and he’s always been the smartest in the family! He was a straight A student, and excelled in sports and all sorts of things.. I hope.. somehow.. I’m sorry.. can we talk about something else now?

Jean est tombé au sol alors que la plate-forme secouait, l'artillerie lourde en prenait le péage. Son évasion à la sécurité était juste en face de lui, et pourtant arriver là semblait être une tâche impossible. Il y a eu des infections, des explosions et une grêle de balles. John resta sur le sol, s'accrochant à l'endroit relativement sûr; le sol était froid sur son visage. Il pourrait se charger du chaos, et prier de ne pas se faire frapper. Ou il pourrait attendre que les soldats viennent à lui, mais s'ils ne l'ont pas fait? Il grogne sans effort, se poussant du sol et sur ses pieds. Il savait qu'il devait courir, atteindre les soldats, et d'une manière ou d'une autre ne pas être touché par une balle perdue. John était reconnaissant, qu'à tout le moins, les infectés n'étaient pas concentrés sur lui, ils étaient occupés avec les Sceaux. Ça lui donnerait quelques secondes de marge de manœuvre. Avec une profonde respiration, et les yeux tournés vers l'héliport, John est sorti de la porte. Il courut à pleine vitesse, ses traces frappant le sol aussi vite que jamais, mais personne ne pouvait les entendre au-dessus des coups de feu; pas même John. Tout se passait plus vite qu'il ne pouvait le faire, et avant qu'il ne le sache, il y avait un soldat infecté devant lui. Il s'est arrêté brusquement, alors qu'ils l'ont frappé sur le cul. Jean se frotta la mâchoire dans un labyrinthe, la sensation d'un poing s'attarda sur sa joue. Son sourire dérangé s'est répandu de l'oreille à l'oreille. Il était déjà en train d'élever son bras en arrière, alors qu'il se préparait à une autre frappe; une lueur sauvage dans son oeil. John foula le sol autour de lui, il avait largué son fusil dans la confusion, mais il ne savait pas qu'il avait glissé hors de sa portée. Puis il s'est souvenu de l'arme de poing, elle était encore dans son gilet. Au moment où ses doigts se sont enroulés autour de la poignée, il était trop tard. Les Sceaux l'avaient battu au tirage rapide. Le sang jaillit de la poitrine infectée, et il s'assombrit; presque tomber sur Jean dans le processus. John n'a pas perdu une seconde. Il a sauté à ses pieds, vite comme un lapin, et a commencé à courir vers les Sceaux. Il a négligé de reprendre le fusil pendant le processus. L'héliport était presque dans les bras quand c'est arrivé. John agitait ses bras dans l'air, je ne suis pas infecté! Deux plus deux, c'est quatre! » Jean cria dans le désespoir, mais il attira aussi l'attention des fous. Un en particulier a immédiatement tiré sur John. La majorité de l'amas l'a manqué, et a ricoché loin, mais une balle a piqué l'arrière de sa jambe. L'impact soudain a envoyé John trébucher dans la couverture derrière les Sceaux, je pense que j'ai été touché! - Il a frénétiquement commencé à se taper les jambes, pendant que la bataille faisait rage.

Name: John Hemmy Gender: Male Age: 20 Nationality: United States/White Surviving Family: Sister and Niece Former Occupation: Fry Cook/was looking into college Backstory: The doctor motioned with his right hand for John to look at the camera as he spoke. He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out before before speaking. “Well, uh, I was working the first night that it hit my town. No one had really expected it, we were led to believe that the virus hadn’t made it down that far south yet. It was around eleven at night when I first encountered someone who was infected. “My boss was going over some paperwork, and I was counting the inventory. I was in the walk in cooler when I heard the commotion coming from his office. Sounded like he, uh, smashed his window. I didn’t want to go in there, ‘cause I thought he was mad again. He had an awful temper, did shit like that all the time. But I had to run in there when he started screaming my name. When I rounded the corner to his office, I saw him, uh, fighting off what I thought was a pissed off customer. The customer was flailing a bat around, and my boss was using his barstool to keep him at a distance. “I didn’t really have time to think about it, so I just tackled the customer, and kept him pinned to the floor while my boss called the police. I didn’t realize it at the time, you know, that he was infected, but it clicked once my boss told me that he was trying to spit on him. I had heard that they can spread the virus with bodily fluids, is that true?” John asked, the doctor nodded his head yes. John cleared his throat and began again, “The next couple of days were pretty weird. No one was allowed to leave their house, complete lockdown. Such a stupid idea, people were practically trapped in their homes. Didn’t, uh, take long for the infected to start ripping the city apart. I tried going to my parents house to get them out, wanted to get everyone in the family out alive. When I got there…” John’s voice trailed off, “Well...you know. I tried my sister next, I was happy to find them alive. Her and my niece hopped in my truck, and we left town through the, uh, backroads. No particular destination in mind. “We stayed together for a few weeks, scavenging for food and fuel. I’d go into the towns, and she would watch the truck. Until about a month ago when we got separated. I was on my way back to the truck, when I saw the infected around the two of them; they were creeping up on the truck. I yelled for her to start the truck and drive away, then I got the attention of the all the infected and made them chase me. I don’t, uh, know how long I ran. It was definitely the longer than I ever had before. The infected were screaming and shouting the entire time they were chasing. I don’t know if I lost them, or if they just got bored and quit following. But about two hours after that, I collapsed in some woods and fell asleep. Woke up a few hours later, I was lost but still alive. And then for a month, I was alone. “Only saw two other sane people, but they didn’t last long. I was hiding in a, uh, dumpster while the two strangers got beat to death by a group of the infected. I’m sure the marines here would have jumped in to save those people, but I was scared. Fear keeps you alive out there,” John cleared his throat, “Anyway, uh, that’s pretty much my whole story. I found you guys two days ago, almost got shot introducing myself, and now I’m here.” John sighed, happy to have the interview done with. The doctor gave a gentle nod and shut the camera off. Appearance: John is 6 feet tall, and weighs around 125. Before the outbreak he had a healthier weight, and a slim athletic build, but the lack of food has thinned him out a little. Without any barbers around to have taken care of him, John’s hair has become uncharacteristically long; stopping just at his shoulders. His once full face, is now sunken and bruised. The overall rugged appearance makes his hazel eye color seem to pop. ((The appearance is a bit a rough, but it's four in the morning so it'll have to do for now.))

Je n'irai nulle part avant d'avoir tué ces fils de pute, j'en ai marre de courir, Jamie siffle quand elle a attrapé Kahleen. De lourdes traces sont venues. Elle est folle? Il faut qu'on s'en aille! Tout de suite! Mais Jamie n'avait pas l'intention de partir, en fait elle a dit assez clairement qu'elle allait les combattre. "Kal, tire sur tout ce qui bouge." C'est vrai! L'arme. Kahleen a pris l'arme et l'a retenue haut, attendant que les fous traversent le coin. Son cœur battait dans ses oreilles. Tout son corps criait de se déplacer et de courir, mais elle se tenait debout avec l'arme dans ses mains. Elle s'est jetée derrière le comptoir, elle a entendu tirer avant même de voir les fous. Ses oreilles sonnaient du bruit fort. Sa copine a répondu au tir sans hésiter et deux marines sont tombés par terre. Kahleen a respiré et puis est sorti très lentement, tout a disparu de son esprit. Il y avait juste elle et cette arme. Elle n'a plus entendu le feu, elle ne s'est pas souciée des maux de tête rapidement. Un souffle dedans, et dehors... elle a tiré. Et a frappé un droit dans le front - et bien elle a prévu de le frapper dans la poitrine, mais d'accord. C'était son seul bon tir cependant, tous les autres essais sont allés directement dans le mur, ne touchant même pas les fous le moindre peu. Elle secoua la tête, se concentrant, elle tira le reste du magazine dans la direction des marines. Ces gens qui ont été suppliés de les protéger. Une balle a failli lui frapper la tête. Elle s'est évanouie et a touché son oreille brûlante. Le sang était sur le bout des doigts. Ça ne semblait pas mal, juste une petite égratignure, mais la balle lui a laissé l'oreille brûlante. Elle a eu de la chance que ce n'était qu'une égratignure. Ça aurait pu être pire. Ça pourrait empirer d'une seconde à l'autre...

Name: Jamie Alycia Reyes Job before all this: Chef at a fancy restaurant Location: USA, NY, Ohio Age: 23 Appearance: Blonde long hair, sparlking blue eyes, heart warming smile, sporty Personality: kind to everyone, super protective, badass on the street, loyal and honest, lies make her go mad, not afraid to say what has to be said, or do what has to be done, her father was a surgeon there she got her medical knowledge from, but he died of cancer when she was 19, she loves animals and is vegeterian Lover: Kahleen Cuthald (for 3 years), lesbian All of the above is what I imagine her like. Please feel free to adjust and change her to your pleasure. But make sure it fits Kahleen Cuthald's story please. If anyone is interested, be my guest. Edit: Character has been taken over. Thank you.

Etzer était à la porte quand il a entendu les cris et les coups de feu. Sa main était sur la porte prête à l'ouvrir. Il pourrait les laisser avec les marines et continuer à essayer d'arriver à l'héliport à temps, ou il pourrait retarder lui-même pour les aider. Il ne savait pas non plus ce qu'il y avait derrière la porte, et pouvait utiliser le bouclier supplémentaire de sauvegarde/viande. "Mon Dieu!" Etzer s'est retourné, se dirigeant vers l'armurerie. La lumière brillait à travers la grande porte ouverte, et il pouvait voir ce qui se passait d'où il se tenait. Ils ont dû plonger derrière un comptoir, et l'une des oreilles des poussins saignait. Sans avertissement, il a tiré l'épingle de la grenade et l'a jetée dans la fumée venant de la porte menant à la survivante avant. Après cela, meh a commencé à tirer son magazine dans la fumée, suivi d'une explosion de la grenade. Le plafond du couloir pour le traitement des survivants s'est effondré, les laissant avec un seul chemin à parcourir. "Hurry up, je ne veux pas passer plus de temps avec ces putains de monstres!" Etzer est ensuite retourné dans le couloir qu'il vient d'arriver. C'est la dernière fois que je les sauve!

Name: Etzer Kilono Gender: Male Age: 29 Nationality: From California Surviving Family: None that he knows of Former Occupation: Worked at a Donut Shop Backstory: Etzer lived in California with his mother and sister. Ever since his rich dad divorced his mom and left them alone with barely any money, Etzer has been living with them. Since his mom had to work to jobs, she had the car, while his sister was put in a cheap daycare. This went on for eight months before T-1C. The daycare his sister was in was raided by those... Things, and they killed everyone in it. He then watched his mother's throat get torn open, the jugular gushing blood like a fountain. He ran, and ran. It was all he could ever think about, all he could ever do. He eventually found an abandoned house, and lived of canned food, as he didn't want to risk anything that had been left out. After a week, living in an abandoned house, Etzer was surrounded by the things. He grabbed a knife, and killed them. It was the first time he ever killed, and something triggered inside him that told him it wouldn't be the last. Etzer moved from that house once it was torn up, and all the food was gone. He traveled, his food and water slowly diminishing, as well as his hope. The world had gone to shit, and his was on his own, the last drops of water in his bottle, stayed there until he couldn't bare it anymore and drank it. He was worn out, thirsty, hungry, weak, and soon, was almost lifeless. He laid on the ground and waited for the infected to come, but they didn't. He was left their to suffer. He was on the ground for a day. Only when he woke up, did he hear the screams of the infected around him. Only then, was he hopeful that he walls be put out of his dreadful misery. But he wasn't. That's when the rescue teams came in. He asked and asked to be killed, but they weren't having any of it. They gave him water, and it refreshed him, replenished him, into a new person. He wasn't weak anymore, he wasn't unstable. He was Etzer, the Badass Donut Shop guy who could kill an infected person. With that cheesy moral support he gave himself, he was able to hang on, and make it to the rig, which is where his story ends. It's not the most exciting, or, 'life-saving' story, but it was what happened. Appearance: Etzer is tall, standing at exactly 6'0. He is built strong, but what he went through wore him down, and now while he is built strong, he doesn't have the strength needed to accommodate his body. His once shoulder length brown hair, is cut short. He has soft brown eyes, but while they appear soft, they can become steel, and unforgiving at any moment. Besides his eyes, also decorating his face are many scars, indicated he's had a rough time out there.

Jour 1 MON Safehouse Salut les filles, Smith ici! Je voulais juste vous dire que nous sommes en route pour livrer le paquet, donc vous feriez mieux d'être décents et de vous faire paraître présentables! Des caniches! *Cliquez sur* Les rues de Okama-ken Kyosuke Keita a regardé par la fenêtre de la voiture. C'était une belle matinée. Le paysage urbain était animé et plein de vie, les gens marchaient tous heureux jusqu'à l'air de leur vie quotidienne, et le soleil se levait lumineux et joyeux dans le ciel avec juste la bonne couverture nuageuse pour le rendre confortable sans être aveuglant, mais ses pensées étaient sombres, orageuses et turbulentes. Un homme mort. C'était un homme mort. "Comment est-ce arrivé?" Il a réfléchi à la façon dont tout cela avait commencé. Il essayait juste de garder la tête baissée! Faites du bon travail! Il a pensé que s'il mettait quelques heures supplémentaires au labo, il pourrait obtenir des points de brownie qui l'aideraient à gagner son diplôme un peu plus vite ou aider à lui trouver un emploi, mais au lieu de cela, il avait été pris dans une affaire impliquant la mafia extra-spécifique, et maintenant ils essayaient de le tuer! Quelqu'un! Quelqu'un essayait de le tuer, Kyosuke Keita! Quelqu'un de très puissant, très méchant et très bien armé. L'idée l'a rendu malade à l'estomac. Maintenant, il était en garde à vue, en fuyant les monstres littéraux d'un roman fantastique qui avait déjà essayé de le tuer une fois en faisant sauter tout un laboratoire plein de gens. Sa vie était en danger, et qu'avait-il fait? Lancer des spectrographes sur des échantillons de labo et trouver quelque chose qu'il n'aurait pas dû faire? Comment ça? Comment c'est arrivé?! Comment était-il censé le savoir?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Mort après la cinquantième fois qu'il s'était posé ces questions, Kyosuke a continué à regarder impitoyablement par la fenêtre de la voiture, regardant des panneaux de rue et des bâtiments inconnus passer. Si loin de chez moi... D'une certaine façon, tout ce qu'il pouvait penser était "qu'allait-il dire à tous ses amis et collègues?" Comment allait-il cacher ça? Cela pourrait le suivre jusqu'à la fin de sa carrière. Le reste de sa vie, même! En supposant qu'il ait eu autant de temps à vivre... La fac a soupiré. C'est fini. Arrête. Tuez-moi maintenant. Tout en plaisantant à part, Kyosuke a pensé aux gens qu'il pourrait être en mesure d'appeler à des encouragements, de se calmer. Pas d'avocats ou quoi que ce soit. Juste, vous savez, les gens. Des gens spéciaux. On lui avait dit qu'à des moments comme celui-ci, il était bon de retourner en contact avec sa famille et ses vieux amis. Une personne pouvait généralement retomber sur sa famille pour le soutien et l'encouragement pendant les périodes de stress, mais il n'avait pas quelque chose d'aussi pratique que cela. Il vivait seul, loin de son père et de son frère. Sa mère était morte il y a longtemps, et il ne connaissait aucun de ses parents, ou si l'un d'eux était encore en vie. Cela, et tous ses camarades de classe avaient cessé de lui parler après qu'ils aient découvert avec quel genre de personnes il s'était impliqué (ce n'était pas important quand ils étaient tous plus que la largeur d'une ville loin). En ce moment, il était tout seul, sans personne pour le soutenir. Sauf que... Sauf pour elle... il pensait qu'il regardait à travers la voiture la femme sur le siège du conducteur. Mlle Smith. Un bureaucrate. Agent du gouvernement. Coordinateur culturel. Possible expatrié américain? Il ne savait toujours pas. Qu'elle soit supposée l'aider ou non était un mystère pour Kyosuke, considérant que c'était elle qui l'avait mis dans ce désordre pour commencer, mais elle emmenait certainement son malheur bien dans les deux sens, ronflant le long de la nouvelle chanson de l'ANM48. Atteindre sa tasse de voyage avec les mots "Serious Gourmet Shit" emplazoned sur elle en anglais lettrage autour d'une parodie du logo Starbucks, elle a pris une gorgée et l'a immédiatement craché par la fenêtre, s'écartant de sa langue et poussant. Elle a pleurniché dans un comportement stéréotypé de "fake cutesy". Est-elle... vraiment un agent du gouvernement? Kyosuke s'est demandé. Il ne pouvait s'empêcher de se sentir un peu inquiet pour son avenir. "Ummmmmm... Hey Smith?" lui a - t - il demandé. "Où allons-nous?" Il n'a pas reçu de réponse. Il a froncé. "Smith... Mis. C'est moi qui l'ai fait. "Smith-san!" "Hm?" Elle a dit, seulement maintenant en prêtant attention à lui. "Qu'est-ce que c'est, Kyo-chan?" Kyosuke bégayait. Il lui avait dit de ne pas l'appeler par ce surnom embarrassant. "Tu sais où on va? Je te l'ai déjà demandé, mais tu n'as jamais rien dit, et ça a l'air bien éloigné. Sommes-nous dans la préfecture d'OKama en ce moment?" "Bien sûr que je sais où nous allons. Quoi, tu as déjà le mal du pays?" Smith l'a demandé avec tact. "Je pensais que tu étais plus un homme que ça, Kyo-chan~" Pris hors de la garde par le comportement flirt de l'agent du gouvernement, Kyosuke rougi. "J'aimerais que vous arrêtiez de m'appeler comme ça..." il a murmuré, mais Smith ne l'a pas entendu, ou a choisi de l'ignorer. « C'est une maison de sécurité, la propriété désignée de Monster Ops : Neutralisation », a-t-elle dit, devenant soudainement très sérieuse. Nous l'utilisons comme base d'opérations pour le moment. Tu seras en sécurité là-bas. Protégé. Au moins jusqu'à ce que tout ce truc avec le patron Kairou s'écroule." -- Et... combien de temps cela va-t-il durer? Kyosuke a demandé provisoirement. "Qui sait! Ça pourrait ne jamais être le cas!" Smith a dit, beaucoup trop joyeusement. Le visage de Kyosuke était drainé de toutes les couleurs, et il est devenu blanc avec un choc. "... Je pense que je suis sur le point d'avoir une crise de panique, Smith-san..." "Allez, réveillez-vous!" Elle m'a dit de le taper sur le dos. "Être en garde à vue n'est pas si mal! Ils vous donnent de la nourriture et un logement gratuits! Tu as même ton propre gestionnaire de cas, et vu que ces putains de pinkers ne nous donnent jamais plus d'argent, on va passer beaucoup plus de temps ensemble! Ça ne te fait pas te sentir mieux, Kyo-chan? Passer du temps avec une belle femme plus âgée? Beaucoup de garçons de ton âge tueraient pour être dans ta position!" "Maintenant je pense que je vais vomir..." MON Safehouse Après un peu d'air frais et deux arrêts pour vider son estomac paniqué sur tout le côté de la rue, ils se sont finalement arrêtés à la maison de sécurité, un nouveau studio, mais jusqu'à présent inachevé et non meublé, grand pour sa taille mais encore assez petit pour quelque chose qui était censé contenir cinq personnes plus. "Ça va, Kyo-chan?" Mme Smith a dit qu'il était toujours sur le dos. Kyosuke toussait, sa bouche encore aigre avec une bile d'anxiété amère. "Oui, je me sens beaucoup mieux maintenant. Merci, Smith-san." Il s'est essuyé la bouche sur sa veste. Ça faisait combien de temps qu'il n'avait pas eu une crise d'anxiété comme ça? Deux jours et ce "voyage" à la campagne était déjà en train de le ruiner. -- Au fait, Smith-san? lui a - t - il demandé. "J'ai été curieux à ce sujet. Ummm... Quel genre de gens sont ces gars de MON? Tu ne m'as rien dit d'eux. Ils doivent être incroyables, n'est-ce pas? Pour affronter des criminels extra-spécifiques avec des capacités si effrayantes... tu sais que j'ai vu une orque retourner une voiture aux infos une fois, n'est-ce pas? Une voiture!" Smith l'a considéré. "Eh bien, ils sont certainement incroyables, et uniques. Nous ne les aurions pas choisis pour un travail aussi important sinon. Bien que je commence à me demander si c'était une si bonne idée de te les donner..." "Oui, mais je me demandais. Le projet de loi d'échange d'espèces dit que les humains ne peuvent pas nuire aux espèces extra-spécifiques. Alors comment MON fonctionne-t-il?" -- Oh, je ne vous l'ai pas dit? Smith sourit alors qu'elle ouvrit la porte. "MON est toutes des filles extra-espèces. C'est pour ça qu'on les appelle 'Ops Monster'." "Attendez, quoi?" "Ouais! Alors pourquoi ne pas entrer et les rencontrer!" Smith a dit, s'emparant de son poignet et le jetant à travers la porte comme des bagages. Il est tombé au sol, il a roulé sur le sol. Une telle force brute! "Désolé, je ne peux pas rester pour les présentations, mais ils ont besoin de moi au bureau! A tout à l'heure, Kyo-chan! Des caniches! "Attendez! "Smith-san!" Il a crié. "Smith-san! Tu n'as rien dit à propos de... Mais la porte a claqué. Et c'était tout. Kyosuke a atteint la porte avec sa main tendue comme un héros de guerre tragique dans un film. Qu'est-ce que tu fous Smith-san!Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Kyosuke se retourna lentement pour affronter l'appartement apparemment vide. Il a avalé de la salive dure et sèche passant une masse dans sa gorge avec un mouvement inconfortable. Il n'aimait pas se considérer comme une personne prévenante. Il ne voulait pas les juger durement sans même les connaître d'abord. Mais ça n'a pas pu changer le fait qu'à ce moment-là, Kyosuke avait peur. Les trois dernières années ne l'avaient pas passé inaperçu. La façon dont le monde avait changé... il avait tout vu aux infos, ou par Internet. Du genre de dommages et de violences, intentionnels ou non, que des extra-espèces pourraient infliger. Il s'est brièvement souvenu du jour où il était passé par une scène de crime en allant au labo et a pensé à lui-même qu'une bombe avait dû décoller, seulement pour apprendre plus tard de l'un de ses collègues que cela avait été le résultat d'une bagarre entre les forces de l'ordre et un draconwt hors de contrôle qui avait entraîné la mort de cinq personnes. Des histoires comme celle-ci ont été couramment transmises par des amis mutuels à travers le bouche à oreille dans certaines régions du pays où les étudiants extra-espèces échangeaient n'étaient pas aussi fréquents. C'était de l'information d'occasion pour être sûr, mais ça lui a suffi. Intentionnellement ou non, les extra-espèces avaient la capacité de commettre d'incroyables actes de violence contre les humains de base et les uns contre les autres, et une fois qu'il a commencé, il était difficile de ne pas s'y laisser emporter. Il s'est relevé sur les pieds, tremblant de peur. Il sentit son rythme cardiaque et sa respiration s'élever au fur et à mesure qu'une fosse sombre grandissait dans son estomac. Images de carnage indescriptible, à la fois réel et imaginaire, joué dans sa tête. C'était mauvais. Il a essayé de s'emparer de lui-même. Du calme, Kyosuke. Vous avez une crise de panique. Détends-toi. Ils sont là pour te protéger, pas pour te blesser. C'est pour ça que Smith t'a envoyé ici. Tu ne serais pas là s'ils pensaient que tu serais en danger ou qu'ils voulaient te faire du mal. Ses yeux dardaient frénétiquement autour de la pièce, complètement hors de contrôle. Ils n'ont pas à vouloir te blesser, ils le feront. Entre extra-espèces et humains, c'est inévitable. Ta gueule! Ça n'aide pas! Tu es un homme mort, Kyosuke. Ils vont te tuer. Monster Ops, Night Parade, c'est la même chose. Tu vas mourir si tu restes ici. Tu vas être tué par des monstres. C'est pas vrai! Arrête de penser à ça! Mais il l'a fait. Il voulait fuir. Il voulait courir dehors et demander à Smith de le transférer ailleurs. N'importe où ailleurs. Ce n'était pas parce qu'il était raciste, il s'est dit, mais parce qu'il n'était pas habitué aux extra-espèces. Kyosuke a fait un pas en avant, puis un pas en arrière. Un pas en avant, puis deux pas en arrière. Il ferma les yeux et se souvint de respirer, essayant rythmiquement de calmer ses nerfs fraiches avant qu'ils ne le consument. Il devait juste faire ça. Par rapport à ce qu'il avait déjà vécu, tout ce qui l'avait mené jusqu'à ce point, ce n'était rien. Respirez. Il avait juste besoin de respirer, et de faire un pas en avant. Kyosuke s'arrêta de reculer et marcha vers l'avant, toujours en train de saisir son manteau, un pas à la fois. Bientôt, il est revenu là où il a commencé. Après ça. Toujours aucun signe de l'équipe, mais c'était bon. Peut-être qu'ils aimeraient plus s'il disait quelque chose d'abord? "U-Ummmm... Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un? C'est Kyosuke..."

Name: Noreen Age: 23 Gender: Female Blood type: O- Birth date: October 13th Previous criminal record: Noreen's list of charges goes on and on. They're all for the same crime too; carrying a firearm without a permit. Some people just never learn, do they? Allegedly, she's dabbled in all sorts of other crimes prior to joining MON, but she claims this isn't true. Special skills: Noreen loves guns, swords, tomahawks, hatchets, chainsaws, grenades, mortars, throwing knives, poison gas, and more. Anything that can kill or maim a person, she has a thorough interest in, and not only does she love all of these things, but she knows her way around them all. As a result, she's good in assaults as a shock trooper. While not related to her job, Noreen also excels in the use of makeup; a skill she uses regularly to disguise her otherwise-bluish skin. Psychological profile: Noreen is, above all else, a liar. She isn't one to purposely misguide her comrades, but outside of official work, anyone who meets Noreen should expect that at least 70% of what she says is false. She's also notably greedy, passing up nearly no opportunity to gain wares, money, or favors. Outside of these and a very possible weapons fetish, Noreen is actually almost fairly normal. If anything, her most abnormal trait left would have to be her morbid sense of humor and her inability to understand why she's seemingly the only one who finds her jokes funny. If she opens up with "A nun and a nurse walk into a bar," stop her unless you want to endure her favorite joke. As far as her more down-to-earth traits go, Noreen is notable for greatly disliking the typical appearance of dullahans despite being one herself, claiming that her kind looks too gloomy and regularly applying makeup and dying her hair periodically to look as human as possible. She has a fondness for theatrical flair, bittersweet endings, and the sight of the moon rising over the horizon. Noreen also has a notable love for anything without a pulse, and a habit of collecting absolutely anything she finds that is undead-themed. She does not like humid weather, gold, horses, or being underground. Also afraid of spiders. Medical health record: If you can believe it, Noreen needed extensive head surgery once when her head was hit by a news van (how her head wasn't split in two is anyone's guess). Numerous steel plates now exist in her head, covering an estimated 60% of her skull. As a result, magnets and metal detectors are something similar to weaknesses of hers, and a long series of stitches exist along the back of her head. Relationships: Apparently Noreen used to have an on/off romantic relationship with her former arms dealer; a human in her native Ireland. She claims the relationship ended during an argument that ended in a gunfight. Outside of this, there are no known relations worth note. Miscellaneous: Wears a magnetic choker when on the job to keep her head in place. She's noted it's rather uncomfortable and says it can get nauseating if worn for too long, so most of her non-working hours see her head removed from its shoulders. Always carries at least two guns and four throwing knives when dealing with extraspecies crime. Oh man, Noreen is great. Please tell me she brings her scythe (fake or otherwise) around into battle to scare the shit out of her enemies and "just because it looks cool". Anyway, unless I see something weird looking at her sheet the second time around, she's accepted. Post her in the character section! Also, does she have a last name? If not, may I suggest "Noreen O'Mally'O'Connel'O'Carrol'O'Reilly'O'Brian'O'Sullivan (who is also Italian)"? xD

Charlie a balayé le champ de bataille. Alors que le chaos s'ensuivait en bas, elle s'assit dans sa perche, au-dessus du carnage et de la confusion. Sa bouche s'est enroulée dans un sourire alors qu'elle a finalement trouvé une cible : un homme maniant dual uzis. Il semblait extrêmement confiant en lui-même alors qu'il ramenait chacune de ses coéquipières venues le chercher, les fusillant, un par un. Il ne savait pas qu'elle l'avait dans ses yeux, c'était le moment idéal pour frapper. Elle exhala dans son micro, puis murmura quelques mots. "Malheureusement, la dernière chose que tu auras dans l'esprit sera ma balle." Elle a appuyé sur sa gâchette, libérant sa charge utile de 50 calibres. La balle a frappé sa marque, pulvérisant du sang et de la matière grise. Charlie s'est emparé du poing dans la victoire, mais avant qu'elle ne soit trop excitée, une voix est venue sur son interphone : "F**KIN CAMPER!" Charlie a été enlevé. Avant qu'elle ne puisse riposter, elle a été agressée par un chœur de : « Oui, WingedGodde96 est un campeur f**kin! Camptastique!" Les gars, c'est ça? Ils ont tous le butthurt quand une fille les bat à leur propre jeu. Charlie a fait sauter une framboise dans son micro et s'est moqué : "Eh bien, duh, je suis un tireur d'élite!" *WingedGoddes96 a reçu des coups de pied* Elle a jeté son contrôleur par terre. "Allez! Tu sais quoi? Eff vous les gars!" Elle a ensuite retourné à la télévision sa propre version de "l'oiseau", et était sur le point de rejoindre un nouveau jeu quand elle a entendu quelqu'un entrer dans la maison. "U-Ummmm... Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un? C'est Kyosuke..." Ses yeux s'élargissaient. Elle avait complètement oublié que sa charge arriverait aujourd'hui (malgré avoir reçu le message de Smith il n'y a même pas une heure)! Elle est presque tombée sur elle-même pour se rendre à la zone commune de leur nouvel appartement. Après quelques instants de battement et de chute, elle finit par trouver sa charge : Kyo-chan. Elle se leva et l'examina pendant un petit moment, les yeux fermés sur lui, prenant en compte tous ses traits. Quand elle a finalement été satisfaite, elle a marché dans le bras de lui. Elle sourit son meilleur sourire non prédateur et dit : "Hé! C'est Charlie!" Elle a atteint derrière sa tête et l'a griffé avec un de ses talons d'aile et a ajouté, "Je suis sûr que les autres sont quelque part par ici. Tu seras là un moment. Vous aimez les jeux vidéo?"

Name: Charlie Age: 19 Appearance: She’s cosplaying in that photo. Her casual attire is a bit more…casual. Usually khaki shorts and a white tube top emblazoned with a certain slogan: Subspecies:Raptor Harpy (Hawk) Gender: Female Blood type: O+ Birth date: April 5, 1996 Previous criminal record: A few minor drug possession charges, from her days working pizza deliveries. Special skills: Charlie has a number of different skills from the many jobs she has held over the years (she’s been working odd jobs since she was 15). Cooking, cleaning, surveillance, pizza delivery, messenger services… She knows the city like the back of her hand…talons, and she has a number of contacts. She has excellent binocular vision and a piercing shriek. Psychological profile: Charlie is the type of person who is always up for trying new things, which is how she got into the MON in the first place. She seems to live by the harpy code: ‘Don’t stay in one place for too long,’ but in her case, she takes that as ‘don’t stay in one job for too long.’ When she’s on the job, she is seen as the one who ‘loves their job too much’. She always seems focused, cheerful, and will stick to any task someone gives her. However, she is also possessed of an aggressive competitive streak and strives to be the best in everything she does, whether she's testing herself on the shooting range, or playing video games. When she’s off the job, she tends to get bored and is always trying to find something to distract herself. She likes doing small activities, such as doodling, flipping through magazines or playing video games, though occasionally, she’ll resort to actually sitting down and reading or watching a television show. Medical health record: Like all harpies, she is subject to molting, during which time she doesn’t like to be seen and even becomes violently aggressive. Every few months or so, she’ll lay unfertilized eggs, which is also a source of embarrassment for her. Relationships: She has a two parents (human father, Takeshi and mother, Akiko) who live somewhere in the mountainous countryside. She hasn’t seen them in years but remains in contact with them through weekly phone calls. She has dated a number of guys, but hasn’t found anyone worth staying with yet. Miscellaneous: How does someone hold a video game controller with talons? Charlie found a way. :3 Also, she's a terrible singer. Whenever she tries to hit the high notes, she ends up shrieking.

Comment Smith boit-il cette merde? Noreen s'est demandé, sa tête assise sur une table avec son corps juste derrière sur une chaise. Dans sa main était une tasse de café. Noreen pour quelqu'un ne pouvait pas supporter le café, mais elle n'avait pas beaucoup dormi la nuit dernière, donc la caféine devrait faire pour la garder debout. Noreen pour un rhum préféré. À l'heure actuelle, elle admirait une photo d'un pistolet fictif. Tirant 13 millimètres de coques explosives faites sur mesure avec des bouts de mercure, il était de 39 centimètres de long, 16 kilogrammes de poids, avec 6 tours par magazine. Si seulement une arme comme celle-ci existait, et si seulement Noreen pouvait la tirer une seule fois. Ce serait quelque chose à attendre. Peut-être que c'était quelque chose qu'elle pourrait essayer d'obtenir sur commande si elle économisait ses chèques de paie? Versant le reste du café dans son cou pour le boire et en faisant une expression aigre qui parlait de la façon dont elle n'aimait pas la boisson, Noreen a ramassé la tête et a fait son chemin vers l'évier, portant sa tête sous son bras droit et déposer la tasse dans l'évier. Noreen s'est également assuré de prendre une boîte de bière en sortant de la cuisine. Après avoir bu ce café merdique, elle avait besoin d'alcool en elle. Elle resterait éveillée, au moins assez longtemps pour rencontrer le garçon qui allait être sous leur protection à partir de maintenant. Quel genre de personne était-il déjà? Une sorte d'étudiante en sciences, n'est-ce pas? Néant. Peut-être qu'il s'intéressait à l'ingénierie et qu'on pourrait en parler pour faire de Noreen une nouvelle arme malade. "U-Ummmm... Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un? C'est Kyosuke..." Oh, parle du diable! Ce serait lui maintenant, n'est-ce pas? Et Smith a dit qu'elle pouvait s'adresser au garçon comme elle le voulait, non? Ne lui faites pas de mal, et assurez-vous que personne ne le fasse non plus. Du calme. En lui tapant la tête sous son bras juste assez longtemps pour ouvrir la boîte de bière avant de revenir la tenir dans sa main, Noreen a commencé à se diriger vers l'endroit où elle entendait les voix. Charlie avait l'air d'être assez rapide pour se montrer du côté de ce garçon. C'était une harpie pour toi, Noreen pensait. "Ne faites pas peur à l'humain, Charlie," Noreen sourit une fois dans les oreilles et dans la même pièce. Versant une partie de la bière dans sa gorge, le dullahan continua : « Il est probablement épouvantable après s'être presque fait tuer. Mec, pour que quelqu'un plante une bombe juste pour un seul gars..." Si seulement tout le monde pouvait être si aimé. Avec un clin d'œil amical à l'égard du garçon humain, le dullahan s'est enroulé avec Noreen du nom. Je suis l'expert en armes ici, et j'ai aussi utilisé du dabble pour raconter de la fortune parfois. Vous avez une fille là-bas en bas de la ligne." L'expertise passée de Noreen en matière de révélation de fortune était, bien sûr, un mensonge.

Name: Noreen MacBeth Age: 23 Gender: Female Blood type: O- Birth date: October 13th Previous criminal record: Noreen's list of charges goes on and on. They're all for the same crime too; carrying a firearm without a permit. Some people just never learn, do they? Allegedly, she's dabbled in all sorts of other crimes prior to joining MON, but she claims this isn't true. Special skills: Noreen loves guns, swords, tomahawks, hatchets, chainsaws, grenades, mortars, throwing knives, poison gas, and more. Anything that can kill or maim a person, she has a thorough interest in, and not only does she love all of these things, but she knows her way around them all. As a result, she's good in assaults as a shock trooper. While not related to her job, Noreen also excels in the use of makeup; a skill she uses regularly to disguise her otherwise-bluish skin. Psychological profile: Noreen is, above all else, a liar. She isn't one to purposely misguide her comrades, but outside of official work, anyone who meets Noreen should expect that at least 70% of what she says is false. She's also notably greedy, passing up nearly no opportunity to gain wares, money, or favors. Outside of these and a very possible weapons fetish, Noreen is actually almost fairly normal. If anything, her most abnormal trait left would have to be her morbid sense of humor and her inability to understand why she's seemingly the only one who finds her jokes funny. If she opens up with "A nun and a nurse walk into a bar," stop her unless you want to endure her favorite joke. As far as her more down-to-earth traits go, Noreen is notable for greatly disliking the typical appearance of dullahans despite being one herself, claiming that her kind looks too gloomy and regularly applying makeup and dying her hair periodically to look as human as possible. She has a fondness for theatrical flair, bittersweet endings, and the sight of the moon rising over the horizon. Noreen also has a notable love for anything without a pulse, and a habit of collecting absolutely anything she finds that is undead-themed. She does not like humid weather, gold, horses, or being underground. Also afraid of spiders. Medical health record: If you can believe it, Noreen needed extensive head surgery once when her head was hit by a news van (how her head wasn't split in two is anyone's guess). Numerous steel plates now exist in her head, covering an estimated 60% of her skull. As a result, magnets and metal detectors are something similar to weaknesses of hers, and a long series of stitches exist along the back of her head. Relationships: Apparently Noreen used to have an on/off romantic relationship with her former arms dealer; a human in her native Ireland. She claims the relationship ended during an argument that ended in a gunfight. Outside of this, there are no known relations worth note. Miscellaneous: Wears a magnetic choker when on the job to keep her head in place. She's noted it's rather uncomfortable and says it can get nauseating if worn for too long, so most of her non-working hours see her head removed from its shoulders. Always carries at least her scythe, two guns, and four throwing knives when dealing with extraspecies crime.

U-Ummmm... Allô? Il y a quelqu'un? C'est Kyosuke... Alors c'était ça. Le misérable petit être humain que Mlle Smith allait apporter. Oh combien sa misère serait délicieuse. Juste penser à la façon dont cet humain pitoyable s'écraserait et crierait à sa portée était suffisant pour faire trembler Fhalma avec excitation. Il était déjà si tendu et si effrayé. Voyant l'anxiété courbée dans le visage de cette figure, il a instinctivement demandé à Fhalma de toucher sa langue brouillante avec un doigt avide. Celui-ci serait merveilleux. Celui-ci donnerait à Fhalma tout ce dont elle avait besoin. Juste l'idée d'imaginer les yeux de l'homme qui bourdonnaient dans la terreur alors que Fhalma écrase librement ses souvenirs et les peint avec des nuances de désespoir abject a envoyé un frisson qui a secoué Fhalma à son cœur. En lui grattant les bras, Fhalma a commencé à respirer profondément, les yeux fermés dans l'enlèvement du fantasme. Déjà les traces faibles de la peur de l'homme avait causé son corps à produire de la nourriture, mais ce n'était pas suffisant. Pas assez. Elle avait besoin de plus. Encore. Encore. Encore. Encore. Encore. La pensée a percuté sans cesse la tête de Fhalma. Il a fallu une quantité considérable de retenue mentale pour étouffer ces pensées, mais quand Fhalma l'a fait, elle semblait être l'image même d'une femme tenue. Son teint préalablement déformé par l'anticipation extatique s'était instantanément aplani dans un visage réservé et calme avec mais l'évocation d'un sourire nettement sinistre. Après tout, elle avait le devoir de s'acquitter de sa tâche. Si elle ne pouvait pas garder cet homme, alors elle serait un échec à son affectation désignée, ce qui l'a empêchée d'avoir des ennuis avec la loi. Pourtant, Fhamma se demandait si laisser ce coma humain dans un cauchemar sans fin servirait de meilleure protection. Il ne serait plus en mesure de sortir en danger alors n'est-ce pas? Avec cette brillante idée tourbillonnant à travers sa tête, Fhalma sortit d'un couloir et slithered vers l'humain. Ses mains étaient attachées et reposées à son abdomen par un geste poli, tandis que sa tête était légèrement inclinée dans un poise doux. Son corps imitait actuellement l'uniforme d'une femme de ménage, bien qu'il ressorte de sa physiologie extraterrestre que ses vêtements étaient simplement des extensions de sa silhouette. Fhalma n'était pas seulement obsédée par sa faim, mais aussi par un sens du devoir. Et quelle meilleure image illustrait ce devoir que celui d'une studieuse? En s'inspirant, Fhamma a modelé ses actions après les maniérismes de ce que sa mentalité déformée croyait être la servante idéale. "Fufu. Bonjour Kyosuke. Mon nom est Fhalma, et j'écouterai vos excuses. Je veux dire que je serai entendu de votre côté en tant que votre tuteur comme tel était le devoir qui m'a été assigné. J'espère que nous pourrons nous entendre très bien. » Fhalma a terminé sa phrase en léchant ses lèvres, ses yeux regardant droit dans celui de Kyosuke avec une intention dérisoire.

Name: Fhalma Vulgtlagln Age: 20 Appearance: Fhalma stands in at 180 cm while her weight largely varies depending on what internal composition she chooses to don. Her species is an Edlritch Abomination, and as such her body is composed of a formless ominous dark purple ooze that coalesces into a womanly figure. Numerous disembodied eyes gleaming with an alien glare sprout from her figure, particularly around her leg area which is simply a mass of tentacles and slime that form into a hideous shape vaguely reminiscent of an oversized maw with razor sharp five inch teeth lining the openings made by partings in the tentacles. A languid, thick and slime dripping tongue slithers out from this "mouth", further emphasizing its unnatural nature. Fhalma's body is naturally malleable, and as such the clothing she wears is simply an outer layer of skin formed into the shape of attire mimicking a maid's uniform. Gender: Female Blood type: ??? Birth date: January 1st, although this is mere speculation on Fhalma's part. Previous criminal record: Fhalma has been extremely benevolent in her standard, which is to say that this standard isn't quite up to par with human morals. She is responsible for causing the brain deaths of three or so individuals and sending them into interminable comas, but always cured them later on before much trouble could be aroused. Her more relatively minor crimes include sapping away the emotional health of people around her and exacerbating stresses of already strained people. Special skills: Fhalma has a bodily structure somewhat similar to slimes. She can shapeshift to an intermediate level, altering the form of her ooze like body. However, she cannot alter her color scheme at all. She can however freely alter the physical state of her body, altering it from viscous liquid form to rigid solid forms with nary a thought. As such, she possesses no vitals organs to speak of, rendering most regular physical trauma ineffective against her. This is not to say Fhalma has regeneration, as she cannot restore mass which she has lost through an easy means like slimes can with water. Fhalma has surprisingly powerful strength as the tentacles that surround her are formed in the shape of condensed muscle and thus pack a hard punch and grip. She prefers the rest of her body to be malleable in a slimy form. In addition, she can cause her body to become adhesive and attach to things or slippery and repel things as she desires. Also, Eldritch Abominations have a quaint ability to camouflage exceptionally well in darkness only, and as long as Fhalma maintains a texture matching her surroundings, she can become almost completely invisible in pure darkness. What distinguishes Fhalma from the ordinary slime as an Eldritch Abomination is her method of sustenance. Fhalma feeds off of negative emotions such as fear, anguish, pain, and so on. Whenever such emotions are emitted near her, Fhalma becomes highly stimulated and incentivized to draw out more such emotions by any means possible. In order to feed herself, Fhalma emits a natural toxin from her body that replicates the traditional effect of rendering those that view Edlritch terrors irreparably insane. The toxin draws out intense fear and enhances pain reception immensely while stimulating hyperventilation and inducing adrenaline fueled panic. More exposure to the toxin, which is released in an invisible gas form when a prospective prey makes eye contact with Fhalma, leads to a warping of the physical senses and hallucinations of abhorrent images. Long term exposure damages the nervous system piece by piece, corroding and twisting happy memories into terrifying and traumatic visages of the past while rendering already dark memories to become even more seeped in horror. The toxin can effectively induce a human's mind to enter a brain dead state almost completely devoid of activity on account of completely shutting down due to heavily stacked trauma. The toxin can be inhaled or imbibed through the skin, but its effects through such means will be minimal and will not produce effects beyond the traits characteristic of first exposure. However, direct exposure to the toxin, which is completely imbued in all of Fhalma's body and highly concentrated in her tentacles, can lead to the additional steps of exposure as detailed above. Fhalma is capable of releasing the toxin as a wide range gas by storing it in her body and exhaling it out in a noxious cloud, but she prefers to directly apply it with her own body. Fhalma can suppress her innate production of this toxin, but can only do so to the extent where being around Fhalma causes one to constantly feel depressed and bleak without suffering significant consequences. Eldritch Abominations like Fhalma can directly absorb a huge meal of negative emotions by consuming an organism whole with the massive mouths formed by their lower bodies, but as that method is lethal and thus illegal, it is not of much use. Another way Fhalma can gain food through negative emotions is by directly sucking them out of other living beings. By making physical contact and using a passageway or conduit to her body, Fhalma can draw out negative emotions from another organism. This method is highly efficient, but not many, if any, people are willing to be subject to Fhalma's whims for such an operation. Psychological profile: Fhalma can be observed to be a reserved, polite young woman with inhibited tendencies and prim mannerisms. She holds an unhealthy obsession over pop culture regarding maids, and thus alters her actions and dress accordingly. Fhalma is capricious and whimsical, following her impulses wherever she goes. She does not heed the authority of others very much, nor does she respect anyone to a high degree. However, she still maintains an ever wonderful facade of proper and formal speech with amicable habit which belies her innate nature. Fhalma holds an incredibly loose sense of morals that cannot be called morals at all by many. Life and death are but two states of being in her view, which is also quite twisted compared to human views considering that she is effectively immortal. In essence, the lives of those finite are exceedingly interesting both alive and squashed out. As such, Fhalma can be considered a cruel and sadistic figure, but her gentle poise and manner would never reveal such a detail. However, she does have quite a well of devotion within her towards anything she considers to be amusing or important towards her such as tasks or duties, though often her underlying mentality makes her incompatible with many human given tasks. Medical health record: Fhalma absolutely needs negative emotions to fuel her. They don't actually give her sustenance, but being in the direct presence of strong negative emotions stimulates symbiotic organisms within Fhalma to produce nourishing agents to sustain her life. Without these nutrients, Fhalma becomes increasingly desperate and willing to resort to extreme measures. Not being fed enough nutrients also causes Fhalma's body to lose its slimy form and assume a constitution closer to flesh and blood, leaving her vulnerable to physical attack. Relationships: Fhalma has never been in a longstanding relationship with any other living being considering her existence that degrades the mental health of others simply by existing. Miscellaneous: N/A

Oh, ça allait être tellement amusant! Une nouvelle personne! L'humain même, ils ont toujours été si faciles à tomber pour des choses. Oh combien il y avait de plaisir à avoir dans un proche avenir. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. En fait, elle pouvait l'entendre venir! "U-Ummmm... Bonjour? Il y a quelqu'un? C'est Kyosuke..." "Ohhhh, il est là!" Kirino s'est exclamé. Elle a précipité la construction sur ses petits pièges autour de la cuisine. Rien de mal vraiment. Petits petits tréfilés pour causer de petits petits ballons pops et le meilleur de tous. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Eh bien, ce serait si c'était fini. Juste un petit quelque chose pour le mettre à l'écart une minute ou deux. Quoi qu'il en soit, il était temps de partir pour le "greet". Pas comme si elle avait l'air d'habitude. Si l'on avait les pouvoirs, ils se moqueraient bien sûr de tout le monde! Ou peut-être que c'était juste Kirino. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Quoi qu'il en soit, il était temps d'agir. Bientôt, Mme Smith est sortie de la cuisine avec une tasse à café à la main, elle a même le nom de ce nouveau groupe d'idols avec ces filles Extraspecies. "Yo, Kyo-chan. Vous vous amusez avec les filles? Vous avez l'air d'y aller." Kirino a fait son damné pour garder son rire dedans. Ça allait bien. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Jusqu'à ce qu'elle oublie... *Slam* "Owie". Kirino a murmuré après être tombée à plat sur son visage avec une pouf de fumée montant du lieu de l'accident. Après que ça soit réglé. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Elle était là, Kirino la fille Tanuki tenant une tasse au-dessus de sa tête pour qu'elle ne s'est pas cassée. "Ça fait mal à celui-là." Elle regarda de terre en terre vers les autres, et tourna la tête vers le côté, embarrassé. Le Tanuki se sentait debout serait une bonne idée à ce stade, "Ahem. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Kyosuke-kun? Celui-ci s'appelle Kirino." Elle s'est présentée tout en dépoussiérant son look traditionnel. "Un plaisir d'être sûr." Après sa présentation rapide, elle s'est tournée vers les autres membres du MON. "Je n'arrive pas à croire que vous commenciez tous des choses sans celle-ci." Son visage était plus drôle que ça au moins.

Name: Kirino Kagami Age: Insists she is just “young enough”. Appearance: If nothing else, she is distinguishable by the leaf on her head at most times. Gender: Female Blood type: AB. Birth date: Insists she was born December 25. Previous criminal record: Several cases of “close to harmful pranking” (relative to what the victims thought was harmful, stealing money and food (for self sustenance) in relation to having “run away” from her home-stay family. Let's not forget her not being with her Home-Stay family. Special skills: Tanuki transformation abilities, apparent sleight of hand skills (as well as pickpocketing), trap making and setting, and is oddly good at cooking. Psychological profile: Kagami is a playful tanuki and isn’t a fan of keeping her hands to herself to some peoples’ discomfort. Though she doesn’t seem to be a bad person, she also likes to play pranks on others tending from simple chalkboard eraser on top of a door to more elaborate snare traps. For those she knows more, she likes to transform into them or others and "troll" them that way. That being said, she does not intentionally try to harm anyone and has felt regret any of the times one of her attempts when wrong, or so she says. She also seems to be slightly flirtatious when she can make fun of people afterward (male or female it seems). She also has a serious side to her every now and then when the situation calls for it. Very rarely does this seem to have come out in observations of her, but the times it did appear, it was when it was a dangerous situation. Medical health record: While she has no constant health issues that are readily noticeable between the time she was introduced to human society and now, she had suffered an injured leg that required crutches to move about. It is no longer an issue however. Relationships: Her Mother and Father are alive. It has implied that one to be human though it is unsure which it would be. She has a few siblings, none that seem to have reached out to her at all. Acquainted with several other liminal girls though has since seemed to grow out of contact with. Miscellaneous: When threatened with deportation, and given the option to help instead she cheerfully exclaimed, "Oh! Yes, let this one help. It is better to help out the society of humans then to depart it."

D'accord, une harpie. C'était quelque chose qu'il pouvait gérer. Sûrement. Pas de problème. Il avait vu des harpies tout le temps à la télévision. Ils avaient du sens. Humanoïdes avec des talons, des écailles, des ailes au lieu des bras, et des os creux légers pour le vol. Ils étaient comme des anges. Oui, Kyosuke s'est rappelé. Pensez-y comme ça. Des Harpies. Les anges. Des romans fantastiques. Mettez-le dans le contexte de quelque chose que vous connaissez. Ça aide toujours. Celui-ci était beaucoup plus grand qu'il ne l'attendait. En plus, elle semblait un peu plus, euh... euh... euh... bien développée que certaines des harpies qu'il avait vues être interviewée à la télé. Attends, il s'en est souvenu. C'était un Raptor Harpy. Il avait, à un moment donné, envisagé de s'inscrire à l'échange culturel interspécifique pour étudier à l'étranger (avant d'être presque assassiné par une espèce supplémentaire, la petite voix inutile dans le dos de sa tête lui rappelait), donc il a dû faire ses recherches à ce sujet. Ils étaient des mangeurs de viande spécialisés qui s'étaient adaptés à un régime riche en protéines qui a permis à leur corps et à leur esprit de mûrir après d'autres harpies. Cela signifiait qu'ils avaient des corps plus grands avec des muscles plus définis qui pouvaient soulever leur vrac, mais en échange ils étaient spécialisés pour la chasse, et... ne pouvaient manger que de la viande... Kyosuke secoua la tête. C'est pas vrai! Ne pense pas comme ça! Je suis sûr qu'elle va bien. Je veux dire, elle a l'air d'être assez gentille... "Bonjour. Mon nom est Kyosuke », a-t-il dit. Il tendit la main pour une poignée de main, puis la retira aussitôt quand il se souvint qu'elle n'avait pas de pouce opposable. "Oui, j'aime les jeux vidéo. Mais d'habitude, je joue aux RPG..." C'est alors que son second gardien est entré dans la pièce, et à la consternation de Kyosuke, c'était une autre chose qu'il pouvait facilement mettre dans le contexte de quelque chose d'autre. C'était dommage qu'il n'aimât pas ça mieux que ce qu'il voyait déjà. C'est Dullahan. Cavalier sans tête Son esprit courait. Tête. Epaules. Détachement. Cou. Ça ne devrait pas être vivant. Mort. Un mort-vivant. Mort. Ça n'a pas de sens. Ça n'avait pas de sens! C'était un major de la médecine légale, bon sang! Il avait déjà entendu parler de ça, mais tout ce qu'il savait de la chimie et de la biologie disait que ce n'était pas possible! Et ça le faisait vraiment flipper! Et pourquoi a-t-elle versé de la bière dans le cou?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Il s'en est sorti quand elle est sortie pour lui serrer la main. Doucement, il a accepté. "Enchanté de vous rencontrer, Noreen..." a-t-il dit maladroitement. "Est-ce que c'est vrai?" Il a inconsciemment enregistré la présence d'un pouls alors qu'il secouait la main. Il est clair qu'elle n'était pas vraiment morte. D'une manière ou d'une autre, son corps fonctionnait toujours sans sa tête. Il devait y avoir une sorte d'explication à cela. Peut-être que sa tête ne pourrait rester détachée ou "sur glace" que pendant un court laps de temps avant qu'elle ne doive être réattachée, ou peut-être que la tête et le corps étaient en fait deux organismes distincts... Il y avait tellement de choses qu'ils ne savaient toujours pas à propos des extra-espèces qu'il fallait qu'il y ait une explication rationnelle à cela, mais il serait impossible de savoir à moins qu'il ne soit autorisé à l'examiner et à lui poser quelques questions. Mais il n'y avait aucun moyen qu'il fasse ça! Kyosuke entendit une sorte de bruit glissant et criant, et c'est là que ses pauvres dieux de rationalité et de logique moururent. Avec elle, Fhalma la bonne-slime. C'est un Shoggoth? était tout ce qu'il pouvait se souvenir de penser. Ça et elle n'essaie même pas de prétendre qu'elle ne veut pas me tuer, suivie par le vagin dentata... Les pensées détachées de Kyosuke n'étaient qu'une façon de dire qu'il était en état de choc. Si quelque chose ici n'avait absolument aucun sens et violait toute théorie connue de la biologie et les lois de la physique, c'était elle. Elle n'avait aucun cerveau visible, aucun organe interne ou organite, parlait sans aucun moyen connu de vocalisation, et pouvait transformer son corps en vêtements de bonne pour une raison quelconque. "Est-elle-" il a à peine dit avant d'être interrompu à nouveau. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Après un dullahan puis un Shoggoth de toutes choses, Kyosuke attendait le pire. C'est pourquoi il était presque soulageant de voir Mme Smith sortir de la cuisine, même s'il savait qu'il n'y avait pas moyen qu'elle soit là après l'avoir vue sortir de la porte. Au moins maintenant, il savait qu'il était fou. "Huuuh." Des métamorphes. C'était ça. C'était la seule explication. L'un d'eux était un métamorphe. C'était officiellement la magie noire et les elfes ici. Kyosuke se sentait étourdie. "Désolé, mais je crois que je m'en occupe. Réveille-moi quand je ne suis plus à Skyrim..." dit-il, peu de temps avant de tomber et de s'évanouir, ses yeux se transformant en minuscules assiettes de soucoupe blanche. Un petit fantôme planait autour de sa bouche.

Name: Noreen Age: 23 Gender: Female Blood type: O- Birth date: October 13th Previous criminal record: Noreen's list of charges goes on and on. They're all for the same crime too; carrying a firearm without a permit. Some people just never learn, do they? Allegedly, she's dabbled in all sorts of other crimes prior to joining MON, but she claims this isn't true. Special skills: Noreen loves guns, swords, tomahawks, hatchets, chainsaws, grenades, mortars, throwing knives, poison gas, and more. Anything that can kill or maim a person, she has a thorough interest in, and not only does she love all of these things, but she knows her way around them all. As a result, she's good in assaults as a shock trooper. While not related to her job, Noreen also excels in the use of makeup; a skill she uses regularly to disguise her otherwise-bluish skin. Psychological profile: Noreen is, above all else, a liar. She isn't one to purposely misguide her comrades, but outside of official work, anyone who meets Noreen should expect that at least 70% of what she says is false. She's also notably greedy, passing up nearly no opportunity to gain wares, money, or favors. Outside of these and a very possible weapons fetish, Noreen is actually almost fairly normal. If anything, her most abnormal trait left would have to be her morbid sense of humor and her inability to understand why she's seemingly the only one who finds her jokes funny. If she opens up with "A nun and a nurse walk into a bar," stop her unless you want to endure her favorite joke. As far as her more down-to-earth traits go, Noreen is notable for greatly disliking the typical appearance of dullahans despite being one herself, claiming that her kind looks too gloomy and regularly applying makeup and dying her hair periodically to look as human as possible. She has a fondness for theatrical flair, bittersweet endings, and the sight of the moon rising over the horizon. Noreen also has a notable love for anything without a pulse, and a habit of collecting absolutely anything she finds that is undead-themed. She does not like humid weather, gold, horses, or being underground. Also afraid of spiders. Medical health record: If you can believe it, Noreen needed extensive head surgery once when her head was hit by a news van (how her head wasn't split in two is anyone's guess). Numerous steel plates now exist in her head, covering an estimated 60% of her skull. As a result, magnets and metal detectors are something similar to weaknesses of hers, and a long series of stitches exist along the back of her head. Relationships: Apparently Noreen used to have an on/off romantic relationship with her former arms dealer; a human in her native Ireland. She claims the relationship ended during an argument that ended in a gunfight. Outside of this, there are no known relations worth note. Miscellaneous: Wears a magnetic choker when on the job to keep her head in place. She's noted it's rather uncomfortable and says it can get nauseating if worn for too long, so most of her non-working hours see her head removed from its shoulders. Always carries at least two guns and four throwing knives when dealing with extraspecies crime. Oh man, Noreen is great. Please tell me she brings her scythe (fake or otherwise) around into battle to scare the shit out of her enemies and "just because it looks cool". Anyway, unless I see something weird looking at her sheet the second time around, she's accepted. Post her in the character section! Also, does she have a last name? If not, may I suggest "Noreen O'Mally'O'Connel'O'Carrol'O'Reilly'O'Brian'O'Sullivan (who is also Italian)"? xD

Kirino s'est levé et a mis la tasse sur une surface voisine. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Avant que Kyosuke ne s'évanouisse! "H-hey!" Kirino s'est exprimée avec un choc sur son visage. "Pourquoi s'est-il évanoui?" Elle a demandé aux autres avec inquiétude écrit sur son visage. Elle ne s'attendait pas à ce qu'il s'évanouisse comme ça. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Pour quelque raison que ce soit, il s'est évanoui. "Peut-être que nous devrions. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Oui. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Emmenez-le dans un lit, laissez-le se reposer un peu?" Avec même laisser l'un des autres répondre, elle a pris le garçon et a commencé à le déplacer dans un porte princesse. "Celui-ci le prendra. Il n'est pas trop lourd." Quand elle a commencé à l'emmener dans un lit, elle s'est retournée pour ajouter quelque chose. " Quelqu'un peut-il lui apporter un verre d'eau de la cuisine? Il pourrait en avoir besoin." Bien sûr, elle se souvenait de la petite installation de ballons et d'autres choses dans la cuisine et espérait que celui qui y serait entré allait au moins activer son ensemble de pièges. Kirino a posé Kyosuke sur un lit et l'a juste regardé et a attendu que les autres suivent. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Ou un piège. "Shi-shi-shi." Elle gigogne légèrement en imaginant quelle serait la réaction pour la pauvre âme dans la cuisine si les pièges s'enfuient. À part ça. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Serait-ce le bon moment d'essayer de tirer une autre farce sur le gamin? Il s'est évanoui, alors il serait peut-être préférable de laisser tomber pour le moment. Oui, c'était probablement la meilleure idée. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Pour l'instant. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Une fois de plus, il y avait une chance d'attendre. Si rien d'autre, le garçon semblait bien répondre à Smith. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Peut-être qu'il réagirait à un peu plus. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. La première chose qu'elle a faite a été de mettre Kyosuke sous les couvertures. La deuxième étape a été l'acte de se transformer en Smith encore une fois. Smith était la seule personne qu'elle savait que sa cible savait vraiment, ça a marché. Après une pouf de fumée, elle ressemblait à l'agent du gouvernement Smith et décollait légèrement sa veste, grimpant au lit avec Kyosuke et tenant son bras dans sa poitrine, attendant le moment où il se réveillait. Elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de se demander ce qu'il ferait quand il a vu le coordinateur se tenir sur son bras comme ça.

Name: Kirino Kagami Age: Insists she is just “young enough”. Appearance: If nothing else, she is distinguishable by the leaf on her head at most times. Gender: Female Blood type: AB. Birth date: Insists she was born December 25. Previous criminal record: Several cases of “close to harmful pranking” (relative to what the victims thought was harmful, stealing money and food (for self sustenance) in relation to having “run away” from her home-stay family. Let's not forget her not being with her Home-Stay family. Special skills: Tanuki transformation abilities, apparent sleight of hand skills (as well as pickpocketing), trap making and setting, and is oddly good at cooking. Psychological profile: Kagami is a playful tanuki and isn’t a fan of keeping her hands to herself to some peoples’ discomfort. Though she doesn’t seem to be a bad person, she also likes to play pranks on others tending from simple chalkboard eraser on top of a door to more elaborate snare traps. For those she knows more, she likes to transform into them or others and "troll" them that way. That being said, she does not intentionally try to harm anyone and has felt regret any of the times one of her attempts when wrong, or so she says. She also seems to be slightly flirtatious when she can make fun of people afterward (male or female it seems). She also has a serious side to her every now and then when the situation calls for it. Very rarely does this seem to have come out in observations of her, but the times it did appear, it was when it was a dangerous situation. Medical health record: While she has no constant health issues that are readily noticeable between the time she was introduced to human society and now, she had suffered an injured leg that required crutches to move about. It is no longer an issue however. Relationships: Her Mother and Father are alive. It has implied that one to be human though it is unsure which it would be. She has a few siblings, none that seem to have reached out to her at all. Acquainted with several other liminal girls though has since seemed to grow out of contact with. Miscellaneous: When threatened with deportation, and given the option to help instead she cheerfully exclaimed, "Oh! Yes, let this one help. It is better to help out the society of humans then to depart it."

Charlie a vomi ses ailes dans la frustration. Génial! Kirino l'a tué!" Elle a donné un coup de pied à un bidon imaginaire avec son talon pendant qu'elle a bougé, "Maintenant, nous ne serons pas payés. Je savais que j'aurais dû devenir un tueur à gages..." C'était à peu près le moment où Kirino a demandé si quelqu'un allait lui donner de l'eau. La tête de Charlie s'est évanouie. Quelque chose qu'elle pourrait faire! "Bien sûr! Je m'en occupe!" Dans sa précipitation, elle n'a pas vu les tréfilés. Dès qu'elle est entrée dans la cuisine, elle a entendu le pop d'un petit ballon. *POP!Elle recula instinctivement de l'explosion, trébuchant un autre fil. *POP* Et comme un domino professionnel, Charlie a réussi à voyager tous les jours. Célibataire. C'est un piège. Et elle n'était même pas encore arrivée au frigo. Peu de temps après, Charlie s'est retrouvée suspendue au plafond, des ailes se sont épinglées sur ses côtés, et ses talons au-dessus de sa tête, et couvert de morceaux de caoutchouc des ballons. Elle a un peu lutté, ce qui l'a amenée à s'écarter d'un côté à l'autre. Après avoir craché un morceau de ballon, elle a appelé les autres. "Hé! Un peu d'aide?" Elle s'est tendue vers le réfrigérateur. "Je suis si proche!"

Name: Charlie Age: 19 Appearance: She’s cosplaying in that photo. Her casual attire is a bit more…casual. Usually khaki shorts and a white tube top emblazoned with a certain slogan: Subspecies:Raptor Harpy (Hawk) Gender: Female Blood type: O+ Birth date: April 5, 1996 Previous criminal record: A few minor drug possession charges, from her days working pizza deliveries. Special skills: Charlie has a number of different skills from the many jobs she has held over the years (she’s been working odd jobs since she was 15). Cooking, cleaning, surveillance, pizza delivery, messenger services… She knows the city like the back of her hand…talons, and she has a number of contacts. She has excellent binocular vision and a piercing shriek. Psychological profile: Charlie is the type of person who is always up for trying new things, which is how she got into the MON in the first place. She seems to live by the harpy code: ‘Don’t stay in one place for too long,’ but in her case, she takes that as ‘don’t stay in one job for too long.’ When she’s on the job, she is seen as the one who ‘loves their job too much’. She always seems focused, cheerful, and will stick to any task someone gives her. However, she is also possessed of an aggressive competitive streak and strives to be the best in everything she does, whether she's testing herself on the shooting range, or playing video games. When she’s off the job, she tends to get bored and is always trying to find something to distract herself. She likes doing small activities, such as doodling, flipping through magazines or playing video games, though occasionally, she’ll resort to actually sitting down and reading or watching a television show. Medical health record: Like all harpies, she is subject to molting, during which time she doesn’t like to be seen and even becomes violently aggressive. Every few months or so, she’ll lay unfertilized eggs, which is also a source of embarrassment for her. Relationships: She has a two parents (human father, Takeshi and mother, Akiko) who live somewhere in the mountainous countryside. She hasn’t seen them in years but remains in contact with them through weekly phone calls. She has dated a number of guys, but hasn’t found anyone worth staying with yet. Miscellaneous: How does someone hold a video game controller with talons? Charlie found a way. :3 Also, she's a terrible singer. Whenever she tries to hit the high notes, she ends up shrieking.

Kyosuke sentit quelque chose de doux se brosser contre lui. C'était un oreiller? Ses yeux se retournent dans la conscience sous des capuches fatiguées et profondes, il s'enroule instinctivement à côté de l'oreiller doux et chaud et y enterre son visage. Il faisait plus chaud qu'il ne le pensait. Il est temps d'aller dormir... et d'oublier tout ça. A propos de MON, à propos de la bombe... à propos du patron Kairoou, et certainement à propos de Mlle Smith... Il pensait entendre quelqu'un respirer, puis il sentit son oreiller se lever et tomber avec le mouvement. Ses yeux s'ouvrirent, envoyant un choc de 600 volts droit sur son cœur. Des seins. Il avait complètement enterré son visage dans les seins. Il a levé les yeux. "Gah!!?!" Il s'est évanoui, il s'est branlé. "S-S-S-Smith-san?" Qu'est-ce que tu...

Name: Noreen Age: 23 Gender: Female Blood type: O- Birth date: October 13th Previous criminal record: Noreen's list of charges goes on and on. They're all for the same crime too; carrying a firearm without a permit. Some people just never learn, do they? Allegedly, she's dabbled in all sorts of other crimes prior to joining MON, but she claims this isn't true. Special skills: Noreen loves guns, swords, tomahawks, hatchets, chainsaws, grenades, mortars, throwing knives, poison gas, and more. Anything that can kill or maim a person, she has a thorough interest in, and not only does she love all of these things, but she knows her way around them all. As a result, she's good in assaults as a shock trooper. While not related to her job, Noreen also excels in the use of makeup; a skill she uses regularly to disguise her otherwise-bluish skin. Psychological profile: Noreen is, above all else, a liar. She isn't one to purposely misguide her comrades, but outside of official work, anyone who meets Noreen should expect that at least 70% of what she says is false. She's also notably greedy, passing up nearly no opportunity to gain wares, money, or favors. Outside of these and a very possible weapons fetish, Noreen is actually almost fairly normal. If anything, her most abnormal trait left would have to be her morbid sense of humor and her inability to understand why she's seemingly the only one who finds her jokes funny. If she opens up with "A nun and a nurse walk into a bar," stop her unless you want to endure her favorite joke. As far as her more down-to-earth traits go, Noreen is notable for greatly disliking the typical appearance of dullahans despite being one herself, claiming that her kind looks too gloomy and regularly applying makeup and dying her hair periodically to look as human as possible. She has a fondness for theatrical flair, bittersweet endings, and the sight of the moon rising over the horizon. Noreen also has a notable love for anything without a pulse, and a habit of collecting absolutely anything she finds that is undead-themed. She does not like humid weather, gold, horses, or being underground. Also afraid of spiders. Medical health record: If you can believe it, Noreen needed extensive head surgery once when her head was hit by a news van (how her head wasn't split in two is anyone's guess). Numerous steel plates now exist in her head, covering an estimated 60% of her skull. As a result, magnets and metal detectors are something similar to weaknesses of hers, and a long series of stitches exist along the back of her head. Relationships: Apparently Noreen used to have an on/off romantic relationship with her former arms dealer; a human in her native Ireland. She claims the relationship ended during an argument that ended in a gunfight. Outside of this, there are no known relations worth note. Miscellaneous: Wears a magnetic choker when on the job to keep her head in place. She's noted it's rather uncomfortable and says it can get nauseating if worn for too long, so most of her non-working hours see her head removed from its shoulders. Always carries at least two guns and four throwing knives when dealing with extraspecies crime. Oh man, Noreen is great. Please tell me she brings her scythe (fake or otherwise) around into battle to scare the shit out of her enemies and "just because it looks cool". Anyway, unless I see something weird looking at her sheet the second time around, she's accepted. Post her in the character section! Also, does she have a last name? If not, may I suggest "Noreen O'Mally'O'Connel'O'Carrol'O'Reilly'O'Brian'O'Sullivan (who is also Italian)"? xD

C'est Kyo-chan. Kiri-Smith a dit, "Tu es tellement mignon quand tu es comme ça." Elle a sorti le garçon de ses seins et l'a tenu au « niveau des yeux » autant que l'on peut l'appeler ça qui se couche. -- Alors, avez-vous déjà été embrassé auparavant? Elle continua et lui donna un regard ravissant en se rapprochant de sa tête. "Maintenant, maintenant. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Avez-vous déjà pensé à en avoir un avec une femme plus âgée?" Elle était heureuse pour toutes les réactions excessives qu'il allait donner, encore plus avec combien lentement elle allait à un baiser éventuel si elle n'était pas arrêtée et sa main allait sculpter la tête du garçon alors qu'elle continuait à se rapprocher.

Name: Kirino Kagami Age: Insists she is just “young enough”. Appearance: If nothing else, she is distinguishable by the leaf on her head at most times. Gender: Female Blood type: AB. Birth date: Insists she was born December 25. Previous criminal record: Several cases of “close to harmful pranking” (relative to what the victims thought was harmful, stealing money and food (for self sustenance) in relation to having “run away” from her home-stay family. Let's not forget her not being with her Home-Stay family. Special skills: Tanuki transformation abilities, apparent sleight of hand skills (as well as pickpocketing), trap making and setting, and is oddly good at cooking. Psychological profile: Kagami is a playful tanuki and isn’t a fan of keeping her hands to herself to some peoples’ discomfort. Though she doesn’t seem to be a bad person, she also likes to play pranks on others tending from simple chalkboard eraser on top of a door to more elaborate snare traps. For those she knows more, she likes to transform into them or others and "troll" them that way. That being said, she does not intentionally try to harm anyone and has felt regret any of the times one of her attempts when wrong, or so she says. She also seems to be slightly flirtatious when she can make fun of people afterward (male or female it seems). She also has a serious side to her every now and then when the situation calls for it. Very rarely does this seem to have come out in observations of her, but the times it did appear, it was when it was a dangerous situation. Medical health record: While she has no constant health issues that are readily noticeable between the time she was introduced to human society and now, she had suffered an injured leg that required crutches to move about. It is no longer an issue however. Relationships: Her Mother and Father are alive. It has implied that one to be human though it is unsure which it would be. She has a few siblings, none that seem to have reached out to her at all. Acquainted with several other liminal girls though has since seemed to grow out of contact with. Miscellaneous: When threatened with deportation, and given the option to help instead she cheerfully exclaimed, "Oh! Yes, let this one help. It is better to help out the society of humans then to depart it."

Il semblait que l'équipage était plus que ce humain ne pouvait supporter. Le garçon est parti et s'est effondré sur place. Kirino avait demandé si quelqu'un allait lui donner un verre d'eau, car quand il s'est réveillé sans doute. Tout aussi bien. Noreen allait probablement vouloir prendre une autre bière avant longtemps de toute façon, et il n'y avait aucune raison qu'elle ne puisse pas multitâcher. En soulevant la tête sur ses épaules et en rampant le reste de son contenu de canette, Noreen était sur le point d'exprimer sa volonté d'attraper l'eau. Charlie l'a battue par un clin d'œil. Pourrait-elle même porter un verre d'eau avec ces ailes? Eh bien, si elle pensait qu'elle pourrait le faire, c'était bien par Noreen. Il n'y a rien de mal à essayer, après tout. Et si Charlie l'avait bâclé, Noreen... *POP!* *POP! *POP! *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP. *POP.* *POP, POP, POP!* Noreen a immédiatement changé de vitesse. Jeter la boîte vide de côté (pas sans intention de la ramasser plus tard, bien sûr; quel genre de barbare jette juste des boîtes de bière autour?), Noreen a poussé les orteils de sa botte droite dans le sol, provoquant un couteau de sortir de la botte dans le processus et l'attraper comme il est arrivé à la portée de son bras, Noreen a dardé pour la cuisine. S'ils avaient été trouvés si vite, ce serait une mauvaise nouvelle pour Kyosuke... Noreen avait besoin de quelque chose d'autre pour appeler ce garçon. Bien sûr, sculpter à travers des vagues d'ennemis sonnait comme des vacances à Noreen, mais c'était un travail pour protéger un gars, donc... "Hé! Un peu d'aide?" Il semble qu'ils ne soient pas en fait attaqués. C'était juste Charlie. D'une manière ou d'une autre, non seulement elle l'a mis en bouteille, mais elle l'a mis en bouteille avant même d'atteindre le frigo. Seulement une harpie, Noreen pensait à elle-même. "Je suis si proche!" -- Très bien, ne bougez pas, dit le dullahan, en s'approchant de l'endroit où sa collègue harpie était attachée et suspendue au plafond à l'envers. Noreen avait même un couteau dans la main. La première étape a été de défaire les cordes qui attachaient les ailes de Charlie. Ils ont été coupés assez facilement avec le couteau de combat dans les mains de Noreen. Double-vérification pour toutes les cordes supplémentaires et les couper là où ils ont été trouvés, Noreen a dit « Préparez-vous à tomber » avant de couper la dernière; la corde tenant Charlie sur le plafond. J'espère qu'elle pourra réagir assez vite pour ne pas tomber sur sa tête. Eh bien, c'était ça. Ouverture du frigo et prise à la fois d'une bouteille d'eau et d'une boîte de bière, Noreen a tenu le premier vers Charlie. "C'est ce que tu cherches, n'est-ce pas?"

Name: Noreen MacBeth Age: 23 Gender: Female Blood type: O- Birth date: October 13th Previous criminal record: Noreen's list of charges goes on and on. They're all for the same crime too; carrying a firearm without a permit. Some people just never learn, do they? Allegedly, she's dabbled in all sorts of other crimes prior to joining MON, but she claims this isn't true. Special skills: Noreen loves guns, swords, tomahawks, hatchets, chainsaws, grenades, mortars, throwing knives, poison gas, and more. Anything that can kill or maim a person, she has a thorough interest in, and not only does she love all of these things, but she knows her way around them all. As a result, she's good in assaults as a shock trooper. While not related to her job, Noreen also excels in the use of makeup; a skill she uses regularly to disguise her otherwise-bluish skin. Psychological profile: Noreen is, above all else, a liar. She isn't one to purposely misguide her comrades, but outside of official work, anyone who meets Noreen should expect that at least 70% of what she says is false. She's also notably greedy, passing up nearly no opportunity to gain wares, money, or favors. Outside of these and a very possible weapons fetish, Noreen is actually almost fairly normal. If anything, her most abnormal trait left would have to be her morbid sense of humor and her inability to understand why she's seemingly the only one who finds her jokes funny. If she opens up with "A nun and a nurse walk into a bar," stop her unless you want to endure her favorite joke. As far as her more down-to-earth traits go, Noreen is notable for greatly disliking the typical appearance of dullahans despite being one herself, claiming that her kind looks too gloomy and regularly applying makeup and dying her hair periodically to look as human as possible. She has a fondness for theatrical flair, bittersweet endings, and the sight of the moon rising over the horizon. Noreen also has a notable love for anything without a pulse, and a habit of collecting absolutely anything she finds that is undead-themed. She does not like humid weather, gold, horses, or being underground. Also afraid of spiders. Medical health record: If you can believe it, Noreen needed extensive head surgery once when her head was hit by a news van (how her head wasn't split in two is anyone's guess). Numerous steel plates now exist in her head, covering an estimated 60% of her skull. As a result, magnets and metal detectors are something similar to weaknesses of hers, and a long series of stitches exist along the back of her head. Relationships: Apparently Noreen used to have an on/off romantic relationship with her former arms dealer; a human in her native Ireland. She claims the relationship ended during an argument that ended in a gunfight. Outside of this, there are no known relations worth note. Miscellaneous: Wears a magnetic choker when on the job to keep her head in place. She's noted it's rather uncomfortable and says it can get nauseating if worn for too long, so most of her non-working hours see her head removed from its shoulders. Always carries at least her scythe, two guns, and four throwing knives when dealing with extraspecies crime.

Situation: Son appartement → Central Perk's Coffeehouse Interagir avec: Nylah par texte, Cecilia par texte, Olivia par texte, Kieran par texte, Rui par texte Il y avait toujours quelque chose à propos de la veille de son anniversaire qui le rendait incapable de dormir. Dans son lit, il se jeta et se tourna comme son esprit courait avec excitation au sujet du jour à venir et de sa fête plus tard que la nuit. Phillip est pratiquement sorti du lit pendant que son téléphone chiait toute la matinée, les gens lui souhaitant un joyeux anniversaire et beaucoup étaient excités par sa fête. Les invitations ont été envoyées il y a deux semaines et si vous étiez du bon côté de Phillip à l'époque, alors bien sûr, il vous en a donné un sans aucun doute dans son esprit. Il avait sauté son jogging tôt le matin et a décidé de rester ce matin, juste pour s'assurer que quelques choses sont préparées pour ce soir. Il devait se rappeler d'envoyer un message d'excuses à Nylah plus tard et tout lui expliquer. Phillip a publié sur ses comptes de médias sociaux, en remerciant tout le monde pour leurs vœux d'anniversaire et sera heureux de voir tout le monde à la fête ce soir. Il s'est ensuite levé de son ordinateur portable est allé à la douche et se prépare à commencer sa journée. Il a habillé son corps en un simple t-shirt bleu avec un pantalon Kaki cargo et une paire de chaussures de tennis bleues et blanches. Phillip a pris ses clés de téléphone et de voiture puis est sorti de son appartement et est descendu à son véhicule, où il s'est assis pendant quelques instants afin qu'il puisse envoyer quelques SMS. Aux : Nylah Bonjour. Désolé de ne pas t'avoir envoyé de messages plus tôt et d'avoir dû nous échapper ce matin. Je vais me rattraper, je te le promets. On se voit ce soir? Vers: CiCi Tu veux me retrouver au café un peu? Je meurs de faim et j'ai besoin de petit-déjeuner. Après avoir envoyé ces deux textos, il avait commencé son chemin vers la cafétéria, où tout le monde le connaît. Ses amis savent qu'il aime y aller pour réfléchir, leur parler un sur un ou même inviter tout le gang et faire n'importe quoi. Phillip a pris des routes latérales pour éviter la circulation et est arrivé à la cafétéria dans quelques instants. Là, il est sorti de son véhicule et s'est assis sur son coffre, cherchant à voir si CiCi l'avait encore fait, ou non. Pendant qu'il attendait, il décida d'envoyer d'autres textos. Vers : Olivia Mieux vaut ne pas boire avant le match sans moi! Tu seras à ma fête ce soir ou nah? Aux : Toute la bande Vous feriez mieux de correspondre au thème de ma fête ce soir. Sinon, je vous ferai jeter dehors. C'est vrai. Mais pour de vrai. Aux : Les frères Assurons-nous que Rui vienne à la fête ce soir. C'est vrai. Phillip a regardé une fois de plus et a regardé autour mais toujours pas de CiCi. Il a décidé d'attendre un peu plus longtemps pour elle avant d'aller à l'intérieur par lui-même. Honnêtement, il ne pouvait pas attendre sa fête ce soir et le thème "Seven Deadly Sins" a été jugé épique à ses propres yeux. Il avait espéré que ce soir va exactement comme prévu car il ne voulait rien ou personne pour gâcher son jour très spécial.

"I do not ask questions, I make statements." N A M E Phillip Jeffery Daniels. N I C K N A M E Phillip likes to be called Phil by people that are really close to him. He'll only accept Phil and nothing else from anyone. He doesn't like have cutesy nicknames thrown his way. B I R T H D A T E March 17, 1991. A G E Twenty-six. G E N D E R Male. S E X U A L I T Y Bisexual though leans towards females much more than males. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Recently single. O C C U P A T I O N Full time college student, studying Journalism at NYU. H O M E T O W N Biloxi, Mississippi. E T H N I C I T Y African American. A P P E A R A N C E Phillip is the personification of tall, dark and handsome to some people. He stands about six foot one and weighs one-hundred and sixty-six of pure muscle due to working out and such. Phillip has a brown texture color to his skin complexion, which match with his eyes color though they take on a much darker brown color. He use to be a bit on the chubbier side whenever he was younger but toned up once he hit high school and started playing sports. His hair is black and he likes to keep it trimmed and edged up to perfection. Phillip style of dress is really casual as he usually wears a t-shirt and jeans along with Vans or some type of shoe and calls it a day. Other days and if he's really feeling it, he'll dress himself up in a suit. Phillip currently doesn't have any tattoos but would really like to have at least one before he is thirty years of age though he does have his earlobes pierced and usually keeps a diamond stub in them. H A B I T S Phillip is the type of person that likes to stay in shape and doesn't everything within his ability to make sure that he doesn't skip a day of exercising. He cannot start his day without going for a jog and working out, or something. Being stressed is a feeling that Phillip cannot stand to be in, for when he is stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take at least three deep breaths. To call Phillip a person that dislikes germs is an absolute understatement. Phillip washes and sanitizes his hands after he uses the restroom, coughs, sneezes and if he touches anyone else. Decision making takes a little bit longer when it comes to him. If he needs to make a decision, he'll think about it for a little bit than the average person. • Cannot start his day without working out or going for a jog • When he's stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take about three deep breaths • Washes and sanitizes his hands often • Takes a little bit of time before making a decision on things H O B B I E S Phillip may not seem like the person that does most of his hobbies but he has to do something within his spare time. He likes to go outside on cloudy days and just sit down to stare up at the sky and watch the clouds as they drift by. It may seem weird but it is something that he does and he cannot help it. Along with that, he'll write down his thoughts within his journal and just feel much better after he is done writing. Phillip is a very athletic male and it really shows within his body and stature but he necessarily doesn't let that define him. Along with that, he does a little bit of archery here and there along with playing a few video games. • Cloud Watching • Writing in his journal • Archery • Video Games L I K E S • Working Out • Photography • NYU • Starbuck's • Social Media {Has a Twitter, Instagram and SnapChat} • Friendly, Social Gatherings D I S L I K E S • Junk Food • Dramatic People • Reality TV Shows • Watching Horror movies alone • Severe Thunderstorms F E A R S • Commitment • Any type of abuse again P E R S O N A L I T Y When one first looks at Phillip, they think that he is someone you can easily pushover but he is the complete opposite. He is very bold and will stand his ground against anyone, no matter who you are. Phillip doesn’t like it when people bully others so he’ll definitely step in and defend anyone without thinking about the consequences first. Even though he has such a bold personality on one side, he can also be very distant especially if you said something wrong towards him. He doesn’t really like to talk out his problems with other people but instead writes them out in a journal. He hates being distant and times but most people don’t even know that he is distant, considering his other personality traits. If there was a trophy to hand out for being the biggest flirt then Phillip would definitely get that honor as he’s been flirting ever since he was in diapers. Phillip loves flirting with guys and girls as it’s the possibility and adrenaline aspect of it that makes him want to do it more. Plus, he is a terrific person to cuddle with. H I S T O R Y Phillip grew up in a middle class family, being the third oldest child to two working parents. Phillip's older brother was always the one left in charge of them whenever they were home alone so his older brother had to learn how to grow up fast. It was when Phillip was about seven years of age when his life changed forever. His mother and father had taken his little sister and second to oldest brother out, leaving him and his eldest home alone. Everything was going fine until "it" happened. Phillip was changed and felt like something had been taken away from him and something had been, his pride. Since that day, he never told anyone since his eldest brother did threaten him. He lived his life in fear that it was going to happen again and again and eventually, he ran away from home but was found three nights later. Phillip became a person he thought he never see himself as. He became defiant and very rebellious, talking back to anyone and everyone, always wanting the last word. His parents couldn't put up with him anymore and they shipped him off to live with his grandmother in Arkansas. There, he joined a gang, started committing crimes such as thievery, dealing drugs and even fighting. He was caught by the police one time and was thrown in a local juvenile center at the age of fourteen. He had learned many rights and wrongs while in the center and wanted to turn his life around. He went up to his counselor in the center and talked to her everyday and sometimes all day. He had a lot to get off of his chest on most days. At the age of sixteen, he was released from the center and turned his life around. He got out of the gang lifestyle and went to a local public school, excelling in all of his classes with A's and B's. His teachers always told him that he could be whatever he wanted to be and he took those words of encouragement and ran with it. Graduating in the top 50 in his class, Phillip went to college in Tennessee and majored in Psychology. He only went for one semester though as he returned home to his parents, who were very happy with the success in his life and even happy to see him. Phillip's eldest was proud, too and even apologized for what he did several years ago. Being a grown up about it, Phillip accepted his apology but then punched him square in the nose. After that display, he packed up his things and took the first flight out to New York so that he could reinvent himself and go back to school but focusing on a different area of critique. He loves being in New York and it shows since he did grow up in the South all his life. Phillip also loves the small things that the fabulous city has to offer and wouldn't go back towards the South anytime soon. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies O L I V I A . B I S H O P {☮} "So, we can Netflix but no chill. We can drink though." Phillip and Olivia have a somewhat odd friendship. What started off as a night of binge watching television shows and movies on Netflix turned into nights of drinking to the point where Olivia would be too drunk to do anything else for the night. Being the good guy that he is, Phillip always leaves after making sure she was comfortable on her couch and would never take advantage of her. They are friends, especially if one of them needs to get drunk for the day or night. T H U Y . P H A M {♫} "Who would've thought that me and you would be so close?" When Phillip befriended Thuy via social media, it was no doubt that they became instant friends. Their friendship started small and simple but grew into a much stronger bond as time went on. When they met for the first time, it seem that these two were very much inseparable towards one another and is still that way whenever they are around each other. Granted, these two have had some very distasteful arguments towards one another but that doesn't define the deepening truth of their friendship. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "So, want to go for another run?" Ah, these two are always running alongside each other every chance they get. Even though whenever they are side by side, running or doing whatever else, there is very little conversation between the duo. Phillip will always be there for Nylah though, if she ever needs him. He has made that known many, many times before. R U I . R O S A S {☮} "Dude, you really need to lighten up just a little bit." Phillip has tried time and time again to get Rui to open up, not only towards him but towards the group of friends, as well. He doesn't understand why Rui is the way he is but hopes to find out sometime sooner rather than later. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {♫} "Workout buddy right here!" Phillip and Kieran can be seen working out from time to time together but that's not the only thing that brings them closer towards one another. They both have a similar desire in Journalism, in some way, shape or form and are always bonding over that, too. They are close friends in Phillip's eyes but he wouldn't trade Kieran for nothing else in this world.

Localisation: Maison → Coffeehouse Interagir avec: → Phil (Texte) "Peanuts?" La jeune hôtesse a demandé, se penchant. Thuy a regardé en haut, "Oui, bien sûr." Elle a déclaré qu'elle avait mis sa main comme la femme l'avait mis dans sa main. Elle se flatte avec l'enveloppe en plastique avant d'ouvrir le snack salé et d'en mettre quelques-uns dans sa bouche. À sa droite, un pied s'est dégagé entre les sièges de la compagnie aérienne. Un pied délabré, gris dans la texture et décrépit. Les ongles d'orteils cassés et noirs. Ses yeux s'élargissaient alors qu'elle étendait son bras au-dessus de sa tête pour appuyer sur le bouton d'aide pour rappeler l'hôtesse. La pression sur elle plusieurs fois que la femme est finalement venue. "Éloignez-moi de ce truc!" Thuy s'est exclamé, pointant vers le pied. L'hôtesse sourit, se penchant sur Thuy et déchira le pied directement de la jambe et le laissa tomber dans les genoux de Thuy. "Coucou." Une tape a échappé aux lèvres de la fille alors qu'elle se réveillait de son étrange rêve. Elle se battait pour avoir regardé ce film d'horreur hier soir avant de se coucher. Sortir son chat de son lit, Thuy s'est déplacé et a contacté son téléphone qui était assis sur la table de côté du lit. Il était déjà midi, mais dormir n'était pas trop rare pour la fille. Surtout quand elle a eu la journée de congé. Elle a regardé à travers son téléphone balayant les notifications des réseaux sociaux et différentes applications. En lisant quelques textes, elle s'est vite souvenue que c'était la fête d'anniversaire de Phillip aujourd'hui. Elle était très excitée de célébrer avec tous ses amis, et savait que ce ne serait pas un événement à oublier. Phil allait toujours au-delà de ses événements. Elle lui écrivait en lui texto : Je viens de me réveiller. Je serai là dès que possible. Mon cadeau d'anniversaire. Elle l'a envoyé et est sortie du lit rapidement. La plupart de sa famille était partie faire leurs propres événements, donc elle a eu la place pour elle-même pendant une minute. De toute façon, le sous-sol était le sien, sauf la buanderie et la machine à karaoké. En prenant une douche hors du chemin, elle n'a fait qu'une petite quantité de maquillage et de se préparer- voulant laisser le dessus des choses pour la fête. Elle s'est parée dans un short en jean et une chemise de tee noire, une paire de bois sur ses pieds. Un vrai nouveau yorker. En prenant plusieurs bus et au moins deux cigarettes complètes, Thuy finit par se rendre à la cafétéria. En marchant, elle a aperçu Phil instantanément, un sourire sur son visage. Alors qu'elle s'approchait de lui, elle commença à chanter : « Joyeux anniversaire à toi, Joyeux anniversaire à toi, Joyeux anniversaire à toi, Joyeux anniversaire à toi! » Elle avait atteint la table et, espérons-le, a eu au moins un sourire. Elle s'est penchée et lui a donné un baiser sur la joue. Assis de l'autre côté de la table. "Pick ce que vous voulez manger et boire, je traite." Elle a déclaré, en saisissant un menu du côté de la table et en naviguant à ce qu'elle voulait.

Tʜᴜʏ Cᴇᴄɪʟɪᴀ Pʜᴀᴍ "Won't hesitate to go straight to your head like a concussion. " N A M E Thuy Cecilia Pham. N I C K N A M E Cici. Cecelia is her middle name (given to her by her mother) that she prefers to go by. She prefers this because for the most part people don't know how to pronounce her first name. She doesn't mind her friends calling her by her real name, but it usually means something serious is going down or about to go down. She sometimes think is it a good homage to her mother to keep the middle name active as well- which her father hates. B I R T H D A T E June, 9th. 1992. A G E Twenty Four. G E N D E R Female. S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. O C C U P A T I O N Waitress at her father's restaurant. H O M E T O W N Fresno, California. USA. New York City's unofficial "Little Saigon" is where she stays now. E T H N I C I T Y French Vietnamese A P P E A R A N C E Despite her ethnicity, Cecelia has bleached and re-bleached her natural black hair to a very platinum blonde. She has brown eyes, but prefers to wear a light blue/grey contact to cover up. Her skin tone is on the lighter spectrum but during the summer she can get a nice brown tone. She is very petite, standing at barely five feet tall and weighing around ninety seven pounds. Her constant chain smoking doesn't help her lack of appetite and belittlement from her father to "gain some weight" Cecelia's clothing style is very urban and street and very comfortable. Though she can appreciate fashion she would rather be curled up in sweats and tee shirt than an outfit costing more than week's worth of paycheck. She loves bright colors, pinks and teals but often can be seen adorning black as well. Piercings are everywhere on Cecelia's body. Most of which were done by herself in her bathroom of her basement. Some of them have been healed over by now, but she can be often seen with her lips, nose, and ears covered in jewelry. Along with piercings she has over 20 tattoos ranging in sizes, value, and professionalism. One was done in jail that she is particularly proud of, and likes to say she was in murder- despite it being for a fifth act of public intoxication. H A B I T S ▸ Leaving lighters in her friends cars, homes, purses, etc. ▸ Reading her horoscope for her and her friends online- daily. ▸ Chewing her nails down until they bleed when she's upset. H O B B I E S ▸ Smoking, drinking, and partying. ▸ Watching really bad horror movies on Netflix. ▸ Snapchatting her friends pictures of her random body parts. L I K E S ▸ Naps. ▸ When people actually want to talk on the phone. ▸ Hip hop and rap music- the louder the better. ▸ Tattoos and piercings. ▸ Shopping online. D I S L I K E S ▸ Working at her father's restaurant. ▸ Living at home still. ▸ Being lectured by her family members. ▸ Texting for more than a few minutes. ▸ Long trips on the subway. F E A R S ▸ Never finding someone to start a life with. ▸ Being abandoned. P E R S O N A L I T Y Cecelia can sometimes be a hard person to read. She can appear cold and sometimes downright mean, her face in a constant state of "bitch" but as you get to talking to her, you'll quickly realize she is very down to Earth and just wants to have a good time. She can be very talkative to people she is close to, she isn't afraid to say exactly how she feels about a situation; so she usually one of the first people come to when they need a reality check in the scheme of things. Cici picks fights and plays dirty when she needs to. She is a ticking time bomb inside a teddy bear. When at work and at home, the girl has a very more traditional position. A very complete opposite of the independent girl, she would be found grabbing beers for men, cooking, cleaning and being told to "come a little closer here baby" In most places, Cici would be swinging- but in these two places specifically she lets a lot of her morals and views get tucked under the rug. She knows it would cause a lot more problems if she were herself around these locations. H I S T O R Y Cecelia is the middle child, born to Thien and Simone Pham. She has one older sister (26) and one younger half brother (10). Thien and Simone met in college in California. Thien an American Vietnamese man and Simone a pretty little foreign exchange girl from France. The two had a whirlwind semester of college together, falling in love and having their first child. The two maintained a long distance relationship for about three years. Thien worked like crazy to bring her to America as often as possible, sending her home what always seemed like a pregnancy. Eventually this constant battle grew tiring and when Cecelia was born- Simone decided this was going to be the last trip back. "It's not you, it's me" she said, her voice low as Cecelia and her older sister had their heads pressed to their door as they listened to their parents fight. That was the last they heard from their mother. Thien was heartbroken but not too damaged to find himself on a dating website. That was when he fell in love once more- this time with a Vietnamese woman. She told Thien that she had just inherited her family's restaurant and that if he came across the country to New York that she would bless him with a new wife and a son. Both blessings were filled, and the two sisters now in their teens along with their dad found themselves in the bustling city of New York taking on a restaurant and intertwining into a new family. Cecelia has adjusted well to the new lifestyle, her sister has long since moved back to California and Cici doubts that she would take her sister's path but would like to get out of her father and step mother's house as soon as she can possibly get. She had been offered by several of her friends to stay with them but has not taken them up on the offer yet. For now she works full time at the restaurant and when she isn't working she is having the time of her life with her circle of friends that she considers her family. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S {♫} "Philly cheese steak, you are delicious but you make my tummy hurt." Without a doubt these two have chemistry, Phillip and Cecelia became friends after adding one another on Facebook (they had several mutual friends) a few years ago. The two spent most of the beginning of their friendship as just online friends, exchanging photos, phone calls, and stories late into the night. Eventually the two finally met up and found that they were exactly as they were online- and became even closer. Sometimes they get into very loud and out right dirty arguments; but they care for one another through and through. O L I V I A . B I S H O P {♫} "Olivayou! Get it? It's like I love you, but your name!" Californiaaaaa girls they're unforgettable. Olivia and Cecelia have been best friends ever since they found out they were both from the golden state. These two are known to cause a whirlwind wherever they go, partying hard, and not looking back but they aren't all just fun and games. Cecelia trusts Olivia with everything and is always the first one she goes to when she needs to vent or just escape for awhile. Cici was around for the breakup, and told Olivia that if she ever sees the guy she will not hesitate to stab him. Multiple times. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "I'm jealous of you Nylah, you're perfect. Both knowing how to have a good time, Nylah and Cecelia have been pretty good friends ever since they have known one another. They both love to tease, sass, and fool around with one another- though sometimes a joke goes a bit too far and they end up not speaking for a few days. Cici would tell Nylah often that she was jealous of who she is as a person, and in a way looks up to her. They love spoiling one another going out to eat at new places and going for coffee every once in awhile as well. R U I . R O S A S {☯} "Come on Rui, have some fun for once! Huh? Huh? Huh?" These two should be separated during most events. Rui finds her to be distracting and immature most of the time. Cecelia finds him to be stiff and boring most of the time. Though they are complete opposites, these two have never been enemies, and Cici actually finds it fun to poke and prod at Rui, trying to find ways to drive him crazy. She once sent snap chats of her butt to him for an entire week before he blocked her from the application completely. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {⚜} "You're a cute one Mr. Kieran." Only meeting one another here and there through parties and events between the six friends, Kieran is someone Cecelia knows the least about. She finds him attractive, which doesn't separate her from most women. Though nothing more than just a pretty face so far. She also noticed him at her dad's restaurant once where he proceeded to eat tons and tons of food, so she knows he has good pallet for good food. Cici hopes that they can get to know one another better as time goes by- as they might have more in common than they thought.

WeissCentral Park Reservoir → Home → Bagel Place, Phillip par texte, Kieran par texte, Cecilia par texte, Olivia par texte, Rui par texte La musique pompant à partir des écouteurs de Nylah a diminué pour permettre à un «ding» de faire surface et d'informer Nylah qu'elle avait reçu un nouveau message texte. Lentement à un jogging au rythme de marche, Nylah a glissé l'appareil de sa poche dans son brassard — un achat impulsif qu'elle ne regrette pas encore, pour une fois — et l'a cliqué sur pour voir Phillip s'excuser pour sa libération. Lentement à un arrêt au bord de la route, Nylah a tapé une réponse rapide au garçon. Philly Cheesesteak — Np, garçon d'anniversaire. Je voudrais un avis à l'avance la prochaine fois donc je ne suis pas maladroitement étirant pendant vingt minutes, mais pas de soucis. Et Duh? Qu'est-ce qui m'a fait passer la semaine? Déposant son téléphone à sa place légitime dans son brassard, Nylah a recommencé à courir, les yeux concentrés sur rien en particulier. Très bien, Nylah. Une boucle de plus — laissez faire, elle a pensé de façon encourageante à elle-même, alors qu'elle a accéléré le rythme. Ses cheveux, attachés en arrière, s'évanouissaient derrière elle, mais Nylah l'ignorait en faveur de la brise fraîche et rafraîchissante du matin et du bruit de fond de Sia's The Greatest. Lorsque la course a été terminée et terminée, Nylah avait fait un tour à la maison sur un taxi. Une douche et un changement de vêtements plus tard, Nylah a vérifié l'horloge et a pensé qu'il était temps d'aller acheter de la vraie nourriture. Elle a pris son téléphone, elle a arrêté le numéro de Kieran. L'ours du sésame... Matin, soleil! Je vais à l'endroit du bagel, si tu veux te joindre à moi. Familié — J'achèterai si vous venez me tenir compagnie. Frappant le bouton d'envoi avec un sourire, Nylah a glissé son téléphone dans son sac, vérifié à deux reprises si elle avait oublié quoi que ce soit, et fait pour la porte. Elle se sent comme un genre de jour de bottes, elle s'est amusée, tirant les chaussures du porte-chaussures et les glissant avant de se regarder dans le miroir qu'elle avait installé directement en face de la porte. Une fille vêtue d'un plaid rouge sur une longue manche blanche et des leggings noirs lui sourit, et Nylah s'en retourna. Ça va faire l'affaire pour l'instant. On gardera les trucs chics pour ce soir. En fermant sa porte et en descendant le seul escalier, Nylah a déverrouillé sa voiture avec un bip de ses clés et l'a commencée, faisant pour l'endroit bagel. Je me demande si je devrais appeler Kieran? Elle a pensé qu'en arrivant dans le parking à une petite distance de la boutique. Environ cinq minutes plus tard, elle était en ligne — n'importe quel magasin de bagel qui n'avait pas de ligne autour du brunch n'était pas un vrai magasin de bagel de New York — attendant de commander son sandwich au bagel toast dindon-avocat. En sortant son téléphone pendant qu'elle attendait, Nylah sourit et rédigea quelques réponses à divers groupes de discussion. Le Gang entier — Laissez - vous faire un petit concours de costumes alors? Une voix par personne, et pas d'autonomisation. Sauf si tu es le garçon d'anniversaire. Appeler Wrath. Les épicuriens perpétuels — je voulais aller en Gluttonie — surtout pour que personne ne se plaigne si je bois toute l'alcool. Mais, depuis ça c'est le boulot d'Ollie, je choisis Wrath pour le thème rouge vif. Vous deux? Suivant!Le caissier a appelé. Comme la personne en face de sa gauche, Nylah a levé les yeux et a remarqué qu'elle était maintenant la première dans la file. Très bien Kier-bear. C'est maintenant ou jamais pour ce sandwich bagel gratuit, pensait Nylah, en regardant autour du café pour une blonde aux cheveux longs spécifique.

Nylah Weiss "Smile for the camera!" N A M E Nylah Amelie Weiss N I C K N A M E None — Nylah doesn’t do nicknames. B I R T H D A T E May 21st, 1993 A G E 24 G E N D E R Female S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. Again. O C C U P A T I O N Broadway Actor, currently working her way up. H O M E T O W N New York, New York — Upper East Side E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian A P P E A R A N C E Slim and refined at a height of 5’9”, Nylah’s style is sophisticated chic. With a closet of name brands speckled with bursts of color and an impeccable taste for finery, it’s almost impossible to see Nylah not at her best. For her it’s not so much dressing up as a way of life, although she’ll forego the heels for flats for the sake of her feet. She will, however, indulge in a bright red lip now and then just to brighten her day — and her smile. At first glance Nylah is the outgoing girl who’s kind, helpful, and confident, and her hundred-watt smile gives her a mischievous feel. She has five piercings on her ear — two on each side an a cartilage on her left. H A B I T S Prone to forgetting things last minute, especially hair ties. Nylah’s constantly trying to fight this, albeit unsuccessfully. She’s taken to keeping a pack of hair ties in her purse at all times. Running late: As she gets easily distracted and engrossed by things, Nylah often finds herself running against the clock. The only good thing that’s come out of this is a practiced ability to compose herself in a heartbeat — something that’s very helpful when she’s nervous about going on stage. Getting distracted: When not focused, Nylah is easily distracted by all kinds of things, leading to her zoning out during lectures back in high school and college. While she doesn’t exactly have to sit through boring lectures anymore, she will sometimes tune out of conversations in favor of some passing pedestrian that catches her eye. H O B B I E S Cooking: Nylah’s horrible at it, and that’s exactly why she’s still interested. That, and the fact that it’s a basic life skill that she wants to say she’s checked off the list. She’s currently trying to figure out how to make meals she can serve to friends without losing all of her dignity and manners as a hostess. Running: Nylah enjoys running in her spare time. She tends to shy away from the more popular areas like Hudson River Park, preferring quiet nature meccas like the uptown trails in Van Cortlandt Park or the loop around Central Park’s Reservoir. Running’s the time when Nylah gets some peace from the constantly buzzing world around her, and the quiet — at times — is almost as addicting as the colorful blur of life. Reading: Sometime in her childhood, someone had told Nylah to always be reading some book, even if she wasn’t actively reading it. She’s taken this advice to heart and now has a small but growing collection of bestsellers, classics, and random selections. Nylah will sometimes take a book down to the cafe and spend an afternoon there reading. L I K E S Animals, especially cats. During grade school, Nylah’s family adopted a kitten named Periwinkle (Perry, for short), but really it was Nylah that adopted, raised, and loved the cat until his death during her junior year at NYU. Although she hasn’t gotten around to adopting another, cats are definitely in Nylah’s future. The color grey, although she rarely wears it. In her mind, it’s the color of sophistication. Cloudy days: As gloomy as they might seem, they’re like a breath of fresh air to Nylah, often putting others into broody silences so that she can cheer them up — or steer clear of them. Soccer: Not that she can play, but Nylah enjoys watching it enough. Having been exposed to it at an early age by her brother, Nylah’s now a — while not devout — seasonale fan that flows and ebbs with the competition dates. Lattes and baked goodies from the cafe: impulse visits to the cafe at the corner of her street are among Nylah’s favorite things, especially if she walks in on a day when the owner whipped up some of her — and Nylah’s — favorite tiramisu. Be it walking home with a box or two or sitting in the cafe and checking her phone as she spooned creamy goodness into her mouth, Nylah lived for these little things. D I S L I K E S Horror movies: Despite all her claims to be afraid of horror, Nylah is actually quite unimpressed by the genre as a whole. Jump scares get her, sure, but she blinks all of it off. The flicks feel more like a waste of time to her than anything — why would she sit here and get scared by images if she could just go out and experience life? The dark, especially if Nylah’s walking around in the dark with only her footsteps for company. It reminds her of horror movie scenes, and she’d like it if the thoughts ended there. Rain, especially if she’s going to get wet: Water’s all fine and dandy, but not when it’s on her clothes. She’d rather have snow than deal with water droplets that fly and stick everywhere, soaking into things like greedy piranhas. Visiting home: The family home reminds Nylah more of the bad days than the good, and she would rather not have to tell her parents that she, again, is not and will not in the immediate future be cast for a major role in a production. Thus, Nylah’s glad that her parents only ask their children to come home on the holidays. Surviving and having to live with a horrible injury: Despite the positivity around survivors strong arming their way past hardships with disabilities, Nylah doesn’t want anything to do with that all. She’s uncertain about her life as is and doesn’t need some kind of life-changing injury on top of it. If she’s going to live through a car accident that leaves her partially paralyzed, she’d prefer if she didn’t live at all. F E A R S Commitment, especially romantically: Nylah’s too invested in her career right now, too young to be tied down, too pretty to settle — and just about another hundred excuses she’d give you, not that she’d ever let up for someone to ask more than three times. She’ll settle for flings every now and then. The future and regretting her choices: This is a slippery slope for Nylah. Although she says and believes that theater is her calling, Nylah also knows that the chances of her getting picked out of the thousands of aspiring actors out there are slim. As compared with her family, Nylah’s future looks bleak, and she lives in constant fear of that same bleakness becoming a reality. P E R S O N A L I T Y Bright and vivacious, Nylah generally comes off as someone fun to be around albeit a little frivolous at first. Though she’s quite whimsical and rather prone to getting engrossed in whatever catches her fancy, Nylah shows a different face when it comes to things she cares about, becoming quite serious and dedicated. Under her facade of cheery smiles and easy shrugs, Nylah’s actually quite dedicated to her art and loyal to her close friends. Late hours memorizing scripts are not strange for her, and she’ll always be there for a friend in need. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a girl who’s not so sure what she stands for and what she should do with her life. Insecure about herself and what the future will hold for her, Nylah passes days firmly grounded in the present. To people she trusts, she opens up enough to act a little more goofy around them, but that’s the cutoff line. Being a person who prefers to bottle things up instead of letting them out, Nylah doesn’t like talking about herself much at all, even to close friends. Romantically, Nylah’s a free spirit, content with having many partners and therefore none at all. Nylah has no real reason for never committing. There was just never a pull, never a reason to tie herself down — not that she’d want to in the first place. Nylah knows that she’s still young, and she intends to take full advantage of it. To her, dating’s a scary and relatively unnecessary commitment right now, and — in case she does get her big break — Nylah doesn’t want to have to have her it conflict with her career and passion. H I S T O R Y Growing up in the Weiss household, excellence was expected. With a father who’s one of the biggest names in medicine despite being retired and a mother who’s the CEO of a prestigious business corporation based in New York, Nylah’s been groomed from birth to be perfect, and she would have embraced her heritage with open arms if not for her brother. Oh yes, her older brother. The golden boy who got his DBA at Harvard and now the most probable candidate for COO at his mother’s company. The impeccable image Nylah would forever be compared to. However hard Nylah worked during her grade school years, her brother had done better. A contender for Valedictorian? Her brother was Valedictorian. Varsity captain of the girl’s volleyball team? Nylah’s brother was captain of both the lacrosse and the soccer teams. Though her time at prestigious private schools had yielded acceptances to schools like Wharton, University of Pennsylvania and Booth, University of Chicago, Nylah’s accomplishments had always fallen short from her brothers. Much to her parents’ disapproval, Nylah enrolled in and graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with a degree in Performance Studies. Her brother is the reason why Nylah’s fine with pursuing a career in theatre since she figured that her parents didn’t need another perfect child to brag to their friends about, so here Nylah is, pursuing something she’s good at — passionate about. Theatre was and still is Nylah’s one true love, and she’s also fairly brilliant at it — putting on a mask, that is. Because no one know the real Nylah Weiss, only the character. The bright, bubbly, outgoing Nylah who puts her all into her characters and rebuffs romance with smiles and a lack of commitment. From Tisch, Nylah went on to work her way up from understudies of unknown side characters to her current role as the second female lead in a relatively small production. While she still has a ways to go, Nylah’s comfortable with her life, especially since her parents have accepted that their daughter isn’t interested in going into business. She lives in a nice, roomy West Village flat and likes getting coffee at the corner cafe, Cafe Cheri, where she worked at before she got her bigger acting roles. Her romantic life has been riddled with short-term commitments and flings, though she never bothered counting since she’s always considered herself some form of single. P E O P L E . T O . B O T H E R The unfortunate people who’ve been able to make the acquaintance of a certain Nylah Weiss. They’ll see her again — Nylah will make certain of that. P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S — Aquaintance-Turned-Running Buddy, Fellow Exercise Enthusiast-Turned-Friend — running buddy."As dedicated runners that drop by Starbucks every now and then, Nylah and Philip are familiar with each others’ exercise routine and comfortable with the silence that occurs during it. Although they don’t talk much while they run, Nylah knows that Phil’s there to listen should she ever need a shoulder to cry on. When they do talk, some light flirting and exchanging of pick-up lines is not uncommon. Spontaneous texts requesting a brief run or a quick drop-by to Starbucks are not unheard of between the two, and only god knows which of them is the faster one. O L I V I A . B I S H O P — That Perpetually Drunk Friend — but charming with a big heart. Add a few drinks and it’s friends at first sight."Having met back during their years at NYU, Nylah originally didn’t think much of Olivia. A night of clubbing later, Nylah was absolutely charmed by the other girl, finding her fun, witty, and doubly amazing with a few drinks under her belt. That Olivia’s down-to-earth personality loosens up when she drinks amuses Nylah immensely, and Nylah’s constantly trying to get her friend to give romance another try — mostly just her teasing though. R U I . R O S A S — The Almost-Not-Really Friend — me of my older brother, but with none of the arrogant utilitarianism."Having been a rather social person during her time at NYU, Nylah prided herself in knowing people, so of course she’d seen the tall, suave economics guy that came out for a drink every now and then. He’d struck her as a person that fit in her childhood circles at first sight, with the aura of a conservative, high-achieving, wealthy upbringing rolling off him in waves. At first Nylah had been prepared to avoid the boy like the plague — she wasn’t looking to befriend someone like her brother — and it would have worked too if she hadn’t walked into the club one day and found the old money Rui Rosas drinking by himself, looking sullen and just downright miserable. Plopping herself on the stool next to him, Nylah instigated what would become a rather silent yet informative drinking partnership where she’d rebuff every nosy or smitten individual who was looking to order a drink with Rui — or herself. While Nylah would easily call the two of them acquaintances, she would be hesitant to add the “friend” label — although she hopes that even if they never voice it, she’s gotten close enough to call the boy a friend. ]K I E R A N . V I N C E N T . O ‘ C O N N O R — Partner-in-Crime — hunk, inner softie." Nylah was a little surprised to learn that the cute hunk she’d met during one of her earlier theater auditions in her undergraduate years was, in fact, a retired hockey player who had been drafted by and almost played for the New York Islanders. She’d been trying for a role — any role, at that point in her nonexistent career — and Kieran had been one of the hired playwrights being paid to tailor the script to the cast. Having pegged him as an aspiring author, starving artist-type, Nylah hadn’t thought much of the boy until a fellow cast member clued her in about his retirement, and from there Nylah launched a campaign that she never regretted. Although Kieran and Nylah had started their friendship during their time with the production, their friendship grew beyond that, from raving about the FIFA playoffs and sometimes hockey — a new discovery on Nylah’s part, credits to a certain blonde writer — to afternoons memorizing lines and writing to the tune of some old record in the background. T H U Y . P H A M — Friend and Fellow Epicurian — spunky foodie. Our minds and stomachs understand each other, even if our words disagree sometimes." Nylah met Cecelia one day when she walked into the other girl’s family restaurant and struck up a conversation with the spunky, tattooed waiter that turned out to be the owner’s daughter. Nylah quickly found that the girl, bleached hair and contacts and all, was a kindred soul that shared a love of good food and partying. The two often scour the city for good restaurants for dinner and clubs for the bridge until the late AMs with Olivia in tow. Although they might argue at times, Nylah genuinely likes Cecelia and believes the girl to be cute but strong, full of tough-love and fun.

O'CONNORLocation: Accueil → Bagel Place Interagir avec: → Phil (Texte), → Nylah (Texte + En personne), → CiCi (Texte), → Rui (Texte), → Olivia (Texte) La première chose que Kieran a vue quand il s'est réveillé était noire. C'était la couleur préférée de son choix à l'ouverture de ses yeux, mais à la seconde où il a déplacé son bras, la lumière du soleil lui a dit combien l'ex-Canuck allait payer pour dormir pendant sa course habituelle le matin de ce jour. "Agggggggh. Jésus a pleuré... Vraiment?" Le verset biblique cité était aussi proche que Kieran avait l'habitude de jurer, ses parents l'ayant mieux élevé que de parler d'argot de gouttière, mais ils ne l'ont pas non plus élevé pour éviter un défi tard dans la nuit d'une Ruskie qui doutait de sa capacité à jouer au jeu de la boisson. Au moins, il a gagné assez pour couvrir l'intercalaire... et puis quelques-uns. En plus, c'était une bonne séance d'entraînement pour le jour et la nuit à venir. En sortant du lit qui dominait un bon morceau de l'arrière de son studio, Kieran s'est dirigé vers la table basse pour vérifier son ordinateur portable. Des vidéos ont été affichées sur les matchs de la côte ouest, les Oilers/Sharks finissent une aventure plus terne que prévu, et les Flames brûlent Vancouver. Un tas d'espace gaspillé et de pixels potentiels s'il a choisi d'écrire à ce sujet, sauf pour un autre but de Pat Maroon. Mais ça n'allait pas bien dans la ville. Le Bias de la côte Est s'est tenu fort aujourd'hui. "Guess je pourrais rouiller le débat Maroon vs Lucic, mais c'est tellement maladroit..." En regardant le téléphone toujours chargé à côté de l'ordinateur, il a vu la lumière bleue clignotant, lui faisant savoir que sa boîte de réception avait des affaires en plein essor ce matin. "Héh, aurait dû savoir que tout le monde serait déjà actif aujourd'hui." Il a lu dans l'ordre. D'abord, le garçon d'anniversaire. Il n'y avait pas de mastication pour ne pas avoir la course ce matin. "J'ai évité une balle, je suppose." Le texte de Phil sur le fil du groupe concernant le thème de son grand shindig était tout à fait attendu compte tenu de ce que Kieran savait de son collègue journaliste aspirant. Pourtant, Kieran s'est demandé à quel point Phil serait sérieux sur l'application de sa règle sur le maintien d'un thème approprié. Aux : Toute la bande Ainsi, la personne qui appelle Sloth n'aurait pas à porter une sorte de getup pour maintenir le thème approprié? Je demande un ami. Juste après, il y avait un autre texte, Phil, pour s'assurer que Rui allait être à la fête. Aux : Brodeo Pas de soucis. Il sera là. Ça suffit. La dernière directe était Nylah cependant, et cela a obtenu le cœur de Kieran course un peu plus pour compenser le manque de cardio. "Frappe!" Depuis qu'il a obtenu ce concert de doctorat de scripts sur cette pièce, quelque chose qu'il n'a jamais pensé même essayer mais doit encore à Shean quelques bières pour l'appréciation de la référence, l'actrice a été fermement plantée sur son radar. Même après ces deux premières séances où ils se sentaient l'un l'autre dehors, en trouvant ce qu'ils avaient en commun en dehors de se présenter à un théâtre sombre pendant un peu de temps, il était clair que quelque chose se développait. Aujourd'hui, les sessions régulières de réunion; écrire, répéter, même l'amener à regarder un peu de hockey avec lui, les Islanders seulement, c'était l'une des rares choses qui l'ont vraiment rendu reconnaissant à Andrew Carroll pour ce qu'il a fait. En plus, il n'allait pas laisser passer un petit-déjeuner gratuit. Mais il savait à quel point Nylah pouvait rapidement traverser la foule moyenne des bagels. Elle avait cet avantage sur la glace. Vers : Éclair rouge Tu sais que j'en suis. Si vous m'ordonnez mon Cluster Canuck habituel, je serai là en 5, éternellement reconnaissant. Maintenant qu'il avait un blanc d'œuf, du fromage swiss et de la saucisse de dinde d'érable sur le bagel de graines de sésame qui l'attendait dans un très proche avenir, Kieran était éveillé et roulait à travers l'appartement. Il a pris une paire de jeans bleus sur le sol, a glissé sur un t-shirt gris suspendu et a glissé ses pieds dans ses sandales courantes, prêt à sortir de la porte. "Je vais bien dans ce... Oui, ça chauffe jusqu'à 45 aujourd'hui... Maintenant les clés sont... ici, portefeuille... toujours là-dedans. Très bien, alors." Les cinq minutes qu'il courut au magasin de bagel voisin étaient presque sans effort pour l'ancien joueur de hockey. Le problème était qu'il était complètement sans effort. "C'est ce que j'ai. Ah bien, je serai bien demain." Kieran a redressé ses longs cheveux blonds du mieux qu'il pouvait et est entré dans le magasin. Un rapide coup d'œil de son point de vue a révélé à quel point son timing était impeccable comme la rouquine de Nylah Weiss était à l'avant de la ligne, en plaçant une commande. Il se promena avec confiance jusqu'à son compagnon créateur d'art et plaça sa main sur son épaule. "Je crois que vous avez demandé de la compagnie, mademoiselle?"

Kieran O'Connor "If you're not happy with my opinion, you can take off, eh?" N A M E Kieran Vincent O'Connor N I C K N A M E K.O. B I R T H D A T E December 7, 1990 A G E 26 G E N D E R Male S E X U A L I T Y Straight R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single, so if ya know someone, hey, let me know. O C C U P A T I O N Freelance Hockey Analyst H O M E T O W N Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, Canada E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian (Irish with a hint of Norwegian) A P P E A R A N C E Being an ex-athlete, Kieran still looks the part. At 6'3", 220lbs, his body has maintained most of its shape from his playing days, but he has started slacking a little more lately so the muscles aren't as well defined now. Kieran avoided most of the shots to the face, so he still looks presentable, and he'll usually look the part on air, with an assortment of Islander blue suits and ties. He prefers to keep it casual outside of work though, favoring jeans, open shirts with tees underneath and a dark toque (woolen cap). He does wear a pair of dogtags, in honor of his neighbor and childhood friend. H A B I T S Will occasionally lose his train of thought, as a by-product of one too many hits on the ice. Is prone to rants, which is what makes him an attractive on-air personality. Still eats like he's an active athlete, so a lot of food, more than he probably needs. H O B B I E S Working out Watching hockey, both live and on TV Karaoke L I K E S New York Islanders hockey Molson Canadian beer Soccer Alternative Rock of the 2000s Video games D I S L I K E S New York Rangers hockey Poodles Bryan Adams Coffee Very long sliences F E A R S Bears Sharks P E R S O N A L I T Y Growing up in the rural part of Newfoundland has given Kieran an appreciation for taking things slow, but in the end it wasn't really for him. He likes the ability to do any number of things in one day, which was only possible after a long car ride back home. He likes to be out with people, doing things. He had enough hanging out alone back home. Kieran has always been an easygoing person. Growing up constantly surrounded by a team atmosphere, he was usually the calm presence among his fellow athletes. On the ice, he played as ferociously as anyone. He earned his nickname in his freshman season with Bentley after taking down junior enforcer J.P. Smolinski of Robert Morris in his first ever Atlantic Hockey scrap. He will fight for his team tooth and nail, he's that loyal once on board. Since the end of his first career, it's been a tough adjustment for Kieran, but he's managed. His creative side has become more prominent now that he's trying to use it to make a name for himself. Sometimes he can be hard on himself, his vocabulary seemingly lacking behind other writers at his level, his quotes crisper. However, he's going to keep fighting and working at it. No other way to do it in his eyes. H I S T O R Y The kid was as Canadian as a Tim Horton's donut covered in maple syrup. It was clear from an early age. From the second Patrick and Maryse O'Connor brought their youngest to Harbour Grace Arena for his first skate, Kieran showed he had a natural talent for gliding along the ice. As such, his parents invested all their spare cash in letting their blond-haired boy pursue his dream of following Danny Cleary from the island to the NHL. Kieran was good. By the time he was eligible for the QMJHL entry draft, he was far and away the best player in Harbour Grace. However in a town of 3,000, that doesn't amount to much in the big scheme of things. He was picked in the 12th round by Charlottetown, attended one training camp and was cut soon after. Discouraged, he kept plugging away on the Rock, hoping to get noticed by someone, until late in his senior year at high school, he was offered a scholarship to Bentley University in Waltham, Massachusetts. NCAA Hockey was in the cards. He was unknown to most of his teammates until the fight against Smolinski earned his moniker. He plugged away at Bentley, making the All-Atlantic team in his final season as he earned a Communications degree. This caught the eye of the New York Islanders, who signed him to an entry league deal and sent him to the third-tier ECHL team in Independence, Missouri. However, tragedy struck in his fourth game with the Mavericks as he was driven head-first into the boards by Idaho's Andrew Carroll. He felt all right, but a CAT scan a couple days later showed a problem with his C1 vertabrae. The doctors told Kieran the hit should have paralyzed him, and next time he likely wouldn't be as lucky. Devastated, Kieran announced his retirement that October. The Islanders organization was shocked, but looked after the newly-retired prospect. They offered him a job with the website, writing articles on the team, and Kieran did well for the season he was there, but his contract wasn't renewed. He stayed in Brooklyn though, picking up local writing jobs in Brooklyn in the hopes that eventually he would land something more stable and lucrative, possibly with a network. It's not the dream he started with but it's one he hopes is more achievable, lest he had back to Newfoundland with nothing to show for all those youth trophies he obtained. P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S ♫ "Hey, we're running man. Newsroom, pathways, however, we're running together." Kieran met Phil when he was just starting down the journalist path, as the two of them attended a headline workshop held at NYU. Put in the same group, the two bonded over their fitness regimens and drive to succeed in the business. Phil has put Kieran in touch with most of the people in his current gang, and he's forever grateful to him for making sure he wasn't frozen in isolation. O L I V I A . B I S H O P ⚜ "You're good Liv, but I don't think you've played the game of Drink like I have." Kieran has gotten to know Olivia via Phil and Nylah, but hasn't hung out as much with the financial analyst. He has seen her go at parties, and he's impressed with her ability to put away beverages and remain standing. They could be something there, but he's waiting for Olivia to make a move to push the acquaintanceship up to the next level. T H U Y . P H A M {⚜} "So hey, um, ya know, I've been looking at getting a tattoo or two..." Over the course of his time in New York, Kieran has gotten to know Cici enough to use her middle name, but isn't sure if he's on a nickname basis with her yet. He's talked to her a few times at parties, but inevitably her smoke break would end the conversation. He's also fond of the Vietnamese restaurant where she works, given that the mango stirfry and beef pho satisfy a lot of what he looks for in food. There's a fair amount he likes about knowing Cici, enough to think that they can get on that nickname basis on both ends at some point. N Y L A H . W E I S S ♫ "No, no, no. The Royal Concept totally syncs up with my dripping faucet!" If you had told "University Kieran" someone like Nylah would be one of his best friends, he wouldn't have believed it. However, the chance script punching job he accepted for some extra spending money proved extremely beneficial on multiple fronts. Nylah took a shine to him and while the two spend a lot of their early meetings discussing the play, it blossomed soon after their interests expanded. From watching the World Cup to lazy Sundays listening to records and working on various writings, to the runs around Central Park, Nylah has made Kieran's life in New York so much more enjoyable. Almost to the point where he wonders where else they can go... R U I . R O S A S {☮} "Yeah, Messi is good, but he's gotta get Argentina some hardware." Rui didn't seem like he would become friends, but a chance conversation at a social event, regarding the Messi vs. Ronaldo debate solidified a solid relationship based on the dislike of the Portuguese midfielder. Kieran really enjoys being able to discus soccer with Rui, even if he hasn't let the Brazilian hear the end of the 7-1 drubbing in 2016. He's even gotten him to the point where he's willing to accept hockey as a sport with merits, a big victory in his eyes.

Rosas Situation: L'appartement de Rui. Interagir avec : → Phillip (texte) Rui était une personne du matin. Peut-être était-ce le fait que d'autres personnes étaient généralement trop fatiguées pour le déranger, ou que le petit déjeuner était son repas préféré, et cela a certainement aidé que son emploi du temps tendait à être léger, mais il s'est trouvé sorti du lit avec une vigueur et un enthousiasme qui avait l'habitude de déranger ses compagnons de maison. Il n'avait pas de colocataires maintenant, Dieu merci. Son appartement était le sien: confortable, bien que studio, il était nu mais pour l'essentiel. C'était aussi, comme on pouvait s'y attendre, dans un ordre quasi-méticuleux. Ses vêtements de gym suspendus, préparés, sur un rail de vêtements, cloisonnés de ses vêtements de l'après-midi et de soirée. Routine dicta qu'il serait dans ces vêtements dans deux minutes et dehors pour son jogging dans cinq - quarante minutes plus tard, il retour, douche et hydratant. Mais parfois, il vérifiait son courriel, et ce matin-là, une décision si malheureuse fut prise : Boîte de réception::Dirk_Vogtz@NYU.edu vous a inscrit pour présenter votre jmp 20/04 @ georgia, espérons que vous n'avez pas l'esprit. devrait être une bonne pratique pour l'été. D. Le rôle de l'Organisation des Nations Unies dans le domaine de l'éducation et de la formation tout au long de la vie Caralho! L'intensité de son regard n'a pas percé un trou à travers l'écran de l'ordinateur portable. Les expletives sont devenues plus violentes: le message est resté et il semblait resplendir. Il y eut une pause, un grognement désespéré suivi, et puis, avec la fluence lyrique de quelqu'un qui avait passé trop de la dernière décennie dans les salles de conférence, il tapa rapidement une réponse. Courriel::Dirk_Vogtz@NYU.edu Bonjour Dirk, Bonne nouvelle. J'attends ça avec impatience. Laissez-moi y mettre un peu de vernis, et je vais tomber avec le produit à une certaine heure la semaine prochaine. Parlez-en en détail, aussi. C'est gentil. Rui Rosas. Cette fois-là, il jura à haute voix; sa tête coula dans ses mains. La vérité, c'est que son travail sur le marché n'était pas encore terminé. En fait, il ne l'avait pas touché depuis décembre. Dieu sait ce qu'il avait fait à la place - les derniers mois ont été flous. La barbarie des considérations a été offerte à cela, encore. Au lieu de cela, son esprit courut avec l'imagination de la déception de son père. Le sentiment soudain de nausée qui l'a provoqué a forcé son regard vers le haut et hors de ses bras. Avec une intention furieuse, il commença à taper. Il ne pouvait pas être un échec. Le buzz de son téléphone a été ignoré au début, et au second. C'est avec le troisième buzz qu'il s'est rendu. Ses doigts ont glissé sur l'écran pour construire une maison, déverrouillant le téléphone. Son visage est tombé alors qu'il scannait les messages. Il avait complètement oublié l'anniversaire de Phillips - et la fête. Les yeux rigolant alors qu'il considérait ses options, une main a automatiquement commencé à tirer ses cheveux. Il ne pouvait absolument pas l'abandonner à ce stade tardif - Dieu savait qu'il l'avait fait trop récemment - donc quand il a décidé que c'était en fait ce qu'il allait faire, il a formulé le message aussi diplomatiquement que possible. En d'autres termes, il a menti. Salut, mec. Joyeux anniversaire! Juste un avertissement à l'avance je pourrais être un peu en retard ce soir. Il y a des choses uni qui se passent et je ne sais pas à quelle heure je serai capable de m'en sortir. J'irai dès que j'aurai fini! Assure-toi que personne ne vole la vanité. Sauve-moi de devoir me changer!;) Le bouton d'envoi a été frappé avec la moindre teinte de culpabilité. Il ne pouvait pas continuer à faire ça à ses amis.

Rui Domingo Rosas "Yes. I'm busy. Sorry." N A M E Rui Domingo Rosas N I C K N A M E N/a B I R T H D A T E 11/07/1990 A G E 26 G E N D E R Male S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single O C C U P A T I O N Fourth year PhD Candidate, NYU School of Economics. His thesis is entitled, “Three Essays on the Application of Supervised Learning Techniques to the Economics of High-skill Immigration”. He is currently at work on his Job Market paper, entitled: “Enough’s enough: Ethnic Capital Agglomerations and Diminishing Marginal Returns.” H O M E T O W N Recife, Pernambuco, Brazil. E T H N I C I T Y Pardo. A P P E A R A N C E Striving for the conventional aesthetic of the Brazilian Bourgeoisie, the discipline of Rui’s appearance reflects that of his broader personality. Each morning his body - lean and rippling with a light muscle - is stuffed into a set of undersized gym clothes and taken for a jog around the block. The shower following that is cold; the intent, he claims, is to seal his pores and ensuring his skin’s longevity. With practiced precision, he will proceed to trim his facial hair into a neat anchor. His hair, otherwise a mass of tight, black curls descending to his upper spine when wet, is swept back and out of his face with a little product. Following this, he will moisturize; rubbing a thick, white salve into his caramel skin for the first of two times that day. This ritual compliments a rich genetic predisposition. He stands at 6’2’’. His face is long, all angles and jawline and lacking the slightest blemish. He would be altogether quite handsome if not for the seriousness etched into his features: small lips are made smaller by their routine purse-ing, bushy eyebrows arch down above a set of piercing brown-black eyes. His face, lit up with thoughtfulness and intelligence during conversation, relaxes into an otherwise severe expression when left to its own devices. His recent break-up has led to a depreciation in his appearance. His beard is somewhat more outgrown than it once was; the exactness of the cut has evaporated. He has allowed his hair to grow out some amount, and it takes on a more mane-like appearance. The changes aren’t drastic, and he retains much of his former style; though, to close friends, even the slightest deviation from the convention he’d held since starting college, is apparent. Even if difficult to place, he looks different. H A B I T S When mulling over a problem, or caught in deep thought, his hand - and always his right one - will reach up to hold a bunch of his hair, clasping with a tightness that strains the roots. When nervous, he will roll the his thumbnail along the skin of his middle and pointing finger in an ostensible effort to pick it off. He has in past times, when contained with stress, peeled the skin right off the nubs of his fingers - entirely unconsciously. He catches himself looking into every reflective surface without fail. H O B B I E S Hanging out with friends Genealogy Programming L I K E S Puzzles and problem solving Current affairs - more-so arguing, if he is honest Korean art-house cinema. Cinema, in general Spanish football Classical music D I S L I K E S American Sports Feeling as if he’s wasted his time Cleaning data Rollercoasters Uncertainty Tickles F E A R S Enclosed spaces Peaking P E R S O N A L I T Y Rui is introverted and prone to prolonged periods of social detachment. When enthused about a social situation he might be mistaken for an extrovert. He enjoys the company of others; that has never been a problem. But, afterwards, there is always a need to retreat, to recuperate from the experience; social situations are overwhelming. Following major social events, it is not unusual for him to go dark for a couple of days at a time; he will explain away such absences with the mere note that he was ‘thinking’, as if it was obvious what that entailed. In conversation, he bristles with an obvious intelligence and pace of thought - though, this sharpness has never extended to his sense of wit and he has been known for his spectacularly unfunny attempts at ripostes. His background is that of fundamentalist-Protestantism. However, he has distanced himself from the rituals, if not quite the opinions, of his faith since coming to America. Disciplined and conservative in his approach to life, he has loosened up over the last number of years; the last to engage in acts of social excess, he remains open to a drink, or three, with friends. On occasion, he will lose himself among the exuberance of the crowd - though, he never ceases to feel shame the morning afterwards; it was never what he was in NY to do. Whilst posing a serious disposition, he retains a genuine good nature: always willing to lend a hand, or an ear, as required, it has allowed him to inject himself into groups of friends that are much more plainly fun. However, his recent break-up has caused him to become more withdrawn from those around him. Whilst able to muster the enthusiasm to appear sociable as required, he finds himself making an increasing amount of excuses to avoid social situations and just sit at home. Being in fourth year, this has been easy to justify: he is, apparently, quite busy preparing for the job market. H I S T O R Y “Life is neither a pleasure nor a sorrow; it is a serious affair with which we are charged, and towards which our duty is to acquit ourselves as well as possible.” It is undeniably odd to find such a message scribbled inside your thirteenth birthday card - undeniably more so to find it replace regular notions such as “happy birthday!” or “good luck, son!”. That, nevertheless, was what Rui found scribbled inside his thirteenth birthday card. It has been used as the guide to his upbringing: from an early age he was thought that a man must necessarily be able to justify oneself in front of god, his country, and himself - in that order. To exist otherwise, was to have failed in this life. The prime provocateur of this attitude was Rui's father. A professor of mathematics at the municipal university, he had made contributions to abstract algebra significant enough to earn him tenure during the late 1980s, but thereafter generated little of academic merit. Rui’s mother was the maid his father fell in love with and married; though, their marriage overlapped suspiciously with her pregnancy. An only child, his upbringing was the more-or-less conventional one awarded to those of Brazilian society’s upper crust. He attended a private school, where the seriousness the father imparted on the child was little help in gaining friends, and generally grew up with plenty among the most dizzying extents of want. Excelling academically - if with a sense of strictness and conceit that earned him concern from teachers - he graduated high school summa cum laude. Accepted into NYU, it was an immediately disorientating experience: exposed to peers that rivaled, if not outright surpassed, his intellect, he was forced into an re-evaluation of the pretension that dominated his previous attitude towards education. After that, he matured rapidly; learning to value those around him, shelve derision, and open himself up to social opportunity. Whilst the discipline of attitude and action remained, he learned to relax it when it came to others. He graduated - majoring in Statistics, with a minor in History - a vastly different person: whilst ‘fun’ would be misleading, he had probably saved himself from the label: ‘not-fun’. Since, he has pursued a PhD in Economics at NYU. In 2013, he began dating a woman from his cohort. However, at the beginning of the year he discovered that she had been cheating on him, and they broke if off. His friends are aware that his relationship had ended, though Rui has never divulged the cause. Whilst he has claimed to be over here, and does well mustering that piece of theater on the occasion she enters conversation, he isn’t; not in the slightest. Legend: ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S ☮ "Maybe next time, man. Sorry." Though sometimes he can’t help but almost feel like a project, Rui has never not appreciated Philip's efforts to include him. Philip will always be the one insisting the longest that Rui attend an event, or hang out with him that evening, and from time-to-time offers an ear that has been consistently rebuffed. Even if it hasn’t brought the pair much closer, Rui insisting on his emotional distance, it has helped him become more outgoing. O L I V I A . B I S H O P ☮ "Woo, Oliviaaa!" Whilst a shared alma mater led to their paths crossing on more than one occasion, it was during the internship they shared that Rui got to really know Olivia. The pair have since built on the foundations of that relationship to become friends; though, Rui finds her to be a riot, he figures that his inhibitions around wild nights and binge drinking have stopped them from making inroads much beyond a few laughs and good conversation. T H U Y . P H A M ☯ "Ugh." Rui and Cici have never been close; as he tells it, Cici just never grew up. Most of the time, he will ensure a safe distance from her antics. Her antics being that obnoxious drinking, smoking, texting, snapping, existing. Did he mention snapping? Rui had to block her after all the spam he'd ended up receiving. But, at the same time, he doesn't outright dislike her; Cici can be fun sometimes - that sometimes being the small, well-regulated, well-separated doses he can manage her in. And, usually, that's after more copious doses of something else. N Y L A H . W E I S S ⚜/☮ "I prefer not to think." The initial impression Rui had gathered, and held for years, was that of an airhead with wasted potential enough to drown in. Figuring her no different to any other trust-fund kid, he inevitably avoided her; he just didn’t have the sort of time for those people in his life. That was until one miserable afternoon - Rui enough into a bottle of spirits to begin to rival the depths of his recent heartbreak; the entire point, of course - he found her sat beside him. It was to be start of a rather successful partnership, if one he found at first somewhat embarrassing and later, confusing. Whilst for the most part the pair are routinely silent, their peculiar relationship has, on occasion, posed gleams of insight that have driven Rui to a more positive evaluation of Nylah. Still unsure as to whether he considers Nylah to be a friend, or a bad habit, or some mixture of both, he finds that he nonetheless enjoys her company. K I E R A N . O C O N N O R ☮ "Cool incarnate." Even Rui finds himself baffled by just how well he and Kieran get on together. The other man is most things that Rui is just not with his outgoing disposition and general excitability. The pair bonded over European football - in particular their shared and appreciable disdain for Ronaldo, or at least his claims to be ‘the best’ - but found themselves broaching other subjects within time. As of late, Kieran has been insistent that Rui attend a hockey game with him. That’s a sport that Rui knows not the slightest about - ‘people use sticks, and more often than not someone get’s punched’ being about it - but a promise to tag along sometime was eventually extracted.

Lieu: Central Perk's Coffeehouse Interagir avec: Nylah par texte, Cecilia en personne, Kieran par texte, Rui par texte Le téléphone de Phillip a crié et crié alors qu'il était assis sur le dessus de son coffre, attendant que Cecilia fasse connaître sa présence devant lui. Il laissa sortir un soupir doux alors qu'il sautait de son coffre et marchait à l'intérieur, assis à sa table familière et regarda son téléphone et vit un texte de Cecilia. Bien sûr, Phillip étant Phillip, il n'a pas eu la peine de répondre puisque son message était bien connu qu'elle était en route. Pas le sens de lui envoyer un texto, vraiment. Ses yeux regardaient à l'extérieur de la fenêtre qu'il était assis à côté et son téléphone criait à nouveau - c'était Nylah. Il savait qu'elle serait un peu fâchée contre lui d'avoir renfloué et de ne pas lui en parler plus tôt. Aux : Nylah C'est vrai. Je vous le ferai savoir à l'avance. Désolé encore et très bien! Je ne peux pas attendre de te voir. :) Phillip a envoyé le message dès que Cecilia chantait un joyeux anniversaire et se dirigeait vers lui. Quand elle l'a embrassé sur sa joue, il n'a pas pu s'empêcher de laisser un doux chanfrein et rougir. Mais en raison de son teint de peau, n'importe qui pouvait à peine dire quand il rougissait ou pas. "J'ai peut-être juste mon habituel Muffin au pain de banane et Mocha Frappe. Tu me connais." Phillip a dit tout comme son téléphone a crié à nouveau. "Comment ça va?" Phillip a demandé comme s'ils ne s'étaient pas vus depuis longtemps. Mais avant que Cecilia ne lui réponde, il a tapé une réponse à la petite conversation de groupe. Aux : Toute la bande Je suis à la recherche d'un concours de costumes! Je vais certainement devenir Envy. J'ai déjà un costume et je ne le reprends pas! Frère avec un budget, yo. C'est vrai. Aussi, Keiran, je ne sais pas comment répondre à votre question. :( Il a envoyé le message puis un autre est venu comme il est venu de "Les frères". Aux : Les frères C'est vrai. À : Rui Mec, tu ferais mieux d'être à ma fête. Encore une fois, Phillip a envoyé ces messages, puis a regardé à Cecilia. "Désolé. Le gang." Phillip a dit qu'un serveur était venu demander leur ordre. Il avait donné le sien tout comme le serveur se retourna vers Cecilia. Chaque fois que le serveur devait s'en aller, son attention se retournait vers la femelle présente devant elle et souriait un peu. "Alors, vous savez qu'il y a une parade de Saint Patrick qui se passe juste quelques heures avant ma fête. Voudriez-vous y aller?" Phillip lui a demandé si elle voulait vraiment y aller ou non.

"I do not ask questions, I make statements." N A M E Phillip Jeffery Daniels. N I C K N A M E Phillip likes to be called Phil by people that are really close to him. He'll only accept Phil and nothing else from anyone. He doesn't like have cutesy nicknames thrown his way. B I R T H D A T E March 17, 1991. A G E Twenty-six. G E N D E R Male. S E X U A L I T Y Bisexual though leans towards females much more than males. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Recently single. O C C U P A T I O N Full time college student, studying Journalism at NYU. H O M E T O W N Biloxi, Mississippi. E T H N I C I T Y African American. A P P E A R A N C E Phillip is the personification of tall, dark and handsome to some people. He stands about six foot one and weighs one-hundred and sixty-six of pure muscle due to working out and such. Phillip has a brown texture color to his skin complexion, which match with his eyes color though they take on a much darker brown color. He use to be a bit on the chubbier side whenever he was younger but toned up once he hit high school and started playing sports. His hair is black and he likes to keep it trimmed and edged up to perfection. Phillip style of dress is really casual as he usually wears a t-shirt and jeans along with Vans or some type of shoe and calls it a day. Other days and if he's really feeling it, he'll dress himself up in a suit. Phillip currently doesn't have any tattoos but would really like to have at least one before he is thirty years of age though he does have his earlobes pierced and usually keeps a diamond stub in them. H A B I T S Phillip is the type of person that likes to stay in shape and doesn't everything within his ability to make sure that he doesn't skip a day of exercising. He cannot start his day without going for a jog and working out, or something. Being stressed is a feeling that Phillip cannot stand to be in, for when he is stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take at least three deep breaths. To call Phillip a person that dislikes germs is an absolute understatement. Phillip washes and sanitizes his hands after he uses the restroom, coughs, sneezes and if he touches anyone else. Decision making takes a little bit longer when it comes to him. If he needs to make a decision, he'll think about it for a little bit than the average person. • Cannot start his day without working out or going for a jog • When he's stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take about three deep breaths • Washes and sanitizes his hands often • Takes a little bit of time before making a decision on things H O B B I E S Phillip may not seem like the person that does most of his hobbies but he has to do something within his spare time. He likes to go outside on cloudy days and just sit down to stare up at the sky and watch the clouds as they drift by. It may seem weird but it is something that he does and he cannot help it. Along with that, he'll write down his thoughts within his journal and just feel much better after he is done writing. Phillip is a very athletic male and it really shows within his body and stature but he necessarily doesn't let that define him. Along with that, he does a little bit of archery here and there along with playing a few video games. • Cloud Watching • Writing in his journal • Archery • Video Games L I K E S • Working Out • Photography • NYU • Starbuck's • Social Media {Has a Twitter, Instagram and SnapChat} • Friendly, Social Gatherings D I S L I K E S • Junk Food • Dramatic People • Reality TV Shows • Watching Horror movies alone • Severe Thunderstorms F E A R S • Commitment • Any type of abuse again P E R S O N A L I T Y When one first looks at Phillip, they think that he is someone you can easily pushover but he is the complete opposite. He is very bold and will stand his ground against anyone, no matter who you are. Phillip doesn’t like it when people bully others so he’ll definitely step in and defend anyone without thinking about the consequences first. Even though he has such a bold personality on one side, he can also be very distant especially if you said something wrong towards him. He doesn’t really like to talk out his problems with other people but instead writes them out in a journal. He hates being distant and times but most people don’t even know that he is distant, considering his other personality traits. If there was a trophy to hand out for being the biggest flirt then Phillip would definitely get that honor as he’s been flirting ever since he was in diapers. Phillip loves flirting with guys and girls as it’s the possibility and adrenaline aspect of it that makes him want to do it more. Plus, he is a terrific person to cuddle with. H I S T O R Y Phillip grew up in a middle class family, being the third oldest child to two working parents. Phillip's older brother was always the one left in charge of them whenever they were home alone so his older brother had to learn how to grow up fast. It was when Phillip was about seven years of age when his life changed forever. His mother and father had taken his little sister and second to oldest brother out, leaving him and his eldest home alone. Everything was going fine until "it" happened. Phillip was changed and felt like something had been taken away from him and something had been, his pride. Since that day, he never told anyone since his eldest brother did threaten him. He lived his life in fear that it was going to happen again and again and eventually, he ran away from home but was found three nights later. Phillip became a person he thought he never see himself as. He became defiant and very rebellious, talking back to anyone and everyone, always wanting the last word. His parents couldn't put up with him anymore and they shipped him off to live with his grandmother in Arkansas. There, he joined a gang, started committing crimes such as thievery, dealing drugs and even fighting. He was caught by the police one time and was thrown in a local juvenile center at the age of fourteen. He had learned many rights and wrongs while in the center and wanted to turn his life around. He went up to his counselor in the center and talked to her everyday and sometimes all day. He had a lot to get off of his chest on most days. At the age of sixteen, he was released from the center and turned his life around. He got out of the gang lifestyle and went to a local public school, excelling in all of his classes with A's and B's. His teachers always told him that he could be whatever he wanted to be and he took those words of encouragement and ran with it. Graduating in the top 50 in his class, Phillip went to college in Tennessee and majored in Psychology. He only went for one semester though as he returned home to his parents, who were very happy with the success in his life and even happy to see him. Phillip's eldest was proud, too and even apologized for what he did several years ago. Being a grown up about it, Phillip accepted his apology but then punched him square in the nose. After that display, he packed up his things and took the first flight out to New York so that he could reinvent himself and go back to school but focusing on a different area of critique. He loves being in New York and it shows since he did grow up in the South all his life. Phillip also loves the small things that the fabulous city has to offer and wouldn't go back towards the South anytime soon. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies O L I V I A . B I S H O P {☮} "So, we can Netflix but no chill. We can drink though." Phillip and Olivia have a somewhat odd friendship. What started off as a night of binge watching television shows and movies on Netflix turned into nights of drinking to the point where Olivia would be too drunk to do anything else for the night. Being the good guy that he is, Phillip always leaves after making sure she was comfortable on her couch and would never take advantage of her. They are friends, especially if one of them needs to get drunk for the day or night. T H U Y . P H A M {♫} "Who would've thought that me and you would be so close?" When Phillip befriended Thuy via social media, it was no doubt that they became instant friends. Their friendship started small and simple but grew into a much stronger bond as time went on. When they met for the first time, it seem that these two were very much inseparable towards one another and is still that way whenever they are around each other. Granted, these two have had some very distasteful arguments towards one another but that doesn't define the deepening truth of their friendship. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "So, want to go for another run?" Ah, these two are always running alongside each other every chance they get. Even though whenever they are side by side, running or doing whatever else, there is very little conversation between the duo. Phillip will always be there for Nylah though, if she ever needs him. He has made that known many, many times before. R U I . R O S A S {☮} "Dude, you really need to lighten up just a little bit." Phillip has tried time and time again to get Rui to open up, not only towards him but towards the group of friends, as well. He doesn't understand why Rui is the way he is but hopes to find out sometime sooner rather than later. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {♫} "Workout buddy right here!" Phillip and Kieran can be seen working out from time to time together but that's not the only thing that brings them closer towards one another. They both have a similar desire in Journalism, in some way, shape or form and are always bonding over that, too. They are close friends in Phillip's eyes but he wouldn't trade Kieran for nothing else in this world.

Localisation: Coffeehouse Interagir avec: → Phil (Personne) → Les filles (Texte) Quand Phillip a dit ce qu'il allait avoir, Thuy a décidé que ça sonnait comme un bon ordre, et elle aurait la même chose. "Bon choix. J'aurai la même chose!" Elle s'est excusée de remettre son menu et le serveur de venir les aider. Après tant d'années dans le commerce de la nourriture, elle n'était pas si difficile d'attendre le personnel, parce qu'elle savait qu'ils avaient des centaines de choses à faire entre prendre de nouvelles commandes. Heureusement, la cafétéria n'était pas si occupée qu'ils n'avaient pas trop à faire. Cependant, l'idée de faire des boissons complexes et de nettoyer d'énormes machines a fait tourner la tête de Thuy. Comme Phil a demandé comment elle était la fille s'est séparée les lèvres pour parler, mais a décidé d'attendre jusqu'à ce qu'il ait fini d'envoyer des SMS. Elle avait oublié que son téléphone était silencieux dans sa poche. La fille ne portait jamais de sac à main, et ses poches étaient souvent remplies d'un paquet de cigarettes, d'un briquet, de son téléphone et d'une étrange masse d'argent. Parfois sa carte d'identité, quand elle s'en est souvenue. En ramasseant son téléphone, elle a lu les messages et les notifications et a répondu à ce qu'elle jugeait nécessaire. Peut-être faire de la luxure pour que je puisse m'habiller comme un ho. LOL (: Pas encore sûr. Elle a envoyé le texte avec un petit rire comme Philip l'a expliqué lui-même. "Pas de soucis, je l'ai oublié moi-même." Elle a balancé son téléphone devant lui pour montrer qu'elle avait le même ordre du jour en réponse au gang. "J'ai été bon quand même, tu connais le même vieux. Je m'enfuis pour rien du tout. Mourir pour sortir de la maison de mes parents. C'est une traînée. Mais je ne suis pas trop dérangé à ce sujet." Elle a poursuivi : « Je continue d'avoir ce rêve bizarre cependant, que je suis sur un vol et la personne derrière moi met leur pied de cul méchante dehors, et l'hôtesse vient et l'arrache et le met dans mes genoux. Je ne sais pas si c'est juste tous ces films effrayants que je regarde ou ça veut dire quelque chose de plus profond." Elle s'est serrée, agrippant une cravate de cheveux de son poignet et attachant ses boucles blondes dans un pain lâche sur le dos de sa tête. Le serveur est venu et a pris leur ordre correspondant. Un sourire à travers les lèvres du garçon d'anniversaire était une bonne vue à voir. Il l'a interrogée sur la parade et elle ne pouvait pas dire non. "Um, Duh. Oui!" Elle s'est excusée. "Ce serait beaucoup de plaisir." Elle a hurlé, car leur nourriture est venue rapidement et efficacement. En prenant une grosse morsure de son muffin, elle essuya des miettes de ses lèvres, de sa chemise et de tout autre endroit où ils voyageaient.

Tʜᴜʏ Cᴇᴄɪʟɪᴀ Pʜᴀᴍ "Won't hesitate to go straight to your head like a concussion. " N A M E Thuy Cecilia Pham. N I C K N A M E Cici. Cecelia is her middle name (given to her by her mother) that she prefers to go by. She prefers this because for the most part people don't know how to pronounce her first name. She doesn't mind her friends calling her by her real name, but it usually means something serious is going down or about to go down. She sometimes think is it a good homage to her mother to keep the middle name active as well- which her father hates. B I R T H D A T E June, 9th. 1992. A G E Twenty Four. G E N D E R Female. S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. O C C U P A T I O N Waitress at her father's restaurant. H O M E T O W N Fresno, California. USA. New York City's unofficial "Little Saigon" is where she stays now. E T H N I C I T Y French Vietnamese A P P E A R A N C E Despite her ethnicity, Cecelia has bleached and re-bleached her natural black hair to a very platinum blonde. She has brown eyes, but prefers to wear a light blue/grey contact to cover up. Her skin tone is on the lighter spectrum but during the summer she can get a nice brown tone. She is very petite, standing at barely five feet tall and weighing around ninety seven pounds. Her constant chain smoking doesn't help her lack of appetite and belittlement from her father to "gain some weight" Cecelia's clothing style is very urban and street and very comfortable. Though she can appreciate fashion she would rather be curled up in sweats and tee shirt than an outfit costing more than week's worth of paycheck. She loves bright colors, pinks and teals but often can be seen adorning black as well. Piercings are everywhere on Cecelia's body. Most of which were done by herself in her bathroom of her basement. Some of them have been healed over by now, but she can be often seen with her lips, nose, and ears covered in jewelry. Along with piercings she has over 20 tattoos ranging in sizes, value, and professionalism. One was done in jail that she is particularly proud of, and likes to say she was in murder- despite it being for a fifth act of public intoxication. H A B I T S ▸ Leaving lighters in her friends cars, homes, purses, etc. ▸ Reading her horoscope for her and her friends online- daily. ▸ Chewing her nails down until they bleed when she's upset. H O B B I E S ▸ Smoking, drinking, and partying. ▸ Watching really bad horror movies on Netflix. ▸ Snapchatting her friends pictures of her random body parts. L I K E S ▸ Naps. ▸ When people actually want to talk on the phone. ▸ Hip hop and rap music- the louder the better. ▸ Tattoos and piercings. ▸ Shopping online. D I S L I K E S ▸ Working at her father's restaurant. ▸ Living at home still. ▸ Being lectured by her family members. ▸ Texting for more than a few minutes. ▸ Long trips on the subway. F E A R S ▸ Never finding someone to start a life with. ▸ Being abandoned. P E R S O N A L I T Y Cecelia can sometimes be a hard person to read. She can appear cold and sometimes downright mean, her face in a constant state of "bitch" but as you get to talking to her, you'll quickly realize she is very down to Earth and just wants to have a good time. She can be very talkative to people she is close to, she isn't afraid to say exactly how she feels about a situation; so she usually one of the first people come to when they need a reality check in the scheme of things. Cici picks fights and plays dirty when she needs to. She is a ticking time bomb inside a teddy bear. When at work and at home, the girl has a very more traditional position. A very complete opposite of the independent girl, she would be found grabbing beers for men, cooking, cleaning and being told to "come a little closer here baby" In most places, Cici would be swinging- but in these two places specifically she lets a lot of her morals and views get tucked under the rug. She knows it would cause a lot more problems if she were herself around these locations. H I S T O R Y Cecelia is the middle child, born to Thien and Simone Pham. She has one older sister (26) and one younger half brother (10). Thien and Simone met in college in California. Thien an American Vietnamese man and Simone a pretty little foreign exchange girl from France. The two had a whirlwind semester of college together, falling in love and having their first child. The two maintained a long distance relationship for about three years. Thien worked like crazy to bring her to America as often as possible, sending her home what always seemed like a pregnancy. Eventually this constant battle grew tiring and when Cecelia was born- Simone decided this was going to be the last trip back. "It's not you, it's me" she said, her voice low as Cecelia and her older sister had their heads pressed to their door as they listened to their parents fight. That was the last they heard from their mother. Thien was heartbroken but not too damaged to find himself on a dating website. That was when he fell in love once more- this time with a Vietnamese woman. She told Thien that she had just inherited her family's restaurant and that if he came across the country to New York that she would bless him with a new wife and a son. Both blessings were filled, and the two sisters now in their teens along with their dad found themselves in the bustling city of New York taking on a restaurant and intertwining into a new family. Cecelia has adjusted well to the new lifestyle, her sister has long since moved back to California and Cici doubts that she would take her sister's path but would like to get out of her father and step mother's house as soon as she can possibly get. She had been offered by several of her friends to stay with them but has not taken them up on the offer yet. For now she works full time at the restaurant and when she isn't working she is having the time of her life with her circle of friends that she considers her family. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S {♫} "Philly cheese steak, you are delicious but you make my tummy hurt." Without a doubt these two have chemistry, Phillip and Cecelia became friends after adding one another on Facebook (they had several mutual friends) a few years ago. The two spent most of the beginning of their friendship as just online friends, exchanging photos, phone calls, and stories late into the night. Eventually the two finally met up and found that they were exactly as they were online- and became even closer. Sometimes they get into very loud and out right dirty arguments; but they care for one another through and through. O L I V I A . B I S H O P {♫} "Olivayou! Get it? It's like I love you, but your name!" Californiaaaaa girls they're unforgettable. Olivia and Cecelia have been best friends ever since they found out they were both from the golden state. These two are known to cause a whirlwind wherever they go, partying hard, and not looking back but they aren't all just fun and games. Cecelia trusts Olivia with everything and is always the first one she goes to when she needs to vent or just escape for awhile. Cici was around for the breakup, and told Olivia that if she ever sees the guy she will not hesitate to stab him. Multiple times. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "I'm jealous of you Nylah, you're perfect. Both knowing how to have a good time, Nylah and Cecelia have been pretty good friends ever since they have known one another. They both love to tease, sass, and fool around with one another- though sometimes a joke goes a bit too far and they end up not speaking for a few days. Cici would tell Nylah often that she was jealous of who she is as a person, and in a way looks up to her. They love spoiling one another going out to eat at new places and going for coffee every once in awhile as well. R U I . R O S A S {☯} "Come on Rui, have some fun for once! Huh? Huh? Huh?" These two should be separated during most events. Rui finds her to be distracting and immature most of the time. Cecelia finds him to be stiff and boring most of the time. Though they are complete opposites, these two have never been enemies, and Cici actually finds it fun to poke and prod at Rui, trying to find ways to drive him crazy. She once sent snap chats of her butt to him for an entire week before he blocked her from the application completely. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {⚜} "You're a cute one Mr. Kieran." Only meeting one another here and there through parties and events between the six friends, Kieran is someone Cecelia knows the least about. She finds him attractive, which doesn't separate her from most women. Though nothing more than just a pretty face so far. She also noticed him at her dad's restaurant once where he proceeded to eat tons and tons of food, so she knows he has good pallet for good food. Cici hopes that they can get to know one another better as time goes by- as they might have more in common than they thought.

Olivia Bishop Situation: Son appartement Interagir avec: Phillip, Cece, Rui, Nylah S'éveillant de son sommeil provoqué par l'alcool, Olivia s'est réveillée sur son lit, toujours habillée des vêtements qu'elle portait la nuit dernière. La dernière chose dont elle se souvenait, c'était de rentrer du travail et d'ouvrir le frigo. Après ça, tout était noir. D'après l'assortiment de bouteilles sur sa table de nuit, elle semblait s'être un peu occupée. Parce qu'elle savait qu'elle allait boire cette nuit-là, elle s'était bien hydratée et avait évité une gueule de bois tueuse, ce qui était bien vu aujourd'hui était un jour assez important pour son bon ami, Phillip. Son téléphone a crié avec un texto, venant de l'homme du jour, Phillip. Elle regarda le plafond, clignotant deux fois et se retrouvant l'esprit avant qu'elle ne se retourne pour vérifier son téléphone. Un pouce rapide du bouton de la maison et elle était dedans, le message juste en face de ses grands yeux bruns. Un sourire rapide s'est clignoté sur son visage avant qu'elle ne commence à penser à une réponse. Elle dormait, tapant dans les premiers mots avant de taper trois fois la « pépite de poulet » pour l'aider à réfléchir. Elle a enfin trouvé les mots qu'elle recherchait. Aux : Phillip "J'ai fait mon pré-jeu à boire la nuit dernière LOL. Je serai à ta fête. Bien que, que je sois ivre ou tout simplement ol' allé par le ned de lui est entièrement en l'air ;)" Elle devait se rafraîchir pour la journée, et découvrir ce qu'elle allait porter ce soir pour l'anniversaire de Phillip. Et donc elle est sortie du lit, d'une manière que seule Olivia pouvait gérer après une nuit de frat bro-level buvant. Entrer dans la salle de bain, exhaler fort et une légère malédiction pouvait être entendue alors qu'elle se préparait à la journée qui l'attendait. Elle n'a pas apporté son téléphone avec elle alors qu'elle s'occupait d'elle-même, laissant ses textes non lus pour le moment. Quarante-cinq minutes plus tard, Olivia est sortie prête à affronter la journée devant elle. Habillée d'une chemise blanche et d'un pantalon noir slim fit, elle se dirigea vers son téléphone qui venait de s'allumer avec des signes d'un texto. Le premier texte auquel elle a décidé de répondre était celui de la charmante Nylah Weiss. Olivia était à peu près gloutonnée, ce qui était bien puisque cela signifie qu'elle devait porter quelque chose qui convenait à son archétype. Étant donné ses habitudes de consommation, c'était tout à fait approprié. Aux : Les épicuriens perpétuels "Vous l'avez appelé avant moi. C'est pas vrai. C'est pas vrai. Une réalisation soudaine l'amène à penser à revendiquer la gloutonnerie comme la sienne dans la conversation de groupe entre les six amis. Elle est sortie du chat de groupe précédent, puis dans le chat de groupe primaire. Elle a pris un petit moment pour rattraper avant de taper dans sa réponse. La « pépite de poulet » est ressortie alors qu'elle pensait à ce qu'il fallait taper. Aux : Toute la bande "Dibs sur la gloutonnerie" Puis, à la joie d'Olivia, est venu un texte plutôt rauque de son meilleur ami, Cece. Alors elle allait avec une approche plus salope? Olivia a été tentée d'aller avec une approche salope aussi, mais elle ne savait pas comment l'adapter à son archétype. Elle sourit et répondit à Cece, ses doigts tapotant furieusement et rapidement sur l'écran. Aux : Les épicuriens perpétuels "Envoyez des photos! Je n'ai aucune idée de ce que je vais porter. Avec cela, Olivia a fini avec les textes qu'elle avait reçus et était libre de se déplacer de sa chambre à coucher. Elle a embrayé son téléphone dans sa main droite et est sortie dans le salon, qui avait une affaire vide de ce qu'elle buvait hier soir. En parlant de choses que les gens devraient faire... Olivia a déverrouillé son téléphone et a arrêté le contact de Rui, avant d'entrer dans la boîte de message À : Rui "Faites votre JMP! Ne m'obligez pas à venir là-bas et à vous faire le faire."

Olivia Taylor Bishop "Save the serious time for tomorrow." N A M E Olivia Taylor Bishop N I C K N A M E Ollie - Tried to do one on a skateboard when she was younger and was somewhat successful B I R T H D A T E October 4th, 1992 A G E 24 G E N D E R Female S E X U A L I T Y Bisexual R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single, and definitely ready to mingle. O C C U P A T I O N Financial Analyst at Goldman Sachs H O M E T O W N San Francisco, CA, USA E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian A P P E A R A N C E At a dainty height of 5'8 1/2", Olivia maintains a soft, "squishy" physique partially attributed to her sedentary lifestyle with very little rigorous exercise. Her shoulder length brown hair matches her big, brown eyes that are the key to her warm, friendly appearance. Despite her being a slight bit more on the squishy side, she has very mediocre assets, making her sex appeal a little less in comparison to the rest of her siblings. She makes up for it by being able to flash the brightest of smiles, however. H A B I T S Mutters to herself whenever she is frustrated Clicks her pen whenever she's trying to write something down Tends to portion foods incorrectly, either there's too much or too little. Very rarely does she get it right. H O B B I E S Hanging out with her buddies Watching TV shows (specifically teen dramas, cop procedurals, and sitcoms) Scrapbooking L I K E S The color yellow Pasta Her cat, Pawsitive New York Giants Indie bands D I S L I K E S The color orange Violent movies, TV shows, video games, etc. Nicki Minaj Spiders Ferris Wheels F E A R S Deep bodies of water The unexpected end of her existence P E R S O N A L I T Y Olivia considered by many to be a very gentle and extroverted person. She maintains a rather friendly and open presence among her peers, making it very easy for them to bond with the California native. She does have a tendency to let herself go whenever there are a few drinks in her system though, amplifying her warm tendencies by a million as more and more alcohol enters her system. That occasion is a lot more common than one would might think, as Olivia isn't a stranger to any sort of alcohol at all. However though, she isn't a constant ball of energy like everyone might seem to see her as. At some points all she wants to do is to go back to her apartment, plop herself on her couch, put on something on Netflix and drink the night away. Olivia is also very afraid of commitment, stemming back to a brutal breakup she had while in college that still hadn't quite healed up properly. Even going on random blind dates, she often leaves the people she meets in the dark, hardly responding after spending a night together. All in all, though, Olivia is very well received by those that have had the opportunity to meet her, and knows how to brighten someone's day no matter what they'd be going through. Most of the time it would involve something alcoholic in some sort of way, but her intentions are there. H I S T O R Y Being born during the tech boom, Olivia grew up in a very different San Francisco than her older siblings and parents. She was part of one of the only families around that had as big of a family as she did, with seven siblings by the time she was in the third grade. As a result, she had created a very strong bond with her siblings as she grew up, something that would last for her entire life as she made her way as an individual. She tore through school with amazing grades, taking advanced classes at a younger age. However, though, she had difficulty making friends growing up due to her focus on her academics in lieu of social skills. Even in high school, she didn't have that many people to talk to outside of her measly group of nerds. However though, her efforts in school did get her accepted into her dream school - New York University. As soon as she found out she had been accepted, she started packing and coordinating with her parents and family to figure out what to do and what was going to happen. By Fall 2010, she had moved to New York University and set on working on a degree in Business Studies with an emphasis on Finance. Because of the many AP classes she took in high school, she saved lots of time when it came to the classes she needed to take as a prerequisite. This allowed her time to be a little more social and develop her skills as she was forced to be with strangers she didn't really know. During this time, it really allowed her to bloom as a socialite and meet people that would help her along. This also lead her to meet the man of her dreams (or so she thought). They dated for a year or so... until one eventful day in 2013 where shit hit the fan and lead to the nastiest breakup in the history of breakups. It took her a while (and a lot of alcohol) to return to good enough shape to operate. She then graduated from NYU with a Bachelor's in Business Studies and got a job at Goldman Sach's and lives comfortably in an apartment somewhere in Manhattan. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S {☮ Friends} "My dude. Netflix and shitface for days." Philip and Olivia's relationship was built on the foundation that might not be considered the most orthodox of foundations. Alcohol, piles of bottles, and late nights were essential in the forming of their relationship as the two became more and more comfortable with each other as time went on. They were originally just drinking buddies, but because of the time they spent around each other, they became great friends outside of those nights and now Olivia loooves Philip (platonically, anyway). T H U Y . P H A M {♫ Best Friends} "I Cee you, Cece!" Sharing a common background, Olivia and Thuy quickly bonded as friends as their partying tendencies caused them to mesh very well together and became an unstoppable force whenever they went out to party. Thuy is one of the only people who have seen Olivia drink herself to the mythical "point of no return", which is where Olivia, despite her ability to really hold alcohol in, gets absolutely shitfaced and does stuff she wouldn't usually do. However, Thuy is Olivia's closest friend, and was around for a lot of the big events in her life since she moved to New York. They often share a bottle of wine (or five) together and just talk about things that are on their mind. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮ Friends} "Great girl. She's really fun, but when it gets down and dirty, she can get shit done." Being classmates at NYU, Olivia and Nylah were just barely acquaintances that happened to go to the same school. However, one night they went to a club together (whether it was intentional or not is deliberately left ambiguous by Olivia), and from then their friendship sparked. Olivia was pulled in by Nylah's fun personality, and as a result it got her to the point where she was able to see more about Nylah, ultimately strengthening their bond as friends and a buddy she can drink with forever and ever. R U I . R O S A S {☮ Friends} "Go Bobcats! Rui's one of the coolest ever." The fact that they both share the same alma mater - New York University, explains a lot about why they've known each other for a long time. Unlike the background with Nylah, she and Rui were in similar majors, and as a result crossed paths many times. They took up many internships together while they were working their degrees and as a result their relationship has strengthened to a good enough point where Olivia feels comfortable.

WeissBagel Place de Kieran Nylah était sur le point de payer quand une main s'est serrée sur son épaule, l'effrayant assez pour la faire fléchir. Whirling autour, Nylah a vu qui il était et a souri largement. "Kieran, juste à temps pour confirmer que j'ai effectivement commandé la bonne chose cette fois — Canuck Cluster, n'est-ce pas?" Passant à nouveau à la caissière, Nylah a remis sa carte de crédit avec un sourire. Si ce n'était pas pour mes parents, je serais vraiment une artiste affamée en ce moment, a dit Nylah à Kieran, un sourire wry sur son visage quand elle a repris la carte. Bien qu'elle n'ait pas entièrement honte du fait qu'elle ait toujours compté sur une allocation mensuelle de ses parents, Nylah n'en était pas vraiment fière non plus, mais cela l'a sauvée de devenir serveur, un parcours de carrière que presque tous les acteurs de New York semblaient toujours envisager à un moment ou à un autre. En fait, Nylah a pensé, en remerciant poliment le caissier avant de passer à la zone d'attente, elle est probablement un acteur aspirant aussi. Ou de l'artiste, soit. En mettant de côté les pensées déprimantes, Nylah se tourna vers Kieran avec un sourire. Comment s'est passée ta soirée? J'imagine que — puisque je ne pouvais pas vous joindre par Snapchat après 22 heures — vous étiez dehors?. Les Nylahs ont tiré à la main juste au moment où leur commande est arrivée au comptoir de ramassage, emballé séparément et tout. Sérieusement, pourquoi s'embêtent-ils à appeler les numéros? Nous les regardons tous comme des faucons qui attendent une chance de frapper — ce qui, puisque nous ramassons de la nourriture, est une bonne comparaison si je le dis moi-même. En ramassant les deux sacs et en les remettant à Kieran — celui qui sent mieux, il n'y a pas de surprises, — Nylah menait le chemin à l'extérieur de la boutique et vers l'une des tables mises en place par la boutique. Les gens prétendent être des touristes, Nylah a plaisanté, se référant au fait que les New-Yorkais n'ont presque jamais touché les bancs et les chaises du café puisqu'ils devaient toujours être quelque part, toujours eu quelque part pour aller après avoir pris leur nourriture. D'abord, je vais mettre en scène ma nourriture et prendre une photo de celle-ci avant de manger, a-t-elle dit, déballant son bagel et l'abaisser sur la table. Juste avant qu'elle ne touche, Nylah s'est rétractée le bras. J'ai trop faim pour ça. Prenant une bouchée satisfaisante de son avocat de dinde grillée sur le grain entier — Nylah a imprégné dans elle une tendance à manger sainement quand offert le choix, si rien d'autre — Nylah mâché et avalé avant de parler à nouveau. Donc, c'est l'anniversaire de Phillip. Tu lui as apporté quelque chose? – Elle a demandé, prenant une autre morsure de son bagel.

Nylah Weiss "Smile for the camera!" N A M E Nylah Amelie Weiss N I C K N A M E None — Nylah doesn’t do nicknames. B I R T H D A T E May 21st, 1993 A G E 24 G E N D E R Female S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. Again. O C C U P A T I O N Broadway Actor, currently working her way up. H O M E T O W N New York, New York — Upper East Side E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian A P P E A R A N C E Slim and refined at a height of 5’9”, Nylah’s style is sophisticated chic. With a closet of name brands speckled with bursts of color and an impeccable taste for finery, it’s almost impossible to see Nylah not at her best. For her it’s not so much dressing up as a way of life, although she’ll forego the heels for flats for the sake of her feet. She will, however, indulge in a bright red lip now and then just to brighten her day — and her smile. At first glance Nylah is the outgoing girl who’s kind, helpful, and confident, and her hundred-watt smile gives her a mischievous feel. She has five piercings on her ear — two on each side an a cartilage on her left. H A B I T S Prone to forgetting things last minute, especially hair ties. Nylah’s constantly trying to fight this, albeit unsuccessfully. She’s taken to keeping a pack of hair ties in her purse at all times. Running late: As she gets easily distracted and engrossed by things, Nylah often finds herself running against the clock. The only good thing that’s come out of this is a practiced ability to compose herself in a heartbeat — something that’s very helpful when she’s nervous about going on stage. Getting distracted: When not focused, Nylah is easily distracted by all kinds of things, leading to her zoning out during lectures back in high school and college. While she doesn’t exactly have to sit through boring lectures anymore, she will sometimes tune out of conversations in favor of some passing pedestrian that catches her eye. H O B B I E S Cooking: Nylah’s horrible at it, and that’s exactly why she’s still interested. That, and the fact that it’s a basic life skill that she wants to say she’s checked off the list. She’s currently trying to figure out how to make meals she can serve to friends without losing all of her dignity and manners as a hostess. Running: Nylah enjoys running in her spare time. She tends to shy away from the more popular areas like Hudson River Park, preferring quiet nature meccas like the uptown trails in Van Cortlandt Park or the loop around Central Park’s Reservoir. Running’s the time when Nylah gets some peace from the constantly buzzing world around her, and the quiet — at times — is almost as addicting as the colorful blur of life. Reading: Sometime in her childhood, someone had told Nylah to always be reading some book, even if she wasn’t actively reading it. She’s taken this advice to heart and now has a small but growing collection of bestsellers, classics, and random selections. Nylah will sometimes take a book down to the cafe and spend an afternoon there reading. L I K E S Animals, especially cats. During grade school, Nylah’s family adopted a kitten named Periwinkle (Perry, for short), but really it was Nylah that adopted, raised, and loved the cat until his death during her junior year at NYU. Although she hasn’t gotten around to adopting another, cats are definitely in Nylah’s future. The color grey, although she rarely wears it. In her mind, it’s the color of sophistication. Cloudy days: As gloomy as they might seem, they’re like a breath of fresh air to Nylah, often putting others into broody silences so that she can cheer them up — or steer clear of them. Soccer: Not that she can play, but Nylah enjoys watching it enough. Having been exposed to it at an early age by her brother, Nylah’s now a — while not devout — seasonale fan that flows and ebbs with the competition dates. Lattes and baked goodies from the cafe: impulse visits to the cafe at the corner of her street are among Nylah’s favorite things, especially if she walks in on a day when the owner whipped up some of her — and Nylah’s — favorite tiramisu. Be it walking home with a box or two or sitting in the cafe and checking her phone as she spooned creamy goodness into her mouth, Nylah lived for these little things. D I S L I K E S Horror movies: Despite all her claims to be afraid of horror, Nylah is actually quite unimpressed by the genre as a whole. Jump scares get her, sure, but she blinks all of it off. The flicks feel more like a waste of time to her than anything — why would she sit here and get scared by images if she could just go out and experience life? The dark, especially if Nylah’s walking around in the dark with only her footsteps for company. It reminds her of horror movie scenes, and she’d like it if the thoughts ended there. Rain, especially if she’s going to get wet: Water’s all fine and dandy, but not when it’s on her clothes. She’d rather have snow than deal with water droplets that fly and stick everywhere, soaking into things like greedy piranhas. Visiting home: The family home reminds Nylah more of the bad days than the good, and she would rather not have to tell her parents that she, again, is not and will not in the immediate future be cast for a major role in a production. Thus, Nylah’s glad that her parents only ask their children to come home on the holidays. Surviving and having to live with a horrible injury: Despite the positivity around survivors strong arming their way past hardships with disabilities, Nylah doesn’t want anything to do with that all. She’s uncertain about her life as is and doesn’t need some kind of life-changing injury on top of it. If she’s going to live through a car accident that leaves her partially paralyzed, she’d prefer if she didn’t live at all. F E A R S Commitment, especially romantically: Nylah’s too invested in her career right now, too young to be tied down, too pretty to settle — and just about another hundred excuses she’d give you, not that she’d ever let up for someone to ask more than three times. She’ll settle for flings every now and then. The future and regretting her choices: This is a slippery slope for Nylah. Although she says and believes that theater is her calling, Nylah also knows that the chances of her getting picked out of the thousands of aspiring actors out there are slim. As compared with her family, Nylah’s future looks bleak, and she lives in constant fear of that same bleakness becoming a reality. P E R S O N A L I T Y Bright and vivacious, Nylah generally comes off as someone fun to be around albeit a little frivolous at first. Though she’s quite whimsical and rather prone to getting engrossed in whatever catches her fancy, Nylah shows a different face when it comes to things she cares about, becoming quite serious and dedicated. Under her facade of cheery smiles and easy shrugs, Nylah’s actually quite dedicated to her art and loyal to her close friends. Late hours memorizing scripts are not strange for her, and she’ll always be there for a friend in need. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a girl who’s not so sure what she stands for and what she should do with her life. Insecure about herself and what the future will hold for her, Nylah passes days firmly grounded in the present. To people she trusts, she opens up enough to act a little more goofy around them, but that’s the cutoff line. Being a person who prefers to bottle things up instead of letting them out, Nylah doesn’t like talking about herself much at all, even to close friends. Romantically, Nylah’s a free spirit, content with having many partners and therefore none at all. Nylah has no real reason for never committing. There was just never a pull, never a reason to tie herself down — not that she’d want to in the first place. Nylah knows that she’s still young, and she intends to take full advantage of it. To her, dating’s a scary and relatively unnecessary commitment right now, and — in case she does get her big break — Nylah doesn’t want to have to have her it conflict with her career and passion. H I S T O R Y Growing up in the Weiss household, excellence was expected. With a father who’s one of the biggest names in medicine despite being retired and a mother who’s the CEO of a prestigious business corporation based in New York, Nylah’s been groomed from birth to be perfect, and she would have embraced her heritage with open arms if not for her brother. Oh yes, her older brother. The golden boy who got his DBA at Harvard and now the most probable candidate for COO at his mother’s company. The impeccable image Nylah would forever be compared to. However hard Nylah worked during her grade school years, her brother had done better. A contender for Valedictorian? Her brother was Valedictorian. Varsity captain of the girl’s volleyball team? Nylah’s brother was captain of both the lacrosse and the soccer teams. Though her time at prestigious private schools had yielded acceptances to schools like Wharton, University of Pennsylvania and Booth, University of Chicago, Nylah’s accomplishments had always fallen short from her brothers. Much to her parents’ disapproval, Nylah enrolled in and graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with a degree in Performance Studies. Her brother is the reason why Nylah’s fine with pursuing a career in theatre since she figured that her parents didn’t need another perfect child to brag to their friends about, so here Nylah is, pursuing something she’s good at — passionate about. Theatre was and still is Nylah’s one true love, and she’s also fairly brilliant at it — putting on a mask, that is. Because no one know the real Nylah Weiss, only the character. The bright, bubbly, outgoing Nylah who puts her all into her characters and rebuffs romance with smiles and a lack of commitment. From Tisch, Nylah went on to work her way up from understudies of unknown side characters to her current role as the second female lead in a relatively small production. While she still has a ways to go, Nylah’s comfortable with her life, especially since her parents have accepted that their daughter isn’t interested in going into business. She lives in a nice, roomy West Village flat and likes getting coffee at the corner cafe, Cafe Cheri, where she worked at before she got her bigger acting roles. Her romantic life has been riddled with short-term commitments and flings, though she never bothered counting since she’s always considered herself some form of single. P E O P L E . T O . B O T H E R The unfortunate people who’ve been able to make the acquaintance of a certain Nylah Weiss. They’ll see her again — Nylah will make certain of that. P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S — Aquaintance-Turned-Running Buddy, Fellow Exercise Enthusiast-Turned-Friend — running buddy."As dedicated runners that drop by Starbucks every now and then, Nylah and Philip are familiar with each others’ exercise routine and comfortable with the silence that occurs during it. Although they don’t talk much while they run, Nylah knows that Phil’s there to listen should she ever need a shoulder to cry on. When they do talk, some light flirting and exchanging of pick-up lines is not uncommon. Spontaneous texts requesting a brief run or a quick drop-by to Starbucks are not unheard of between the two, and only god knows which of them is the faster one. O L I V I A . B I S H O P — That Perpetually Drunk Friend — but charming with a big heart. Add a few drinks and it’s friends at first sight."Having met back during their years at NYU, Nylah originally didn’t think much of Olivia. A night of clubbing later, Nylah was absolutely charmed by the other girl, finding her fun, witty, and doubly amazing with a few drinks under her belt. That Olivia’s down-to-earth personality loosens up when she drinks amuses Nylah immensely, and Nylah’s constantly trying to get her friend to give romance another try — mostly just her teasing though. R U I . R O S A S — The Almost-Not-Really Friend — me of my older brother, but with none of the arrogant utilitarianism."Having been a rather social person during her time at NYU, Nylah prided herself in knowing people, so of course she’d seen the tall, suave economics guy that came out for a drink every now and then. He’d struck her as a person that fit in her childhood circles at first sight, with the aura of a conservative, high-achieving, wealthy upbringing rolling off him in waves. At first Nylah had been prepared to avoid the boy like the plague — she wasn’t looking to befriend someone like her brother — and it would have worked too if she hadn’t walked into the club one day and found the old money Rui Rosas drinking by himself, looking sullen and just downright miserable. Plopping herself on the stool next to him, Nylah instigated what would become a rather silent yet informative drinking partnership where she’d rebuff every nosy or smitten individual who was looking to order a drink with Rui — or herself. While Nylah would easily call the two of them acquaintances, she would be hesitant to add the “friend” label — although she hopes that even if they never voice it, she’s gotten close enough to call the boy a friend. ]K I E R A N . V I N C E N T . O ‘ C O N N O R — Partner-in-Crime — hunk, inner softie." Nylah was a little surprised to learn that the cute hunk she’d met during one of her earlier theater auditions in her undergraduate years was, in fact, a retired hockey player who had been drafted by and almost played for the New York Islanders. She’d been trying for a role — any role, at that point in her nonexistent career — and Kieran had been one of the hired playwrights being paid to tailor the script to the cast. Having pegged him as an aspiring author, starving artist-type, Nylah hadn’t thought much of the boy until a fellow cast member clued her in about his retirement, and from there Nylah launched a campaign that she never regretted. Although Kieran and Nylah had started their friendship during their time with the production, their friendship grew beyond that, from raving about the FIFA playoffs and sometimes hockey — a new discovery on Nylah’s part, credits to a certain blonde writer — to afternoons memorizing lines and writing to the tune of some old record in the background. T H U Y . P H A M — Friend and Fellow Epicurian — spunky foodie. Our minds and stomachs understand each other, even if our words disagree sometimes." Nylah met Cecelia one day when she walked into the other girl’s family restaurant and struck up a conversation with the spunky, tattooed waiter that turned out to be the owner’s daughter. Nylah quickly found that the girl, bleached hair and contacts and all, was a kindred soul that shared a love of good food and partying. The two often scour the city for good restaurants for dinner and clubs for the bridge until the late AMs with Olivia in tow. Although they might argue at times, Nylah genuinely likes Cecelia and believes the girl to be cute but strong, full of tough-love and fun.

O'CONNOREmplacement: Bagel Place Interagir avec: → Nylah (En personne) Le vieux dicton dit qu'il n'y a pas de déjeuner gratuit. Une bonne chose qui n'a jamais été étendue au petit déjeuner gratuit. Compte tenu de ses perspectives avant que Nylah n'offre d'acheter étaient Eggos ou toast, Kieran allait profiter de tout ce qu'elle a acheté. Le fait qu'il s'agisse d'un délicieux Canuck Cluster, un sandwich qu'il a inventé au restaurant mais qu'il n'a jamais étendu à un moniker rimant, l'a rendu aussi doux que le sirop d'érable incorporé dans la saucisse. Le Canadien a ri à l'émission de Nylah sarcastiquement Instagram sur l'acquisition du bagel. Ou au moins riait du mieux qu'il pouvait avec de la nourriture dans sa bouche. Il n'attendait pas de capturer l'aura de son sandwich, il était affamé après les exploits d'hier soir. La rouquine avait demandé où il était, mais elle a vite avancé. Une partie de sa personnalité, je suppose. Après avoir pris une énorme bouchée du petit déjeuner, Kieran a écouté tout ce que Nylah avait élevé et a fait de son mieux pour répondre aux questions au fur et à mesure qu'elles venaient. -- Voyons... Oui, la nuit était bonne, oui, la tradition, et un peu? L'ex-joueur a pris une autre morsure mais il a deviné que Nylah voudrait plus de détails sur ce dernier... ainsi que ce qui s'est passé au Rock Pile. "Ce n'est pas beaucoup, ce qui est une bonne cause de tout le budget." Il a frotté l'arrière de sa tête. Juste un carnet que j'ai vu dans le centre-ville. C'est de retour à la maison, mais c'est un vrai solide 'durable, résistant à l'eau. Juste quelque chose pour le pote du journalisme, tu sais?" Une autre bouchée d'œuf, de fromage et de viande a été prise. "Je veux dire, c'est le moins que je puisse faire, n'est-ce pas? Si ce n'était pas pour lui, je n'aurais jamais été en ville." Kieran s'est ébranlé la tête. "Least jusqu'à ce que je puisse le rembourser avec, je ne sais pas, une nouvelle console ou quelque chose." Il a regardé en arrière à Nylah, comme s'il s'était cassé de sa transe auto-réfléchissante, "Oh, et de l'alcool. Je ne peux pas oublier l'alcool. J'ai ma part de cette couverture ce soir." Il a mis ses coudes sur la table alors qu'il tenait la moitié restante de son petit déjeuner, il a regardé l'actrice. "Et toi? De grands plans ont été préparés pour son présent?"

Kieran O'Connor "If you're not happy with my opinion, you can take off, eh?" N A M E Kieran Vincent O'Connor N I C K N A M E K.O. B I R T H D A T E December 7, 1990 A G E 26 G E N D E R Male S E X U A L I T Y Straight R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single, so if ya know someone, hey, let me know. O C C U P A T I O N Freelance Hockey Analyst H O M E T O W N Harbour Grace, Newfoundland, Canada E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian (Irish with a hint of Norwegian) A P P E A R A N C E Being an ex-athlete, Kieran still looks the part. At 6'3", 220lbs, his body has maintained most of its shape from his playing days, but he has started slacking a little more lately so the muscles aren't as well defined now. Kieran avoided most of the shots to the face, so he still looks presentable, and he'll usually look the part on air, with an assortment of Islander blue suits and ties. He prefers to keep it casual outside of work though, favoring jeans, open shirts with tees underneath and a dark toque (woolen cap). He does wear a pair of dogtags, in honor of his neighbor and childhood friend. H A B I T S Will occasionally lose his train of thought, as a by-product of one too many hits on the ice. Is prone to rants, which is what makes him an attractive on-air personality. Still eats like he's an active athlete, so a lot of food, more than he probably needs. H O B B I E S Working out Watching hockey, both live and on TV Karaoke L I K E S New York Islanders hockey Molson Canadian beer Soccer Alternative Rock of the 2000s Video games D I S L I K E S New York Rangers hockey Poodles Bryan Adams Coffee Very long sliences F E A R S Bears Sharks P E R S O N A L I T Y Growing up in the rural part of Newfoundland has given Kieran an appreciation for taking things slow, but in the end it wasn't really for him. He likes the ability to do any number of things in one day, which was only possible after a long car ride back home. He likes to be out with people, doing things. He had enough hanging out alone back home. Kieran has always been an easygoing person. Growing up constantly surrounded by a team atmosphere, he was usually the calm presence among his fellow athletes. On the ice, he played as ferociously as anyone. He earned his nickname in his freshman season with Bentley after taking down junior enforcer J.P. Smolinski of Robert Morris in his first ever Atlantic Hockey scrap. He will fight for his team tooth and nail, he's that loyal once on board. Since the end of his first career, it's been a tough adjustment for Kieran, but he's managed. His creative side has become more prominent now that he's trying to use it to make a name for himself. Sometimes he can be hard on himself, his vocabulary seemingly lacking behind other writers at his level, his quotes crisper. However, he's going to keep fighting and working at it. No other way to do it in his eyes. H I S T O R Y The kid was as Canadian as a Tim Horton's donut covered in maple syrup. It was clear from an early age. From the second Patrick and Maryse O'Connor brought their youngest to Harbour Grace Arena for his first skate, Kieran showed he had a natural talent for gliding along the ice. As such, his parents invested all their spare cash in letting their blond-haired boy pursue his dream of following Danny Cleary from the island to the NHL. Kieran was good. By the time he was eligible for the QMJHL entry draft, he was far and away the best player in Harbour Grace. However in a town of 3,000, that doesn't amount to much in the big scheme of things. He was picked in the 12th round by Charlottetown, attended one training camp and was cut soon after. Discouraged, he kept plugging away on the Rock, hoping to get noticed by someone, until late in his senior year at high school, he was offered a scholarship to Bentley University in Waltham, Massachusetts. NCAA Hockey was in the cards. He was unknown to most of his teammates until the fight against Smolinski earned his moniker. He plugged away at Bentley, making the All-Atlantic team in his final season as he earned a Communications degree. This caught the eye of the New York Islanders, who signed him to an entry league deal and sent him to the third-tier ECHL team in Independence, Missouri. However, tragedy struck in his fourth game with the Mavericks as he was driven head-first into the boards by Idaho's Andrew Carroll. He felt all right, but a CAT scan a couple days later showed a problem with his C1 vertabrae. The doctors told Kieran the hit should have paralyzed him, and next time he likely wouldn't be as lucky. Devastated, Kieran announced his retirement that October. The Islanders organization was shocked, but looked after the newly-retired prospect. They offered him a job with the website, writing articles on the team, and Kieran did well for the season he was there, but his contract wasn't renewed. He stayed in Brooklyn though, picking up local writing jobs in Brooklyn in the hopes that eventually he would land something more stable and lucrative, possibly with a network. It's not the dream he started with but it's one he hopes is more achievable, lest he had back to Newfoundland with nothing to show for all those youth trophies he obtained. P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S ♫ "Hey, we're running man. Newsroom, pathways, however, we're running together." Kieran met Phil when he was just starting down the journalist path, as the two of them attended a headline workshop held at NYU. Put in the same group, the two bonded over their fitness regimens and drive to succeed in the business. Phil has put Kieran in touch with most of the people in his current gang, and he's forever grateful to him for making sure he wasn't frozen in isolation. O L I V I A . B I S H O P ⚜ "You're good Liv, but I don't think you've played the game of Drink like I have." Kieran has gotten to know Olivia via Phil and Nylah, but hasn't hung out as much with the financial analyst. He has seen her go at parties, and he's impressed with her ability to put away beverages and remain standing. They could be something there, but he's waiting for Olivia to make a move to push the acquaintanceship up to the next level. T H U Y . P H A M {⚜} "So hey, um, ya know, I've been looking at getting a tattoo or two..." Over the course of his time in New York, Kieran has gotten to know Cici enough to use her middle name, but isn't sure if he's on a nickname basis with her yet. He's talked to her a few times at parties, but inevitably her smoke break would end the conversation. He's also fond of the Vietnamese restaurant where she works, given that the mango stirfry and beef pho satisfy a lot of what he looks for in food. There's a fair amount he likes about knowing Cici, enough to think that they can get on that nickname basis on both ends at some point. N Y L A H . W E I S S ♫ "No, no, no. The Royal Concept totally syncs up with my dripping faucet!" If you had told "University Kieran" someone like Nylah would be one of his best friends, he wouldn't have believed it. However, the chance script punching job he accepted for some extra spending money proved extremely beneficial on multiple fronts. Nylah took a shine to him and while the two spend a lot of their early meetings discussing the play, it blossomed soon after their interests expanded. From watching the World Cup to lazy Sundays listening to records and working on various writings, to the runs around Central Park, Nylah has made Kieran's life in New York so much more enjoyable. Almost to the point where he wonders where else they can go... R U I . R O S A S {☮} "Yeah, Messi is good, but he's gotta get Argentina some hardware." Rui didn't seem like he would become friends, but a chance conversation at a social event, regarding the Messi vs. Ronaldo debate solidified a solid relationship based on the dislike of the Portuguese midfielder. Kieran really enjoys being able to discus soccer with Rui, even if he hasn't let the Brazilian hear the end of the 7-1 drubbing in 2016. He's even gotten him to the point where he's willing to accept hockey as a sport with merits, a big victory in his eyes.

Emplacement: Coffeehouse → Parade Interagir avec : → Phil (Personne) Phillip a regardé Cecilia, très intriguée par son personnage en ce moment. Il lui a même fait un petit sourire après avoir entendu dire qu'elle avait été bonne malgré des problèmes personnels. Un chanfrein doux est venu sur ses lèvres alors qu'il entendait Cecilia parler d'un rêve bizarre qu'elle avait. Ses yeux s'élargissaient alors qu'il secouait la tête vers elle. "Wow. C'est très... bizarre, pour être honnête." Phillip murmura vers elle quand le serveur revint et leur servit leurs ordres. Il a remercié le serveur puis a ramassé le muffin et en a pris une bouchée, même pris une petite gorgée de sa boisson aromatisée de café. Quand Cecilia a dit qu'elle allait à la parade avec lui, Phillip a mangé un peu plus vite que d'habitude et a pris son verre et a pris plusieurs petites gorgées hors de lui. Avec le café à la main, il la regarda et leva un sourcil vers elle. -- Alors, allons-nous nous garer et nous garer? Vous savez comment ces défilés se déroulent ici." Il a demandé et mentionné à Cecilia qu'elle a atteint dans sa poche et a saisi ses clés de voiture. "Je nous conduirai même là-bas et je te ramènerai ici." Phillip a attendu sa réponse avant de demander quelque chose de plus. Comme le vrai style new-yorkais, Cecelia a fini le reste de son muffin et a bu son café rapidement. Elle a payé la serveuse lui donnant un petit pourboire en échange du service rapide aussi bien. « Définitivement, il va être bondé et mon petit cul a besoin d'un accès à la première rangée ou je ne pourrai rien voir! » elle riait, mais son moi à peine cinq pieds de haut avait un sens du sérieux dans son commentaire latéral. "J'ai pris le bus et le métro ici, hun, donc peu importe où vous me déposez, je trouverai mon chemin à la maison." Elle a hurlé, et l'a suivi jusqu'à sa voiture. Phillip a vu Cecilia alors qu'ils marchaient vers sa voiture et se moquaient de son court commentaire. Il voulait dire qu'il ne la déposerait nulle part, mais dans son esprit, il savait qu'il allait la ramener chez elle de toute façon. Peu importe à quel point elle vivait loin de chez lui. Il est passé du côté passager et a ouvert la porte à Cecilia, souriant alors qu'il murmurait vers elle. "M'dame." Phillip a attendu que Cecilia soit à l'intérieur du véhicule et a fermé la porte, puis a marché autour pour se mettre du côté du conducteur. "Parade, nous arrivons." Phillip prononça ces paroles alors qu'il remontait le véhicule et roulait vers la destination du parcours de parade. Il s'est garé dans un parking derrière le parcours de la parade et est sorti alors qu'il se dépêchait vers le côté de Cecilia et a ouvert sa porte. À chaque fois qu'elle sortait, il fermait à nouveau sa porte et verrouillait son véhicule, avec un simple clic du bouton de sa chaîne de clés. Il marchait à côté de Cecilia avec excitation, un grand sourire enfantin plâtré parmi ses traits de visage. "Je suis tellement excitée. Je ne suis pas allé à une parade depuis environ trois mois." La dernière parade où il est allé était la parade de Thanksgiving Day de Macy et il a eu une explosion absolue là-bas. Une parade de Saint Patrick ne devait pas être différente. Cecelia s'est ébranlée la tête, son petit pain blond se branlant à l'arrière du cou. Phillip a toujours été au-dessus de la tête avec être un gentleman pour elle. Elle a allumé la radio dans la voiture et a soufflé de la musique pendant qu'ils conduisaient. Elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de penser à elle-même à quel point elle était heureuse qu'il ait été séparé de sa vie, et heureuse que pour le début de son jour spécial, il l'ait choisie pour le passer avec. Elle chantait à la musique à haute voix, et pas le plus à l'écoute. Danser dans le siège passager alors qu'ils arrivaient par la parade. Cecelia l'a presque battu pour sortir de la porte, mais il était si rapide pour l'ouvrir et la laisser sortir. "Je ne suis pas une dame! Tu n'as pas besoin de faire cette petite merde pour moi." Elle riait, en sortant en réglant l'ourlet de son short quand elle sortit de la voiture, en les tirant vers le bas afin qu'ils ne soient pas si remontés sur sa cuisse. Son excitation était adorable alors qu'elle le regardait pendant qu'ils marchaient. Elle a saisi sa main et l'a conduit à travers la foule, poussant là où elle avait besoin pour qu'ils puissent avoir une bonne vue de la parade. Alors qu'ils se dirigeaient vers un bon endroit, elle s'est serré la main et l'a libérée. "J'espère que c'est aussi bon que le dernier, peut-être mieux." Un simple tremblement de la tête venait de lui une fois qu'elle a déclaré qu'elle n'était pas une dame et pour lui d'arrêter de faire les choses mignonnes pour elle. Phillip n'a pas pu s'en empêcher. C'était vraiment comme ça qu'il était à l'intérieur. Les yeux de Phillip s'élargissaient chaque fois que Cecilia s'emparait de sa main alors qu'elle se chargeait à travers les foules, et qu'il traînait quelques pieds derrière elle. Quand ils se sont rendus à un bon endroit, il a senti qu'elle lui serre la main et l'a libérée. Il s'est un peu baissé, puis il s'est redressé en entendant les sirènes commencer, signalant le début de la parade. Il a commencé à sauter de haut en bas, a même laissé sortir un peu de coucou comme un petit enfant alors qu'il se retournait et a affronté Cecilia, se éclaircissant la gorge. "Uhm, la parade commence. Alors, oui." Phillip a contenu son sang-froid excité alors qu'il riait et nutrait un peu Cecilia.

Tʜᴜʏ Cᴇᴄɪʟɪᴀ Pʜᴀᴍ "Won't hesitate to go straight to your head like a concussion. " N A M E Thuy Cecilia Pham. N I C K N A M E Cici. Cecelia is her middle name (given to her by her mother) that she prefers to go by. She prefers this because for the most part people don't know how to pronounce her first name. She doesn't mind her friends calling her by her real name, but it usually means something serious is going down or about to go down. She sometimes think is it a good homage to her mother to keep the middle name active as well- which her father hates. B I R T H D A T E June, 9th. 1992. A G E Twenty Four. G E N D E R Female. S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. O C C U P A T I O N Waitress at her father's restaurant. H O M E T O W N Fresno, California. USA. New York City's unofficial "Little Saigon" is where she stays now. E T H N I C I T Y French Vietnamese A P P E A R A N C E Despite her ethnicity, Cecelia has bleached and re-bleached her natural black hair to a very platinum blonde. She has brown eyes, but prefers to wear a light blue/grey contact to cover up. Her skin tone is on the lighter spectrum but during the summer she can get a nice brown tone. She is very petite, standing at barely five feet tall and weighing around ninety seven pounds. Her constant chain smoking doesn't help her lack of appetite and belittlement from her father to "gain some weight" Cecelia's clothing style is very urban and street and very comfortable. Though she can appreciate fashion she would rather be curled up in sweats and tee shirt than an outfit costing more than week's worth of paycheck. She loves bright colors, pinks and teals but often can be seen adorning black as well. Piercings are everywhere on Cecelia's body. Most of which were done by herself in her bathroom of her basement. Some of them have been healed over by now, but she can be often seen with her lips, nose, and ears covered in jewelry. Along with piercings she has over 20 tattoos ranging in sizes, value, and professionalism. One was done in jail that she is particularly proud of, and likes to say she was in murder- despite it being for a fifth act of public intoxication. H A B I T S ▸ Leaving lighters in her friends cars, homes, purses, etc. ▸ Reading her horoscope for her and her friends online- daily. ▸ Chewing her nails down until they bleed when she's upset. H O B B I E S ▸ Smoking, drinking, and partying. ▸ Watching really bad horror movies on Netflix. ▸ Snapchatting her friends pictures of her random body parts. L I K E S ▸ Naps. ▸ When people actually want to talk on the phone. ▸ Hip hop and rap music- the louder the better. ▸ Tattoos and piercings. ▸ Shopping online. D I S L I K E S ▸ Working at her father's restaurant. ▸ Living at home still. ▸ Being lectured by her family members. ▸ Texting for more than a few minutes. ▸ Long trips on the subway. F E A R S ▸ Never finding someone to start a life with. ▸ Being abandoned. P E R S O N A L I T Y Cecelia can sometimes be a hard person to read. She can appear cold and sometimes downright mean, her face in a constant state of "bitch" but as you get to talking to her, you'll quickly realize she is very down to Earth and just wants to have a good time. She can be very talkative to people she is close to, she isn't afraid to say exactly how she feels about a situation; so she usually one of the first people come to when they need a reality check in the scheme of things. Cici picks fights and plays dirty when she needs to. She is a ticking time bomb inside a teddy bear. When at work and at home, the girl has a very more traditional position. A very complete opposite of the independent girl, she would be found grabbing beers for men, cooking, cleaning and being told to "come a little closer here baby" In most places, Cici would be swinging- but in these two places specifically she lets a lot of her morals and views get tucked under the rug. She knows it would cause a lot more problems if she were herself around these locations. H I S T O R Y Cecelia is the middle child, born to Thien and Simone Pham. She has one older sister (26) and one younger half brother (10). Thien and Simone met in college in California. Thien an American Vietnamese man and Simone a pretty little foreign exchange girl from France. The two had a whirlwind semester of college together, falling in love and having their first child. The two maintained a long distance relationship for about three years. Thien worked like crazy to bring her to America as often as possible, sending her home what always seemed like a pregnancy. Eventually this constant battle grew tiring and when Cecelia was born- Simone decided this was going to be the last trip back. "It's not you, it's me" she said, her voice low as Cecelia and her older sister had their heads pressed to their door as they listened to their parents fight. That was the last they heard from their mother. Thien was heartbroken but not too damaged to find himself on a dating website. That was when he fell in love once more- this time with a Vietnamese woman. She told Thien that she had just inherited her family's restaurant and that if he came across the country to New York that she would bless him with a new wife and a son. Both blessings were filled, and the two sisters now in their teens along with their dad found themselves in the bustling city of New York taking on a restaurant and intertwining into a new family. Cecelia has adjusted well to the new lifestyle, her sister has long since moved back to California and Cici doubts that she would take her sister's path but would like to get out of her father and step mother's house as soon as she can possibly get. She had been offered by several of her friends to stay with them but has not taken them up on the offer yet. For now she works full time at the restaurant and when she isn't working she is having the time of her life with her circle of friends that she considers her family. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S {♫} "Philly cheese steak, you are delicious but you make my tummy hurt." Without a doubt these two have chemistry, Phillip and Cecelia became friends after adding one another on Facebook (they had several mutual friends) a few years ago. The two spent most of the beginning of their friendship as just online friends, exchanging photos, phone calls, and stories late into the night. Eventually the two finally met up and found that they were exactly as they were online- and became even closer. Sometimes they get into very loud and out right dirty arguments; but they care for one another through and through. O L I V I A . B I S H O P {♫} "Olivayou! Get it? It's like I love you, but your name!" Californiaaaaa girls they're unforgettable. Olivia and Cecelia have been best friends ever since they found out they were both from the golden state. These two are known to cause a whirlwind wherever they go, partying hard, and not looking back but they aren't all just fun and games. Cecelia trusts Olivia with everything and is always the first one she goes to when she needs to vent or just escape for awhile. Cici was around for the breakup, and told Olivia that if she ever sees the guy she will not hesitate to stab him. Multiple times. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "I'm jealous of you Nylah, you're perfect. Both knowing how to have a good time, Nylah and Cecelia have been pretty good friends ever since they have known one another. They both love to tease, sass, and fool around with one another- though sometimes a joke goes a bit too far and they end up not speaking for a few days. Cici would tell Nylah often that she was jealous of who she is as a person, and in a way looks up to her. They love spoiling one another going out to eat at new places and going for coffee every once in awhile as well. R U I . R O S A S {☯} "Come on Rui, have some fun for once! Huh? Huh? Huh?" These two should be separated during most events. Rui finds her to be distracting and immature most of the time. Cecelia finds him to be stiff and boring most of the time. Though they are complete opposites, these two have never been enemies, and Cici actually finds it fun to poke and prod at Rui, trying to find ways to drive him crazy. She once sent snap chats of her butt to him for an entire week before he blocked her from the application completely. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {⚜} "You're a cute one Mr. Kieran." Only meeting one another here and there through parties and events between the six friends, Kieran is someone Cecelia knows the least about. She finds him attractive, which doesn't separate her from most women. Though nothing more than just a pretty face so far. She also noticed him at her dad's restaurant once where he proceeded to eat tons and tons of food, so she knows he has good pallet for good food. Cici hopes that they can get to know one another better as time goes by- as they might have more in common than they thought.

La parade → La place de Cecilia → Sa place → Entrepôt de New York Interacting With:The Whole Gang {,,,, }Après la parade avec Cecilia, Phillip l'a conduite chez elle afin qu'elle ait juste eu le temps de se préparer pour la fête. Une fois qu'ils ont tous deux dit au revoir, il s'est précipité vers sa propre maison, s'est douché, a changé puis s'est rendu un peu plus présentable, Phillip a conduit vers l'entrepôt où il accueillait la fête, sa fête, pour s'assurer que tout était mis en place. Tout s'arrangeait très bien, par certains décorateurs de l'université où il avait fait appel à l'aide. Le stand du D.J était en train d'être installé avec leur équipement et un sourire doux mais simple est venu sur ses lèvres. Phillip savait que ses amis flipperaient chaque fois qu'ils voyaient son costume mais il a choisi Envy pour la raison même que c'était la Saint Patrick et plus, il avait l'air super dans la couleur verte ou alors il pensait. Alors qu'il n'avait que sur la moitié de son costume maintenant, avec un clin d'œil de tous les présents et un pouce en haut, il est allé vers les portes doubles qui mènent à l'entrepôt et pouvait entendre le bavardage de plusieurs personnes. C'est l'heure du spectacle. Il sourit alors qu'il plaçait sur le reste de son costume et ouvrit les portes doubles. "Bienvenue à la fête de l'année!" Sa voix rugissait comme elle venait de frapper à sept heures et les gens s'évanouissaient devant lui, la plupart avec des dons en main. Dès que de plus en plus de gens ont commencé à déposer, le D.J a rapidement commencé quelques airs, les barmans présents étaient en train de préparer leurs correctifs et les gens qui avaient pris soin étaient prêts à servir. Bien sûr, Phillip a fait des liens pour que certaines personnes soient là, mais a dû sortir avec une sorte de bang pour son anniversaire cette année. Alors qu'il regardait les gens commencer à se mettre à l'aise et à s'amuser, il sentit une paire de mains sur ses yeux et entendit une voix douce murmurer devinez qui. Il pensait que c'était Cecilia mais il avait tort et quand il s'est retourné, il a roulé les yeux et a vu que c'était son ex petite amie et bien sûr, elle avait une tenue de salope et était habillée comme luxure. "Oh! Intéressant costume Riddler. Laisse-moi deviner... "Envy?" Son ex, Sydney, a parlé. Phillip n'a rien fait de plus que de cligner la tête vers elle alors qu'elle gloussait et se pressait contre lui. -- Eh bien, peut-être plus tard, je pourrai résoudre une de vos énigmes. Phillip gémit de ses mots et utilisa sa canne d'or pour s'éloigner d'elle. Connaissant ses amis, si l'un d'eux l'avait sauté à l'envers de sa tête s'ils l'avaient même surpris à lui parler. En parlant de ses amis, il se demandait où ils étaient à ce stade. Phillip se mélangea avec certains de ses invités et sourit alors qu'il regardait la table actuelle, l'esprit dériveant vers quel genre de cadeaux les gens l'avaient eu. Il s'excusa des gens avec qui il se mêlait et sortit son portable et tira un texto vers son groupe d'amis. Aux : Toute la bande Où êtes-vous?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Il a envoyé le message, soupirant alors qu'il plaçait le téléphone dans sa botte, puis il a continué à marcher et à se mêler à ses suppositions.

"I do not ask questions, I make statements." N A M E Phillip Jeffery Daniels. N I C K N A M E Phillip likes to be called Phil by people that are really close to him. He'll only accept Phil and nothing else from anyone. He doesn't like have cutesy nicknames thrown his way. B I R T H D A T E March 17, 1991. A G E Twenty-six. G E N D E R Male. S E X U A L I T Y Bisexual though leans towards females much more than males. R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Recently single. O C C U P A T I O N Full time college student, studying Journalism at NYU. H O M E T O W N Biloxi, Mississippi. E T H N I C I T Y African American. A P P E A R A N C E Phillip is the personification of tall, dark and handsome to some people. He stands about six foot one and weighs one-hundred and sixty-six of pure muscle due to working out and such. Phillip has a brown texture color to his skin complexion, which match with his eyes color though they take on a much darker brown color. He use to be a bit on the chubbier side whenever he was younger but toned up once he hit high school and started playing sports. His hair is black and he likes to keep it trimmed and edged up to perfection. Phillip style of dress is really casual as he usually wears a t-shirt and jeans along with Vans or some type of shoe and calls it a day. Other days and if he's really feeling it, he'll dress himself up in a suit. Phillip currently doesn't have any tattoos but would really like to have at least one before he is thirty years of age though he does have his earlobes pierced and usually keeps a diamond stub in them. H A B I T S Phillip is the type of person that likes to stay in shape and doesn't everything within his ability to make sure that he doesn't skip a day of exercising. He cannot start his day without going for a jog and working out, or something. Being stressed is a feeling that Phillip cannot stand to be in, for when he is stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take at least three deep breaths. To call Phillip a person that dislikes germs is an absolute understatement. Phillip washes and sanitizes his hands after he uses the restroom, coughs, sneezes and if he touches anyone else. Decision making takes a little bit longer when it comes to him. If he needs to make a decision, he'll think about it for a little bit than the average person. • Cannot start his day without working out or going for a jog • When he's stressed, he'll close his eyes for a few minutes and take about three deep breaths • Washes and sanitizes his hands often • Takes a little bit of time before making a decision on things H O B B I E S Phillip may not seem like the person that does most of his hobbies but he has to do something within his spare time. He likes to go outside on cloudy days and just sit down to stare up at the sky and watch the clouds as they drift by. It may seem weird but it is something that he does and he cannot help it. Along with that, he'll write down his thoughts within his journal and just feel much better after he is done writing. Phillip is a very athletic male and it really shows within his body and stature but he necessarily doesn't let that define him. Along with that, he does a little bit of archery here and there along with playing a few video games. • Cloud Watching • Writing in his journal • Archery • Video Games L I K E S • Working Out • Photography • NYU • Starbuck's • Social Media {Has a Twitter, Instagram and SnapChat} • Friendly, Social Gatherings D I S L I K E S • Junk Food • Dramatic People • Reality TV Shows • Watching Horror movies alone • Severe Thunderstorms F E A R S • Commitment • Any type of abuse again P E R S O N A L I T Y When one first looks at Phillip, they think that he is someone you can easily pushover but he is the complete opposite. He is very bold and will stand his ground against anyone, no matter who you are. Phillip doesn’t like it when people bully others so he’ll definitely step in and defend anyone without thinking about the consequences first. Even though he has such a bold personality on one side, he can also be very distant especially if you said something wrong towards him. He doesn’t really like to talk out his problems with other people but instead writes them out in a journal. He hates being distant and times but most people don’t even know that he is distant, considering his other personality traits. If there was a trophy to hand out for being the biggest flirt then Phillip would definitely get that honor as he’s been flirting ever since he was in diapers. Phillip loves flirting with guys and girls as it’s the possibility and adrenaline aspect of it that makes him want to do it more. Plus, he is a terrific person to cuddle with. H I S T O R Y Phillip grew up in a middle class family, being the third oldest child to two working parents. Phillip's older brother was always the one left in charge of them whenever they were home alone so his older brother had to learn how to grow up fast. It was when Phillip was about seven years of age when his life changed forever. His mother and father had taken his little sister and second to oldest brother out, leaving him and his eldest home alone. Everything was going fine until "it" happened. Phillip was changed and felt like something had been taken away from him and something had been, his pride. Since that day, he never told anyone since his eldest brother did threaten him. He lived his life in fear that it was going to happen again and again and eventually, he ran away from home but was found three nights later. Phillip became a person he thought he never see himself as. He became defiant and very rebellious, talking back to anyone and everyone, always wanting the last word. His parents couldn't put up with him anymore and they shipped him off to live with his grandmother in Arkansas. There, he joined a gang, started committing crimes such as thievery, dealing drugs and even fighting. He was caught by the police one time and was thrown in a local juvenile center at the age of fourteen. He had learned many rights and wrongs while in the center and wanted to turn his life around. He went up to his counselor in the center and talked to her everyday and sometimes all day. He had a lot to get off of his chest on most days. At the age of sixteen, he was released from the center and turned his life around. He got out of the gang lifestyle and went to a local public school, excelling in all of his classes with A's and B's. His teachers always told him that he could be whatever he wanted to be and he took those words of encouragement and ran with it. Graduating in the top 50 in his class, Phillip went to college in Tennessee and majored in Psychology. He only went for one semester though as he returned home to his parents, who were very happy with the success in his life and even happy to see him. Phillip's eldest was proud, too and even apologized for what he did several years ago. Being a grown up about it, Phillip accepted his apology but then punched him square in the nose. After that display, he packed up his things and took the first flight out to New York so that he could reinvent himself and go back to school but focusing on a different area of critique. He loves being in New York and it shows since he did grow up in the South all his life. Phillip also loves the small things that the fabulous city has to offer and wouldn't go back towards the South anytime soon. ⚜ Acquaintances || ☯ Neutral || ☮ Friends || ♫ Best Friends || ♥ Love Interest || ⚤ Boyfriend/Girlfriend || ☠ Enemies O L I V I A . B I S H O P {☮} "So, we can Netflix but no chill. We can drink though." Phillip and Olivia have a somewhat odd friendship. What started off as a night of binge watching television shows and movies on Netflix turned into nights of drinking to the point where Olivia would be too drunk to do anything else for the night. Being the good guy that he is, Phillip always leaves after making sure she was comfortable on her couch and would never take advantage of her. They are friends, especially if one of them needs to get drunk for the day or night. T H U Y . P H A M {♫} "Who would've thought that me and you would be so close?" When Phillip befriended Thuy via social media, it was no doubt that they became instant friends. Their friendship started small and simple but grew into a much stronger bond as time went on. When they met for the first time, it seem that these two were very much inseparable towards one another and is still that way whenever they are around each other. Granted, these two have had some very distasteful arguments towards one another but that doesn't define the deepening truth of their friendship. N Y L A H . W E I S S {☮} "So, want to go for another run?" Ah, these two are always running alongside each other every chance they get. Even though whenever they are side by side, running or doing whatever else, there is very little conversation between the duo. Phillip will always be there for Nylah though, if she ever needs him. He has made that known many, many times before. R U I . R O S A S {☮} "Dude, you really need to lighten up just a little bit." Phillip has tried time and time again to get Rui to open up, not only towards him but towards the group of friends, as well. He doesn't understand why Rui is the way he is but hopes to find out sometime sooner rather than later. K I E R A N . O' C O N N O R {♫} "Workout buddy right here!" Phillip and Kieran can be seen working out from time to time together but that's not the only thing that brings them closer towards one another. They both have a similar desire in Journalism, in some way, shape or form and are always bonding over that, too. They are close friends in Phillip's eyes but he wouldn't trade Kieran for nothing else in this world.

& NylahSituation: Bagel Place → Parade Interactions: Kieran et Nylah "Glad vous avez demandé," Nylah a dit avec un sourire, déverrouillant son téléphone et tirant une photo pour montrer à Kieran. L'image était d'une sneaker noire sur orange et blanc avec un timbre noir très proéminent. Ils sont Air Jordans — Air Jordan numero one retro. Je pense que la couleur était quelque chose comme «reversée cassée backboard.-.- traquer une paire d'orange était beaucoup plus difficile que je pensais, mais la plupart du défi était de choisir la bonne.- Nylah s'est arrêté, en regardant Kieran avec inquiétude. Phillip joue toujours au basket, pas vrai? Je suis sorti sur un pied et j'ai acheté ça au lieu de courir des chaussures depuis qu'il a mentionné qu'il jouait au lycée. Mon Dieu, j'aurais dû vérifier, n'aurais-je pas dû? – Elle a demandé, plus à elle-même que Kieran. Ce serait si maladroit s'il n'avait pas... Kieran roulait toujours la morsure de bagel dans sa bouche après avoir vu le présent Nylah se faire. Il a finalement avalé. Oui... Oui, il a toujours des cerceaux. Pas autant qu'au lycée, mais il le fait toujours..." Le Canadien se sentait maintenant un peu à la baisse sur son propre cadeau. Les ressources n'étaient tout simplement pas là pour rivaliser au même niveau que Nylah. Je n'ai même pas pu acheter mon propre petit déjeuner et elle a des Jordans vintage de l'éther... Dang... Il a pris une autre bouchée, beaucoup plus petite cette fois. Je pense qu'il va très bien les aimer, Nylah." C'est bon d'entendre, a dit Nylah, un peu soulagé d'entendre que son ordre de dernière minute était à la hauteur. La moitié du chemin passant par son sandwich au bagel, elle a pensé qu'ils s'attaqueraient d'abord aux autres choses importantes. Et ça inclut des costumes pour ce soir. Alors, qu'est-ce que vous portez ce soir -- vous, PJ's?. Nylah a plaisanté avant de se remettre rapidement et de tirer sur le Canadien un look non amusé. J'espère que ma supposition n'est pas tout à fait exacte. Nylah était en feu aujourd'hui. Une fois de plus, Kieran a été forcé d'arrêter de manger. Il soupirait. "J'allais jeter un masque de sommeil." Il s'est reposé la tête sur la main, les cheveux de lit drapés sur le côté. "Je ne sais pas. C'était juste une blague, mais je vais devoir courir avec. En plus d'aller louer un costume animal, je ne sais pas quoi faire d'autre avec le paresseux. Pas vraiment un thème "actif", vous savez?" Eh bien la couleur pour le paresseux est bleu clair, donc j'espère que vous avez un peu de PJ cette couleur," Nylah a dit dans la suggestion. Kieran a hurlé. "Au moins j'ai eu ça pour moi." Il a pris sa deuxième à dernière morsure de bagel et l'a rapidement avalé. "Est-ce suffisant pour éviter les regards de poignard, n'est-ce pas? Et j'ai probablement obtenu Rui pour détourner de la critique de toute façon. Phil veut qu'il corresponde au thème, mais vous savez comment Rui est." "Vrai. Rui ferait une excellente « fierté », dit Nylah, souriant à l'amusement à la pensée. "Imaginez juste: confiant dans un costume pourpre avec juste la bonne touche de snobness" Des mouches de verdure à travers la foule dans les rues rappelaient à Nylah que c'était la Saint-Patrick, et elle regardait Kieran avec un sourire. "Il n'y a pas une sorte de défilé qui se déroule ce soir pour St. Chez Patrick?" "Oui, il y a et..." Kieran a regardé sa tenue, sans aucune coloration verte. "Ah bon sang... Je vais avoir tellement de pinces aujourd'hui. Au moins, je sais que je peux toujours les prendre, n'est-ce pas? Il a fini la dernière bouchée du petit déjeuner. "Voulez-vous aller vérifier avant la préparation de la fête ce soir?" "C'est comme un plan pour moi," dit Nylah, polissant aussi son propre sandwich. "Er, où est-il encore?" Après quelques recherches de google et des questions autour, Kieran et Nylah ont pu trouver le défilé -- et recevoir beaucoup de pinces ainsi qu'une tasse en solo ou deux de whisky irlandais -- avant que les deux se séparent pour rentrer à la maison et se changer en leurs tenues.

Nylah Weiss "Smile for the camera!" N A M E Nylah Amelie Weiss N I C K N A M E None — Nylah doesn’t do nicknames. B I R T H D A T E May 21st, 1993 A G E 24 G E N D E R Female S E X U A L I T Y Heterosexual R E L A T I O N S H I P S T A T U S Single. Again. O C C U P A T I O N Broadway Actor, currently working her way up. H O M E T O W N New York, New York — Upper East Side E T H N I C I T Y Caucasian A P P E A R A N C E Slim and refined at a height of 5’9”, Nylah’s style is sophisticated chic. With a closet of name brands speckled with bursts of color and an impeccable taste for finery, it’s almost impossible to see Nylah not at her best. For her it’s not so much dressing up as a way of life, although she’ll forego the heels for flats for the sake of her feet. She will, however, indulge in a bright red lip now and then just to brighten her day — and her smile. At first glance Nylah is the outgoing girl who’s kind, helpful, and confident, and her hundred-watt smile gives her a mischievous feel. She has five piercings on her ear — two on each side an a cartilage on her left. H A B I T S Prone to forgetting things last minute, especially hair ties. Nylah’s constantly trying to fight this, albeit unsuccessfully. She’s taken to keeping a pack of hair ties in her purse at all times. Running late: As she gets easily distracted and engrossed by things, Nylah often finds herself running against the clock. The only good thing that’s come out of this is a practiced ability to compose herself in a heartbeat — something that’s very helpful when she’s nervous about going on stage. Getting distracted: When not focused, Nylah is easily distracted by all kinds of things, leading to her zoning out during lectures back in high school and college. While she doesn’t exactly have to sit through boring lectures anymore, she will sometimes tune out of conversations in favor of some passing pedestrian that catches her eye. H O B B I E S Cooking: Nylah’s horrible at it, and that’s exactly why she’s still interested. That, and the fact that it’s a basic life skill that she wants to say she’s checked off the list. She’s currently trying to figure out how to make meals she can serve to friends without losing all of her dignity and manners as a hostess. Running: Nylah enjoys running in her spare time. She tends to shy away from the more popular areas like Hudson River Park, preferring quiet nature meccas like the uptown trails in Van Cortlandt Park or the loop around Central Park’s Reservoir. Running’s the time when Nylah gets some peace from the constantly buzzing world around her, and the quiet — at times — is almost as addicting as the colorful blur of life. Reading: Sometime in her childhood, someone had told Nylah to always be reading some book, even if she wasn’t actively reading it. She’s taken this advice to heart and now has a small but growing collection of bestsellers, classics, and random selections. Nylah will sometimes take a book down to the cafe and spend an afternoon there reading. L I K E S Animals, especially cats. During grade school, Nylah’s family adopted a kitten named Periwinkle (Perry, for short), but really it was Nylah that adopted, raised, and loved the cat until his death during her junior year at NYU. Although she hasn’t gotten around to adopting another, cats are definitely in Nylah’s future. The color grey, although she rarely wears it. In her mind, it’s the color of sophistication. Cloudy days: As gloomy as they might seem, they’re like a breath of fresh air to Nylah, often putting others into broody silences so that she can cheer them up — or steer clear of them. Soccer: Not that she can play, but Nylah enjoys watching it enough. Having been exposed to it at an early age by her brother, Nylah’s now a — while not devout — seasonale fan that flows and ebbs with the competition dates. Lattes and baked goodies from the cafe: impulse visits to the cafe at the corner of her street are among Nylah’s favorite things, especially if she walks in on a day when the owner whipped up some of her — and Nylah’s — favorite tiramisu. Be it walking home with a box or two or sitting in the cafe and checking her phone as she spooned creamy goodness into her mouth, Nylah lived for these little things. D I S L I K E S Horror movies: Despite all her claims to be afraid of horror, Nylah is actually quite unimpressed by the genre as a whole. Jump scares get her, sure, but she blinks all of it off. The flicks feel more like a waste of time to her than anything — why would she sit here and get scared by images if she could just go out and experience life? The dark, especially if Nylah’s walking around in the dark with only her footsteps for company. It reminds her of horror movie scenes, and she’d like it if the thoughts ended there. Rain, especially if she’s going to get wet: Water’s all fine and dandy, but not when it’s on her clothes. She’d rather have snow than deal with water droplets that fly and stick everywhere, soaking into things like greedy piranhas. Visiting home: The family home reminds Nylah more of the bad days than the good, and she would rather not have to tell her parents that she, again, is not and will not in the immediate future be cast for a major role in a production. Thus, Nylah’s glad that her parents only ask their children to come home on the holidays. Surviving and having to live with a horrible injury: Despite the positivity around survivors strong arming their way past hardships with disabilities, Nylah doesn’t want anything to do with that all. She’s uncertain about her life as is and doesn’t need some kind of life-changing injury on top of it. If she’s going to live through a car accident that leaves her partially paralyzed, she’d prefer if she didn’t live at all. F E A R S Commitment, especially romantically: Nylah’s too invested in her career right now, too young to be tied down, too pretty to settle — and just about another hundred excuses she’d give you, not that she’d ever let up for someone to ask more than three times. She’ll settle for flings every now and then. The future and regretting her choices: This is a slippery slope for Nylah. Although she says and believes that theater is her calling, Nylah also knows that the chances of her getting picked out of the thousands of aspiring actors out there are slim. As compared with her family, Nylah’s future looks bleak, and she lives in constant fear of that same bleakness becoming a reality. P E R S O N A L I T Y Bright and vivacious, Nylah generally comes off as someone fun to be around albeit a little frivolous at first. Though she’s quite whimsical and rather prone to getting engrossed in whatever catches her fancy, Nylah shows a different face when it comes to things she cares about, becoming quite serious and dedicated. Under her facade of cheery smiles and easy shrugs, Nylah’s actually quite dedicated to her art and loyal to her close friends. Late hours memorizing scripts are not strange for her, and she’ll always be there for a friend in need. Dig a little deeper, and you’ll find a girl who’s not so sure what she stands for and what she should do with her life. Insecure about herself and what the future will hold for her, Nylah passes days firmly grounded in the present. To people she trusts, she opens up enough to act a little more goofy around them, but that’s the cutoff line. Being a person who prefers to bottle things up instead of letting them out, Nylah doesn’t like talking about herself much at all, even to close friends. Romantically, Nylah’s a free spirit, content with having many partners and therefore none at all. Nylah has no real reason for never committing. There was just never a pull, never a reason to tie herself down — not that she’d want to in the first place. Nylah knows that she’s still young, and she intends to take full advantage of it. To her, dating’s a scary and relatively unnecessary commitment right now, and — in case she does get her big break — Nylah doesn’t want to have to have her it conflict with her career and passion. H I S T O R Y Growing up in the Weiss household, excellence was expected. With a father who’s one of the biggest names in medicine despite being retired and a mother who’s the CEO of a prestigious business corporation based in New York, Nylah’s been groomed from birth to be perfect, and she would have embraced her heritage with open arms if not for her brother. Oh yes, her older brother. The golden boy who got his DBA at Harvard and now the most probable candidate for COO at his mother’s company. The impeccable image Nylah would forever be compared to. However hard Nylah worked during her grade school years, her brother had done better. A contender for Valedictorian? Her brother was Valedictorian. Varsity captain of the girl’s volleyball team? Nylah’s brother was captain of both the lacrosse and the soccer teams. Though her time at prestigious private schools had yielded acceptances to schools like Wharton, University of Pennsylvania and Booth, University of Chicago, Nylah’s accomplishments had always fallen short from her brothers. Much to her parents’ disapproval, Nylah enrolled in and graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with a degree in Performance Studies. Her brother is the reason why Nylah’s fine with pursuing a career in theatre since she figured that her parents didn’t need another perfect child to brag to their friends about, so here Nylah is, pursuing something she’s good at — passionate about. Theatre was and still is Nylah’s one true love, and she’s also fairly brilliant at it — putting on a mask, that is. Because no one know the real Nylah Weiss, only the character. The bright, bubbly, outgoing Nylah who puts her all into her characters and rebuffs romance with smiles and a lack of commitment. From Tisch, Nylah went on to work her way up from understudies of unknown side characters to her current role as the second female lead in a relatively small production. While she still has a ways to go, Nylah’s comfortable with her life, especially since her parents have accepted that their daughter isn’t interested in going into business. She lives in a nice, roomy West Village flat and likes getting coffee at the corner cafe, Cafe Cheri, where she worked at before she got her bigger acting roles. Her romantic life has been riddled with short-term commitments and flings, though she never bothered counting since she’s always considered herself some form of single. P E O P L E . T O . B O T H E R The unfortunate people who’ve been able to make the acquaintance of a certain Nylah Weiss. They’ll see her again — Nylah will make certain of that. P H I L L I P . D A N I E L S — Aquaintance-Turned-Running Buddy, Fellow Exercise Enthusiast-Turned-Friend — running buddy."As dedicated runners that drop by Starbucks every now and then, Nylah and Philip are familiar with each others’ exercise routine and comfortable with the silence that occurs during it. Although they don’t talk much while they run, Nylah knows that Phil’s there to listen should she ever need a shoulder to cry on. When they do talk, some light flirting and exchanging of pick-up lines is not uncommon. Spontaneous texts requesting a brief run or a quick drop-by to Starbucks are not unheard of between the two, and only god knows which of them is the faster one. O L I V I A . B I S H O P — That Perpetually Drunk Friend — but charming with a big heart. Add a few drinks and it’s friends at first sight."Having met back during their years at NYU, Nylah originally didn’t think much of Olivia. A night of clubbing later, Nylah was absolutely charmed by the other girl, finding her fun, witty, and doubly amazing with a few drinks under her belt. That Olivia’s down-to-earth personality loosens up when she drinks amuses Nylah immensely, and Nylah’s constantly trying to get her friend to give romance another try — mostly just her teasing though. R U I . R O S A S — The Almost-Not-Really Friend — me of my older brother, but with none of the arrogant utilitarianism."Having been a rather social person during her time at NYU, Nylah prided herself in knowing people, so of course she’d seen the tall, suave economics guy that came out for a drink every now and then. He’d struck her as a person that fit in her childhood circles at first sight, with the aura of a conservative, high-achieving, wealthy upbringing rolling off him in waves. At first Nylah had been prepared to avoid the boy like the plague — she wasn’t looking to befriend someone like her brother — and it would have worked too if she hadn’t walked into the club one day and found the old money Rui Rosas drinking by himself, looking sullen and just downright miserable. Plopping herself on the stool next to him, Nylah instigated what would become a rather silent yet informative drinking partnership where she’d rebuff every nosy or smitten individual who was looking to order a drink with Rui — or herself. While Nylah would easily call the two of them acquaintances, she would be hesitant to add the “friend” label — although she hopes that even if they never voice it, she’s gotten close enough to call the boy a friend. ]K I E R A N . V I N C E N T . O ‘ C O N N O R — Partner-in-Crime — hunk, inner softie." Nylah was a little surprised to learn that the cute hunk she’d met during one of her earlier theater auditions in her undergraduate years was, in fact, a retired hockey player who had been drafted by and almost played for the New York Islanders. She’d been trying for a role — any role, at that point in her nonexistent career — and Kieran had been one of the hired playwrights being paid to tailor the script to the cast. Having pegged him as an aspiring author, starving artist-type, Nylah hadn’t thought much of the boy until a fellow cast member clued her in about his retirement, and from there Nylah launched a campaign that she never regretted. Although Kieran and Nylah had started their friendship during their time with the production, their friendship grew beyond that, from raving about the FIFA playoffs and sometimes hockey — a new discovery on Nylah’s part, credits to a certain blonde writer — to afternoons memorizing lines and writing to the tune of some old record in the background. T H U Y . P H A M — Friend and Fellow Epicurian — spunky foodie. Our minds and stomachs understand each other, even if our words disagree sometimes." Nylah met Cecelia one day when she walked into the other girl’s family restaurant and struck up a conversation with the spunky, tattooed waiter that turned out to be the owner’s daughter. Nylah quickly found that the girl, bleached hair and contacts and all, was a kindred soul that shared a love of good food and partying. The two often scour the city for good restaurants for dinner and clubs for the bridge until the late AMs with Olivia in tow. Although they might argue at times, Nylah genuinely likes Cecelia and believes the girl to be cute but strong, full of tough-love and fun.

Geoffrey Le dernier bateau avec le reste des entraîneurs qui ont été invités à faire le défi de la Ligue des Champions avait enfin arrivé dans la ville portuaire d'Azure Bay. Le navire transportait le reste des 12 entraîneurs. Tous les autres entraîneurs sur le bateau se sont révélés ennuyeux ou insoupçonnables pour Geoffrey de prendre note d'eux. Même si certains des occupants étaient des champions comme Cynthia ou quatre membres d'élite comme Drake et Aaron. Malgré leur pouvoir, ils n'avaient pas le feu que Geoffrey voulait voir chez un participant. Ils ne se sont pas efforcés d'être l'entraîneur pour relever ce défi. C'était comme s'ils étaient là pour s'amuser au lieu de la gloire. Quelqu'un comme lui n'était pas celui que Geoffrey voulait, alors il vient de les laisser tomber. Tous ses espoirs reposaient sur ce dernier bateau et sur les 12 entraîneurs qui y étaient restés. Alors qu'ils commençaient à se décharger du bateau, il commença à les scanner. Aucun d'eux n'avait l'air de la personne qu'il cherchait, mais finalement il a vu quelqu'un. C'était une fille aux cheveux rouges. Définitivement hors de la foule avec la couleur de ses cheveux. Bien qu'elle n'ait pas eu la passion de lutter, elle a eu un certain air pour elle. La passion qui allait au-delà de la lutte. C'était difficile de dire ce que c'était juste par apparence, mais Geoffrey a vu quelque chose en elle qu'il aimait. Il fait mentalement une note pour qu'il et ses chemins « croisent » accidentellement avant de sortir de la ville. Une fois qu'elle était complètement partie, il a continué sa recherche pour ce certain formateur. Les formateurs ont continué à descendre et un par un, Geoffrey les a laissés tomber. Avec un seul entraîneur pour descendre du bateau et croiser les doigts, Geoffrey espérait le meilleur avec cette personne. Et puis c'est arrivé. La dernière était celle promise. Quelqu'un avec une vraie passion pour lutter. Quelqu'un qui allait tout remettre en question. Il l'a vu dans ses yeux, une flamme qui brûlait plus fort que n'importe quel autre entraîneur qui avait descendu du bateau. Le mâle blond poilu était exactement la personne avec laquelle il voulait voyager. Sachant qu'il devait faire vite et donner l'impression qu'il fallait, il s'est levé et s'est rapidement déplacé vers l'endroit où se trouvait l'entraîneur, mais juste avant de pouvoir l'atteindre, un autre entraîneur a marché devant lui. Cet entraîneur a sorti son bras, pointant vers l'entraîneur blond à cheveux. "Toi et moi. On va se battre ici et maintenant. Je sais que vous êtes l'ex-champion de la ligue Unova. Alors, montre-moi ce que tu as!", l'entraîneur a crié. Alors que ce n'était pas exactement la façon dont Geoffrey voulait qu'il parte, ce serait bien de voir comment cet entraîneur était en bataille. « Très bien, alors, si c'est une bataille je vais arbitrer. Deux pokemon chacun. Le premier à faire tomber les deux adversaires pokemon est le gagnant. Tu es prêt?', Geoffrey a dit avec un sourire. Prêt à lancer la bataille.

Name: Geoffrey Rhodes Age: 22 Gender: Male Why he was accepted in the Mande Region: While Geoffrey himself was not allowed to enter into the Mande region, his parents were. When he was a young boy both of his parents had been invited to try their hands at the difficult region. As they had no other options they had to bring along their only son Geoffrey. His entire childhood was spent hiking and camping with his parents in and out of the areas of the Mande region. On their quest to conquer the Master Trainer challenge. As he continued to age and his time was spent there he really got use to the area. So much so that he can find his way through almost any part of Mande without any difficulty at all. So when his parents finally decided to settle down from their new journey. They decided that the Mande region was where they were going to live. Years past for Geoffrey and finally at the age of 15 he decided to set out on a journey. Though this journey is slightly different from the journey that his parents had set out on decades ago. This journey was to help and guide people through the region. Giving them aid in getting past the absolutely treacherous terrain of Mande. Along the way he began to meet his pokemon partners one by one. And eventually he become quite the trainer himself. 7 years after the start of his journey. He met two new people. These two new people were going to be the start of his new journey. The journey of seeing the 5th trainer beat the entire League of Champions. Battle Pokemon Trevenant - Aokigahara - ♂ Natural Cure Aokigahara has a very special place inside Geoffrey's heart. It was his first Pokemon and he obtained it when he was just 9 years old as a Phantump. While his parents were on a trip through the woods attempting to strength their Pokemon, Geoffrey caught a glimpse of the small tree like Pokemon floating through the air. In that moment he knew that was the exact Pokemon that he wanted. He tugged on his mother's sleeve and begged her for a Pokeball. Seeing the Pokemon she smiled and hand him what he wanted. The moment the Quickball was in his hand he threw it straight at the Phantump. A great light came from the pokeball and absorb the Phantump into the ball. Three shakes of the ball and that was it. Geoffrey had caught his first pokemon. It wasn't until many years later did that Phantump evolve into Trevenant. It was an extremely cold night that was only keeping warm by the blazing fire that was destroying the forest. His other Pokemon were hard at work attempting to put out the fire, while Aokigahara was staying back away from the raging flames. The other Rangers were using every move they could to extinguish the flames. After hours and hours of work was the flame finally put out. But the entire forest was destroyed. All the Pokemon who escaped didn't have a home anymore. There was nothing any of them could have done, but Aokigahara decided to step forward. The pokemon set itself of the ground and let out a very large cry. Trees began to grow up from the ground and a powerful rate. The move it was using was Forest's Curse. These trees were only temporary with the move, but the Phantump turned to a solid white color. Aokigahara was evolving. Geoffrey's pokemon began to grow in size and obtain more limbs then it had before. Aokigahara had finally become a Trevenant. With this new found power of the Trevenant it began to spread the trees across the entire forest. And with it's ability Natural Cure, it brought the dead trees of Forest's Curse back to life. Geoffrey finally saw the potential of Trevenant and has been using him in his battles ever since. Infernape - Wukong - ♂ Krookodile - Nile - ♀ Electrabuzz - Sprite - ♂ Lucario - Fawkes - ♂ Beheeyem - Roswell - ♂ Regirock - Gaia - Genderless Non-Battle Pokemon Wailord, Noctowl, Lillipup

En y repensant maintenant, Juliette en est arrivée à la conclusion qu'elle méritait probablement cette punition. Juste un peu. Elle n'a fait que se faufiler dans la salle des machines et bricoler un peu avec le câblage électrique. Bien sûr, elle a causé une panne de courant de deux heures, mais le navire est sorti dix fois plus efficace après qu'elle en ait fini avec ça! Ils devraient être reconnaissants qu'elle ait optimisé tout leur système. Juliette regarda l'homme chauve debout à l'entrée de la cabine, les bras croisés raidement et la bouche tournée dans une fronce de sterne, et les moutons souriants. Ils étaient assez légers avec la punition, toutes choses considérées. Pour s'occuper de l'électricité, elle n'était confinée qu'à l'intérieur du hangar du navire, et devait y rester jusqu'à leur arrivée à la baie d'Azure. Juliette regarda de nouveau l'homme chauve, les engrenages dans sa tête broyant alors qu'elle essayait de trouver un moyen de le dépasser. Sanction légère ou pas, elle n'a pas pris le temps de s'asseoir et elle était coincée dans la pièce depuis cinq heures maintenant. Son Klefki s'arrêtait à côté d'elle, les clés qu'il recueillait claquant comme le rire s'arrachait le cadre, regardant dans l'amusement son entraîneur a essayé de lui parler doucement hors de l'enfermement. Jusqu'à présent, ce n'était pas possible. Juliette a délibérément sorti sa lèvre inférieure et a battu son cil dans ce qu'elle pensait être une façon attrayante, plaidant avec le ton le plus persuasif qu'elle pouvait rassembler, mais non. Pas de réaction du tout. Elle s'est claquée la langue et a plié sur le canapé en cuir, en lançant les mains dans une démonstration exagérée de défaite. Bah, cet acte mignon était super efficace quand elle était plus jeune. Elle pensait qu'elle avait besoin de trouver une autre tactique maintenant. Lockhart se moquait encore d'elle, mais il déconnectait ses bras et lui tapait les cheveux de sympathie de toute façon. Juliette a fait sauter quelques brins de ses franges sur son visage. "Je devrais attendre, hein, Locke?" Il y avait un autre cliquetis des clés que le Klefki a hurlé, toujours à l'air très amusé. Heureusement, l'attente n'a pas été aussi longue. Ils arrivèrent à la ville portuaire dans une heure, et aussitôt qu'ils s'étaient amarrés, elle fut autorisée à rejoindre les autres entraîneurs choisis débarquant le navire. Juliette se vanta de sa liberté et se limita et descendit sur les quais avec une source dans son pas. Elle passa par les autres entraîneurs alors qu'elle s'efforçait de descendre, certains d'entre eux qu'elle avait appris à connaître pendant son temps sous la tutelle de Bill. Cynthia et elle avaient fait connaissance il y a quelques semaines, en fait, après avoir mis à niveau le logiciel de son Pokedex. La blonde lui a donné un salut en passant avant de revenir à son débat houleux avec Drake. Lorsqu'elle atteignit le pont, elle prit un moment pour s'imprégner de la vue, accueillant la douce brise marine qui lui soufflait les cheveux et chatouillait le nez. L'océan s'étendit sans fin au-delà de l'horizon, une feuille de bleu pétillant, brisée seulement par l'eau occasionnelle Pokemon sautant dehors. Il y avait des Wingulls et des Pelippers qui tournaient au-dessus d'eux, se cachant heureux entre eux. Juliette a rejoint le Dive Ball configuré sur sa ceinture et a libéré sa Nova pour une plongée rapide. La Starmie a filé dans l'eau avec florissante, sa gemme resplendissante, alors qu'elle plongeait de plus en plus profondément dans l'océan. Alors qu'elle attendait le retour de Nova, Juliette aperçut une bataille imminente au large du port. Elle a pris place sur un banc voisin et les a regardés, curiosité piquée. D'après ce qu'elle pouvait glaner, l'ex-champion d'Unova était défié par un entraîneur, et il y avait un entraîneur aux cheveux foncés prêt à officialiser le match. Elle les reconnut tous comme des passagers du navire, les quelques-uns qu'elle n'avait pas encore connus. Bien qu'en tant que camarade Unovan, Juliette connaissait Jay Rayne et sa conquête record. Sa sœur était une grande fan de lui, mais ensuite il s'est impliqué dans ce scandale. Elle s'est toujours demandé pourquoi il a tabassé cet entraîneur. Peut-être qu'elle pourrait lui en parler... Avec rien d'autre à faire, Juliette et Locke ont applaudi à l'écart au début de la bataille, se contentant avec enthousiasme d'en tirer le coup. C'était assez excitant de regarder une bataille d'ex-champ.

Name: Jay Rayne Age: 24 Gender: Male Region of origin: Icurrus, Unova Why he was accepted: He's the Unova Ex-Champion, and holds the standing record for least amount of pokemon used to defeat the previous champion Jay Rayne grew up in Icirrus City, and at the time he was the only child his age in the city. Like any kid his age with no peers to play with, Jay was extremely lonely and bored. So what did he do? He explored the surrounding forests. While exploring in the wooded moors, the young Jay Rayne bumped into another child who'd had the same idea. Jay made his first friend that day: a young girl with long black hair and beautiful azure eyes. Ava. The two played and played, happy as two kids could be. Because Jay was the only kid his age in the small city of Icirrus, his parents simply assumed that he'd made an imaginary friend, happy that he was finally having some fun for once. Ava and Jay explored every inch of the moors and surrounding forests, never tiring of the other's company for an instant. It was a while before Jay found out that Ava wasn't real. She didn't exist. She was just an illusion created by a lonely Zorua to keep a boy as lonely as herself company. But Jay didn't care what she was, so long as she was his friend. They continued to play together, Ava sometimes appearing as a girl and sometimes as a small black fox, right up until the day winter reared its ugly head. Once it started to snow, Ava told Jay that she was leaving the area with her family. He was sad that his one friend was leaving, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change the fact. He'd never met this family of hers, but from what she spoke of them, he didn't want to. A few years passed, and Jay was now eight. His explorations had turned with time into hunts. He was going to be the best trainer in the world, so he practiced hunting and capturing pokemon, which wasn't as easy without any pokemon of his own, or even any pokeballs. On one particular hunt, just as Jay was about to pounce on an unsuspecting Vanillite, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. Ready to yell at whoever had attacked him and let his quarry escape, he spun, and froze. "Ava?" The two were inseparable, and this time Jay even convinced Ava to come into the city with him. Everyone, including his own parents, were surprised to say the least. And even Jay was surprised by her as well when she dropped her illusion for him. She had evolved during the time he hadn't seen her, into a dark and elegant Zoroark. She didn't leave him again, her evolution giving her freedom from her pack's control. When Jay turned ten, Ava became his first pokemon, his partner in crime for the long journey to come. Jay and his partner rose through the ranks like a flaming arrow, incinerating all in their way to the top. Along the way, Jay assembled a team of pokemon. His team grew slowly, as Jay never just took a pokemon out of its natural habitat. It had to want to go with him. "Ava" the Zoroark was his queen, sweeping the competition with ease without letting any of jay's other pokemon get a chance to do anything. His second pokemon was a Tyranitar, nichnamed "Gula", raised from a Pupitar that had attacked him. Jay had been impressed with the creature's ferocity even then, and he'd asked it to join him. His third pokemon was given to him as an egg, which hatched into an Eevee. "Luxuria", or "Lux" is Ava's baby. Jay was hardly even allowed to hold her. Jay beat the Unova champion with just three pokemon, a record that still holds. For three years, Jay has won every battle that he's used Ava in. He was forced to allow trainers to battle him without Ava because there was some bad publicity after a challenger had a mental breakdown from what Ava showed him with her illusions, but a few weeks passed and still no one had beaten him. One day as the champion was taking a walk through the same forested moors that he had explored as a child, Jay was challenged to a battle by a man seeking his title, and Jay couldn't refuse a battle. The man sent out a Gardevoir against the legendary Ava, and Jay forfeited the battle. He instead chose to beat the man's face in. Jay's sharp eye saw the signs. For what he had done to that pokemon, the man had deserved so much more than he had gotten. Jay was forced to resign from his position, and his advisors had him go to work at a pokemon rehabilitation center to wipe away some of the red marks on his record. The Gardevoir followed him, not willing to leave the man that had saved her. Jay renamed her "Solitaire" or "Sol". Besides Ava, she's the closest out of his pokemon to Jay's heart. He's been working in the center for a few years now, just keeping his head down and acting like a model of good behavior. Two more have joined his ranks in that time: "Acedia" or "Ace" the Talonflame was the first of them. It was dropped off anonymously to a pokemon center, severely injured, one wing broken in three places, the other in two, and a gash across its head. The nurses at the center let Jay, or rather, Solitaire, heal the injured bird's injuries, and when it was fully healed, Jay asked it if it would like to take revenge on those who had done such a thing. That set Jay's team at five. The other is a similar, if sadder, story. A Garchomp came in, carrying injuries unlike anything a pokemon battle could produce. It's side was completely shredded, as if it had taken the blast of a powerful explosive. What sort of person would have done something like this? He didn't know, and the Garchomp couldn't tell him. Jay asked the Garchomp if it hated the person who had hurt it, and it told him that it did. That was all Jay needed to hear. "Ira" became his sixth pokemon, and a day later, he died. Working at the center was suppoed to cool him down, stop him from lashing out, but it had the exact opposite effect. Jay saw what pokemon were forced to endure at the hands of their trainers, and now he'll punish anyone who mistreats a pokemon. All it took was one incident, an attack on an "innocent" trainer, and Jay was forced to leave Unova. He's changed a lot from that lonely, happy, naive, little boy that Ava met so long ago. She will be with him to the end, no matter what he does with his life. Pokemon: Pokemon Name: Zoroark Nickname: Ave Dominus Nox (Only she calls herself that though, everyone else just calls her Ava, or Ave if they want to be really polite.) Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Jay's first pokemon, and his lifelong partner. She passes for human most of the time. Ava is an absolute monster to cross. Her awesome physical strength strikes terror into the hearts of her partner's opponents, only second to the terror beheld in her illusions. She's usually fun-loving and kind, but that changes suddenly and without warning. Ava speaks and acts like a human when she uses her illusion to look like one. She acts as a translator between pokemon and Jay. Ability: Illusion Moves: Night Daze, Night Slash, Foul Play, Dark Pulse, Double Team, Scary Face, Taunt, Hone Claws, Snarl, Fake Tears, Copycat, Captivate Pokemon Name: Tyranitar Nickname: Gula Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Gula doesn't care about doing anything. Nonsense and frivolity pisses him off. So basically, his emotions range from apathy to homicide and back again. He is the only one capable of matching Ava in brute strength, but he has none of her speed or planning. His normal strategy is to tank everything and end battles in one attack. You do not want to be on the receiving end of one of his Hyper Beam. You will die. Ability: Sand Stream Moves: Stone Edge, Dig, Surf, Hyper Beam, Giga Impact, Earthquake, Strength, Roar, Sandstorm, Rock Polish Pokemon Name: Vaporeon Nickname: Luxuria "Lux" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Lux is a spoiled little brat. It's totally Ava's fault. She may be the weakest out of Jay's pokemon, but underestimate her and you lose. Jay developed the strategy she uses in battle, which he's dubbed "mist armor". Lux holds considerable power of Jay's other pokemon, as she is the only one who doesn't have to fear Ava's wrath. Ability: Water Absorb Moves: Mist, Acid Armor, Hydro Pump, Scald, Ice Beam, Aqua Ring, Rain Dance, Baby-Doll Eyes, Charm, Attract, Rest, Refresh Pokemon Name: Gardevoir Nickname: Solitaire "Sol" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: That image does not convey the crazy that is inside Solitaire. Sol is obsessed with Jay. She kind of got her original trainer, the person who bred and hatched and evolved her, nearly killed, and she felt all of his thoughts and emotions as it happened. And she enjoyed it. She could have stopped Jay, should have, but she didn't want to. Solitaire is good friends with Ava, but sees her as a romantic rival for Jay. Sol has only ever known love by what her old trainer taught her, so that's what she thinks will happen with Jay. Ava knows this but hasn't said anything to Jay. She wants to see what he does. Ability: Trace Moves: Psychic, Psyshock, Moonblast, Dazzling Gleam, Hypnosis, Teleport, Ally Switch, Wish, Healing Wish, Calm Mind, Captivate, Misty Terrain, Protect Pokemon Name: Talonflame Nickname: Acedia "Ace" Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Yes, Jay has a flyer. Ace is his name, and speed is his game. Ace burns his opponents first, then uses his blinding speed to accumulate thousands of tiny attacks in seconds, there and gone before the opponent even has a chance to react. Instead of the normal way, Jay rides Ace by standing on his back in a way similar to a snowboard. A flaming, flying snowboard. Ability: Gale Wings Moves: Flame Charge, Flare Blitz, Brave Bird, Acrobatics, Aerial Ace, Steel Wing, Me First, Roost, Tailwind, Swords Dance Fly

Jay a été l'une des dernières personnes à quitter le bateau. Contrairement aux autres, il ne s'est pas senti pressé de commencer le défi tout de suite. Si les autres étaient assez bons, ça n'aurait pas d'importance s'ils avaient commencé le premier ou le dernier. Les faibles seraient désherbés assez tôt dans les deux sens. Jay a atteint derrière son dos pour libérer Ava de son pokeball quand un entraîneur a couru en avant et l'a défié à une bataille. Sa main s'éloignait du bouton de libération du pokeball. Il n'était pas vraiment d'humeur à se battre, mais ce serait un bon échauffement après avoir été enfermé à l'intérieur du navire pendant si longtemps. Jay n'a pas eu à s'inquiéter de ses compétences devenant ennuyeux, mais il a mis de la valeur dans l'apprentissage de nouvelles techniques de ses adversaires. Battling voulait toujours s'améliorer. "Bien, je vais te combattre", a-t-il dit, en acceptant le défi. Après tout, c'était un homme lié par le titre d'étiquette. Un autre homme, un autre entraîneur probablement, a avancé. Jay l'avait vu balayer les visages de chaque personne pendant que des entraîneurs avaient débarqué le bateau pour commencer leur propre défi Master Trainer. Il se demandait qui était cet homme. « Très bien, alors, si c'est une bataille je vais arbitrer. Deux pokemon chacun. Le premier à faire tomber les deux adversaires pokemon est le gagnant. Êtes-vous prêt?" Jay a hurlé, ses yeux verts perçants restant sur son challenger. "Oui, je suis prêt." L'entraîneur de challengeing a donné un sourire à Jay. En entrant dans sa poche, il a sorti un pokeball et l'a lancé en avant vers le sol. Une lumière éclatante s'est dégagée de la balle et une Skarmory est apparue. Le Skarmory s'est cogné la tête vers le haut au ciel et a laissé sortir un cri très perçant. Le Challenger a ensuite regardé l'homme blond poilu et a appelé, "Ton tour." Jay s'avança alors qu'un pokeball noir et or tomba de sa ceinture. L'endroit où il se trouvait s'est transformé en un tourbillon de flammes pourpres. La créature à l'intérieur étendit ses ailes, et les flammes furent aspirées dans son plumage rouge et gris. La balle de luxe du pokemon a rebondi dans la main tendue de Jay. "Acedia, prends ton temps avec celui-ci. Je ne veux pas qu'il cligne des yeux et qu'il rate tout." Le Talonflame s'est allumé au sol sans son, les ailes enflammées maintenant froides pressées contre ses côtés. Les yeux de l'oiseau, un bleu plus clair que le ciel en haut, rencontraient les yeux jaune vif de l'oiseau d'acier. « Il n'apprendra rien s'il ne voit pas pourquoi il a perdu », dit Jay. Le moment où l'entraîneur a vu que Jay a envoyé un Talonflame un regard de déception est apparu. Utiliser un pokemon qui était fort contre son pokemon. Un financement de bataille, mais quelque chose qui allait rendre le match si incontrôlable. "Damn, je ne m'attendais pas à voir un pokemon de type feu.", dit-il et soupira, "Alright Skarmory utilise Steel Wing" Le Skarmory s'est câblé dans l'air et a commencé à battre ses ailes fortement. C'est un grand cadre en métal soulevé dans l'air et il s'est envolé haut. Une fois qu'il a atteint son sommet, ce sont des ailes rembourrées en acier qui ont montré une lumière très exquise. Skarmory a ensuite arqué son corps vers le bas et le nez a plongé tout droit vers le Talonflame de Jay. En l'utilisant comme une lame, il a fallu faire un tour au pokémon ennemi. Jay protégea ses yeux du soleil pendant qu'il regardait vers le haut, mais autrement, il ne fit rien. Un entraîneur qui devait dire à son pokemon ce qu'il devait faire, ne connaissait tout simplement pas assez son pokemon pour gagner. L'oiseau cramoisi et gris était immobile jusqu'au dernier instant possible. Les plumes de la Skarmory ressemblaient à des épées, et ne divulguaient l'air qu'à quelques pieds des yeux bleus d'Acedia. Ces yeux n'avaient pas quitté l'autre oiseau. Acedia. Le nom était ironique. Il a déménagé. Les ailes de l'oiseau en métal n'ont rien coupé, ce qu'il visait avait disparu. Jay sentit l'air autour de lui se précipiter vers l'avant dans un courant brusquement ascendant. Haut au-dessus, exactement où l'ex-champion avait regardé dans le ciel, Acedia a volé, ses deux ailes dispersant la lumière du soleil avec un éclat métallique. À mesure que l'aile de l'acier s'est évanouie, les ailes de l'oiseau ont commencé à smolder à nouveau comme elles le faisaient habituellement. Ce n'est qu'à ce moment-là que le son a sonné. C'était le son d'un métal frappant. Le coup avait provoqué le lancement de Skarmory vers l'arrière de quelques pieds. Un coup très impressionnant pour un geste qui n'était pas très efficace. Après quelques instants de chute, son Skarmory s'est remis en marche et semblait extrêmement furieux d'avoir manqué son attaque et d'être frappé en même temps. "Skarmory utilise Metal Sound!" Le formateur a décidé qu'il serait peut-être préférable de se lancer dans une stratégie de type plus défensif. L'offensive pure n'était pas la bonne façon d'y arriver. Skarmory s'est cogné la tête directement à Acedia et a commencé à laisser sortir une oreille piercing screech. Le bruit des couteaux de course contre les bords intérieurs d'une fourchette serait la chose la plus proche pour décrire ce bruit assourdissant. C'est du bruit perçant qui a été envoyé dans toute la petite zone de la ville où ils se trouvaient. Lui donner à la fois lui et Geoffrey un terrible mal de tête. Le formateur savait que s'il continuait d'essayer d'utiliser des mouvements qui ont frappé la tête de Talonflame sur elle allait manquer presque à chaque fois. Utiliser un mouvement qui était inévitable est la seule façon possible de le faire. "Qu'en pensez-vous?", l'adversaire a dit cocuement. "Je pense que c'est agaçant, c'est ce que je pense.", Geoffrey a rappelé à l'entraîneur. Jay a couvert son visage de sa main. Utiliser un mouvement qui réduit la défense spéciale n'aiderait pas beaucoup s'il ne pouvait pas toucher Acedia. Il secoua la tête et regarda l'amature arrogante. "Acedia, montre-lui un peu de ta vitesse." L'oiseau s'écoulait, et ses ailes commençaient à brûler plus chaud. Charge de flamme. Un panache de feu a explosé derrière les ailes d'Ace alors qu'il tirait vers le bas sur l'oiseau lourd d'acier. Il se déplaçait encore plus vite qu'il ne l'avait fait il y a quelques secondes. Skarmory n'a pas pu sortir du chemin assez vite et la charge de flamme a frappé directement l'oiseau en acier. Le Skarmory vole vers l'arrière vers l'entraîneur et avec seulement deux coups le pokemon est descendu et sorti. Elle s'est évanouie de la puissance du coup. L'entraîneur a regardé son Skarmory avec un visage étonné. Comment un de ses meilleurs pokemon pourrait être frappé avec seulement deux coups. Qui était ce type qu'il faisait face. Sachant que ce Talonflame était extrêmement puissant, il savait qu'il allait devoir sortir un contre-pokemon. "Allez à Rhyperior!", il cria alors qu'il jetait une grande balle vers l'avant. Une lumière blanche lancée du centre de la balle révélant son très grand Rhyperior. Une fois que le pokemon avait été libéré l'entraîneur l'appelé, "Rhyperior utiliser Rock Wrecker!" Après avoir reçu ses ordres, le Rhyperior a frappé son poing dans le sol au-dessous de lui et a commencé à déchirer la terre en utilisant la force brute. Une fois qu'une très grande partie du sol avait été tirée de la région, Rhyperior jeta les armes et lança la terre vers Acedia. Jay comptait sous son souffle comme sa vue d'Acedia était bloquée par la masse de la terre et de la roche. "Trois... deux... un..." Le morceau de terre a explosé, une flèche de flamme jaillissant du nuage de poussière juste en bas à l'énorme Rhyperior. Hm, Jay s'attendait à ce qu'Ace aille avec Brave Bird au lieu de Flare Blitz. Il a dû vouloir s'enflammer assez mal s'il ignorait le fait qu'il n'y avait aucun moyen que son attaque KO le pokemon de l'adversaire. Le Rhyperior étant aussi lourd qu'il était ne pouvait pas éviter l'attaque, donc l'oiseau flamboyant claqué directement dans sa poitrine. Mais puisqu'il s'agissait d'un mouvement de type feu, aucun dommage n'a été causé à son corps solide. Bien que l'oiseau soit aussi proche qu'il l'était, cela signifiait que Rhyperior pouvait facilement faire une attaque physique rapide. "Rhyperior utilise "Take Down"! Rhyperior utilisant ses grandes mains agrippées sur l'oiseau et l'a claqué directement dans le cratère qui était en face de son corps massif. Utiliser le poids de son bras seul était suffisant pour envoyer autour d'une tonne de pression vers le bas sur le pokémon d'oiseau. Même si c'était un mouvement de type normal, l'entraîneur espérait que son Rhyperior y envoyait suffisamment de force pour abattre le Talonflame. Jay secoua la tête. Acedia pouvait dépasser un jet, mais ses deux attaques les plus fortes le laissaient affaibli et vulnérable à être frappé, comme ce qui venait de se passer. Il n'a pas fallu beaucoup pour abattre Ace, c'est pourquoi il s'est tellement fié à sa vitesse inégalée pour éviter tout et attaquer d'abord. Sa défaite avait été sa faute. Une lumière rouge encercle Acedia alors qu'il est ramené dans son pokeball noir et or. Jay a pris une autre balle de luxe de sa ceinture et l'a jeté dans l'air. "Luxuria, c'est à toi." Un courant d'eau claire est tombé du pokeball et au sol, se formant en une créature de type chat bleu. Le Vaporeon a regardé le rhypérior hunking avec curiosité. Luxuria a regardé Jay et s'est cognée la tête. L'ex-champion soupirait. -- Oui, c'est votre adversaire. Lux vient de se ressaisir et de se promener jusqu'à la bête et de lui lécher la jambe. Jay soupira encore. Elle a toujours été comme ça. "Rhyperior utilise STOMP!", l'entraîneur adverse cria avec une telle rafale à son pokemon. Le Rhyperior leva la jambe qui était léchée et la tira immédiatement vers le bas vers le Vaporean au-dessous. Luxuria a été écrasée sous le poids de la jambe massive. Mais il n'y avait aucun signe du pokémon bleu. Quelques secondes plus tard, des flots d'eau se déversèrent sous le pied massif du Rhyperior et se remémorent sous la forme d'un Vaporéon. Elle a redoublé. "Lux, arrête de jouer. Finissez cette bataille." Le Vaporéon visiblement pulvérisé, ses nageoires s'affaissent. La forme de la créature de type chat s'est dissoute en même temps que la région environnante était couverte dans un nuage de Mist. La défense et l'offense ultimes de Luxuria : Mist Armor. Une attaque combinée utilisant Mist et Acid Armor pour rendre l'effet encore plus puissant. -- Maintenant, dit Jay. À l'intérieur du nuage de White Mist, c'était comme si une lumière laser était allumée. Les poutres venaient de toutes les directions, à feu rapide, chacune d'une fraction de seconde avant de s'évanouir et d'être remplacée par une autre venant d'un endroit entièrement différent à l'intérieur du nuage. Puis les poutres s'arrêtèrent, et la brume disparut, et Luxuria tomba au sol avant qu'un Rhyperior complètement gelé et complètement vaincu. L'entraîneur a rappelé son évanouissement Rhyperior honteux à quel point un entraîneur il a été comparé à l'autre entraîneur. Une fois la bataille terminée, il s'est enfui avec une seule larme dans l'œil. Tous ses espoirs et rêves écrasés par un seul entraîneur le battant sans même dire un seul mot à son pokemon. "Et avec ça, le gagnant est.....Blonde Guy! Ouais, je n'ai jamais vraiment attrapé ton nom.", Geoffrey a dit à l'entraîneur gagnant. Le vainqueur a rappelé son Vaporeon et a remplacé le pokeball sur sa ceinture. On lui a rappelé qu'il devait encore laisser Ava sortir. Elle serait en colère contre lui pour s'être battue sans la laisser sortir d'abord. Pourrait-il juste ne pas lui dire? Non, Lux se vanterait définitivement à Ava pour sa victoire. Elle voudrait savoir comment Acedia s'est fait écraser. On aurait dit qu'il n'y avait pas moyen de l'éviter. Il a regardé l'entraîneur qui avait agi comme arbitre pour le match, bien qu'il n'ait pas vraiment été nécessaire. "Je m'appelle Jay Rayne. Je suis l'ex-Champion d'Unova." Il pourrait quand même laisser Ava sortir un peu plus.

Name: Geoffrey Rhodes Age: 22 Gender: Male Why he was accepted in the Mande Region: While Geoffrey himself was not allowed to enter into the Mande region, his parents were. When he was a young boy both of his parents had been invited to try their hands at the difficult region. As they had no other options they had to bring along their only son Geoffrey. His entire childhood was spent hiking and camping with his parents in and out of the areas of the Mande region. On their quest to conquer the Master Trainer challenge. As he continued to age and his time was spent there he really got use to the area. So much so that he can find his way through almost any part of Mande without any difficulty at all. So when his parents finally decided to settle down from their new journey. They decided that the Mande region was where they were going to live. Years past for Geoffrey and finally at the age of 15 he decided to set out on a journey. Though this journey is slightly different from the journey that his parents had set out on decades ago. This journey was to help and guide people through the region. Giving them aid in getting past the absolutely treacherous terrain of Mande. Along the way he began to meet his pokemon partners one by one. And eventually he become quite the trainer himself. 7 years after the start of his journey. He met two new people. These two new people were going to be the start of his new journey. The journey of seeing the 5th trainer beat the entire League of Champions. Battle Pokemon Trevenant - Aokigahara - ♂ Natural Cure Aokigahara has a very special place inside Geoffrey's heart. It was his first Pokemon and he obtained it when he was just 9 years old as a Phantump. While his parents were on a trip through the woods attempting to strength their Pokemon, Geoffrey caught a glimpse of the small tree like Pokemon floating through the air. In that moment he knew that was the exact Pokemon that he wanted. He tugged on his mother's sleeve and begged her for a Pokeball. Seeing the Pokemon she smiled and hand him what he wanted. The moment the Quickball was in his hand he threw it straight at the Phantump. A great light came from the pokeball and absorb the Phantump into the ball. Three shakes of the ball and that was it. Geoffrey had caught his first pokemon. It wasn't until many years later did that Phantump evolve into Trevenant. It was an extremely cold night that was only keeping warm by the blazing fire that was destroying the forest. His other Pokemon were hard at work attempting to put out the fire, while Aokigahara was staying back away from the raging flames. The other Rangers were using every move they could to extinguish the flames. After hours and hours of work was the flame finally put out. But the entire forest was destroyed. All the Pokemon who escaped didn't have a home anymore. There was nothing any of them could have done, but Aokigahara decided to step forward. The pokemon set itself of the ground and let out a very large cry. Trees began to grow up from the ground and a powerful rate. The move it was using was Forest's Curse. These trees were only temporary with the move, but the Phantump turned to a solid white color. Aokigahara was evolving. Geoffrey's pokemon began to grow in size and obtain more limbs then it had before. Aokigahara had finally become a Trevenant. With this new found power of the Trevenant it began to spread the trees across the entire forest. And with it's ability Natural Cure, it brought the dead trees of Forest's Curse back to life. Geoffrey finally saw the potential of Trevenant and has been using him in his battles ever since. Infernape - Wukong - ♂ Krookodile - Nile - ♀ Electrabuzz - Sprite - ♂ Lucario - Fawkes - ♂ Beheeyem - Roswell - ♂ Regirock - Gaia - Genderless Non-Battle Pokemon Wailord, Noctowl, Lillipup

Le visage de Jay est resté aussi passif que d'habitude que l'entraîneur qui avait joué arbitre de sa bataille dicta soudain qu'il l'accompagnerait sur son défi. Pour être honnête, l'ex-Champion détestait la compagnie. Il était habitué à voyager seul, juste lui et ceux qu'il pouvait complètement faire confiance : son équipe. Alors il n'a rien dit pour ou contre le groupement, il s'est agenouillé et a ouvert son sac. En faisant un peu de bruit, il a sorti une petite pochette de cordon de serrage et l'a ouverte. La lumière étincelante de ce qui devait constituer une petite fortune dans les pierres précieuses élémentaires brillait de la poche ouverte. Jay vient de sortir un cristal jaune et terne et il a rendu la poche à son sac. Tirant la balle d'Ace de sa ceinture, l'oiseau évanoui apparut au sol devant l'entraîneur. Jay a utilisé la relance sur son pokemon, et Acedia a pu guérir le reste lui-même avec Roost. Jay n'aimait pas aller dans les centres de pokemon. Il aimait pouvoir s'occuper de son pokemon lui-même. De plus, il n'y avait pas toujours un centre assez proche. Après avoir remis la balle d'Acedia à sa ceinture, Jay se leva et affronta le « autoproclamé Ranger de plomb sur Mande ». On dirait un titre qu'un gamin inventerait pour impressionner ses amis. Et maintenant il l'utilisait sur lui. Jay a pris une respiration, sachant déjà que cet endroit allait être une douleur. « J'ai envie d'aller à la plage », a-t-il dit à aucun de ses nouveaux compagnons. Il marchait déjà en direction de l'île de Dartmouth. Gula aimait nager dans l'eau, et il aurait une excuse pour n'avoir pas laissé Ava sortir tout de suite.

Name: Jay Rayne Age: 24 Gender: Male Region of origin: Icurrus, Unova Why he was accepted: He's the Unova Ex-Champion, and holds the standing record for least amount of pokemon used to defeat the previous champion Jay Rayne grew up in Icirrus City, and at the time he was the only child his age in the city. Like any kid his age with no peers to play with, Jay was extremely lonely and bored. So what did he do? He explored the surrounding forests. While exploring in the wooded moors, the young Jay Rayne bumped into another child who'd had the same idea. Jay made his first friend that day: a young girl with long black hair and beautiful azure eyes. Ava. The two played and played, happy as two kids could be. Because Jay was the only kid his age in the small city of Icirrus, his parents simply assumed that he'd made an imaginary friend, happy that he was finally having some fun for once. Ava and Jay explored every inch of the moors and surrounding forests, never tiring of the other's company for an instant. It was a while before Jay found out that Ava wasn't real. She didn't exist. She was just an illusion created by a lonely Zorua to keep a boy as lonely as herself company. But Jay didn't care what she was, so long as she was his friend. They continued to play together, Ava sometimes appearing as a girl and sometimes as a small black fox, right up until the day winter reared its ugly head. Once it started to snow, Ava told Jay that she was leaving the area with her family. He was sad that his one friend was leaving, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change the fact. He'd never met this family of hers, but from what she spoke of them, he didn't want to. A few years passed, and Jay was now eight. His explorations had turned with time into hunts. He was going to be the best trainer in the world, so he practiced hunting and capturing pokemon, which wasn't as easy without any pokemon of his own, or even any pokeballs. On one particular hunt, just as Jay was about to pounce on an unsuspecting Vanillite, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. Ready to yell at whoever had attacked him and let his quarry escape, he spun, and froze. "Ava?" The two were inseparable, and this time Jay even convinced Ava to come into the city with him. Everyone, including his own parents, were surprised to say the least. And even Jay was surprised by her as well when she dropped her illusion for him. She had evolved during the time he hadn't seen her, into a dark and elegant Zoroark. She didn't leave him again, her evolution giving her freedom from her pack's control. When Jay turned ten, Ava became his first pokemon, his partner in crime for the long journey to come. Jay and his partner rose through the ranks like a flaming arrow, incinerating all in their way to the top. Along the way, Jay assembled a team of pokemon. His team grew slowly, as Jay never just took a pokemon out of its natural habitat. It had to want to go with him. "Ava" the Zoroark was his queen, sweeping the competition with ease without letting any of jay's other pokemon get a chance to do anything. His second pokemon was a Tyranitar, nichnamed "Gula", raised from a Pupitar that had attacked him. Jay had been impressed with the creature's ferocity even then, and he'd asked it to join him. His third pokemon was given to him as an egg, which hatched into an Eevee. "Luxuria", or "Lux" is Ava's baby. Jay was hardly even allowed to hold her. Jay beat the Unova champion with just three pokemon, a record that still holds. For three years, Jay has won every battle that he's used Ava in. He was forced to allow trainers to battle him without Ava because there was some bad publicity after a challenger had a mental breakdown from what Ava showed him with her illusions, but a few weeks passed and still no one had beaten him. One day as the champion was taking a walk through the same forested moors that he had explored as a child, Jay was challenged to a battle by a man seeking his title, and Jay couldn't refuse a battle. The man sent out a Gardevoir against the legendary Ava, and Jay forfeited the battle. He instead chose to beat the man's face in. Jay's sharp eye saw the signs. For what he had done to that pokemon, the man had deserved so much more than he had gotten. Jay was forced to resign from his position, and his advisors had him go to work at a pokemon rehabilitation center to wipe away some of the red marks on his record. The Gardevoir followed him, not willing to leave the man that had saved her. Jay renamed her "Solitaire" or "Sol". Besides Ava, she's the closest out of his pokemon to Jay's heart. He's been working in the center for a few years now, just keeping his head down and acting like a model of good behavior. Two more have joined his ranks in that time: "Acedia" or "Ace" the Talonflame was the first of them. It was dropped off anonymously to a pokemon center, severely injured, one wing broken in three places, the other in two, and a gash across its head. The nurses at the center let Jay, or rather, Solitaire, heal the injured bird's injuries, and when it was fully healed, Jay asked it if it would like to take revenge on those who had done such a thing. That set Jay's team at five. The other is a similar, if sadder, story. A Garchomp came in, carrying injuries unlike anything a pokemon battle could produce. It's side was completely shredded, as if it had taken the blast of a powerful explosive. What sort of person would have done something like this? He didn't know, and the Garchomp couldn't tell him. Jay asked the Garchomp if it hated the person who had hurt it, and it told him that it did. That was all Jay needed to hear. "Ira" became his sixth pokemon, and a day later, he died. Working at the center was suppoed to cool him down, stop him from lashing out, but it had the exact opposite effect. Jay saw what pokemon were forced to endure at the hands of their trainers, and now he'll punish anyone who mistreats a pokemon. All it took was one incident, an attack on an "innocent" trainer, and Jay was forced to leave Unova. He's changed a lot from that lonely, happy, naive, little boy that Ava met so long ago. She will be with him to the end, no matter what he does with his life. Pokemon: Pokemon Name: Zoroark Nickname: Ave Dominus Nox (Only she calls herself that though, everyone else just calls her Ava, or Ave if they want to be really polite.) Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Jay's first pokemon, and his lifelong partner. She passes for human most of the time. Ava is an absolute monster to cross. Her awesome physical strength strikes terror into the hearts of her partner's opponents, only second to the terror beheld in her illusions. She's usually fun-loving and kind, but that changes suddenly and without warning. Ava speaks and acts like a human when she uses her illusion to look like one. She acts as a translator between pokemon and Jay. Ability: Illusion Moves: Night Daze, Night Slash, Foul Play, Dark Pulse, Double Team, Scary Face, Taunt, Hone Claws, Snarl, Fake Tears, Copycat, Captivate Pokemon Name: Tyranitar Nickname: Gula Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Gula doesn't care about doing anything. Nonsense and frivolity pisses him off. So basically, his emotions range from apathy to homicide and back again. He is the only one capable of matching Ava in brute strength, but he has none of her speed or planning. His normal strategy is to tank everything and end battles in one attack. You do not want to be on the receiving end of one of his Hyper Beam. You will die. Ability: Sand Stream Moves: Stone Edge, Dig, Surf, Hyper Beam, Giga Impact, Earthquake, Strength, Roar, Sandstorm, Rock Polish Pokemon Name: Vaporeon Nickname: Luxuria "Lux" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Lux is a spoiled little brat. It's totally Ava's fault. She may be the weakest out of Jay's pokemon, but underestimate her and you lose. Jay developed the strategy she uses in battle, which he's dubbed "mist armor". Lux holds considerable power of Jay's other pokemon, as she is the only one who doesn't have to fear Ava's wrath. Ability: Water Absorb Moves: Mist, Acid Armor, Hydro Pump, Scald, Ice Beam, Aqua Ring, Rain Dance, Baby-Doll Eyes, Charm, Attract, Rest, Refresh Pokemon Name: Gardevoir Nickname: Solitaire "Sol" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: That image does not convey the crazy that is inside Solitaire. Sol is obsessed with Jay. She kind of got her original trainer, the person who bred and hatched and evolved her, nearly killed, and she felt all of his thoughts and emotions as it happened. And she enjoyed it. She could have stopped Jay, should have, but she didn't want to. Solitaire is good friends with Ava, but sees her as a romantic rival for Jay. Sol has only ever known love by what her old trainer taught her, so that's what she thinks will happen with Jay. Ava knows this but hasn't said anything to Jay. She wants to see what he does. Ability: Trace Moves: Psychic, Psyshock, Moonblast, Dazzling Gleam, Hypnosis, Teleport, Ally Switch, Wish, Healing Wish, Calm Mind, Captivate, Misty Terrain, Protect Pokemon Name: Talonflame Nickname: Acedia "Ace" Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Yes, Jay has a flyer. Ace is his name, and speed is his game. Ace burns his opponents first, then uses his blinding speed to accumulate thousands of tiny attacks in seconds, there and gone before the opponent even has a chance to react. Instead of the normal way, Jay rides Ace by standing on his back in a way similar to a snowboard. A flaming, flying snowboard. Ability: Gale Wings Moves: Flame Charge, Flare Blitz, Brave Bird, Acrobatics, Aerial Ace, Steel Wing, Me First, Roost, Tailwind, Swords Dance Fly

Nous allons actuellement vers Dartmouth Isles., Geoffrey a dit à la fille qu'il connaît maintenant sous le nom de Juliette. "Il a un terrain assez rocheux et des vagues élevées pour atteindre la petite île. J'espère que vous avez apporté vos maillots de bain." Et ainsi leur aventure avait commencé. Les trois allaient se diriger vers Dartmouth Isles. Une très petite, mais belle île qui était juste au large de la côte un peu loin de la baie d'Azure. Il n'y avait pas de bateaux ou de ponts menant à la région. Donc les trois allaient finir par faire un tour sur un Pokemon qui pourrait surfer. Mais ça n'allait pas durer plus tard. À l'heure actuelle, leur premier défi allait pouvoir y arriver en premier. Alors que la plupart du chemin là-bas, il y avait des plaines complètes. Le pokémon sauvage, extrêmement fort, habitait ces plaines. Ils n'accepteraient pas d'être gentils avec les étrangers qui sont apparus sur leur territoire. Geoffrey a continué jusqu'à ce que les trois d'entre eux soient juste à l'extérieur de la baie d'Azure. Il s'est tourné vers eux tout en faisant marche arrière pour qu'ils puissent continuer à progresser. "D'où venez-vous?", Geoffrey réfléchit aux deux.

Name: Geoffrey Rhodes Age: 22 Gender: Male Why he was accepted in the Mande Region: While Geoffrey himself was not allowed to enter into the Mande region, his parents were. When he was a young boy both of his parents had been invited to try their hands at the difficult region. As they had no other options they had to bring along their only son Geoffrey. His entire childhood was spent hiking and camping with his parents in and out of the areas of the Mande region. On their quest to conquer the Master Trainer challenge. As he continued to age and his time was spent there he really got use to the area. So much so that he can find his way through almost any part of Mande without any difficulty at all. So when his parents finally decided to settle down from their new journey. They decided that the Mande region was where they were going to live. Years past for Geoffrey and finally at the age of 15 he decided to set out on a journey. Though this journey is slightly different from the journey that his parents had set out on decades ago. This journey was to help and guide people through the region. Giving them aid in getting past the absolutely treacherous terrain of Mande. Along the way he began to meet his pokemon partners one by one. And eventually he become quite the trainer himself. 7 years after the start of his journey. He met two new people. These two new people were going to be the start of his new journey. The journey of seeing the 5th trainer beat the entire League of Champions. Battle Pokemon Trevenant - Aokigahara - ♂ Natural Cure Aokigahara has a very special place inside Geoffrey's heart. It was his first Pokemon and he obtained it when he was just 9 years old as a Phantump. While his parents were on a trip through the woods attempting to strength their Pokemon, Geoffrey caught a glimpse of the small tree like Pokemon floating through the air. In that moment he knew that was the exact Pokemon that he wanted. He tugged on his mother's sleeve and begged her for a Pokeball. Seeing the Pokemon she smiled and hand him what he wanted. The moment the Quickball was in his hand he threw it straight at the Phantump. A great light came from the pokeball and absorb the Phantump into the ball. Three shakes of the ball and that was it. Geoffrey had caught his first pokemon. It wasn't until many years later did that Phantump evolve into Trevenant. It was an extremely cold night that was only keeping warm by the blazing fire that was destroying the forest. His other Pokemon were hard at work attempting to put out the fire, while Aokigahara was staying back away from the raging flames. The other Rangers were using every move they could to extinguish the flames. After hours and hours of work was the flame finally put out. But the entire forest was destroyed. All the Pokemon who escaped didn't have a home anymore. There was nothing any of them could have done, but Aokigahara decided to step forward. The pokemon set itself of the ground and let out a very large cry. Trees began to grow up from the ground and a powerful rate. The move it was using was Forest's Curse. These trees were only temporary with the move, but the Phantump turned to a solid white color. Aokigahara was evolving. Geoffrey's pokemon began to grow in size and obtain more limbs then it had before. Aokigahara had finally become a Trevenant. With this new found power of the Trevenant it began to spread the trees across the entire forest. And with it's ability Natural Cure, it brought the dead trees of Forest's Curse back to life. Geoffrey finally saw the potential of Trevenant and has been using him in his battles ever since. Infernape - Wukong - ♂ Krookodile - Nile - ♀ Electrabuzz - Sprite - ♂ Lucario - Fawkes - ♂ Beheeyem - Roswell - ♂ Regirock - Gaia - Genderless Non-Battle Pokemon Wailord, Noctowl, Lillipup

Icirrus, à Unova, Jay a dit. "La plupart des gens le connaissent comme la petite ville près de la tour Dragonspiral." Il ne l'a pas dit comme une bonne ou une mauvaise chose, simplement que c'était comme ça. Ayant grandi là-bas, Jay savait combien il n'y avait pas grand-chose à faire dans cette ville. Pourquoi quelqu'un irait là-bas s'ils n'étaient pas en route pour voir la tour qu'il ne savait vraiment pas. Et même après s'être demandé ce qui rendait la tour si grande pour être utile de voir pour la plupart de sa vie primitive, Jay avait pensé que c'était un endroit assez ennuyeux quand il avait finalement exploré son intérieur. « Donc, Geoffrey, Juliette, » Jay regarda son guide apparent qui ne montrait aucun signe de quitter bientôt. "Vous êtes des entraîneurs?" Les soupirs provenant des pokeballs sur la ceinture de Jay étaient presque audibles. Cinq minutes sur terre et il était déjà en train de balayer sa compétition. Non, pas vraiment la concurrence; il pouvait facilement dire que ces deux-là ne constituaient pas une menace réelle. Mais il ne pouvait pas connaître ou faire confiance à quelqu'un tant qu'il ne savait pas comment leur pokemon les voyait. Et à ce moment-là, Jay a été rappelé qu'il devait encore laisser Ava sortir de son pokeball. Il devrait probablement s'inquiéter moins de ses compagnons et plus de lui-même pour le moment.

Name: Jay Rayne Age: 24 Gender: Male Region of origin: Icurrus, Unova Why he was accepted: He's the Unova Ex-Champion, and holds the standing record for least amount of pokemon used to defeat the previous champion Jay Rayne grew up in Icirrus City, and at the time he was the only child his age in the city. Like any kid his age with no peers to play with, Jay was extremely lonely and bored. So what did he do? He explored the surrounding forests. While exploring in the wooded moors, the young Jay Rayne bumped into another child who'd had the same idea. Jay made his first friend that day: a young girl with long black hair and beautiful azure eyes. Ava. The two played and played, happy as two kids could be. Because Jay was the only kid his age in the small city of Icirrus, his parents simply assumed that he'd made an imaginary friend, happy that he was finally having some fun for once. Ava and Jay explored every inch of the moors and surrounding forests, never tiring of the other's company for an instant. It was a while before Jay found out that Ava wasn't real. She didn't exist. She was just an illusion created by a lonely Zorua to keep a boy as lonely as herself company. But Jay didn't care what she was, so long as she was his friend. They continued to play together, Ava sometimes appearing as a girl and sometimes as a small black fox, right up until the day winter reared its ugly head. Once it started to snow, Ava told Jay that she was leaving the area with her family. He was sad that his one friend was leaving, but he knew there was nothing he could do to change the fact. He'd never met this family of hers, but from what she spoke of them, he didn't want to. A few years passed, and Jay was now eight. His explorations had turned with time into hunts. He was going to be the best trainer in the world, so he practiced hunting and capturing pokemon, which wasn't as easy without any pokemon of his own, or even any pokeballs. On one particular hunt, just as Jay was about to pounce on an unsuspecting Vanillite, someone grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. Ready to yell at whoever had attacked him and let his quarry escape, he spun, and froze. "Ava?" The two were inseparable, and this time Jay even convinced Ava to come into the city with him. Everyone, including his own parents, were surprised to say the least. And even Jay was surprised by her as well when she dropped her illusion for him. She had evolved during the time he hadn't seen her, into a dark and elegant Zoroark. She didn't leave him again, her evolution giving her freedom from her pack's control. When Jay turned ten, Ava became his first pokemon, his partner in crime for the long journey to come. Jay and his partner rose through the ranks like a flaming arrow, incinerating all in their way to the top. Along the way, Jay assembled a team of pokemon. His team grew slowly, as Jay never just took a pokemon out of its natural habitat. It had to want to go with him. "Ava" the Zoroark was his queen, sweeping the competition with ease without letting any of jay's other pokemon get a chance to do anything. His second pokemon was a Tyranitar, nichnamed "Gula", raised from a Pupitar that had attacked him. Jay had been impressed with the creature's ferocity even then, and he'd asked it to join him. His third pokemon was given to him as an egg, which hatched into an Eevee. "Luxuria", or "Lux" is Ava's baby. Jay was hardly even allowed to hold her. Jay beat the Unova champion with just three pokemon, a record that still holds. For three years, Jay has won every battle that he's used Ava in. He was forced to allow trainers to battle him without Ava because there was some bad publicity after a challenger had a mental breakdown from what Ava showed him with her illusions, but a few weeks passed and still no one had beaten him. One day as the champion was taking a walk through the same forested moors that he had explored as a child, Jay was challenged to a battle by a man seeking his title, and Jay couldn't refuse a battle. The man sent out a Gardevoir against the legendary Ava, and Jay forfeited the battle. He instead chose to beat the man's face in. Jay's sharp eye saw the signs. For what he had done to that pokemon, the man had deserved so much more than he had gotten. Jay was forced to resign from his position, and his advisors had him go to work at a pokemon rehabilitation center to wipe away some of the red marks on his record. The Gardevoir followed him, not willing to leave the man that had saved her. Jay renamed her "Solitaire" or "Sol". Besides Ava, she's the closest out of his pokemon to Jay's heart. He's been working in the center for a few years now, just keeping his head down and acting like a model of good behavior. Two more have joined his ranks in that time: "Acedia" or "Ace" the Talonflame was the first of them. It was dropped off anonymously to a pokemon center, severely injured, one wing broken in three places, the other in two, and a gash across its head. The nurses at the center let Jay, or rather, Solitaire, heal the injured bird's injuries, and when it was fully healed, Jay asked it if it would like to take revenge on those who had done such a thing. That set Jay's team at five. The other is a similar, if sadder, story. A Garchomp came in, carrying injuries unlike anything a pokemon battle could produce. It's side was completely shredded, as if it had taken the blast of a powerful explosive. What sort of person would have done something like this? He didn't know, and the Garchomp couldn't tell him. Jay asked the Garchomp if it hated the person who had hurt it, and it told him that it did. That was all Jay needed to hear. "Ira" became his sixth pokemon, and a day later, he died. Working at the center was suppoed to cool him down, stop him from lashing out, but it had the exact opposite effect. Jay saw what pokemon were forced to endure at the hands of their trainers, and now he'll punish anyone who mistreats a pokemon. All it took was one incident, an attack on an "innocent" trainer, and Jay was forced to leave Unova. He's changed a lot from that lonely, happy, naive, little boy that Ava met so long ago. She will be with him to the end, no matter what he does with his life. Pokemon: Pokemon Name: Zoroark Nickname: Ave Dominus Nox (Only she calls herself that though, everyone else just calls her Ava, or Ave if they want to be really polite.) Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Jay's first pokemon, and his lifelong partner. She passes for human most of the time. Ava is an absolute monster to cross. Her awesome physical strength strikes terror into the hearts of her partner's opponents, only second to the terror beheld in her illusions. She's usually fun-loving and kind, but that changes suddenly and without warning. Ava speaks and acts like a human when she uses her illusion to look like one. She acts as a translator between pokemon and Jay. Ability: Illusion Moves: Night Daze, Night Slash, Foul Play, Dark Pulse, Double Team, Scary Face, Taunt, Hone Claws, Snarl, Fake Tears, Copycat, Captivate Pokemon Name: Tyranitar Nickname: Gula Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Gula doesn't care about doing anything. Nonsense and frivolity pisses him off. So basically, his emotions range from apathy to homicide and back again. He is the only one capable of matching Ava in brute strength, but he has none of her speed or planning. His normal strategy is to tank everything and end battles in one attack. You do not want to be on the receiving end of one of his Hyper Beam. You will die. Ability: Sand Stream Moves: Stone Edge, Dig, Surf, Hyper Beam, Giga Impact, Earthquake, Strength, Roar, Sandstorm, Rock Polish Pokemon Name: Vaporeon Nickname: Luxuria "Lux" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: Lux is a spoiled little brat. It's totally Ava's fault. She may be the weakest out of Jay's pokemon, but underestimate her and you lose. Jay developed the strategy she uses in battle, which he's dubbed "mist armor". Lux holds considerable power of Jay's other pokemon, as she is the only one who doesn't have to fear Ava's wrath. Ability: Water Absorb Moves: Mist, Acid Armor, Hydro Pump, Scald, Ice Beam, Aqua Ring, Rain Dance, Baby-Doll Eyes, Charm, Attract, Rest, Refresh Pokemon Name: Gardevoir Nickname: Solitaire "Sol" Gender: F Any other notable distinction: That image does not convey the crazy that is inside Solitaire. Sol is obsessed with Jay. She kind of got her original trainer, the person who bred and hatched and evolved her, nearly killed, and she felt all of his thoughts and emotions as it happened. And she enjoyed it. She could have stopped Jay, should have, but she didn't want to. Solitaire is good friends with Ava, but sees her as a romantic rival for Jay. Sol has only ever known love by what her old trainer taught her, so that's what she thinks will happen with Jay. Ava knows this but hasn't said anything to Jay. She wants to see what he does. Ability: Trace Moves: Psychic, Psyshock, Moonblast, Dazzling Gleam, Hypnosis, Teleport, Ally Switch, Wish, Healing Wish, Calm Mind, Captivate, Misty Terrain, Protect Pokemon Name: Talonflame Nickname: Acedia "Ace" Gender: M Any other notable distinction: Yes, Jay has a flyer. Ace is his name, and speed is his game. Ace burns his opponents first, then uses his blinding speed to accumulate thousands of tiny attacks in seconds, there and gone before the opponent even has a chance to react. Instead of the normal way, Jay rides Ace by standing on his back in a way similar to a snowboard. A flaming, flying snowboard. Ability: Gale Wings Moves: Flame Charge, Flare Blitz, Brave Bird, Acrobatics, Aerial Ace, Steel Wing, Me First, Roost, Tailwind, Swords Dance Fly

En entendant que les deux étaient tous les deux d'Unova, Geoffrey pense que les formateurs de cette région doivent être exceptionnellement forts. Depuis que l'un des formateurs Master est originaire d'Unova. Donc, voir que les deux d'entre eux sont de la même région doit signifier que le calibre de l'entraîneur doit être à un niveau plus élevé. Cela pourrait conduire à quelque chose d'intéressant quand ils ont atteint le premier Master Trainer. Puisqu'il aura le droit de voir comment deux entraîneurs d'Unova finiront par le faire. Son attention s'est ensuite tournée vers Jay et il était sur le point de répondre, mais Juliette a obtenu dans les premiers mots avant lui. Elle a annoncé qu'elle était elle-même formatrice et que Geoffrey pouvait voir qu'elle avait les capacités d'être une bonne formatrice. Elle n'était pas près du même niveau que Jay. L'homme semblait ressembler à une machine de guerre sur le champ de bataille. Une fois qu'elle a terminé et qu'elle a renvoyé la question à Geoffrey, il s'est rendu compte qu'il était obligé de répondre. "Oui, je suis un peu formateur. Je n'ai pas vraiment été dans une bagarre depuis longtemps. Les chances ne viennent pas assez pour que je aiguise vraiment mes compétences.", a expliqué Geoffrey à l'équipe. Un peu de temps s'était écoulé avec l'équipage qui avait un petit bavardage oisif en allers et retours. Le soleil a commencé à se coucher et le vent a commencé à se lever. Une forte odeur de la mer était ramassée dans les airs et sur le côté il y avait une falaise géante qui a couru la portée de l'île. Ce ne serait qu'une heure de plus pour l'équipe jusqu'à ce qu'elle atteigne le quai. "J'espère que vous avez apporté vos maillots de bain et votre pokemon d'eau. Parce que nous allons aller directement dans la mer à droite de nous. Et nous allons aller à ces petites bosses à l'horizon.", le ranger a dit pointant vers l'extérieur droit vers ces 8 petites bosses dans la mer, "Ne vous inquiétez pas, cela ne prendra qu'environ trois heures."

Name: Geoffrey Rhodes Age: 22 Gender: Male Why he was accepted in the Mande Region: While Geoffrey himself was not allowed to enter into the Mande region, his parents were. When he was a young boy both of his parents had been invited to try their hands at the difficult region. As they had no other options they had to bring along their only son Geoffrey. His entire childhood was spent hiking and camping with his parents in and out of the areas of the Mande region. On their quest to conquer the Master Trainer challenge. As he continued to age and his time was spent there he really got use to the area. So much so that he can find his way through almost any part of Mande without any difficulty at all. So when his parents finally decided to settle down from their new journey. They decided that the Mande region was where they were going to live. Years past for Geoffrey and finally at the age of 15 he decided to set out on a journey. Though this journey is slightly different from the journey that his parents had set out on decades ago. This journey was to help and guide people through the region. Giving them aid in getting past the absolutely treacherous terrain of Mande. Along the way he began to meet his pokemon partners one by one. And eventually he become quite the trainer himself. 7 years after the start of his journey. He met two new people. These two new people were going to be the start of his new journey. The journey of seeing the 5th trainer beat the entire League of Champions. Battle Pokemon Trevenant - Aokigahara - ♂ Natural Cure Aokigahara has a very special place inside Geoffrey's heart. It was his first Pokemon and he obtained it when he was just 9 years old as a Phantump. While his parents were on a trip through the woods attempting to strength their Pokemon, Geoffrey caught a glimpse of the small tree like Pokemon floating through the air. In that moment he knew that was the exact Pokemon that he wanted. He tugged on his mother's sleeve and begged her for a Pokeball. Seeing the Pokemon she smiled and hand him what he wanted. The moment the Quickball was in his hand he threw it straight at the Phantump. A great light came from the pokeball and absorb the Phantump into the ball. Three shakes of the ball and that was it. Geoffrey had caught his first pokemon. It wasn't until many years later did that Phantump evolve into Trevenant. It was an extremely cold night that was only keeping warm by the blazing fire that was destroying the forest. His other Pokemon were hard at work attempting to put out the fire, while Aokigahara was staying back away from the raging flames. The other Rangers were using every move they could to extinguish the flames. After hours and hours of work was the flame finally put out. But the entire forest was destroyed. All the Pokemon who escaped didn't have a home anymore. There was nothing any of them could have done, but Aokigahara decided to step forward. The pokemon set itself of the ground and let out a very large cry. Trees began to grow up from the ground and a powerful rate. The move it was using was Forest's Curse. These trees were only temporary with the move, but the Phantump turned to a solid white color. Aokigahara was evolving. Geoffrey's pokemon began to grow in size and obtain more limbs then it had before. Aokigahara had finally become a Trevenant. With this new found power of the Trevenant it began to spread the trees across the entire forest. And with it's ability Natural Cure, it brought the dead trees of Forest's Curse back to life. Geoffrey finally saw the potential of Trevenant and has been using him in his battles ever since. Infernape - Wukong - ♂ Krookodile - Nile - ♀ Electrabuzz - Sprite - ♂ Lucario - Fawkes - ♂ Beheeyem - Roswell - ♂ Regirock - Gaia - Genderless Non-Battle Pokemon Wailord, Noctowl, Lillipup

Kriisa Acillus9th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 204 - Château Dour, Solitude "Monsieur, les mages du Dovhahsken ont repris notre dernier fort restant dans le Pale", a rapporté un jeune homme vêtu d'armure impériale. La sueur lui a dégouliné le visage et la couleur semblait avoir quitté sa peau. C'était surprenant qu'il soit toujours debout. "Nos forces ont été anéanties." Le dur bruit du poing du général Tulius qui claquait contre la table remplissait la chambre de guerre et fut suivi d'un silence assourdissant. La carte qui leur était présentée, auparavant remplie de drapeaux rouges et bleus détaillant les emplacements scoutés des camps Impérial et Stormcloak, était maintenant remplie de drapeaux violets qui parsemaient presque tous les centimètres du papier éparpillé. Seulement cinq drapeaux étaient restés - trois rouges et deux bleus - mais maintenant Tulius a été forcé d'enlever l'un de ses. "Dragons blasés! Quand nous avons signé cette trêve avec Stormcloak, j'ai pensé que nous nous débarrasserions entièrement de ce problème, que cela ne tuerait pas mes hommes et ne volerait pas la vie d'innocents! » "Monsieur, si je puis me permettre, nous pourrions saisir cette chance pour lancer une attaque contre les rebelles à la place. Ils ont également beaucoup souffert à cause de la conquête du Dovhahsken et si nous attaquons maintenant, nous pourrions être un ennemi court », a ajouté le soldat, qui lui a valu un éclat de l'autre personne présente dans la pièce. Legate Rikke était prompt à intervenir avant que Tulius ne puisse même envisager d'accepter le plan du garçon. « Nous devons collaborer avec Ulfric pour mettre fin à cette menace du dragon. Si nous continuons à nous battre entre nous, nous allons remettre Skyrim à ce dragon dans un plateau d'argent." "Une négociation ratée avec cette brute suffit et je ne risquerai pas la vie de mon peuple une fois de plus simplement à cause d'un fou affamé de pouvoir. Toi là, Auxillary. Envoyer un mot aux troupes restantes. Nous marchons contre Ulfric à l'aube." Avant que Legate Rikke ne puisse exprimer ses préoccupations, le bruit d'une clairière de gorge a stoppé les trois sur leur piste. En une seconde, trois épées ont été tirées tout comme l'invisibilité de la potion de l'intrus a perdu son effet. Là, assis sur une chaise derrière Tulius était une jeune femme blonde vêtue d'un pantalon tunique vert foncé et en cuir brun. Elle avait les mains levées devant elle dans une démonstration d'innocence et un petit sourire jouant autour des coins de ses lèvres. "Vous. Je vous connais », a commencé le jeune soldat, reconnaissant la paire de lunettes qui s'est accrochée au cou presque immédiatement. "La Fraternité Noire" Kriisa roula les yeux, gémissant à haute voix. "Oui, oui. Je fais partie de la Fraternité Noire. Il n'y a aucun doute à ce sujet." Elle a presque grimacé à la mémoire de l'époque où son identité de sœur noire avait été révélée par des agents de Thalmor, mais elle avait gardé sa bouche fermée pour sa famille. Heureusement, le Dragonborn avait choisi ce temps pour prendre l'ambassade, mais ne sachant pas qu'un allié avait été capturé à l'intérieur. Cela a conduit à une propagation des nouvelles qui ont causé plus de problèmes qu'elle ne le devrait. "Mais je ne suis pas là pour vous tuer. Si c'était le cas, vous seriez tous couchés dans des piscines de votre propre sang." Elle ne pouvait pas aider le sourire presque maniaque qui s'est glissé et a lutté pour se composer une fois de plus. Elle se tenait debout, toujours prudente au sujet des épées maintenant pointées sur elle. "Je suis là pour t'aider avec Starkad." Même en disant que son nom avait un mauvais goût dans sa bouche. C'est Starkad. Traître. Un héros tombé. Il était pathétique. Elle a refusé de l'humour en l'appelant Dovhahsken. Il ne méritait pas de titre dans la langue du dragon. Pas lui. "Je veux que ce fils de Hagraven soit écrasé sous mes bottes, et je crois que c'est dans notre intérêt mutuel que nous travaillions ensemble." Elle laissa son regard errer entre Tulius et Rikke, ignorant complètement le soldat. "Avant de dire quoi que ce soit, écoutez-moi. J'ai envoyé une missive aux alliés du Dragonborn, et à tous ceux qui veulent prendre les armes contre Starkad. Je n'ai pas besoin de votre armée, mais j'ai besoin de la sécurité de vos murs." Trois mois après l'attaque initiale de Starkad à Whiterun, il avait la plus grande partie de la province sous son contrôle. Seulement trois grandes zones étaient encore laissées en refuge pour ceux qui souffraient sous sa tyrannie - Solitude, Windhelm, et High Hrothgar. Le chemin vers High Hrothgar était bien protégé par les Greybears, mais Kriisa avait entendu des rumeurs selon lesquelles Starkad projetait de le conquérir ensuite, et elle ne voulait pas que des alliés possibles fassent grimper les sept mille marches. Ils manquaient de temps comme il était. Elle avait aussi brièvement examiné Windhelm, mais elle doutait qu'Ulfric l'écouterait même après que sa flèche ait percé la tête d'un des dirigeants d'Ulfric lors d'un banquet de lui. Cela a laissé Solitude, le refuge de la Légion impériale et des citoyens dans la partie occidentale de Skyrim. "Vous n'avez pas à être d'accord parce que vous n'avez pas le choix. À moins que Starkad ne vous efface et que la solitude, vous m'aidez à tuer Starkad et à récupérer Skyrim." Elle garda son regard à l'aise avec Tulius. Elle avait besoin de se battre contre lui. C'était la seule façon de traiter avec des gens comme lui, elle l'avait observé. Ses yeux s'inclinaient vers Rikke et, voyant un soupçon d'hésitation dans ses yeux, elle ajoutait avec un petit sourire authentique : « S'il vous plaît. Pensez-y comme un cadeau pour mon vingt-cinquième jour de nom." Elle n'avait pas à attendre la réponse de Tulius. Comme elle l'avait dit, il n'avait pas le choix. La porte du château Dour s'ouvrit, signalant l'arrivée du premier de ceux qui ont reçu ou vu le message de Kriisa.

Name: Kriisa Acillus Age: 25 Race: Imperial Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Appearance: Standing at five foot four with a rather slender physique, Kriisa is quite small compared to the bulky Nords of Skyrim. Her light blonde hair and pale countenance allowed her to blend in easily enough in compensation for her height. Hidden underneath her armor is a tattoo of the Thieves Guild shadowmark meaning "protected" placed on her back. More often than not, she can be seen in her armor either doing bounty quests for certain holds or hunting for her next meal. Inside cities, the Dwemer goggles that usually cover her light green eyes can be found hanging around her neck, which is a reminder of her fighting abilities despite wearing normal clothing. Personality: Much like the other members of the Dark Brotherhood, Kriisa enjoys killing. She held no hatred for people and, in fact, finds that she enjoys their company. People simply fascinated her - the way they lived and the way they drew their last breaths under the tip of her dagger. Murderous - maniacal even - but never hateful. Kriisa also holds a strong sense of family and is someone who would always put the Brotherhood, the Guild, and all her other allies above all else. Being quite young, she also holds a somewhat childish attitude, sometimes acting ridiculously selfish or demanding, but only those close to her see this side to her. Class: Agent Birthsign: The Lover Faction: Dark Brotherhood Major Skills: Sneak | Speech | Archery | Illusion | Light Armor Minor Skills: Conjuration | One-handed | Lockpicking History: Kriisa lived most of her young life in the rotting sewers of the so-called town of thieves, Riften. She had been born into the Thieves Guild - her father being one of the guild's members and her mother's identity then unknown to her - but she never had the affinity to steal material objects. Stealth nor the use of her skills in persuasion hadn't been the problem. It was the fact that ever since the guild had begun to send her out on jobs, she had never completed a task without something being faulty. Of course, they had expected mistakes from such a young thief and they had been prepared to tolerate it for the sake of their fellow member, but when the bodies began to pile up in front of their doorstep the guild knew what it had to do. Kriisa's father had been given a choice. Come the 13th celebration of Kriisa's birth and she was still in the cistern without a flawless job to her name, she and her father would be thrown out like trash. Her father, not wanting the consequences of his daughter's constant outbursts, attempted to wane Kriisa's bloodlust during her missions. It was to no avail and the ninth of Sun's Dawn was fast approaching, so Kriisa's father had placed her on a carriage with a note tucked to her tunic. When she had awoken, she found herself in Falkreath with a blonde woman with a kind smile awaiting her. This woman, Astrid, had led her to her new home. The Dark Brotherhood. Astrid knew the moment Kriisa stepped off the carriage that she had also been one blessed by Sithis. The bloodlust had arrived in her earlier than most, but in the Family that only served as a much appreciated advantage. She began her training under her new brothers and sisters, and she found that the way she performed the jobs pleased her fellow members, unlike in the Thieves Guild. She still maintained contact with her father - as there still existed the alliance between the guild and the brotherhood - and for once, everything seemed to be going well. Then came Kriisa's 19th winter and a very high paying job that Astrid had reserved especially for her. Before, Kriisa's targets had mainly been simple - miners, farmers, and the like - and she had grown weary of sending their souls to Sithis after years of doing the same thing over and over, and Astrid had known this. That was why the job had been given to Kriisa. Astrid had no other reason, but it seemed as though fate did. Her target then was a thane of Markarth that a Forsworn leader had wanted dead. It seemed easy enough and the excitement of being asked to shed the woman's blood in a public area had been seductive. But then Kriisa's eyes met the woman and she stopped. Unable to draw the knife hidden inside her clothes or to move at all. There had been a recognition, something Kriisa could not explain. She had wanted to run, but then the thane was holding her, bawling about lost years. A crowd was starting to form around them and Kriisa seemed to finally gain control of herself again. Kriisa drank the invisibility potion to escape the commotion, but the blood in her hands was still warm and the woman's parting words still rang in her ears. I'm sorry. Kriisa returned home to Astrid, determined not to let something like that stop her again. She had shown emotion, remorse for a target and that just wouldn't do. Never again, she swore. She had her family in the brotherhood and that was all she needed. She had them. She wasn't left wanting. Meeting the Dragonborn had been, in a word, interesting. They had been after the same person - a slimy Argonian by the name of Jaree-Ra. The two of them had met at the entrance of the cave, weapons drawn, but both knew that there were bigger fish to catch. A temporary truce was formed as they slashed through waves of enemies and in the end, mutual appreciation bloomed. The Dragonborn had asked Kriisa to join him in his quest to destroy Alduin and Kriisa, after asking for permission from Astrid, had agreed. She had accompanied the small group of heroes the Dragonborn had rounded up whenever she could. There were times when she had to leave them at Astrid's behest but she was always prepared to help them. She could kill to her pleasure and she was helping a great cause while having fun with friends. What could be greater than that? Power, apparently. Kriisa had been there in Whiterun drinking the same mead as Starkad when his dragons attacked and he announced himself to be Dovhahsken. Kriisa had been there to watch a friend fall. Kriisa had watched it all and been unable to do anything. She had taken the lead at organizing a band of people to defeat Starkad. The bloodthirst inside her had awoken like a beast that had not tasted meat for centuries. It was a lust like no other and she swore on the life of the Dragonborn that she would have the Dovhahsken's head on a pike. Extra: • She wears the Crimson Archer Armor (Immersive Armor) set during battle and Dwemer goggles(Wet and Cold) that improve her vision and accuracy. • She uses a Stahlrim Bow smithed by the Dragonborn and given to her as a gift. The set of soul trap enchanted ebony bows she uses had been a gift from Starkad and she longs to use it against him. • Some of her favourite spells are Bend Will and Trickster for the Illusion school of magic, and Conjure Winged Twilight for Conjuration (Lost Grimoire) but rarely uses them in normal combat since they take too long to charge.

Tacitus entendit la porte ouverte derrière lui, il se tint silencieusement à l'endroit où il avait pris derrière la femme assise sur la chaise. Il savait qu'elle était là avant de se révéler. C'était une habitude pour lui de jeter la vie de détecter chaque fois qu'il entrait dans une réunion de n'importe quelle importation, mais il avait gardé sa bouche fermée attendant de voir les choses se dérouler. Il tira le gladius de sa gaine à sa taille et plaça la lame sur l'épaule de la femme. Je ne serais pas si glib, et je ne ferais pas de demandes si j'étais toi. Il a commencé : "Nous avons besoin d'alliés mais vous avez plus besoin de nous que nous n'avons besoin de vous, si besoin est l'Empire peut abandonner cet endroit damné et le récupérer plus tard. Votre ordre, cependant, j'ai traité de cette question personnellement. C'est tout pour vous et votre lik.» Il sourit derrière l'écharpe qui recouvrait son visage, lorsqu'il était combiné avec la capuche, il portait tout ce qu'on pouvait voir de Tacitus, c'était ses yeux perçants. Il les a tous les deux entraînés sur l'assassin son épée prête à lui couper le cou à un moment donné. Général Tullius Sir, a-t-il dit en s'adressant au général, ses yeux se sont encore nivelés devant l'assassin, quels sont vos ordres? Le général muselé un moment avant de répondre: «Je veux que vous accompagniez cette femme et ses associés, vous êtes le représentant impérial dans cette affaire. Je veux que cette nouvelle menace soit traitée, mais je n'aurai pas d'actes contre l'Empire, vous êtes responsable de veiller à ce que la mission soit effectuée en tant que telle, suis-je clair Tacitus? – Oui monsieur, compris, répondit Tacitus en portant encore son gladius à ses côtés. Il se tourna vers l'appréciation de plusieurs figures qui entraient maintenant dans la pièce. Ils ne ressemblaient pas beaucoup, mais là encore, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de gens qui s'étaient inscrits pour se jeter aux dragons. Super qu'il ait pensé à lui-même damné de mourir loin de chez lui, contre une menace qu'on aurait dû voir venir, à côté, les miscréants et le curs que je chasse depuis des années.

Name: Tacitus Augustus Age: 30 Race: Imperial Gender: Male Sexuality: Hetrosexual Appearance: Tacitus stands about 6ft and has a lithe yet strong build. He wears his brown hair short, though you wouldn't know it, as he tends to leave it obscured by the hood he is almost certainly to be found wearing. Due to the nature of his work Tacitus is rarely found not wearing his armour, and typically carries all of his most important possessions in the plethora of pouches and pockets that dot his armour. Personality: Tacitus is a quiet man except around those he trusts, though such souls are few and far between. A man possessed of an immense intellect he is not prone to rash tendencies and is rather calculating in all his dealings. Above all else he is secretive, he loves nothing more than to learn but he is hesitant to share what he knows, and he will rarely tell someone all he knows about a matter. Class: Imperial Agent (A combination of spellsword and rogue) Birthsign: The Shadow Faction: Imperial Legion/Synod Major Skills: One handed, Destruction, Sneak, Light Armour, Lockpicking Minor Skills: Restoration, Speech craft, Alteration History: Tacitus hails from a small town that borders Skyrim and Cyrodil just north of Bruma. As a boy he lived a relatively normal life, his father was a Legionary stationed as the commander of the guard. His mother meanwhile was a talented mage who travelled around Cyrodil completing various pieces of research. Tacitus and his younger brothers would always rush to meet their mother and to hear about her adventures when she came home. It is from here that Tacitus gained his inquisitive nature and also his lust for adventure. His father noted this when Tacitus was still young, and fearful that his eldest son might put himself in harms way, set about instilling him with a sense of duty and teaching him how to fight. When Tacitus' father wasn't working and Tacitus wasn't looking after his siblings the two would practice all the arts of soldiery. Tacitus read history, learnt how to use a sword and how best to take an enemy by surprise. When he was older his mother also taught him of arcane affairs and he was found to have a knack for the destruction, alteration and restoration schools. His innate mastery of these schools, combined with his military training and background drove Tacitus to join the Imperial Legion when he was only 18. He left his small village and went out into the wide world putting into practice the many things he'd learnt over the years. He enjoyed life as a soldier and swiftly gained the respect of the various officers he served under. By the age of 22 he'd gained the rank of Quaestor and soon became widely known within the Legion for his abilities as a scout. It was whilst serving as a scout that he became embroiled in the events that would draw him into the role of agent. Whilst on a routine patrol Tacitus came across two members of the Dark Brotherhood. He and his men followed the assassins back to their lair and concealing themselves in the area around the sanctuary Tacitus sent word for reinforcements. Unbeknownst to Tacitus however, the Dark Brotherhood were aware of him and his troop and before the reinforcements arrived the assassins stormed forward. All of Tacitus' men were killed in the ensuing battle and he was gravely injured in the fighting. However, despite a terrible wound to his left arm he was able to make his way inside the sanctuary before collapsing. When the reinforcements he'd sent for arrived they found him collapsed at the bottom of a book shelf a note clutched in his fist. Upon examining the note the soldiers found that the assassins had been hired to kill the Legate accompanying their cohort. The assassins Tacitus found had been used as bait to try and draw the Legate out. Instead Tacitus and his men had foiled the scheme. Following his recovery Tacitus was reassigned. He retained his former rank but was deployed by the same Legate he'd saved as an agent against the Dark Brotherhood and other subversive elements within the Empire. Tacitus swiftly got to work developing the abilities that had already served him well. It was in pursuit of this work that Tacitus met the Dragonborn. Drawn to Skyrim by leads regarding the Night Mother Tacitus wandered the frozen province, he scoured the land but the civil war seemed to confound his investigations at every turn. It was on the road to Falkreath that Tacitus met the Dragonborn, it was only after they had parted ways that he learnt who he'd shared the walk to town with. Tacitus didn't know what to make of having met a legend incarnate, in the end he resolved to forget the incident. Too little information, too much risk he noted in his journal. Then it happened... the rise of the Dovhahsken. Tacitus immediately abandoned his hunt for the Night Mother, realising this to be the greater threat to his beloved empire. After making enquiries he heard of a group banding together to try and combat this new threat. Seeking information Tacitus decided to seek the group out, hoping that they might answer his questions and even help him end this new threat to the Empire's resurgence. Extra: Equipment: Armour of Intrigue Imperial Gladius Ebony Dagger Blades Sword (with shock enchantment) Misc (lockpicks, food, water an so forth) Motto: Scientia est potentia.

La lettre était courte et précise. "Castle Dour, Solitude - 9ème de l'aube du soleil" Il comprenait à peine n'importe quelle explication pourquoi ou comment l'écrivain savait de Neria et son désir de venger le Dragonborn. Peut-être que cela faisait partie de la raison pour laquelle elle n'avait pas hésité à quitter la taverne la même nuit, marchant toute la nuit et le lendemain, afin d'arriver à temps. Les gardes à la porte posaient cependant un autre problème. Au début, l'imbécile, qui se considérait comme une fière garde impériale, la croyait comme une espionne de tempête, malgré le fait qu'il y avait probablement autant de dunmer avec les rebelles du nord que des cerveaux dans ce crâne impérial particulier. Le deuxième garde qui apparut peu de temps après fut sans aucun doute béni avec plus de bon sens; cependant, il souleva un bon point. Il n'y avait aucune raison apparente de laisser passer Neria, son arrivée n'était pas attendue. Lentement frustré, Neria a retiré la lettre qu'elle avait reçue et l'a montrée au deuxième garde. La grande porte de la chambre de guerre s'ouvrit lentement. Neria a fait quelques pas à l'intérieur, accompagné de quatre gardes. Avec dix personnes présentes, la pièce semblait un peu encombrée. La figure la plus importante étant le général Tilius - Neria n'avait jamais vu l'homme auparavant, mais son armure l'a fait se démarquer comme un ours dans un troupeau de brebis. « Monsieur, le premier garde s'est approché du général, cette femme affirme qu'elle a été invitée ici. Elle avait cette lettre avec elle. Tilius a pris le papier et l'a inspecté de près. Le gardien s'est débarrassé de la gorge: «Ahem, monsieur. Je pense qu'elle pourrait être une espionne pour les foutues tempêtes.Le général a jeté un long coup d'oeil à la dunmer femelle, la tête aux orteils. J'en doute d'une manière ou d'une autre. Je suppose que vous lui appartenez?.. Il s'est cogné la tête vers une chaise avec une jeune femme impériale assise dessus. La femme sourit. Apparemment.

Name: Neria Saren Age: 33 Race: Dunmer Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: Neria has long dark hair, which frames a face with dark red eyes typical for her species. A few scars give it character, as well as a face tattoo. She's quite muscular, due to her wearing heavy armor almost constantly. Personality: Neria is diligent, smart and fearless. The code she used to follow, taught loyalty and honor as well, but she somewhat lost these virtues in recent years. She likes skilled fighters and people who follow a clear path in their life. However she dislikes argonians, since most of her memories of the reptilians consist of blood and death. Neria knows little else but fighting and her social skills or lack thereof have gotten her into trouble more than once. Since she has lost her path, she cars for few things, yet she is always ready to do what must be done. Class: Redoran Warrior (basically Warrior plus Destruction) Birthsign: The Steed Faction: House Redoran Major Skills: One-Handed, Heavy Armor, Block, Two-Handed, Archery Minor Skills: Alchemy, Destruction, Smithing History: Neria Saren was born into the great House Redoran, known for its great warriors, on the 9th of Mid Year, 4E170. It had been 165 years since the Red Mountain erupted and the argonian Invasion of Morrowind, known as the Accession War began. The still ongoing war between the radical An-Xileel and the Great Houses ensured that Neria would never experience peace in her short childhood. As soon as she was able to speak, she learned the True Noble's Code of House Redoran. It was meant as a path for true warriors and taught loyalty, honor and diligence above all else. One that her parents followed every day, often leaving the young child back home to go out and fight the argonian invaders. She grew up, hoping that she would become a skilled fighter herself. On her sixth birthday however, the message of her parent’s death, killed in a skirmish, arrived early in the morning. Fueled by anger and the wish to revenge her parents, Neria learned the way of the warrior. Her training included the use of every weapon accessible to her masters, often in full heavy armor. Soon she became a proud Redoran Warrior, not only skilled with weapons, but also in the magic art of destruction. When she was 17 years old, she took her first steps onto a battlefield. The same day she killed for the first time. Yet the memory of the green scaled Argonian gasping out his last breath, would soon fade as she grew older and spent many more days fighting – killing. Within 11 years, Neria made a name for herself as a talented fighter. Fearless, loyal and honorable. A true Redoran. As the years went by, the Great Houses slowly but surely fought back the An-Xileel, until they only held the southern most regions of Morrowind. The war combined with the continued activity of the Red Mountain had left most of the region in ruins. and nothing more but a barren wasteland. Early in the First Seed 4E198, the great houses assembled an army to battle a large unit of An-Xileel forces, located in Narsis. The dunmer assault was met with heavy resistance, leading to great losses on both sides and ultimately resulting in a retreat of the dunmer forces. During said retreat, Neria, already wounded from the previous battle, was hit with two arrows and left, presumed dead, in front of the town's gates. Lying amidst the dead bodies of her fellow comrades, convinced her last moment was quickly approaching, Neria thought of the people dear to her. The realization that most had been killed and that she had spent her life spilling much blood herself, hit her like a boulder to the head, finally leaving her unconscious. She woke up in the middle of the night, still lying cold on the ground. When she came to the conclusion that she would not die within the next hours, she decided took drag herself away from the city. After an hour of painfully crawling over the battlefield, Neria finally reached what was left of a small forest, in which she took shelter for a while. While bandaging her wounds, she decided that she could not return to the life she had lived so far. With nowhere else to go she made her way through the woods, finally coming across a road which lead her out of Morrowind and across the border to Cyrodiil. Having lost her way, Neria became a mercenary, selling her services to anyone with enough money. The next three years she traveled all across Tamriel, taking any job offered. She soon learned that outside Morrowind her kind was disliked at best and despised by most, especially in Skyrim where she ended up in 4E201, aimlessly wandering from city to city. One day, while traveling with a merchant as bodyguard, Neria witnessed the Dragonborn kill a dragon, after the beast had attacked the small chariot. Dovahkiin, as the nords called him, had shown up in the nick of time, to save both the merchant and Neria and after consuming the beast's soul the Dragonborn traveled with them to the next town. On the way Neria talked to him about life and duty. His words stuck with Neria for a while, even long after they had parted ways. Their meaning had a strange meaning to her, who had lost her path. She kept traveling Skyrim as a mercenary, always keeping an open ear for stories about the Dragonborn. When she heard of his death, a great desire to help avenge him and to continue his fight arose inside her. The reason why keeps eluding her, but nonetheless Neria is committed to the cause. Extra: • She wears a Bonemold Armor, which shows marks of her many battles in the Accession War. • She carries an elven shield, since she lost her original one in the battle for Narsis. • She mainly uses a Jade Blade (JaySuS Swords) and an elven dagger, both of which she sometimes dual wields.

Dio se tenait dans le couloir alors qu'une femme Dunmer était escortée dans la chambre, son armure noire se mêlant à l'obscurité. Il lui a fallu de nombreux jours pour finalement atteindre ce point. Il aurait encore harcelé la partie nordique du pays si ce n'avait pas été une rencontre fortuite avec un homme étrange vêtu de robes noires. C'est après que Dio eut vaincu un petit groupe de bandits que l'homme braqué noir se révéla, l'informant que les clés de la vengeance qu'il cherchait se trouvaient dans la forteresse impériale de Solitude. La livraison apparemment aléatoire d'un message cryptique était étrange, mais étranger était encore le fait que l'étranger volé appelé Dio par son nom, comme s'il le connaissait. Avant que Dio puisse s'enquérir, l'étranger a disparu. Quel était le sens de ce message? Quelles étaient les clés? Peut-être y avait-il un secret à la puissance du Dovhahsken caché dans les profondeurs de la forteresse, ou peut-être son némésis, Alayna était là en cachette. Ou peut-être était-ce un piège, un plan pour attirer et éliminer ceux qui cherchent à s'opposer au Dovhahsken, Dio pensait à lui-même. Le seul moyen qu'il pouvait savoir était de s'y aventurer lui-même. Et ainsi il se tenait là, ayant erré dans le donjon avec une relative facilité. On aurait dit que la Légion était à court d'argent. Voyant que les gardes avaient laissé la porte ouverte alors qu'ils étaient préoccupés par la femme Dunmer, Dio a pris cette chance d'entrer dans la chambre. Il est sorti de l'obscurité de la salle et est entré dans la porte, son grand cadre enveloppant l'espace de celle-ci. Un des gardes s'est retourné, ayant remarqué un mouvement derrière lui. Son visage s'éclaire de surprise, étant légèrement surpris de voir une grande figure vêtue d'étrange armure noire se poser soudainement derrière lui. Avant qu'il ne puisse dire quoi que ce soit Dio met rapidement un doigt sur les lèvres de l'homme. "Sssh, calme-toi Impérial, je viens en ami."sa voix gravement dégoulinant lourd avec un accent Dunmeri. Dio s'est moqué des paroles qu'il venait de prononcer. Historiquement parlant, la Maison Telvanni n'aimait pas l'Empire, s'étant heurtée à des factions impériales comme la Mages Guild à de nombreuses reprises dans le passé. Cela était vrai pour Dio aussi, il ne s'occupait pas de l'Empire, qui était l'Empire, se mêlant constamment dans les affaires des divers peuples de Tamériel. Dio a rapidement poussé devant le garde surpris et est entré dans la pièce. Il a sondé les individus avant lui à travers la visière de son casque noir. La plupart des visages ne lui étaient pas familiers et ne lui intéressaient pas, sauf trois. D'abord, la femme dunmer, son armure bien usée avec les marques de bataille, trahit son occupation. Bien que Dio ne pouvait pas être sûr, il avait une petite encre qu'elle pourrait être de House Redoran, une maison rivale à sa propre. La maison Redoran était maintenant la maison dominante à Morrowind, tandis que sa propre maison avait diminué dans Power. Pourtant, les Redorans avaient fait un bon travail pour garder les hordes argoniennes hors de la porte de Tel Oloth, et pour ce Dio ne leur a porté aucune mauvaise volonté. "Greetings Muthsera" Dio a dit à la femme Dunmer. Ensuite, c'était l'homme à capuche. Dio se demandait si cet homme était le même qui l'avait approché sur la route, l'exhortant à venir ici. Cet homme semblait avoir la même aura, bien qu'il ne pouvait pas dire pour sûr, comme il ne pouvait pas voir son visage. Enfin, il y avait la femme assise dans la chaise. Il était très familier avec elle, car elle accompagnait le Dragonborn et Saramen pendant les semaines où Dio et ses compatriotes les avaient suivis. Il a pu la voir en action à plusieurs reprises, témoignant de sa capacité à faire face à la mort. Bien que Dio et son parti aient fait de leur mieux pour rester cachés, il avait toujours un petit sentiment qu'elle était consciente de leur présence, qu'elle savait qu'ils les regardaient de dessus la colline, ou au milieu des buissons. "Où est ta lettre, Dark Elf. La preuve que vous êtes vraiment ici en tant qu'ami? » L'un des gardes a demandé. Dio l'a regardé à travers son casque, se demandant pourquoi le garde avait simplement supposé qu'il était un Dunmer. "Je n'ai pas de lettre. J'ai été informé de cette réunion par... d'autres moyens. Dio se tourna pour regarder dans la direction de l'homme à capuche. " Je m'appelle Dio de Tel Ototh, je suis avocat de la maison Telvanni. Celui que j'ai appelé frère, Saramen de Tel Oloth a combattu aux côtés du Dragonborn, puis est mort aux côtés de lui ce jour-là de trahison. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Dio s'est ensuite tourné vers l'homme qu'il croyait être le commandant. « Je n'ai aucun intérêt ni aucun engagement dans la lutte de l'Empire contre les Stormcloaks ou vice versa. Je suis ici parce que j'aimerais avoir le plaisir de voir le Dovhahsken mourir de mes propres yeux, et de préférence par mes mains. Dio s'est ensuite tourné vers la femme assise sur la chaise. Elle peut attester que mes paroles sont vraies et je suis en effet ici comme allié dans cette entreprise.

Name: Dio of Tel Oloth Age:27 Race: Redguard Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: Dio is a large man standing well over 6 feet tall. His body is densely muscled from years of hard labor and training. His body type is more akin of that of an orc than a redguard, his back and shoulders being quite broad and wide. His skin is brown as is typical for a redguard. He has scars all over his body and face from a near deadly encounter with a clannfeer. His head is bald, and from his chin sprouts a long ash colored beard. Personality: Dio is an eccentric man, often seeming to make decisions on a whim. But this is simply how he is at the surface, as he is quite calculated in how he navigates the world. He has a dark sense of humor and can be rather grim in his outlook on life. He is aloof and apathetic to most things, reserving his deeper passions for the handful of things he holds dear in this life. Dio also holds little regard for racial/cultural origin, only concerning himself with what each individual has to offer, rather than making judgments based off generalities. Class: Dark Crusader (Similar to the Crusader, but rather than fghting specifically for a good cause Dark Crusaders fight to fulfill their own desires. Birthsign: The Mage Faction: House Telvani Major Skills: Blade, Block, Restoration, Alteration, Heavy Armor Minor Skills: Alchemy, Destruction, Armorer History: Dio's existence is the result of the machinations of an eccentric Telvanni mage named Lord Dracoloth. Like most other Telvanni the pursuit of wisdom and power was of foremost importance to the wizard lord. His eccentricities led him to take a great interest in the concept of using magic and alchemy to assist in the development of living things. He spent many years applying such concepts to the cultivation of plants. Through selective breeding and alchemy Dracoloth was able to raise robust and vibrant variations of many different varieties of fauna. His interest then turned to the cultivation of mer and men. He would endeavor to use his research to create a cadre of elite warriors culled from all the races of Tameriel, each individual being pinnacle examples of their race, and all of them loyal to him unto the pain of death. Thus Dio was born in the remote settlement of Tel Oloth, third generation to come to being within Dracoloth's grand experiment. Dio's parents were two of the strongest redguards from the second generation of "test subjects". Both had an affinity for magic unlike most that of most other redguards. Dio would never come to know his parents, as such was against the design of Lord Dracoloth's experiment. He would be raised alongside the other children, a collective of assortment of all the known races of Tameriel. Early on, he would be subjected various regimens of alchemical potions and compounds, as well as a basic education in combat and the use of magic, in preparation of the trials he would face in later years. Dracoloth's regimens would ring true, and Dio and his cohorts found themselves developing far faster, and prominently than normal children their age. When Dio and the others reached the age of twelve, their collective group was split into several smaller groups. This split was based on the expected proclivities of each individual. Dio being of redguard heritage was separated into a group who would ultimately become fighters, alongside a Dunmer named Saramen, and an orc named Stryke. Their training would consist of hard labor in the mines beneath Tel Oloth, weapons training with a Mazken named Vonshala, and instruction in the magic arts by Lord Dracoloth himself. They were also given clothing imbued with an encumbrance enchantment, to further push their bodies to grow in strength. Over the next six years Dio's body would be molded by the hard labor of the mines, his skill cultivated by the careful instruction of Vonshala, and his mind expanded by the eccentric guidance of Dracoloth. Life in the mines was harsh, but such tough conditions fostered a deep bond, between Dio, Saramen, and Stryke. Together they forged a brotherhood in the darkness of the mines, the clanging sound of pickaxes driving through rock and ore the anthem in which they passed the time. Weapons training served as a welcome respite from the repetitive drudgery of the mines. Dio took well to the use of the blade, and reveled in the practice of the art swordplay. Vonshala was a patient teacher, taking great care and diligence in the instruction of the trio. She would be the closets thing to a mother the three would ever know. While Dio found the art of combat with a blade to be as simple as breathing, he found the use of magic in the same sense to be strange. While he did have aptitude with magic in and of itself, he found the application of it in combat to be more difficult. Why bother hurling a ball of fire at an enemy when one could simply cut them down? As such Dio would eschew the use of destruction magic in favor of schools which would enhance his already formidable close combat skills, such as alteration and restoration. In addition to training int the magic arts Dracoloth also passed on to them his philosophies, as well as the mindset and culture of House Telvanni. He told them of how he had shielded Tel Oloth from the destruction that befell much of House Telvanni. He also told them of how he had designed the circumstances of their birth, to the very day of their conception, thus making them his offspring, not through birth, but by design. A place within the House of Telvanni was theirs, if they could prove themselves worthy. As the years passed Dio and his "brothers" grew in skill and power, and soon their training would be complete, and they would be free to find ways in which to serve Tel Oloth in their own way. It would take little time for the three of them to rise to prominence above their peers, achieving much in Lord Dracoloth's name. Whether it be recovering an artifact from an ancient tomb, slaying monsters encroaching upon Tel Oloth, or dealing with those who would see House Telvanni destroyed completely, Dio, Saramen, and Stryke were never found lacking always succeeding in tasks given to them by their master. Dio found great pleasure in engaging in combat, in defeating enemies, and in enjoying the spoils thereafter. He cared not for the conflict between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire, or the battle raging between the other Great Dunmer Houses and the invading Argonians. For he was a crusader, a warrior with the ablity to wield magic, fighting for a good cause. "And what cause could be better than the fulfillment of one's own desires?" Tel Oloth was his fatherland, and Lord Dracoloth his Emperor. His only desire was to see Tel Oloth prosper from the plunder of it's enemies. He would relish in the spoils wrought by his own might. His brothers shared his sentiment, and together they all were adopted into House Telvanni, each attaining the rank of Lawman. Though it would seem that there existed no entity other than death that could break the bond between the Trio, there came a day when a rift was torn between them. There was a nord woman named Alayna, she like Dio and the others was also a subject of Dracoloth's alchemical experiments. Dio and the others had not seen her since they were young children, she having been separated into a group who would become powerful magic users, and kept sequestered at the very top of the mushroom tower of Tel Oloth. Alayna had grown into a powerful sorceress, she had also grown to be exceptionally beautiful. It could be said that her beauty was uncanny, unnatural even, as if the result of some type of enchantment. She was tall and strong as Nords tend to be, with a raiment of long raven black hair adorning her head. Her eyes were fierce, like those of the sabrecats of her home province of Skyrim. She captivated both men and mer alike. Many sought her favor, including Dio and Saramen. Alayna saw an within the two an opportunity to fulfill a dream she had dreamed since childhood. To be free from Tel Oloth and the watchful eye of Lord Dracoloth. She was quite powerful on her own, but with a formidable ally success was much more likely. She needed someone who was willing to betray Tel Oloth for her sake. Both brothers were formidable more so than the others, but they both seemed to be utterly loyal to the Mage Lord. But it would be a small task to seduce one of them to her side. She would attempt to pit the brothers against each other, in true Telvanni fashion. Might makes right, to the mighty goes the spoils. She proposed that they fight to the death, the Victor being the only man worthy of her love. Telvanni often fight amongst themselves in order to gain power, and riches but Dio was reluctant to go along with this arrangment. While yes Alayana was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, or imagined he would see in his lifetime, he was not so certain she was worth killing Saramen over. He and Saramen had fought many a battle together, had climbed from the very dust of the mines together. Saramen had been a powerful ally to him, and would likely continue to be a powerful ally into the future. Powerful allies who could also be trusted were hard to find amongst the Telvanni. To Dio, it appeared that the most beneficial option was to simply opt out of the contest. There are other women in the world, but a True friend and brother would be hard to replace. News of Dio's decision seemed to be a great comfort to Saramen, being reluctant to enter into such a duel as well. Or so it would seem, but the next day, Dio awoke to find himself naked and unarmed, lying deep within the mines face to face with a clannfear. Saramen had poisoned his food the night prior, and was planning on leaving him to die at the hands of the clannfear. Though his body was weakened by the poison, he was able to mitigate the effects with a strength spell. He engaged in combat with the clanfear with a stray pickax that he found on the ground. It took his entire being to fell the clannfear in his poisoned state. The clannfear had ravaged hims with it's claws, and he was losing blood fast. He managed to crawl far enough out of the tunnel to be found by some workers before it was too late. As he lay in bed, recovering from his wounds, he pondered why Saramen would have betrayed in him such a way. He had already conceded, why then go so far as to attempt to take his life? It was not until news that some artifacts of power had been stolen from the tower, and that Saramen and Alayna had been seen fleeing from the scene that it all started to make sense. Dio surmised that Alayna had pressed Saramen into killing him as an show of loyalty, and that the two had plotted together to plunder the treasure trove of the tower. An impressive act of treachery, that Dio could not permit to go unpunished. For the next two years Dio tracked the pair across Morrowind. He longed to see Alayna's proud and haughty faced twisted in despair as he delivered her into a defeat most glorious. He would show his brother the folly in siding with that enchantresses. After some time, Dio got word that the pair had taken up arms with the Dragonborn in his quest in the land of Skyrim. For weeks Dio and Stryke trailed the Dragonborn's party, bearing witness to their deeds and achievements as they awaited an opportunity to repay Saramen and Alayna for their betrayal of Lord Dracoloth and of the brotherhood they once shared. Dio found himself relating to the Dragonborn. Like him, he crusaded to fulfill his desire, the desire to see Skyrim safe and whole. Dio and his party were biding their time in the Tavern the day the Dragonborn was killed. When the sound of Dragons attacking the great hall, Dio and Stryke rushed to the scene. By the time they got there, the Dragonborn was already dead, the hall devastated and chaotic. As they picked through the debris, they came upon Saramen. His torso had been crushed by a large wooden beam. He was still alive, but he would surely die within the next few movements. A few feet away laid Alayna, she too had been struck by debris, a small pool of blood accumulated around her head. Dio leaned down, cradling Saramen's head. The injured the Dunmer looked up at his estranged brother with a haggard smile. "I had hoped that you lived. That you had defeated the clanfear with the pickax I left there" Saramen's words were labored, and interrupted by short bouts of bloody coughs. "I am sorry, but I could not deny her. She would not have me if I did not somehow end your life. She thought that you would have been a thorn in our side...in our effort to claim some of the Masters wealth for ourselves" The strain of attempting to speak was taking it's toll on the dying Dunmer. "There is no need to speak anymore. Your plan was quite treacherous, which is to be congratulated. I forgive you, brother". As Dio spoke, Saramen breathed his last breath and died. Dio saw movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked up to see Alayna quite alive, leaning on an ornate staff, Dracoloth's staff. Too wounded to fight Alayna began to flee, throwing the staff at Dio as she turned to run. Dio decided not to give chase, as even in the chaos it would not bode well for him to bee seen fighting against one of the Dragonborn's allies. Dio and Stryke retreated from Whiterun with the recovered artifacts and the body of their brother. Stryke would return the artifacts as well Saramen's body back to Tel Oloth. Dio decided he would stay in Skyrim. Treachery had been the downfall of the Dragonborn, as well as the death of his brother. Starkad had taken something from him, and Dio would see him die for it. He would see the so called Dovhahsken delivered unto death's door with his own two eyes, or hands if it comes down to it. Extra: Dio wears a suit of Black Bonemold Pauldron Armor The black color derives from mixing the hardening resin with various minerals during the forging of the armor. The symbol of House Telvanni is emblazoned in bright red on the left and right pauldrons. Dio wields a silver scimitar. He also wields an enchanted black Bonemold shield called "Spelljammer" which is able to reflect a portion of a spells effects back in the direction it was cast.

Kriisa Acillus Kriisa regarda que certaines des personnes qu'elle avait contactées commencèrent à affluer dans la salle de guerre. Le soldat impérial derrière elle avait sa lame contre elle et avait l'audace d'insulter sa famille. Normalement, Kriisa n'aurait rien de tout ça mais il avait fait un point. Son arrivée soudaine et sa proclamation avaient été un grand risque, mais il semblait être payant jusqu'à présent. Avant même de devoir lever un doigt, elle avait un soldat impérial dans sa bande de fortune pour traquer ce sale traître. La première à arriver était une Dunmer femme - Neria, Kriisa rappelé. Le Dragonborn avait parlé d'elle une ou deux fois quand elle avait voyagé avec lui, et Kriisa avait donc placé son nom dans la liste des destinataires qu'elle avait donné au courrier. Elle connaissait peu Nsria - qui elle était et ce qu'elle pouvait faire - mais elle avait désespérément appelé les armes. Pourtant, elle était venue et c'était plus que suffisant pour Kriisa. Celui qui avait suivi Neria était, pour le moins, une surprise attendue. Ceux qui s'occupaient des ombres savaient toujours quand quelqu'un d'autre se cachait derrière eux. Kriisa n'avait jamais été en mesure de l'expliquer et l'a simplement pris comme une manifestation du lien de la Fraternité avec le Void. Néanmoins, ce Redguard avait été autour de la fête du Dragonborn pendant un certain temps, mais n'avait jamais causé d'ennuis. Elle connaissait sa présence, mais pas son histoire. Était-il en train de dire la vérité ou était-ce ce qu'elle entendait simplement des mensonges enrobant un but dérisoire. Puis encore une fois, elle devait se rappeler que les mendiants n'avaient pas d'autre choix que d'accepter l'aumône qu'on leur donnait. Il était là, prêt à offrir son bras, et il n'y avait aucun moyen au nom de Sithis qu'elle le détourne. "Il est à moi," a-t-elle assuré au garde, donnant un clin d'œil à Dio. "Vous avez deux personnes dans votre armée, assassin", a commenté le général Tulius, un éternuement léger qui accentue ses paroles. "Vous pensez qu'ils peuvent vaincre le Dovhahsken quand des centaines de mes hommes ne pourraient pas?" Kriisa a dû mordre le sourire qui s'est répandu sur ses lèvres. "Qualité sur quantité, Général." Elle a vu les deux recrues. Ils semblaient être des gens qui comprenaient vraiment la bataille et la mort, pas comme certains des soldats des armées impériales ou de Stormcloak. Ils pourraient se battre, et j'espère bien, à ce sujet. Elle a vu le soldat impérial Tulius les accompagner et ne pouvait plus retenir le sourire. "En plus, tu as ton chien pour garder un œil sur nous. Vous croyez sûrement en ses capacités, non? » Malgré elle, Kriisa a entendu Starkad la réprimander dans sa tête. Il avait toujours été le rationnel, l'informant ou le Dragonborn chaque fois que la ligne de conduite qu'ils prenaient était stupide. Elle permettait une fois de plus à ses émotions d'obtenir le meilleur d'elle, et cela n'allait pas du tout aider. « Nos chiffres sont peut-être peu nombreux maintenant, mais le jour est encore en avance. Je crois que plus de gens se rallieront à notre cause, et s'ils ne viennent pas, je continuerai ma croisade. Tuer Starkad est ce qui est important pendant ces temps - pas la race ou les affiliations." Elle regarda les trois guerriers avant de retourner son regard à Tulius. « Mes informateurs disent qu'il y a un groupe de mages qui se dirigent vers Dragon Bridge pour reconstituer les forces perdues de Starkad là-bas lors d'une de vos précédentes séiges. Ils n'ont pas de dragon qui domine sur cette zone." "On pourrait reprendre cette terre." Tout droit aux affaires, comme Brynjolf lui l'a toujours dit. Il n'y avait pas besoin de délirer. S'il y en avait d'autres, elle prendrait tout simplement quelques instants pour les amener à la vitesse, mais ils ne pouvaient pas se permettre d'être oisifs. Pas maintenant.

Name: Kriisa Acillus Age: 25 Race: Imperial Gender: Female Sexuality: Bisexual Appearance: Standing at five foot four with a rather slender physique, Kriisa is quite small compared to the bulky Nords of Skyrim. Her light blonde hair and pale countenance allowed her to blend in easily enough in compensation for her height. Hidden underneath her armor is a tattoo of the Thieves Guild shadowmark meaning "protected" placed on her back. More often than not, she can be seen in her armor either doing bounty quests for certain holds or hunting for her next meal. Inside cities, the Dwemer goggles that usually cover her light green eyes can be found hanging around her neck, which is a reminder of her fighting abilities despite wearing normal clothing. Personality: Much like the other members of the Dark Brotherhood, Kriisa enjoys killing. She held no hatred for people and, in fact, finds that she enjoys their company. People simply fascinated her - the way they lived and the way they drew their last breaths under the tip of her dagger. Murderous - maniacal even - but never hateful. Kriisa also holds a strong sense of family and is someone who would always put the Brotherhood, the Guild, and all her other allies above all else. Being quite young, she also holds a somewhat childish attitude, sometimes acting ridiculously selfish or demanding, but only those close to her see this side to her. Class: Agent Birthsign: The Lover Faction: Dark Brotherhood Major Skills: Sneak | Speech | Archery | Illusion | Light Armor Minor Skills: Conjuration | One-handed | Lockpicking History: Kriisa lived most of her young life in the rotting sewers of the so-called town of thieves, Riften. She had been born into the Thieves Guild - her father being one of the guild's members and her mother's identity then unknown to her - but she never had the affinity to steal material objects. Stealth nor the use of her skills in persuasion hadn't been the problem. It was the fact that ever since the guild had begun to send her out on jobs, she had never completed a task without something being faulty. Of course, they had expected mistakes from such a young thief and they had been prepared to tolerate it for the sake of their fellow member, but when the bodies began to pile up in front of their doorstep the guild knew what it had to do. Kriisa's father had been given a choice. Come the 13th celebration of Kriisa's birth and she was still in the cistern without a flawless job to her name, she and her father would be thrown out like trash. Her father, not wanting the consequences of his daughter's constant outbursts, attempted to wane Kriisa's bloodlust during her missions. It was to no avail and the ninth of Sun's Dawn was fast approaching, so Kriisa's father had placed her on a carriage with a note tucked to her tunic. When she had awoken, she found herself in Falkreath with a blonde woman with a kind smile awaiting her. This woman, Astrid, had led her to her new home. The Dark Brotherhood. Astrid knew the moment Kriisa stepped off the carriage that she had also been one blessed by Sithis. The bloodlust had arrived in her earlier than most, but in the Family that only served as a much appreciated advantage. She began her training under her new brothers and sisters, and she found that the way she performed the jobs pleased her fellow members, unlike in the Thieves Guild. She still maintained contact with her father - as there still existed the alliance between the guild and the brotherhood - and for once, everything seemed to be going well. Then came Kriisa's 19th winter and a very high paying job that Astrid had reserved especially for her. Before, Kriisa's targets had mainly been simple - miners, farmers, and the like - and she had grown weary of sending their souls to Sithis after years of doing the same thing over and over, and Astrid had known this. That was why the job had been given to Kriisa. Astrid had no other reason, but it seemed as though fate did. Her target then was a thane of Markarth that a Forsworn leader had wanted dead. It seemed easy enough and the excitement of being asked to shed the woman's blood in a public area had been seductive. But then Kriisa's eyes met the woman and she stopped. Unable to draw the knife hidden inside her clothes or to move at all. There had been a recognition, something Kriisa could not explain. She had wanted to run, but then the thane was holding her, bawling about lost years. A crowd was starting to form around them and Kriisa seemed to finally gain control of herself again. Kriisa drank the invisibility potion to escape the commotion, but the blood in her hands was still warm and the woman's parting words still rang in her ears. I'm sorry. Kriisa returned home to Astrid, determined not to let something like that stop her again. She had shown emotion, remorse for a target and that just wouldn't do. Never again, she swore. She had her family in the brotherhood and that was all she needed. She had them. She wasn't left wanting. Meeting the Dragonborn had been, in a word, interesting. They had been after the same person - a slimy Argonian by the name of Jaree-Ra. The two of them had met at the entrance of the cave, weapons drawn, but both knew that there were bigger fish to catch. A temporary truce was formed as they slashed through waves of enemies and in the end, mutual appreciation bloomed. The Dragonborn had asked Kriisa to join him in his quest to destroy Alduin and Kriisa, after asking for permission from Astrid, had agreed. She had accompanied the small group of heroes the Dragonborn had rounded up whenever she could. There were times when she had to leave them at Astrid's behest but she was always prepared to help them. She could kill to her pleasure and she was helping a great cause while having fun with friends. What could be greater than that? Power, apparently. Kriisa had been there in Whiterun drinking the same mead as Starkad when his dragons attacked and he announced himself to be Dovhahsken. Kriisa had been there to watch a friend fall. Kriisa had watched it all and been unable to do anything. She had taken the lead at organizing a band of people to defeat Starkad. The bloodthirst inside her had awoken like a beast that had not tasted meat for centuries. It was a lust like no other and she swore on the life of the Dragonborn that she would have the Dovhahsken's head on a pike. Extra: • She wears the Crimson Archer Armor (Immersive Armor) set during battle and Dwemer goggles(Wet and Cold) that improve her vision and accuracy. • She uses a Stahlrim Bow smithed by the Dragonborn and given to her as a gift. The set of soul trap enchanted ebony bows she uses had been a gift from Starkad and she longs to use it against him. • Some of her favourite spells are Bend Will and Trickster for the Illusion school of magic, and Conjure Winged Twilight for Conjuration (Lost Grimoire) but rarely uses them in normal combat since they take too long to charge.

Nia Nia s'est replié sur les règnes de Frost, arrêtant l'étalon blanc aux écuries à côté de Solitude. Elle a laissé quelques pièces d'or glisser de ses doigts pour payer l'homme à l'écurie pour garder son cheval, en échange d'un délicat balayage de sa patte qui a vidé l'or qu'il avait dans sa poche. Elle était rafraîchissante en retard à la réunion au château Dour. Honnêtement, c'était en partie parce qu'elle n'était pas la plus grande fan des Impériaux, ou de l'Empire d'ailleurs. Principalement à cause de leurs liens avec le Thalmor, qui avait essayé de tuer Qa'va plus de fois qu'elle ne pouvait compter. Ça aurait pu avoir quelque chose à voir quand elle avait percé dans une forteresse de Thalmor et volé quelques Dossiers qui n'étaient manifestement pas destinés à être vus par ses yeux. Principalement, ils étaient des rapports sur les plans du Thalmor à Skyrim, et tenu quelques-uns très... illumination des faits sur le Thalmor en aidant secrètement les Stormcloaks à la guerre civile afin d'assurer l'Empire resterait fermement sous leur pouce. Elle avait prévu de laisser tomber une copie des plans sur le pas de la porte d'Ulfric juste pour regarder sa réaction. C'était avant que le Dragonborn ne soit assassiné. Elle a manqué la compagnie du Nord plus qu'elle ne voulait l'admettre. Loin de ses marques habituelles, les histoires qu'il lui a racontées sur les dragons et la plongée dans les ruines antiques avaient en fait été très intéressantes. La conversation la plus fascinante qu'ils aient eue quand ils étaient ensemble était celle sur la langue du dragon... quand il avait essayé de lui apprendre à parler la langue. Bien sûr.. cela avait été un échec complet.. mais sous sa direction, elle a pu comprendre certains mots dans la langue. Et le sexe... eh bien... il y avait quelque chose d'excitant dans la literie d'un homme qui pourrait littéralement la crier en morceaux s'il en avait envie. C'était inutile de s'attarder sur des choses du passé. Ce qui a été fait a été fait. Il était parti et était une source importante de revenus pour la guilde. Donc... elle avait décidé de faire quelque chose à ce sujet. Pour commencer.. se venger de l'homme qui avait décidé de plonger un poignard dans la gorge du Dragonborn. Il avait été son jouet, et le fait qu'il était mort avant qu'elle ait fini de jouer avec lui était une source sans fin d'irritation pour Nia. Se venger de Starkad a été la première étape pour guérir sa guilde. C'était la première fois qu'elle voulait tellement tuer quelqu'un.. et pendant un moment elle s'est demandé si c'était comme ça que Kriisa ressentait chaque jour de sa vie. Elle poussa les portes à la chambre ouverte, et fut immédiatement arrêtée par trois gardes. "Nous n'avons pas besoin de votre espèce ici." le gardien au centre s'est entaché. La queue de Nia s'irritait et elle exposait sa lettre d'invitation. Elle l'a placé dans la main de la Garde et l'homme s'est figé, ses yeux scrutant la page. Son visage s'est considérablement blanchi. Une lettre manuscrite de Kriisa, avec son nom délicatement gravé délicatement dans le haut. Il a fait allusion au fait que Qa'va avait été dans une relation avec le Dragonborn au moment de sa disparition prématurée. Il l'a également invitée à venir à cette réunion, lui demandant si elle aimerait se joindre à eux pour se venger contre Dovahsken. "J'ai entendu dire que le Dragonborn a pris un amant, mais je ne pensais pas que son amant était..." Nia s'est évanouie, une purée venant de l'arrière de sa gorge. "Un Khajiit? Oui. La plupart des réactions à cette découverte sont.. C'est la même chose." Elle a arraché la lettre de ses mains, la lissant délicatement dans ses pattes à fourrure blanche. Sans un autre mot aux gardes, elle s'est jetée devant eux et est allée dans la salle de réunion. "Qa'va?" Le général Tullius respira alors que le presque blanc fantôme Khajiit s'approchait de la table. Les deux se sont rencontrés à plusieurs reprises. La première fois, lors d'une rencontre de paix entre les Stormcloaks et les Impériaux, le Dragonborn avait insisté pour qu'elle se joigne aux pourparlers de paix et l'avait présentée comme sa petite amie. Elle pouvait encore se rappeler les expressions choquantes qui se répandaient à travers la table, notamment les expressions horrifiées provenant à la fois d'Ulfric, de Tullius et du représentant de Thalmor. Il avait été amusant de dire le moins, et parfois Nia a pensé à ce moment même pour se faire sourire. Après le discours de paix, Nia avait utilisé les autres réunions pour convaincre Tullius que sa relation avec le Dragonborn était pure. "Je pensais que tu serais en deuil. Que fais-tu ici?" Nia a tiré un coup d'oeil sur Tullius. "J'étais en deuil. Mais alors j'ai décidé de rester assis sur mon cul à ne rien faire n'était pas un moyen d'honorer sa mémoire. Donc... quand j'ai trouvé cette lettre sur les marches de Breezehome... j'ai choisi de venir ici. Je veux me venger. Starkad a pris Nim. Et Starkad paiera pour ce qu'il a fait." Il y avait une lueur déterminée dans ses yeux pendant qu'elle parlait, posant le papier sur la table. "Tu connais ce Skum de la Fraternité Noire?" Le général Tullius a demandé, le curling des lèvres dans le dégoût. Nia lui a tiré dessus. "Kriisa est une amie et alliée de moi-même et du Dragonborn, elle est fiable parce qu'elle est de la Fraternité Noire. Son métier est de tuer. Elle peut s'avérer extrêmement utile pour nous. » Elle s'est déplacée vers Kriisa, un sourire qui s'est répandu sur son visage. "C'est bon de te revoir." Elle s'est tournée vers les autres derrière Kriisa. C'était presque comme la ligne de frappe d'une mauvaise blague, deux Impériaux, un Redguard, et un Elfe Noir. Et puis... elle. Le Khajiit. Tullius regarda entre Kriisa et Nia, essayant de mettre deux dans son esprit. "Je ne lui fais pas confiance." Les oreilles de Nia flippaient dans l'ennui et sa queue baignait d'un coup à l'autre. "C'est une bonne chose qu'elle ne travaille pas avec toi alors, n'est-ce pas." Puis il y avait un flash de dents blanches aiguës comme elle parlait dans un sifflement. "Tu oublies, Kriisa était avec lui dans beaucoup de ses voyages. C'était une alliée et une amie proches. Elle était avec lui quand il est mort.. un luxe que je n'avais pas, comme j'étais ailleurs." La plus grande partie de l'amertume de sa voix était en fait déçue par le fait que sa proie lui avait été enlevée avant qu'elle n'en finisse de jouer. Parce que la séduction du Dragonborn avait été le score du siècle. Grâce à son influence, elle a réussi à sortir quelques membres de sa guilde de prison. Elle avait prévu d'utiliser ses liens avec les Jarls pour remettre sa guilde sur la carte. Et maintenant tout ça a été ruiné. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle avait prévu exactement?" "Elle prétend connaître un groupe de mages de Dovasken se dirigent vers-." Nia a instantanément gratté ses griffes contre la table assez fort, ses yeux brûlant comme du feu. Alors que la chambre tomba silencieuse et que tous les yeux se tournèrent vers elle, elle siffla. "Parlons de lui comme Starkad, d'accord? En ce qui me concerne, il ne mérite pas d'être appelé en langue dragon." Après un moment de silence, Tullius réessaya. « Elle a dit qu'elle connaissait un groupe de mages de Dov-Starkad... se dirigeant vers Dragon Bridge. Il n'y a pas de dragon dans la région." Nia regarda Kriisa, ses oreilles scintillent. « Je pense que c'est digne de notre attention. Chaque rébellion commence petit. Et nous cinq dans la bataille.. nous serons en mesure d'entrer et de sortir sans que personne ne s'en rende compte. C'est mieux qu'aucun plan du tout."

Name: Qa'va Nia Age:25 Race: Khajiit Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: She appears the color of a snow leopard, with mainly white fur and black lines and splotches across her entire body. She has bright amber eyes, which almost appear orange sometimes due to the way they catch the light. She also has a thick claw-like scar down her face which was given to her the claws of a fellow Khajiit. She stands at a rather average 5'5, and has a thin build more suited for sneaking than anything else. Personality: A clever and crafty Khajiit with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. She is street smart and a brilliant manipulator, as well as being able to be very charismatic if she puts her mind to it. She considers her marks to be her prey, plaything, or toy. She also refers to people using the terms as a form of endearment. She has a rather carefree nature, and will often vanish for long periods of time with no word to anyone she knows. She can be a very difficult person to understand, and seems to always be looking for an angle in every situation. She also has a blunt way of speaking to people with an occasional sassy comment. Unless it is in her best interest to lie, she does not hold back her opinions and thoughts, even if they are offensive. Class: Thief/Mercenary Birthsign: The Thief Faction: Thieves Guild Major Skills: Sneak, Speech, Lockpicking, one handed, pick pocketing Minor Skills: light armor, archery, alchemy History: Nia was discovered abandoned in a basket in the sewers of the thieves guild in Riften. Instead of sending her back to the surface where she might die, or turning her into the orphanage, one of the guild members convinced the others to keep her. Nia was actually nicknamed after the small crying sound she used to make when she was a child, they used this so frequently instead of her actual name Qa'va, she now considers it to be her actual name. By the time Nia turned six, she was already showing remarkable prowess in sneaking. She would spend time creeping around the sewers hiding in shadows and popping out to scare her older guild mates. She considered it a fun game. So, the guild started to instruct Nia on how to use this amazing ability to sneak for profit. At an early age, she possessed an incredible ability to suppress any sort of emotion or moral hindrance that might affect her from doing what needed to be done for whatever job was needed of her. She was silent in her stride and smooth in her speech, which slowly cemented her position in the guild. She quickly became one of the guild's best operatives; better than some of the members three times her age. By the time she was thirteen, she was a fully-fledged and respected member of the guild and had successfully managed to steal a total of ten barrels from an expensive winery in Falkreath over the span of two months without anyone noticing. At seventeen, she seduced the son of a shrewd and corrupt nobleman and gained regular access to their house; enough to steal hundreds of Septims worth of jewelry and items. However, despite her crafty hands and powerful abilities with thieving, Nia's relationship with the Dragonborn all started with her breaking into his house in Whiterun. Hearing about a Nordic warrior with the power to create magic with his voice. She thought of him as the ultimate prize of them all, if she could get him, she could prove that she still had her luck. In his home were gems, gold, rare weapons that made her fingers itch to grab them off the shelves. However, Nia used her self control to stop herself, instead waiting for the Dragonborn to return. When the Dragonborn entered his home, she used her sharp and clever tongue to convince him she'd done this to get his attention and she just wanted to get a drink with him. After listening to him vent to her about dragons and greybeards, and a multitude of other topics, Nia convinced the Dragonborn to meet her again. Repeating this for about a month, Nia finally convinced a very drunk dragonborn to sleep with her. After he'd fallen alseep, she stole a few of the most expensive things she could grab. (including her current set of weapons). She continued this facade of a relationship with the Dragonborn for long enough that he actually gave her a key to his house so she wouldn't keep breaking in. Nia was living the good life, bringing tons of revenue in for the guild, and keeping whatever she pleased for herself. She was living the good life until Gallus was murdered by Karliah. From here, Nia was inducted into the new Nightingales as Gallus' replacement. This marked the last day of the guild's good luck. Slowly and surely their streams of revenue were cut off and their numbers started to dwindle. The worst news of all was when Nia discovered the Dragonborn was slain by Starkad. Of course, this irritated Nia, because the Dragonborn was her mark, and she had been having a lot of fun manipulating him. Without him alive, that meant she wouldn't be able to steal the stuff he constantly brought home. Not to mention, with dragons swarming down on them AGAIN, and Nocturnal turning a blind eye to her guild, she was really starting to struggle to keep her guild floating. She decided to take up arms against Starkad, deciding to blame him for the guild's recent bad luck streak. Extra: - She wears Nightingale armor, but doesn't put up the hood or face mask unless she is working. - She carries a set of daedric daggers and a daedric bow complete with matching arrows. (which she stole from the dragonborn) - She carries the key to Breezehome around her neck. (which was willingly given to her by the Dragonborn. She will swear this has no sentimental meaning at all.) - Her style of fighting is rather graceful and unique, and resembles dancing.

Tacitus a observé que le parti se tenait autour de lui, insolent, et mal discipliné pour la plupart, sauf pour le Redguard et peut-être le Dunmer. Bien que d'après les remarques quelques-uns d'entre eux aient fait il semblait qu'ils étaient beaucoup plus familiers avec le dragon né qu'il l'était, que de nouveau c'était tout à fait la banalité dans le grand plan des choses que l'homme était mort. «Alors, faisons un pas au lieu de nous asseoir ici, dit-il calmement mais avec autorité, ceux d'entre vous sans chevaux me suivent, ceux avec des chevaux les prennent et nous rencontrent sur la route de Dragonsbridge, à mi-chemin entre ici et là. De là, nous pouvons nous aventurer ensemble et nous occuper de cette pathétique cabale.» Avec ce Tacitus fait pour la porte du château ayant l'intention de se diriger tout droit vers les écuries. Il ne s'est pas arrêté pour les autres et ne s'est pas retourné pour vérifier s'ils l'ont suivi ou non. Il était en mission maintenant, il allait l'achever avec ou sans eux. Soit ils le suivaient et se battaient avec lui, soit ils restaient en violation de leurs propres intentions, il ne s'en souciait pas vraiment, le résultat final serait le même après tout.

Name: Tacitus Augustus Age: 30 Race: Imperial Gender: Male Sexuality: Hetrosexual Appearance: Tacitus stands about 6ft and has a lithe yet strong build. He wears his brown hair short, though you wouldn't know it, as he tends to leave it obscured by the hood he is almost certainly to be found wearing. Due to the nature of his work Tacitus is rarely found not wearing his armour, and typically carries all of his most important possessions in the plethora of pouches and pockets that dot his armour. Personality: Tacitus is a quiet man except around those he trusts, though such souls are few and far between. A man possessed of an immense intellect he is not prone to rash tendencies and is rather calculating in all his dealings. Above all else he is secretive, he loves nothing more than to learn but he is hesitant to share what he knows, and he will rarely tell someone all he knows about a matter. Class: Imperial Agent (A combination of spellsword and rogue) Birthsign: The Shadow Faction: Imperial Legion/Synod Major Skills: One handed, Destruction, Sneak, Light Armour, Lockpicking Minor Skills: Restoration, Speech craft, Alteration History: Tacitus hails from a small town that borders Skyrim and Cyrodil just north of Bruma. As a boy he lived a relatively normal life, his father was a Legionary stationed as the commander of the guard. His mother meanwhile was a talented mage who travelled around Cyrodil completing various pieces of research. Tacitus and his younger brothers would always rush to meet their mother and to hear about her adventures when she came home. It is from here that Tacitus gained his inquisitive nature and also his lust for adventure. His father noted this when Tacitus was still young, and fearful that his eldest son might put himself in harms way, set about instilling him with a sense of duty and teaching him how to fight. When Tacitus' father wasn't working and Tacitus wasn't looking after his siblings the two would practice all the arts of soldiery. Tacitus read history, learnt how to use a sword and how best to take an enemy by surprise. When he was older his mother also taught him of arcane affairs and he was found to have a knack for the destruction, alteration and restoration schools. His innate mastery of these schools, combined with his military training and background drove Tacitus to join the Imperial Legion when he was only 18. He left his small village and went out into the wide world putting into practice the many things he'd learnt over the years. He enjoyed life as a soldier and swiftly gained the respect of the various officers he served under. By the age of 22 he'd gained the rank of Quaestor and soon became widely known within the Legion for his abilities as a scout. It was whilst serving as a scout that he became embroiled in the events that would draw him into the role of agent. Whilst on a routine patrol Tacitus came across two members of the Dark Brotherhood. He and his men followed the assassins back to their lair and concealing themselves in the area around the sanctuary Tacitus sent word for reinforcements. Unbeknownst to Tacitus however, the Dark Brotherhood were aware of him and his troop and before the reinforcements arrived the assassins stormed forward. All of Tacitus' men were killed in the ensuing battle and he was gravely injured in the fighting. However, despite a terrible wound to his left arm he was able to make his way inside the sanctuary before collapsing. When the reinforcements he'd sent for arrived they found him collapsed at the bottom of a book shelf a note clutched in his fist. Upon examining the note the soldiers found that the assassins had been hired to kill the Legate accompanying their cohort. The assassins Tacitus found had been used as bait to try and draw the Legate out. Instead Tacitus and his men had foiled the scheme. Following his recovery Tacitus was reassigned. He retained his former rank but was deployed by the same Legate he'd saved as an agent against the Dark Brotherhood and other subversive elements within the Empire. Tacitus swiftly got to work developing the abilities that had already served him well. It was in pursuit of this work that Tacitus met the Dragonborn. Drawn to Skyrim by leads regarding the Night Mother Tacitus wandered the frozen province, he scoured the land but the civil war seemed to confound his investigations at every turn. It was on the road to Falkreath that Tacitus met the Dragonborn, it was only after they had parted ways that he learnt who he'd shared the walk to town with. Tacitus didn't know what to make of having met a legend incarnate, in the end he resolved to forget the incident. Too little information, too much risk he noted in his journal. Then it happened... the rise of the Dovhahsken. Tacitus immediately abandoned his hunt for the Night Mother, realising this to be the greater threat to his beloved empire. After making enquiries he heard of a group banding together to try and combat this new threat. Seeking information Tacitus decided to seek the group out, hoping that they might answer his questions and even help him end this new threat to the Empire's resurgence. Extra: Equipment: Armour of Intrigue Imperial Gladius Ebony Dagger Blades Sword (with shock enchantment) Misc (lockpicks, food, water an so forth) Motto: Scientia est potentia.

L'atmosphère dans la chambre de guerre était soudainement devenue encore plus gênante qu'auparavant et comme Neria ne possédait pas de cheval, elle suivait l'impérial mâle et prenait ses armes et son sac à dos aux gardes. Malgré son lien évident avec la légion, le contraste entre lui et le dimwit qu'elle avait rencontré aux portes du château n'aurait guère pu être plus grand. Le soldat, dont elle ne connaissait pas le nom, avait une expression sur son visage comme si ses nouveaux compagnons se révélaient soudain être deux écheveaux, un épouvantail et un troll. Pourtant, il lui a rappelé les histoires qu'elle a entendues en tant qu'adolescente de ses maîtres. Alors que Morrowind et l'empire n'avaient pas toujours été en de grandes conditions, beaucoup de dunmer a tenu beaucoup de respect pour l'armée impériale, en particulier les membres de la maison Redoran. Leur discipline militaire et leur maîtrise de la stratégie avaient autrefois unifié tout l'empire, dépassant toute autre force permanente à Tamriel – jusqu'à ce que le Thalmor arrive au pouvoir et prenne le pouvoir. Cet événement a marqué le début de la chute des légions et la guerre civile à Skyrim n'a fait que réduire encore le nombre de soldats forts et fiables dont la légion était autrefois fière. Ces jours-ci, malheureusement, les gardes de porte idiots étaient la règle et des hommes comme son nouveau compagnon ont fait l'exception. Il ressemblait au dernier véritable légionnaire restant, fort, loyal et déterminé. De toute évidence, il allait suivre ses ordres jusqu'au bout; Neria n'avait aucun doute à ce sujet. Elle a fait une note mentale pour rester du bon côté de ses ordres; elle ne visait pas à gagner son amitié, mais à éviter des conflits inutiles, ce qui pourrait entraver leur mission. Et puis il y avait l'homme qui s'appelait Dio de Tel Oloth. Neria était certain, qu'en dépit de son armure et de son accent, il était contraire à l'hypothèse de garde, pas de dunmer. Tout d'abord les proportions de son corps étaient coupées; les jambes trop courtes, les mains et les pieds trop grands, les épaules et les hanches trop larges. Deuxièmement, ses mouvements, bien que naturels, manquaient d'un certain égratignure. Neria ne pouvait pas penser à un meilleur mot, mais son instinct lui a dit qu'il était plus homme que mer. Son affiliation avec une grande maison n'a pas changé cela. Même s'ils n'étaient pas trop communs, les étrangers pouvaient rejoindre une grande maison de temps en temps, même s'ils appartenaient à une espèce différente. Quant à son caractère, les membres de Telvanni étaient connus pour être imprudents, arrogants et souvent puissants, qui ne poursuivent que leurs propres objectifs personnels avec peu d'intérêt pour les coûts, souvent «consommant» un nombre énorme d'esclaves dans leurs efforts. Une habitude cruelle et pourtant malgré cela, les Telvanni étaient bien respectés à Morrowind. C'était en fait leur mentalité axée sur les résultats qui était considérée comme une partie importante de la culture dunmer et qui leur a valu leur réputation, même s'ils ont continuellement poussé les frontières sur ce qui était considéré comme « bon goût » – la nécromance et autres. Dio semblait certainement avoir une opinion assez élevée de lui-même pour être vraiment un Telvanni et donc Neria devrait s'assurer de ne pas lui faire confiance facilement. Cependant, il pourrait être agréable d'avoir quelqu'un autour familier avec les coutumes de dunmer. Neria a passé une peinture sur le mur, représentant un homme vêtu de vêtements riches en équilibre de plusieurs pépites d'or sur une échelle. Le métal peint a conduit son esprit au dernier membre de leur petit groupe. Qaiva; un Khajit blanc et probablement un voleur. Lors de ses voyages à travers Tamriel, Neria avait rencontré plusieurs de ces créatures à fourrure, dont la plupart voyageaient dans des caravanes et faisaient camper à l'extérieur des grandes villes pour faire du commerce. Les personnes félines étaient connues pour des activités illégales et une dépendance malsaine à Skooma. Jusqu'à présent, Neria n'avait été témoin que d'événements qui confirmaient cette réputation et n'était donc pas très enthousiaste à voyager avec le chat blanc surdimensionné. Neria s'est scandalisée dans son esprit ; elle ne pouvait peut-être pas conclure la nature de Qa-va-s juste à partir de cette première courte rencontre. Le Dragonborn l'avait connue – évidemment, et peut-être même lui faisait-il confiance. De plus, sa colère semblait assez sincère; elle voulait très probablement vraiment se venger. Tout cela était une raison suffisante pour donner une chance à la chatteuse. Toujours Neria ne pouvait pas secouer le sentiment que ses mains griffées finiraient d'une manière ou d'une autre dans ses poches à un moment donné. Heureusement, elle a voyagé léger et possédait peu de valeur réelle de toute façon. Enfin, il y a la personne responsable de la petite rencontre et de l'accueil. C'est Kriisa. La jeune femme avait l'air innocente et douce, mais Neria n'était pas assez folle pour être dupée par les regards. Il y avait une aura sombre autour d'elle qui rappelait à Neria un tueur en série lunatique. L'image d'une petite fille souriant en tenant un couteau sanglant m'est venue à l'esprit. L'ancien compagnon de Dragonborn était sans aucun doute un assassin et prouverait certainement mortel. Mais à qui était une autre question, la réponse à laquelle Neria était certaine qu'elle le découvrirait assez tôt. Pour l'instant, elle a juste continué à suivre l'homme devant elle. Silencieusement.

Name: Neria Saren Age: 33 Race: Dunmer Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: Neria has long dark hair, which frames a face with dark red eyes typical for her species. A few scars give it character, as well as a face tattoo. She's quite muscular, due to her wearing heavy armor almost constantly. Personality: Neria is diligent, smart and fearless. The code she used to follow, taught loyalty and honor as well, but she somewhat lost these virtues in recent years. She likes skilled fighters and people who follow a clear path in their life. However she dislikes argonians, since most of her memories of the reptilians consist of blood and death. Neria knows little else but fighting and her social skills or lack thereof have gotten her into trouble more than once. Since she has lost her path, she cars for few things, yet she is always ready to do what must be done. Class: Redoran Warrior (basically Warrior plus Destruction) Birthsign: The Steed Faction: House Redoran Major Skills: One-Handed, Heavy Armor, Block, Two-Handed, Archery Minor Skills: Alchemy, Destruction, Smithing History: Neria Saren was born into the great House Redoran, known for its great warriors, on the 9th of Mid Year, 4E170. It had been 165 years since the Red Mountain erupted and the argonian Invasion of Morrowind, known as the Accession War began. The still ongoing war between the radical An-Xileel and the Great Houses ensured that Neria would never experience peace in her short childhood. As soon as she was able to speak, she learned the True Noble's Code of House Redoran. It was meant as a path for true warriors and taught loyalty, honor and diligence above all else. One that her parents followed every day, often leaving the young child back home to go out and fight the argonian invaders. She grew up, hoping that she would become a skilled fighter herself. On her sixth birthday however, the message of her parent’s death, killed in a skirmish, arrived early in the morning. Fueled by anger and the wish to revenge her parents, Neria learned the way of the warrior. Her training included the use of every weapon accessible to her masters, often in full heavy armor. Soon she became a proud Redoran Warrior, not only skilled with weapons, but also in the magic art of destruction. When she was 17 years old, she took her first steps onto a battlefield. The same day she killed for the first time. Yet the memory of the green scaled Argonian gasping out his last breath, would soon fade as she grew older and spent many more days fighting – killing. Within 11 years, Neria made a name for herself as a talented fighter. Fearless, loyal and honorable. A true Redoran. As the years went by, the Great Houses slowly but surely fought back the An-Xileel, until they only held the southern most regions of Morrowind. The war combined with the continued activity of the Red Mountain had left most of the region in ruins. and nothing more but a barren wasteland. Early in the First Seed 4E198, the great houses assembled an army to battle a large unit of An-Xileel forces, located in Narsis. The dunmer assault was met with heavy resistance, leading to great losses on both sides and ultimately resulting in a retreat of the dunmer forces. During said retreat, Neria, already wounded from the previous battle, was hit with two arrows and left, presumed dead, in front of the town's gates. Lying amidst the dead bodies of her fellow comrades, convinced her last moment was quickly approaching, Neria thought of the people dear to her. The realization that most had been killed and that she had spent her life spilling much blood herself, hit her like a boulder to the head, finally leaving her unconscious. She woke up in the middle of the night, still lying cold on the ground. When she came to the conclusion that she would not die within the next hours, she decided took drag herself away from the city. After an hour of painfully crawling over the battlefield, Neria finally reached what was left of a small forest, in which she took shelter for a while. While bandaging her wounds, she decided that she could not return to the life she had lived so far. With nowhere else to go she made her way through the woods, finally coming across a road which lead her out of Morrowind and across the border to Cyrodiil. Having lost her way, Neria became a mercenary, selling her services to anyone with enough money. The next three years she traveled all across Tamriel, taking any job offered. She soon learned that outside Morrowind her kind was disliked at best and despised by most, especially in Skyrim where she ended up in 4E201, aimlessly wandering from city to city. One day, while traveling with a merchant as bodyguard, Neria witnessed the Dragonborn kill a dragon, after the beast had attacked the small chariot. Dovahkiin, as the nords called him, had shown up in the nick of time, to save both the merchant and Neria and after consuming the beast's soul the Dragonborn traveled with them to the next town. On the way Neria talked to him about life and duty. His words stuck with Neria for a while, even long after they had parted ways. Their meaning had a strange meaning to her, who had lost her path. She kept traveling Skyrim as a mercenary, always keeping an open ear for stories about the Dragonborn. When she heard of his death, a great desire to help avenge him and to continue his fight arose inside her. The reason why keeps eluding her, but nonetheless Neria is committed to the cause. Extra: • She wears a Bonemold Armor, which shows marks of her many battles in the Accession War. • She carries an elven shield, since she lost her original one in the battle for Narsis. • She mainly uses a Jade Blade (JaySuS Swords) and an elven dagger, both of which she sometimes dual wields.

Dio Dio hoche en retour à Kriisa, les Impériaux maintenant pacifié à sa présence là-bas. Peu après l'entrée d'un autre, un Khajit. Dio a été quelque peu surpris, car il semblait de la lettre qu'elle a remise à la garde contenait quelques détails sur une relation romantique avec le Dragonborn. Dio avait toujours su que les hommes des autres provinces avaient une propension à l'égard des femmes bêtes, considérant des publications comme la Lusty Argonian Maid, mais il comprenait que de tels désirs étaient rarement rendus publics. Un homme du niveau de célébrité du Dragonborn avait probablement beaucoup d'options en ce qui concerne la compagnie féminine. Il devait y avoir quelque chose de particulier à cette femme Khajit particulière, Dio a pensé à lui-même alors qu'il la regardait de haut en bas. Dans l'ensemble, Dio était heureux. Alors que les Impériaux dans la pièce doutaient de la capacité de ce petit groupe à atteindre leur but, Dio était confiant. Quand la force et le pouvoir ont été trouvés à vouloir, la trahison peut toujours être supplantée à sa place, et par l'apparence de la plupart de ses bientôt être des compagnons, la trahison était en grande quantité entre eux.Dio a donné un rire copieux comme il a suivi Tacitus hors de la chambre. "Ce sera une croisade très glorieuse Impériale". Dio n'avait pas de monture, ayant passé le pied à travers le pays après s'être séparé de son frère d'Orc Stryke. Il se souciait de ne pas continuer ainsi, et si la Légion donnait des chevaux libres, il serait heureux d'obliger leur offre.

Name: Dio of Tel Oloth Age:27 Race: Redguard Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: Dio is a large man standing well over 6 feet tall. His body is densely muscled from years of hard labor and training. His body type is more akin of that of an orc than a redguard, his back and shoulders being quite broad and wide. His skin is brown as is typical for a redguard. He has scars all over his body and face from a near deadly encounter with a clannfeer. His head is bald, and from his chin sprouts a long ash colored beard. Personality: Dio is an eccentric man, often seeming to make decisions on a whim. But this is simply how he is at the surface, as he is quite calculated in how he navigates the world. He has a dark sense of humor and can be rather grim in his outlook on life. He is aloof and apathetic to most things, reserving his deeper passions for the handful of things he holds dear in this life. Dio also holds little regard for racial/cultural origin, only concerning himself with what each individual has to offer, rather than making judgments based off generalities. Class: Dark Crusader (Similar to the Crusader, but rather than fghting specifically for a good cause Dark Crusaders fight to fulfill their own desires. Birthsign: The Mage Faction: House Telvani Major Skills: Blade, Block, Restoration, Alteration, Heavy Armor Minor Skills: Alchemy, Destruction, Armorer History: Dio's existence is the result of the machinations of an eccentric Telvanni mage named Lord Dracoloth. Like most other Telvanni the pursuit of wisdom and power was of foremost importance to the wizard lord. His eccentricities led him to take a great interest in the concept of using magic and alchemy to assist in the development of living things. He spent many years applying such concepts to the cultivation of plants. Through selective breeding and alchemy Dracoloth was able to raise robust and vibrant variations of many different varieties of fauna. His interest then turned to the cultivation of mer and men. He would endeavor to use his research to create a cadre of elite warriors culled from all the races of Tameriel, each individual being pinnacle examples of their race, and all of them loyal to him unto the pain of death. Thus Dio was born in the remote settlement of Tel Oloth, third generation to come to being within Dracoloth's grand experiment. Dio's parents were two of the strongest redguards from the second generation of "test subjects". Both had an affinity for magic unlike most that of most other redguards. Dio would never come to know his parents, as such was against the design of Lord Dracoloth's experiment. He would be raised alongside the other children, a collective of assortment of all the known races of Tameriel. Early on, he would be subjected various regimens of alchemical potions and compounds, as well as a basic education in combat and the use of magic, in preparation of the trials he would face in later years. Dracoloth's regimens would ring true, and Dio and his cohorts found themselves developing far faster, and prominently than normal children their age. When Dio and the others reached the age of twelve, their collective group was split into several smaller groups. This split was based on the expected proclivities of each individual. Dio being of redguard heritage was separated into a group who would ultimately become fighters, alongside a Dunmer named Saramen, and an orc named Stryke. Their training would consist of hard labor in the mines beneath Tel Oloth, weapons training with a Mazken named Vonshala, and instruction in the magic arts by Lord Dracoloth himself. They were also given clothing imbued with an encumbrance enchantment, to further push their bodies to grow in strength. Over the next six years Dio's body would be molded by the hard labor of the mines, his skill cultivated by the careful instruction of Vonshala, and his mind expanded by the eccentric guidance of Dracoloth. Life in the mines was harsh, but such tough conditions fostered a deep bond, between Dio, Saramen, and Stryke. Together they forged a brotherhood in the darkness of the mines, the clanging sound of pickaxes driving through rock and ore the anthem in which they passed the time. Weapons training served as a welcome respite from the repetitive drudgery of the mines. Dio took well to the use of the blade, and reveled in the practice of the art swordplay. Vonshala was a patient teacher, taking great care and diligence in the instruction of the trio. She would be the closets thing to a mother the three would ever know. While Dio found the art of combat with a blade to be as simple as breathing, he found the use of magic in the same sense to be strange. While he did have aptitude with magic in and of itself, he found the application of it in combat to be more difficult. Why bother hurling a ball of fire at an enemy when one could simply cut them down? As such Dio would eschew the use of destruction magic in favor of schools which would enhance his already formidable close combat skills, such as alteration and restoration. In addition to training int the magic arts Dracoloth also passed on to them his philosophies, as well as the mindset and culture of House Telvanni. He told them of how he had shielded Tel Oloth from the destruction that befell much of House Telvanni. He also told them of how he had designed the circumstances of their birth, to the very day of their conception, thus making them his offspring, not through birth, but by design. A place within the House of Telvanni was theirs, if they could prove themselves worthy. As the years passed Dio and his "brothers" grew in skill and power, and soon their training would be complete, and they would be free to find ways in which to serve Tel Oloth in their own way. It would take little time for the three of them to rise to prominence above their peers, achieving much in Lord Dracoloth's name. Whether it be recovering an artifact from an ancient tomb, slaying monsters encroaching upon Tel Oloth, or dealing with those who would see House Telvanni destroyed completely, Dio, Saramen, and Stryke were never found lacking always succeeding in tasks given to them by their master. Dio found great pleasure in engaging in combat, in defeating enemies, and in enjoying the spoils thereafter. He cared not for the conflict between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire, or the battle raging between the other Great Dunmer Houses and the invading Argonians. For he was a crusader, a warrior with the ablity to wield magic, fighting for a good cause. "And what cause could be better than the fulfillment of one's own desires?" Tel Oloth was his fatherland, and Lord Dracoloth his Emperor. His only desire was to see Tel Oloth prosper from the plunder of it's enemies. He would relish in the spoils wrought by his own might. His brothers shared his sentiment, and together they all were adopted into House Telvanni, each attaining the rank of Lawman. Though it would seem that there existed no entity other than death that could break the bond between the Trio, there came a day when a rift was torn between them. There was a nord woman named Alayna, she like Dio and the others was also a subject of Dracoloth's alchemical experiments. Dio and the others had not seen her since they were young children, she having been separated into a group who would become powerful magic users, and kept sequestered at the very top of the mushroom tower of Tel Oloth. Alayna had grown into a powerful sorceress, she had also grown to be exceptionally beautiful. It could be said that her beauty was uncanny, unnatural even, as if the result of some type of enchantment. She was tall and strong as Nords tend to be, with a raiment of long raven black hair adorning her head. Her eyes were fierce, like those of the sabrecats of her home province of Skyrim. She captivated both men and mer alike. Many sought her favor, including Dio and Saramen. Alayna saw an within the two an opportunity to fulfill a dream she had dreamed since childhood. To be free from Tel Oloth and the watchful eye of Lord Dracoloth. She was quite powerful on her own, but with a formidable ally success was much more likely. She needed someone who was willing to betray Tel Oloth for her sake. Both brothers were formidable more so than the others, but they both seemed to be utterly loyal to the Mage Lord. But it would be a small task to seduce one of them to her side. She would attempt to pit the brothers against each other, in true Telvanni fashion. Might makes right, to the mighty goes the spoils. She proposed that they fight to the death, the Victor being the only man worthy of her love. Telvanni often fight amongst themselves in order to gain power, and riches but Dio was reluctant to go along with this arrangment. While yes Alayana was beautiful, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, or imagined he would see in his lifetime, he was not so certain she was worth killing Saramen over. He and Saramen had fought many a battle together, had climbed from the very dust of the mines together. Saramen had been a powerful ally to him, and would likely continue to be a powerful ally into the future. Powerful allies who could also be trusted were hard to find amongst the Telvanni. To Dio, it appeared that the most beneficial option was to simply opt out of the contest. There are other women in the world, but a True friend and brother would be hard to replace. News of Dio's decision seemed to be a great comfort to Saramen, being reluctant to enter into such a duel as well. Or so it would seem, but the next day, Dio awoke to find himself naked and unarmed, lying deep within the mines face to face with a clannfear. Saramen had poisoned his food the night prior, and was planning on leaving him to die at the hands of the clannfear. Though his body was weakened by the poison, he was able to mitigate the effects with a strength spell. He engaged in combat with the clanfear with a stray pickax that he found on the ground. It took his entire being to fell the clannfear in his poisoned state. The clannfear had ravaged hims with it's claws, and he was losing blood fast. He managed to crawl far enough out of the tunnel to be found by some workers before it was too late. As he lay in bed, recovering from his wounds, he pondered why Saramen would have betrayed in him such a way. He had already conceded, why then go so far as to attempt to take his life? It was not until news that some artifacts of power had been stolen from the tower, and that Saramen and Alayna had been seen fleeing from the scene that it all started to make sense. Dio surmised that Alayna had pressed Saramen into killing him as an show of loyalty, and that the two had plotted together to plunder the treasure trove of the tower. An impressive act of treachery, that Dio could not permit to go unpunished. For the next two years Dio tracked the pair across Morrowind. He longed to see Alayna's proud and haughty faced twisted in despair as he delivered her into a defeat most glorious. He would show his brother the folly in siding with that enchantresses. After some time, Dio got word that the pair had taken up arms with the Dragonborn in his quest in the land of Skyrim. For weeks Dio and Stryke trailed the Dragonborn's party, bearing witness to their deeds and achievements as they awaited an opportunity to repay Saramen and Alayna for their betrayal of Lord Dracoloth and of the brotherhood they once shared. Dio found himself relating to the Dragonborn. Like him, he crusaded to fulfill his desire, the desire to see Skyrim safe and whole. Dio and his party were biding their time in the Tavern the day the Dragonborn was killed. When the sound of Dragons attacking the great hall, Dio and Stryke rushed to the scene. By the time they got there, the Dragonborn was already dead, the hall devastated and chaotic. As they picked through the debris, they came upon Saramen. His torso had been crushed by a large wooden beam. He was still alive, but he would surely die within the next few movements. A few feet away laid Alayna, she too had been struck by debris, a small pool of blood accumulated around her head. Dio leaned down, cradling Saramen's head. The injured the Dunmer looked up at his estranged brother with a haggard smile. "I had hoped that you lived. That you had defeated the clanfear with the pickax I left there" Saramen's words were labored, and interrupted by short bouts of bloody coughs. "I am sorry, but I could not deny her. She would not have me if I did not somehow end your life. She thought that you would have been a thorn in our side...in our effort to claim some of the Masters wealth for ourselves" The strain of attempting to speak was taking it's toll on the dying Dunmer. "There is no need to speak anymore. Your plan was quite treacherous, which is to be congratulated. I forgive you, brother". As Dio spoke, Saramen breathed his last breath and died. Dio saw movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked up to see Alayna quite alive, leaning on an ornate staff, Dracoloth's staff. Too wounded to fight Alayna began to flee, throwing the staff at Dio as she turned to run. Dio decided not to give chase, as even in the chaos it would not bode well for him to bee seen fighting against one of the Dragonborn's allies. Dio and Stryke retreated from Whiterun with the recovered artifacts and the body of their brother. Stryke would return the artifacts as well Saramen's body back to Tel Oloth. Dio decided he would stay in Skyrim. Treachery had been the downfall of the Dragonborn, as well as the death of his brother. Starkad had taken something from him, and Dio would see him die for it. He would see the so called Dovhahsken delivered unto death's door with his own two eyes, or hands if it comes down to it. Extra: Dio wears a suit of Black Bonemold Pauldron Armor The black color derives from mixing the hardening resin with various minerals during the forging of the armor. The symbol of House Telvanni is emblazoned in bright red on the left and right pauldrons. Dio wields a silver scimitar. He also wields an enchanted black Bonemold shield called "Spelljammer" which is able to reflect a portion of a spells effects back in the direction it was cast.

Nia Un moment d'hésitation comme l'Impérial les a ordonnés autour comme s'il était censé être en charge ou quelque chose. La queue de Nia s'irritait alors qu'elle regardait l'homme s'en aller. Elle n'aimait pas suivre les ordres d'un impérial qu'elle venait de rencontrer, mais l'homme ne semblait pas s'arrêter bientôt. Nia a envisagé de laisser l'homme partir tout seul, mais elle a pensé à la probabilité qu'il mourrait s'il partait tout seul. Il semblait très désireux de juste jeter sa vie loin... ou il était juste confiant qu'ils suivraient après lui. Elle a rétréci les yeux. "Je suis venu de Whiterun. Je vais devoir prendre mon cheval. Donc je pense que je vais rattraper l'autre Impérial." Tullius tendit la tête vers Nia. "Restez bien, Lady Qa'va" Nia a trempé la tête à Tullius. "Et toi aussi." Elle sortit du château, ses yeux s'installèrent sur le Redguard alors qu'il parlait d'être une « croisade la plus glorieuse ». Elle a ronflé, un rire doux qui résonne de sa poitrine. "Vous avez une façon très étrange de parler." Elle a déclaré qu'un sourire se répandait sur ses lèvres."Très amusant si je le dis moi-même." Alors qu'elle s'approchait des écuries, elle s'installa à l'endroit où se trouvait Frost. Sa fourrure blanche semblait se fondre avec la sienne alors qu'elle pressait une patte contre son museau. Le cheval l'a piétinée dans la poitrine, avant que ses oreilles ne soient piquées et pointées vers les autres. Elle a saisi la créature par ses règnes, le faisant sortir des écuries avec des pattes fermes et stables. "Alors. Est-ce qu'on va tous monter à cheval? Ou allons-nous à pied? Je peux facilement laisser Frost ici si personne d'autre n'a une monture."

Name: Qa'va Nia Age:25 Race: Khajiit Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Appearance: She appears the color of a snow leopard, with mainly white fur and black lines and splotches across her entire body. She has bright amber eyes, which almost appear orange sometimes due to the way they catch the light. She also has a thick claw-like scar down her face which was given to her the claws of a fellow Khajiit. She stands at a rather average 5'5, and has a thin build more suited for sneaking than anything else. Personality: A clever and crafty Khajiit with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit. She is street smart and a brilliant manipulator, as well as being able to be very charismatic if she puts her mind to it. She considers her marks to be her prey, plaything, or toy. She also refers to people using the terms as a form of endearment. She has a rather carefree nature, and will often vanish for long periods of time with no word to anyone she knows. She can be a very difficult person to understand, and seems to always be looking for an angle in every situation. She also has a blunt way of speaking to people with an occasional sassy comment. Unless it is in her best interest to lie, she does not hold back her opinions and thoughts, even if they are offensive. Class: Thief/Mercenary Birthsign: The Thief Faction: Thieves Guild Major Skills: Sneak, Speech, Lockpicking, one handed, pick pocketing Minor Skills: light armor, archery, alchemy History: Nia was discovered abandoned in a basket in the sewers of the thieves guild in Riften. Instead of sending her back to the surface where she might die, or turning her into the orphanage, one of the guild members convinced the others to keep her. Nia was actually nicknamed after the small crying sound she used to make when she was a child, they used this so frequently instead of her actual name Qa'va, she now considers it to be her actual name. By the time Nia turned six, she was already showing remarkable prowess in sneaking. She would spend time creeping around the sewers hiding in shadows and popping out to scare her older guild mates. She considered it a fun game. So, the guild started to instruct Nia on how to use this amazing ability to sneak for profit. At an early age, she possessed an incredible ability to suppress any sort of emotion or moral hindrance that might affect her from doing what needed to be done for whatever job was needed of her. She was silent in her stride and smooth in her speech, which slowly cemented her position in the guild. She quickly became one of the guild's best operatives; better than some of the members three times her age. By the time she was thirteen, she was a fully-fledged and respected member of the guild and had successfully managed to steal a total of ten barrels from an expensive winery in Falkreath over the span of two months without anyone noticing. At seventeen, she seduced the son of a shrewd and corrupt nobleman and gained regular access to their house; enough to steal hundreds of Septims worth of jewelry and items. However, despite her crafty hands and powerful abilities with thieving, Nia's relationship with the Dragonborn all started with her breaking into his house in Whiterun. Hearing about a Nordic warrior with the power to create magic with his voice. She thought of him as the ultimate prize of them all, if she could get him, she could prove that she still had her luck. In his home were gems, gold, rare weapons that made her fingers itch to grab them off the shelves. However, Nia used her self control to stop herself, instead waiting for the Dragonborn to return. When the Dragonborn entered his home, she used her sharp and clever tongue to convince him she'd done this to get his attention and she just wanted to get a drink with him. After listening to him vent to her about dragons and greybeards, and a multitude of other topics, Nia convinced the Dragonborn to meet her again. Repeating this for about a month, Nia finally convinced a very drunk dragonborn to sleep with her. After he'd fallen alseep, she stole a few of the most expensive things she could grab. (including her current set of weapons). She continued this facade of a relationship with the Dragonborn for long enough that he actually gave her a key to his house so she wouldn't keep breaking in. Nia was living the good life, bringing tons of revenue in for the guild, and keeping whatever she pleased for herself. She was living the good life until Gallus was murdered by Karliah. From here, Nia was inducted into the new Nightingales as Gallus' replacement. This marked the last day of the guild's good luck. Slowly and surely their streams of revenue were cut off and their numbers started to dwindle. The worst news of all was when Nia discovered the Dragonborn was slain by Starkad. Of course, this irritated Nia, because the Dragonborn was her mark, and she had been having a lot of fun manipulating him. Without him alive, that meant she wouldn't be able to steal the stuff he constantly brought home. Not to mention, with dragons swarming down on them AGAIN, and Nocturnal turning a blind eye to her guild, she was really starting to struggle to keep her guild floating. She decided to take up arms against Starkad, deciding to blame him for the guild's recent bad luck streak. Extra: - She wears Nightingale armor, but doesn't put up the hood or face mask unless she is working. - She carries a set of daedric daggers and a daedric bow complete with matching arrows. (which she stole from the dragonborn) - She carries the key to Breezehome around her neck. (which was willingly given to her by the Dragonborn. She will swear this has no sentimental meaning at all.) - Her style of fighting is rather graceful and unique, and resembles dancing.

13 avril 2014 19 heures Odessa, Colorado Dans les montagnes, l'hiver tient toujours bon. La neige est plus profonde en avril qu'en janvier ou février, et Odessa est presque enterrée par elle – mais les résidents ici peuvent gérer l'hiver. Les loups-garous prospèrent dans la neige, capables d'explorer plus loin tandis que de simples humains sont enfermés dans leurs maisons. La lune est deux jours à court de plein et monte lourd dans le ciel, jetant une lueur éthérée sur le paysage blanc des montagnes. Malgré le fait que les loups sauvages ne sont pas censés vivre dans le Colorado, les gens d'Odessa ne sont pas familiers avec le hurlement dans la nuit, surtout pendant les mois d'hiver. Les rumeurs ont finalement fait leur chemin vers les montagnes à propos d'un pack nord du nom de Vail. S'ils sont vrais, cela veut dire que le pack Vail a été récemment abattu, supposément par le plus grand pack de Denver – un pack d'individus peu savores choisi par un Ulfric assez ambitieux qui ne prend que le nom d'Adam. La plupart des meutes ne combattent pas Adam et se soumettent facilement, mais cela ne les empêche pas d'être massacrés, ce qui entraîne peu d'opposition à sa prise de contrôle régulière. De nombreuses grandes villes abritent de tels meutes, bien qu'aucune n'ait encore fait preuve d'une telle brutalité. Quelque chose chevauche le vent, bien que ce soit un soupçon de printemps ou un autre type de changement pour les loups-garous à l'intérieur et près d'Odessa est encore à voir. Un hurlement frissonne vers le haut, tissant par le vent et la neige dans un effort intemporel pour frapper la lune. L'époque de l'approche du loup-garou.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

William se réveilla de son sommeil, respirant fortement, dans sa chambre de motel. C'est ce rêve terrible qui a ravagé son repos tous les quelques soirs. Avec un gémissement, l'homme a vérifié sa montre, notant qu'il était 19:06 dans le monde à l'extérieur de sa chambre de motel. William pensait à lui-même. "Je dors depuis presque toute la journée." Pour le chasseur vagabond, cela faisait un bon moment pour lui depuis qu'il dormait pour la dernière fois dans un lit. C'était comme un luxe de nos jours. Avec un autre gémissement, il se prosterna sur son lit, regardant sa propre réflexion dans l'écran de télévision. Le chasseur a froncé, il était évident qu'il était sur la route depuis un moment. Son visage avait l'air mal dressé, ses cheveux du visage avaient grandi pour être très buissonnants et non trimés. Déçu dans son apparence, il a saisi la télécommande et a appuyé sur le bouton d'alimentation. La salle s'éclairait d'un éventail de couleurs au fur et à mesure que la télévision prenait vie, le son d'un journaliste de nouvelles traînant sur la météo et les événements récents commencèrent à venir de l'appareil. Tous ces détails que l'homme a parlé étaient une fois d'intérêt pour William, mais maintenant ils ont tous senti qu'ils étaient à mille milles de sa réalité actuelle. Pendant un certain temps, il a regardé à blanc l'écran de télévision avant de décider qu'il devrait se lever et regarder autour. C'était un endroit nouveau pour le chasseur vagabond, et sur son chemin vers la ville, il admirait les forêts enneigées qui l'entouraient. Ayant mis ses étuis avec ses revolvers, il a atteint son manteau chaud en cuir poussoir et l'a glissé sur son corps. Il a jeté un coup d'œil sur son bouclier rond et a donné un sourire à l'outil merveilleux. Le bouclier en acier lourd avait une image finement peinte de la tête d'un loup-garou décapité, symbole de la fierté de sa famille dans la chasse au loup-garou. Il avait protégé son père et lui aussi longtemps qu'il pouvait s'en souvenir. Il s'est agenouillé à côté de son bouclier, attachant le mécanisme à son bras gauche, et plaçant le bouclier sur son dos. Une chaîne a relié l'appareil au bouclier, et il s'est embrouillé le long de son bras jusqu'à son épaule où il a rencontré le bouclier. Le chasseur prit son chapeau avant de partir, et ouvrit la porte aux vents froids de l'hiver qui le rencontrèrent dehors. William a toujours apprécié l'extérieur, même quand le temps était contre lui. Il erra le long des routes au bord de la ville, prenant dans ses environs, et peu de temps après il se trouva sur un sentier menant au désert. Le chasseur sentit une randonnée dans les bois enneigés faire un bon exercice, et il descendit le sentier les mains dans les poches. Il n'était pas sûr de ce que les bois d'Odessa abritaient, mais il était convaincu que la faune locale n'était probablement pas une menace.

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

Sam Carroway Grotte près de Pack House. Une torche de grognement libre de sa gorge furée, s'appuyant sur une basse menaçante alors qu'elle regardait le loup plus jeune. Sa fourrure leva le long de son corps, la faisant paraître encore plus grande que l'autre et comme la lune était prise et tenue dans ses yeux brillants, Sam fit un pas lent et agressif en avant. Son museau s'est replié plus loin, exposant des canines longues et mortelles. La tension s'est serrée autour des deux loups, et quelques autres membres de la meute se sont repliés de degrés. Le grognement continu de Sam s'est déplacé brièvement dans un piège, ce qui a amené l'autre loup à gémir et à déposer son corps au sol. Au fur et à mesure qu'il grondait, Sam resta raide et grondait encore plusieurs secondes, l'éblouissant de son éblouissement. Quand il s'est finalement crampé en avant, en gardant son ventre sur le sol et les yeux roulés vers le haut pour la regarder anxieusement, Sam s'est détendu et a laissé le grognement décrochant. Prêt à apaiser, l'autre loup s'est levé et s'est léché à la mâchoire inférieure en soumission, cessant seulement quand Sam a émis un grognement rapide et tranchant. En s'installant sur ses haunches, Sam regarda le nouveau loup-garou se détacher, conscient que d'autres de la meute la regardaient prudemment. La tension s'est dissipée, permettant aux membres du pack de reprendre leurs fiançailles précédentes. En agitant sa fourrure, Sam s'est approché de l'embouchure de la grotte et a regardé dans la nuit à venir. Un couple de loups s'approcha d'elle et frotta leurs côtés en fourrure contre les siens dans une démonstration de solidarité, ajoutant une autre de nombreuses touches que les loups-garous d'Odessa partageaient – les changements étaient une sorte assez sensible, exprimant une foule de choses par des touches physiques. Fatigué du froid contre ses pattes, Sam a quitté la grotte et a pris l'angle vers la maison, prenant le trajet le plus rapide. Ses oreilles se déplaçaient de quelques degrés au fur et à mesure que de nouveaux sons lui venaient, les pieds murmurant le long de la neige. Avec son manteau noir, Sam se démarqua assez nettement contre la neige, mais la nuit s'approfondissant autour d'elle, elle devint une ombre plus profonde tissant autour de troncs d'arbres épais. En montant les marches du pont qui s'est déversé de l'arrière de la maison, Sam s'est déplacé vers la partie qui avait un certain abri des éléments. Une armoire assez grande, avec des dizaines de petits tiroirs carrés, était placée contre la maison et faisait l'objet de l'attention de Sam. Elle tremblait, respirait dans l'air froid et laissait la chaleur du changement submerger sa forme. Le déplacement a toujours été légèrement douloureux et très inconfortable à mesure que la fourrure s'éloignait et que les os se réarrangeaient, mais Sam a eu l'avantage d'avoir plus de maîtrise sur elle que certains loups-garous. Se levant jusqu'à ses pieds, Sam sortit un tiroir près du centre et ôta quelques vêtements. Avec un jean et une chemise à manches longues, elle a rembourré pieds nus jusqu'aux portes arrière et a fait son chemin dans le chaud, invitant les profondeurs de la maison de meute.

Name: Aldo Wicks Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Regular pack member, although he is high on that list. Appearance: Strengths: -Brave -Helpful/generous -Stronger than he looks Weaknesses: -Not too durable (cardiovascular) unless in wolf form -Low pain tolerance (tied to the above) -Shy around girls (that'll only bite him in the ass when it comes down to it) Personality: He's a quiet, booky person who sometimes tries, often unsuccessfully, to be funny, and he loves puns- the worse the better. He sincerely wants to be able to pick up girls, but...he freezes up; he just gets too anxious. He works out in an attempt to look attractive, but the whole talking to ladies thing really just sabotages him regardless of looks. Around trusted people/good friends, he can be surprisingly loud, obnoxious, 'fun' and rowdy. Since he likes to switch forms, he eats. A lot. Very high calories...and he manages (because of all the energy he uses by transforming) not to put on any weight. Perfect exercise! History: His childhood was...not extraordinary. It was, in fact, pretty boring, until he was eleven and found out that an older friend of his had been turned; that's how he discovered the existence of werewolves. Another year passed though, and his friend died because he hadn't found love. It was a hard experience for Aldo, and he was told that he should never become a werewolf. He just couldn't shake off his fascination with the Odessa Pack though. He stayed friends with the werewolves, and was turned a couple of months ago after an accident in which he startled a werewolf and got scratched...deep. Needless to say, when he got the wound treated and got home, all he could think was: "Shit." Other:

Depuis combien de temps errait-elle? Jours, semaines?...Vashti ne savait plus. Marcher dans le monde presque silencieux de l'hiver, sa fourrure brune et dorée se tenait sur le bout pour la protéger contre le froid. L'humidité s'est accrochée à ses zones moins protégées où sa fourrure n'était pas aussi épaisse. Le loup a traversé la neige à un rythme douloureusement lent. Il n'y avait pas de destination et pas de chemin... juste le monde à venir, et l'espoir qu'elle trouverait quelque chose ou quelqu'un pour demander le sanctuaire. Arrêter un moment pour rassembler les environs Vashti a levé la tête avec les yeux bruns fatigués. Ils dérivent au-dessus de la forêt sombre qui l'entoure, et retournent à terre quand elle ne voit que des ombres dans la lumière de la nuit. Un soupir s'est échappé d'elle au milieu d'une forte vapeur. Il n'y avait pas eu beaucoup de temps depuis qu'elle s'était enfuie de son sac, et elle était venue si loin; mais elle n'a rien trouvé. Elle était froide, épuisée, et dans une grande douleur. Déplacement de son poids sur ses jambes avant, elle tenait sa jambe arrière gauche suspendue en l'air pour éviter la douleur de marcher. Après avoir voyagé pendant si longtemps, les tendons faibles se sont emparés et ont refusé de prendre la pression; les blessures d'une bataille récente se révèlent toujours problématiques. Shaking les perles de neige de son corps Vashti emménage à nouveau dans une promenade. La neige s'écroule doucement sous les coussinets de ses pattes pendant qu'elle continue. Soudain, les yeux sombres s'élargissent, elle lève la tête et se fige. Son museau vibre et ses oreilles s'évanouissent un moment, avant de descendre contre l'arrière de son crâne. Un doux grognement émanait de sa poitrine alors qu'un parfum approchait de ses sens. Les loups... mais pas le genre régulier. Curiosité piquant Vashti a limpé avant-propos sur ce qu'elle pouvait voir était une petite colline au loin. Même si la lumière s'estompait et que la nuit menaçait de tomber, sa vue de loup lui a donné une vision facile. Un vent doux se brossait au-dessus de la banque. Immédiatement, elle a repéré un grand objet sombre au loin; à travers une petite étendue d'arbres et se reposant à la base d'une petite crête. C'était une grande maison, construite pour se cacher facilement dans le terrain accidenté de la montagne. La maison des loups-garous. Vashti écoutait attentivement, puis sniffait et se déplaçait pour descendre la pente. Elle voulait regarder de plus près et voir combien résidaient ici. Certains l'ont peut-être traitée de folle. Vashti est parfois d'accord.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Dracul était assise sur son toit, regardant la lune, un thermos de thé dans sa main. Presque une pleine lune. Ce n'est pas vraiment important. Ses jambes grondaient légèrement, leurs pieds noirs grondaient dans l'air. Dracul portait une paire de jeans noirs, des bottes de combat noires et une capuche bleu marine sur une chemise bleu nevi. Après tout, le bleu marine était plus dur à voir la nuit que le noir. Dracul a atteint et touché l'arbalète attachée à sa jambe, et les boulons à pointe d'argent attachés à son autre jambe. Dracul pouvait être appelée vieille mode, mais cette arme était la meilleure pour ses capacités. C'était une femme rapide, pas une ficelle. Elle a été conçue pour être agile et flexible. Pour être un lurker pour ne pas être en tête au combat. Dracul a réfléchi quand elle était devenue chasseure. Elle avait seize ans. C'était il y a huit ans. Après qu'elle ait finalement laissé quelqu'un glisser à travers la coquille autour de son cœur. Le shrill forgé par un accident qui avait laissé Dracul avec ses problèmes de confiance et d'hydrophobie. Elle avait enfin eu une vraie amie qui ne la trahirait pas. Après quelques années de mouillage et d'aide, Dracul l'avait laissée devenir une amie. Mais c'était fini. Elle était morte maintenant. Il y a six ans, une belle nuit comme celle-ci. Dracul soupira. Les souvenirs étaient un fardeau pour tous les êtres vivants. Mais personne ne pouvait échapper à leur passé. D'une manière ou d'une autre, son passé les hanterait d'une façon ou d'une autre. Mais pour l'instant, Dracul essayait de profiter d'une si belle nuit.

Samantha "Sam" Carroway Age: 24 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Geri, second-in-command Appearance: 5'8", lean with muscle. Strengths: Sam is cunning, which has allowed her to become Geri: she fights dirty and she usually finds out who she is fighting and what their weaknesses are. She trains with MMA and weights so that besides the obvious strength of a werewolf, she has the upper hand on those who don't weight train - and a more even playing field with the males. Besides that, Sam is fairly intuitive and can often guess who might be coming up against her soon. Her position is a prized one, since many would like to defeat Sam for the position of pack leader. Loyal to her leader, Sam maintains her position as an additional defense. Weaknesses: Sam is a little too involved in the pack politics, which makes her both cynical and aggressive, where perhaps coyness might work better at times. Sam has a strong case of claustrophobia, inducing a panic that can heighten her senses to painful degrees and ruin any attempt at reasoning. Very little patience or diplomatic abilities. Personality: Although intelligent, Sam's mind works more along the lines of street smart, with book smarts only prospering when she's alone and relaxed, never in a school environment. She is active and full of life, but she is also heavily involved in the Odessa pack. As second-in-command, she can issue orders to the majority of the pack, but her orders rarely go against the will of the pack leader. She has no desire to aspire to pack leader and acts as an additional defense. Although bright and good of mood, Sam's sense of humor is frequently absent and she is more often a stern alpha than a buddy. History: An active lifestyle spanned Sam's mundane human history. She went hiking and rock-climbing, caving and white-water rafting: she lived with vigor and joy. She didn't bother with college, instead going on extended hikes that required picking up jobs where she could for a little extra cash. She ended up in Odessa for a while due to a decent job, at which point her life changed. Sam's introduction into the werewolf world was by a werewolf passing through Odessa, seeking to create his own pack. He caught her and a few others that obviously weren't locals or well known, infected them, and kept them contained in small enclosures until he could more readily transport them. Due to the watchfulness of the Odessa pack, this lasted only a couple months and the new werewolves were collected and brought to the safehouse to recuperate - the man was, naturally, removed. Sam adapted quickly to her new lifestyle, driven by the need to escape the small enclosure. She quickly moved up the ranks due to a dislike of being a follower and the general ordinary quality of the Odessa pack, meaning her fights were not often too challenging. In her fourth fight, Sam went too far and heavily maimed her opponent to a state of near death, though he healed eventually. Due to the extreme aggression she exhibited, Sam often found her opponents backing off quickly, and became Geri by her seventh month as a werewolf. She has been a werewolf for 8 months now. Marrec Olivier Age: 30 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Hati Appearance: 6'2", muscular. Strengths: Size - large in human form, so considerable in his other forms. Very grounded, doesn't get distracted Reliable, trustworthy Weaknesses: Size - not especially agile, not a particularly fast runner Not particularly quick of mind or tongue Fails at the finer points of politics Sometimes struggles to shift Personality: Marrec is steadfast. He might initially come off as that slow, friendly fellow from the boonies, but there's a mind behind the easy grin. He works through problems with no doubt of a solution and doesn't give in to stress or anger easily. He only responds to actual attacks on himself when he feels the other werewolf needs to be reminded of their place, but verbal assaults are rarely worth the expenditure. This, of course, changes when it comes to the pack leader; Marrec takes his position as enforcer seriously and will place his life on the line for his leader. History: Marrec initially lived in North Carolina, but moved to Odessa, Colorado with his then girlfriend. When they eventually agreed to part ways, Marrec decided to stick around Odessa, as it had become home to him. He was a substitute teacher at the time, which led to him one day advising a very distraught teenager. When the boy became extremely distressed, he began changing. Despite Marrec managing to get the boy calmed down, he sustained several deep scratches from a growling, yellow-eyed mixture of human and wolf - just enough change to be infectious. The boy, realizing the potential concerns, told another werewolf about the very confused Marrec, who was then watched until it was clear he was to become a werewolf. Marrec found himself stepping into the strange world with friendly, helpful individuals who knew exactly what he was going through, and hasn't really looked back since then. He was selected as enforcer recently, due to the previous enforcer dying from the witch's curse. Though there was some muttering at another unmated werewolf being selected, Marrec exhibited desirable qualities needed. His first fight was due to his promotion, since the other werewolf didn't think he was qualified. Although he won the fight, there is still doubts about his capabilities.

Marrec Olivier Un ronflement fort et grattant a surpris le grand homme éveillé, ses yeux sombres flippant blousement autour pour localiser la source du bruit. Bénéfiquement, Marrec s'est rendu compte que c'était lui qui avait fait le bruit, puisque la tanière était autrement désertée. En frottant le sommeil de ses yeux, il a laissé ses oreilles sensibles remarquer plusieurs corps mobiles autour de la maison, bien que les sons étaient faibles, étant donné que les individus étaient des loups-garous. Sauf qu'un type... avait tendance à s'acharner comme s'il testait le sol pour des taches défectueuses. Marrec n'avait jamais compris ce qui allait dans de lourdes chutes de pied, surtout lorsqu'elles provenaient de femmes relativement petites qui semblaient trembler le sol à leur passage. Densité, peut-être. Chutant à ses propres pensées, l'homme se mouvait de sorte qu'il était étendu sur le canapé gargantuan, sa peau a donné un moulage orange du foyer flamboyant voisin. Ses yeux sombres étaient lourdement capuches, des éclats éblouissants pour attraper le jeu des ombres le long des murs. Je devrais probablement être avec le chef de l'emballeur, il pensait somnolent. Sauf que l'autre agent d'exécution l'était, puisqu'ils avaient tendance à se relayer pendant qu'ils étaient dans la maison. De l'avis de Marrec, il n'est pas nécessaire d'avoir deux ombres fulgurantes dans un tel espace clos. Le dot sur le canapé n'était pas susceptible d'aider son statut d'exécuteur shoddy, mais l'homme n'était pas enclin à se soucier beaucoup – il pouvait faire son travail, avec ou sans les critiques. En outre, personne n'avait ouvertement pris sa direction depuis le dernier combat. Sauf les Geri, qui se méfiaient clairement de ses capacités chaque fois qu'ils étaient dans la même pièce ensemble. Harrumphing assez fort, Marrec a flanqué les oreillers derrière sa tête. Par le chemin des parfums plus forts qui traversaient la maison, son critique le plus fort était actuellement à proximité. Heureusement, c'était surtout des éblouissements silencieux et moins naïfs, parce qu'il commençait à s'endormir à nouveau et n'appréciait pas l'idée d'être forcé d'être éveillé pour une béatitude par le Geri, qui l'a surclassé pour la domination et allait jusqu'à ce qu'il décide de se battre pour un statut différent. La bouche s'ouvrit lentement alors qu'il s'endormait, le corps de Marrec se détachait d'inconsciemment, envoyant un bras se détacher de l'extrémité du canapé et les ronflements légers pour commencer une fois de plus. S'il rêvait, s'il avait des brownies ou des steaks, peut-être quelques cerfs à queue blanche.

Name: Markus Skarsgard Age: 27 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Ulfric Appearance (picture or written description): 6’2 muscular Strengths (at least 3): Exceptionally strong, Excellent Leader, quick witted, Weaknesses (at least 3): Tempermental, a old leg injury which can be taken advantage of, can be trusting Personality: A powerful man (wolf?) who has spent much of his life training his body, sharpening his mind he turned himself into a force seemingly unstoppable and incapable of being tricked. Though this came with a downside his tendency to focus on himself as to better serve others has often lead him to being hot headed in believing he knows what is best for others. History: The entirety of Markus life has been spent in strife. Born to poverty stricken family he went where the money was easiest as he grew up, crime. He quickly cultivated himself into a thug who at first began robbing convenience stores with his friends. This wasn’t to last as they sought bigger prizes and soon started going after jewelry stores.This went well for a while as they raked in the money and continued to keep their identities from being known. It wasn’t until one the crew suggested a bank that things went terribly wrong. A shootout rang out through the streets of the small town they had chosen as police had made it to the bank quickly on account of a hostage escaping. Markus fled the scene as his fellows were gunned down, and as he ran through the snow flurries he heard a growl and then everything went black. When Markus awoke he found he had been torn and ripped several wounds were on his body and blood splashed across his clothes and flesh. He stared at the man who stood over him and knew that something was wrong with him. The claws on his finger tips the way he grinned and the golden eyes they all resembled a wolf. Just as the man was going to speak to him Markus pulled his pistol and blew a hole through the man’s head and fled. The nights went by slowly Markus felt strange and when it came time for him to turn he had no idea what was happening, half a apartment complex ended up dead in that instance. Though due to this members of the Odessa pack came looking for him and offered to teach him what he is and he accepted. As he spent time with the pack he grew to enjoy their company his demeanor changing from what it had been with this new realization of what he was and what existed in this world, though he had his disagreements and they were all with the current Ulfric.Eventually Markus would be fed up with the current Ulfric’s lack of good leadership and challenged him… The fight almost killed Markus as he fought the much older werewolf, but eventually he came out victorious though very injured. Since then he has been considered a especially wise leader of the pack and lead with his Lupa Valerie only helping further his ability to control and keep the peace. Other: He has a chrome .45 1911 that he has kept from his criminal days. This is kept so that if he needs to deal with ‘issues’ that can’t be dealt with in wolf form he can do so. Theme Song

Vashti marchait lentement le long; les pieds rembourraient doucement à travers la neige pendant qu'elle naviguait à travers les arbres. Toujours en gardant l'étrange maison à sa droite, elle tournait en rond vers l'arrière du bâtiment. Bien qu'à une distance, elle pouvait sentir d'autres de son genre. Il y en avait beaucoup... et pour un moment Vashti doutait de s'approcher. Mais elle a pensé aux conséquences si elle ne s'approche pas. Non, elle devait vérifier. Se déplaçant lentement et prenant son temps, s'arrêtant occasionnellement, Vashti laissait sa jambe arrière se détendre. La douleur n'était pas aussi perceptible, mais elle n'a pas encore marché dessus. Peu importe à quel point c'était dur de marcher à travers la neige. Soudain, deux coups sonnèrent dans l'air et le loup-garou s'élança, sautant surprise avec les quatre jambes qui s'étendirent sous elle. Ses oreilles piquées vers l'avant et son souffle s'accélèrent. Un chasseur? Un des autres loups l'a repérée? Moments passés de silence pur avant le corps de Vashti détendu. Sa jambe a donné une vive protestation de douleur et elle l'a soulagée du poids, avant de bouger de nouveau avant-propos. Cette fois, elle s'est assurée de rester furtive et vigilante; les coups de feu avaient été très rapprochés, mais elle ne savait pas pourquoi elle avait été virée. Maintenant, le bâtiment pouvait être vu en avant à travers les arbres. Les lumières brillaient dans certaines fenêtres et l'odeur des autres loups s'accrochait lourdement à l'air. Vashti pressa l'avant-propos jusqu'à ce qu'elle fût à la limite des arbres; dangereusement proche. Debout, elle regardait et examinait tous les détails. Elle ne pouvait encore voir personne... ils étaient probablement à l'intérieur.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Dracul a glissé sur son toit, revenant à la chaleur de sa maison. Elle a posé son thermos sur sa table avant d'attraper quelques poignards d'argent et d'autres flèches. Elle voulait aller à la chasse. Les cheveux rouges dans sa capuche, Dracul est partie. Ses bottes ont fait des empreintes dans la neige, mais Dracul a fait très peu de bruit elle-même. Elle était au bord de la forêt, lune au-dessus d'elle au loin, des loups-garous plus profondément dans les bois. Mais le terrain n'était pas le point fort de Dracul. Les arbres l'étaient. Et Dracul grimpa dans les branches robustes au-dessus. Hors de vue, clameurs d'un arbre à l'autre. Les coups de feu qui ont sonné n'ont pas fait peur à Dracul. Sa proie ne serait pas volée si facilement. Elle faisait ça depuis un moment. Son arbalète signifierait la mort des loups-garous. La mort du plus grand nombre qu'elle ait pu obtenir. Arrack avait des palourdes à travers quelques arbres avant de trébucher sur deux personnes. Pas vraiment trébuchés, ils n'étaient toujours pas au courant de leur prédateur. La mort se cache dans les arbres. Dracul lui a tendu les oreilles pour entendre la conversation. "Viens avec Ted, il faut qu'on rentre." "Tout ira bien. On n'est pas si loin. Arrête de te plaindre, Susanna." Dracul a chargé un boulon dans son arbalète. Visant pour le mâle, probablement Ted. Elle a viré. Le boulon lui a percé le cou, c'est une pointe d'argent qui dépasse l'autre côté du cou de Ted alors qu'il s'est effondré au sol, le sang s'est répandu, la vie dans ses yeux s'est évanouie et s'est évanouie. Dracul avait utilisé sa furtivité pour une attaque surprise. Elle a supposé que Ted serait le plus fort. Mais elle devait toujours se battre avec Susanna. Dracul jeta un poignard sur le loup-garou qui s'approchait régulièrement de sa cachette, rôdant, maintenant sous forme de loup. Le poignard lui a frappé le bras, l'arrêtant momentanément. Donner à Dracul juste assez de temps pour charger un autre boulon. Et assez de temps pour tuer la femelle. Laissant son corps sans vie à côté du mâle. En récupérant ses boulons et sa dague. Ils devaient être des loups-garous de bas niveau. C'était trop facile. Puis encore une fois, Dracul avait eu une surprise de son côté.

Samantha "Sam" Carroway Age: 24 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Geri, second-in-command Appearance: 5'8", lean with muscle. Strengths: Sam is cunning, which has allowed her to become Geri: she fights dirty and she usually finds out who she is fighting and what their weaknesses are. She trains with MMA and weights so that besides the obvious strength of a werewolf, she has the upper hand on those who don't weight train - and a more even playing field with the males. Besides that, Sam is fairly intuitive and can often guess who might be coming up against her soon. Her position is a prized one, since many would like to defeat Sam for the position of pack leader. Loyal to her leader, Sam maintains her position as an additional defense. Weaknesses: Sam is a little too involved in the pack politics, which makes her both cynical and aggressive, where perhaps coyness might work better at times. Sam has a strong case of claustrophobia, inducing a panic that can heighten her senses to painful degrees and ruin any attempt at reasoning. Very little patience or diplomatic abilities. Personality: Although intelligent, Sam's mind works more along the lines of street smart, with book smarts only prospering when she's alone and relaxed, never in a school environment. She is active and full of life, but she is also heavily involved in the Odessa pack. As second-in-command, she can issue orders to the majority of the pack, but her orders rarely go against the will of the pack leader. She has no desire to aspire to pack leader and acts as an additional defense. Although bright and good of mood, Sam's sense of humor is frequently absent and she is more often a stern alpha than a buddy. History: An active lifestyle spanned Sam's mundane human history. She went hiking and rock-climbing, caving and white-water rafting: she lived with vigor and joy. She didn't bother with college, instead going on extended hikes that required picking up jobs where she could for a little extra cash. She ended up in Odessa for a while due to a decent job, at which point her life changed. Sam's introduction into the werewolf world was by a werewolf passing through Odessa, seeking to create his own pack. He caught her and a few others that obviously weren't locals or well known, infected them, and kept them contained in small enclosures until he could more readily transport them. Due to the watchfulness of the Odessa pack, this lasted only a couple months and the new werewolves were collected and brought to the safehouse to recuperate - the man was, naturally, removed. Sam adapted quickly to her new lifestyle, driven by the need to escape the small enclosure. She quickly moved up the ranks due to a dislike of being a follower and the general ordinary quality of the Odessa pack, meaning her fights were not often too challenging. In her fourth fight, Sam went too far and heavily maimed her opponent to a state of near death, though he healed eventually. Due to the extreme aggression she exhibited, Sam often found her opponents backing off quickly, and became Geri by her seventh month as a werewolf. She has been a werewolf for 8 months now. Marrec Olivier Age: 30 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Hati Appearance: 6'2", muscular. Strengths: Size - large in human form, so considerable in his other forms. Very grounded, doesn't get distracted Reliable, trustworthy Weaknesses: Size - not especially agile, not a particularly fast runner Not particularly quick of mind or tongue Fails at the finer points of politics Sometimes struggles to shift Personality: Marrec is steadfast. He might initially come off as that slow, friendly fellow from the boonies, but there's a mind behind the easy grin. He works through problems with no doubt of a solution and doesn't give in to stress or anger easily. He only responds to actual attacks on himself when he feels the other werewolf needs to be reminded of their place, but verbal assaults are rarely worth the expenditure. This, of course, changes when it comes to the pack leader; Marrec takes his position as enforcer seriously and will place his life on the line for his leader. History: Marrec initially lived in North Carolina, but moved to Odessa, Colorado with his then girlfriend. When they eventually agreed to part ways, Marrec decided to stick around Odessa, as it had become home to him. He was a substitute teacher at the time, which led to him one day advising a very distraught teenager. When the boy became extremely distressed, he began changing. Despite Marrec managing to get the boy calmed down, he sustained several deep scratches from a growling, yellow-eyed mixture of human and wolf - just enough change to be infectious. The boy, realizing the potential concerns, told another werewolf about the very confused Marrec, who was then watched until it was clear he was to become a werewolf. Marrec found himself stepping into the strange world with friendly, helpful individuals who knew exactly what he was going through, and hasn't really looked back since then. He was selected as enforcer recently, due to the previous enforcer dying from the witch's curse. Though there was some muttering at another unmated werewolf being selected, Marrec exhibited desirable qualities needed. His first fight was due to his promotion, since the other werewolf didn't think he was qualified. Although he won the fight, there is still doubts about his capabilities.

Alors que le bruit soudain de deux balles résonnait au-dessus des montagnes, les yeux brillants brillaient soudainement, les nasaux veloutés couraient alors que leurs panneaux latéraux tiraient vers l'intérieur et vers l'extérieur avec chaque souffle tiré. J'ai dû m'endormir, bon sang! Acacia a pensé à elle-même, ces coups de feu étaient quelque chose qu'elle avait entendu auparavant, l'Ulfric, agitant les eaux de la forêt en envoyant des chasseurs sur leur chemin, avec peu de gibier sur la table ce n'était pas la peine de chasser avec d'autres déjà sortis. À ce moment-là, le froid dans l'air l'a à peine dérangée, la fourrure gonflée qui tapissait son corps brillait légèrement d'un doux frisson. Lentement, elle se leva à quatre pattes une fois de plus, plongeant la poitrine comme les jambes avant étendues dans un chat comme l'étirement, les mâchoires se séparent au fur et à mesure qu'elle bâillait. Je suppose qu'il est temps de retourner en arrière, était sa dernière pensée, avec une bouffée de souffle ingrate, ses haunches tous tendus finit par jaillir, lançant la boule brillante de fluff vers l'avant comme des pattes de taille décente coulé dans la feuille d'ivoire, en powerant vers l'avant à un galop complet qu'elle grogne légèrement, bondissant sur un arbre tombé ici et là alors qu'elle ralentissait à peine. Sur la collection d'elle-même, elle écoutait à la légère son environnement, elle ne le faisait que lentement après s'être rendu compte qu'elle était un peu plus loin que prévu, queue basse alors qu'elle s'affaiblissait à une vitesse de trottage. Les oreilles bien entendues captaient presque tous les sons autour d'elle et pour une distance décente, tandis que les yeux observants sentaient même le moindre mouvement. Elle était une créature bien consciente, puis encore une fois, elle devait l'être si elle voulait se garder en sécurité. Acacia a essayé de se rappeler exactement jusqu'où elle avait erré cette fois, il semblait être une habitude de errer sans esprit dans les environs de son territoire d'origine, elle avait été dit à maintes reprises par beaucoup de ses membres de rang supérieur qu'elle devait rester près, mais, elle n'a jamais écouté.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

Deux grosses fissures ont retenti dans les bois. William s'arrêta brusquement, écoutant, essayant de localiser la source des sons. "Des coups de feu." pensa-t-il à lui-même. Il a supposé qu'il pouvait être d'un chasseur, qui traquait sa proie depuis un certain temps et a finalement eu la chance d'empaqueter leur animal. Si tel était le cas, William avait beaucoup de respect pour le chasseur qui était prêt à traverser la neige pour l'esprit de la chasse. Pourtant, il errait dans les bois sans raison d'autre que la curiosité. Les coups de feu avaient attiré son attention, et il voulait enquêter, mais ce serait malpoli d'aller chercher quelqu'un qui est occupé à participer au sport. Plutôt que de se diriger directement dans la direction du son, il a décidé d'aller dans la direction générale d'où il pense que les coups sonnaient. William s'en foutait où il a fini, il s'amusait ici. Prenant une grande bouffée d'air frais, il se promena à travers la neige, remuant un air de campagne à lui-même, ignorant la présence de loups-garous encore dans la région.

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

Sasha La femme était au début difficile à voir, l'obscurité de sa peau et de ses vêtements se mélangeant dans les ombres qu'elle gravitait naturellement vers. Tout comme une ombre, elle a déménagé quand Marcus a déménagé, bien qu'au début, elle se languissait simplement devant ses quartiers, apparaissant un peu comme le marrec en bas. Contrairement à l'autre exécuteur, Sasha était alerte. Ses membres lâches et ses yeux fermés étaient une façade pour les sens aigus et une énergie d'attente et de bourrage qui se cachait juste sous la surface. Elle n'a pas agité quand elle a entendu des mouvements dans la chambre, mais la fissure soudaine du premier coup de feu l'a fait sauter sur ses pieds et se diriger vers la porte qui les séparait, sa main s'installant sur la poignée de porte avant que le deuxième coup ne sonne. Alors qu'elle avançait la porte, Sasha glissa dans une croûte et fit sortir son propre fusil, voyant le canon d'un M1911, avant que l'épaisse cornichons qui se balançait presque jusqu'à sa taille ne s'était installé. Un grognement rampait au-dessus de ses lèvres alors que Sasha réalisait que Markus ne faisait qu'avertir les menaces potentielles. Se tenant debout avec une grâce qui suggérait des muscles dans des endroits plus semblables à sa forme de loup que sa forme humaine, Sasha a remis son arme dans son étui. Le mouvement de son pull lâche a mis en évidence une grande lame fixe sur sa hanche, mais le reste de ses armes ont été placés plus discrètement. Elle se plaignait légèrement, se déplaçait à travers la chambre et sortait sur le balcon pour se tenir à côté de l'Ulfric. L'odeur de son arme était épaisse à l'air, mais comme un autre propriétaire de l'arme, Sasha était habitué à l'odeur. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?Les yeux noirs erraient sur la vue expansive devant eux, les narines flirtant alors qu'elle prenait dans les senteurs plus subtiles qui se trouvaient sous la poudre d'arme et la fumée.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Alors qu'elle bouffait doucement, Acacia permit à ses nasaux de puiser dans des respirations profondes, s'approchant lentement de cet endroit familier après un bon voyage, chaque trace d'odeur qui s'attardait dans le temps glacial autour de lui était représentée un par un, jusqu'à ce qu'elle s'arrête, un étrange parfum dansait sur tous les nerfs de ses narines avant qu'elle grogne. Paws faisant un pas l'un après l'autre ramassé à un trot alors que ses hachoirs commençaient à se lever sur son cou traînant sur ses épaules et le long de sa colonne vertébrale, les muscles tendus alors qu'elle tentait de se faire paraître plus grand qu'elle l'était, et, bien plus courageux aussi. Elle s'était approchée de derrière la maison sans savoir dans quelle direction elle avait erré, elle aurait pu finir n'importe où autour de l'immeuble. Alors qu'elle se dirigeait vers le bord de la couverture de la forêt, elle s'arrêtait un instant, le clair de lune éclairant ces orbes mélangés. Ayant une petite pointe de courage, ses chants commencèrent à se frotter, un grondement se leva des profondeurs de sa poitrine et se leva à travers sa mare, le pont nasal se déchirant alors qu'elle trempait la tête, les oreilles en avant et la queue en bas, mais raide, alors qu'elle ne collait que son nez hors de la ligne des forêts. À peine visible, sauf la coloration de ses yeux, alors qu'elle se rendait audible au loup qui regardait à travers une porte en verre. Alors qu'elle commençait lentement à faire un autre pas hors de sa cachette, elle finirait par se rendre compte de ce qu'elle faisait, le brusque changement de courage à l'incertitude était visible dans ses yeux et dans le mouvement des oreilles tombant en arrière, puis en avant rapidement avec le silence presque immédiat. Elle pria que l'Ulfric l'avait entendue, ou du moins, que l'autre ne s'intéressait pas autant à elle. Acacia se tenait raide, la fourrure se levait encore pendant qu'elle regardait l'autre loup-garou, bouffant de grandes respirations tandis qu'elle regardait de près tous les mouvements de l'autre.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

Vashti regardait avec des yeux intéressés la pièce sombre à l'intérieur, les ombres des meubles et la lumière d'une cheminée dans le coin. C'était un très bel endroit... Soudain, elle entendit le son court mais inimitable d'un loup hanté; le grondement menaçant profond de la menace. Elle ne les avait pas entendus venir. Le corps se raidit les cheveux le long des épaules de Vashti et la peau de sa muselière frisé vers le haut. Elle se tourna, toujours si lentement, vers le son de l'écorce hostile et vit un loup au loin. Ses lèvres se levèrent et ses canines barraient dans un creux, avant qu'elle ne se tourne vers elle. Les épaules roulant l'avant-propos et les oreilles épinglant contre son crâne Vashti hésitait. Elle ne voulait blesser personne... elle empiétait sur leur terre après tout... mais elle était prête à se défendre. La gorge gronde toujours avec un Vashti défensif, qui regarde le loup opposé. Elle a pesé les options et réfléchi à sa stratégie... mais a remarqué un changement dans la position de sa nouvelle connaissance. C'était comme si ce loup n'était pas aussi confiant qu'il a essayé de la conduire à croire. Vashti pourrait sentir l'inquiétude sous-jacente. À cela, elle leva la tête, les lèvres s'abaissant légèrement mais son grognement restant fort.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Aldo avait fait un travail rapide du premier biscuit de puces au chocolat et en avait attrapé un autre quand il regardait la porte coulissante en verre et faisait une double prise lorsqu'il voyait un loup-garou, il ne savait pas regarder à travers le verre et ensuite se concentrer sur quelqu'un d'autre, qu'il ne voyait pas. Tout ce qu'il pouvait sentir était une certitude totale que ce loup-garou ne faisait pas partie de l'Odessa Pack. Après tout, il les connaissait avant de devenir loup-garou. À travers le verre, il entendit un grognement très clair, rendant ses muscles rigides et le deuxième biscuit disparaît dans ses mâchoires maintenant serrées. Il a remarqué que la jambe de l'étranger avait l'air blessée, et un petit peu de pitié a couru à travers lui, mais il est passé rapidement: tout ce qui voulait dire était un combat plus facile pour lui. Il a tapé sur le verre pour attirer l'attention du loup. Il n'avait pas l'impression d'avoir eu l'énergie de se déplacer à nouveau, mais en gardant l'œil sur l'ennemi possible, il a attrapé un autre biscuit. Même en tant qu'humain, sa lèvre s'est levée dans un piège d'avertissement. Ce n'est pas facile pour lui de manger le biscuit, et en fait ça l'a probablement rendu plutôt stupide, mais il ne voulait pas reculer. Son cœur se battait; il ne voulait pas sortir et choisir un combat et il espérait beaucoup qu'un des forces de l'ordre arriverait et prendrait le contrôle de la situation, mais il savait qu'il y avait quelqu'un qui faisait partie de la meute.

Name: Aldo Wicks Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Regular pack member, although he is high on that list. Appearance: Strengths: -Brave -Helpful/generous -Stronger than he looks Weaknesses: -Not too durable (cardiovascular) unless in wolf form -Low pain tolerance (tied to the above) -Shy around girls (that'll only bite him in the ass when it comes down to it) Personality: He's a quiet, booky person who sometimes tries, often unsuccessfully, to be funny, and he loves puns- the worse the better. He sincerely wants to be able to pick up girls, but...he freezes up; he just gets too anxious. He works out in an attempt to look attractive, but the whole talking to ladies thing really just sabotages him regardless of looks. Around trusted people/good friends, he can be surprisingly loud, obnoxious, 'fun' and rowdy. Since he likes to switch forms, he eats. A lot. Very high calories...and he manages (because of all the energy he uses by transforming) not to put on any weight. Perfect exercise! History: His childhood was...not extraordinary. It was, in fact, pretty boring, until he was eleven and found out that an older friend of his had been turned; that's how he discovered the existence of werewolves. Another year passed though, and his friend died because he hadn't found love. It was a hard experience for Aldo, and he was told that he should never become a werewolf. He just couldn't shake off his fascination with the Odessa Pack though. He stayed friends with the werewolves, and was turned a couple of months ago after an accident in which he startled a werewolf and got scratched...deep. Needless to say, when he got the wound treated and got home, all he could think was: "Shit." Other:

C'est au bruit d'un robinet aiguisé que l'attention de Vashti fut attirée vers les portes vitrées derrière elle. Tournant son snarl s'intensifiait et elle fouetta pour faire face au verre, mais celui qu'elle vit à l'intérieur lui fit un clin d'œil. Levant la tête, elle fit un petit bruit de surprise et s'inclina la tête d'un côté ; toute expression d'hostilité disparut au moment où sa curiosité gagnait. C'était un biscuit dans la bouche de l'homme? À la pensée de la nourriture, son estomac protestait des longues journées de voyage, incapable de chasser à cause de la raideur de sa jambe. La nourriture avait l'air bonne pour l'instant. Des repas ou des proies humaines. Bien que, regardant la figure dans le verre Vashti a également vu l'agression dans ses yeux. Même un peu derrière la porte, elle a entendu son piège menaçant. Devenant rigide, elle secoua le regard surpris sur son visage et gronda. Elle avait des loups des deux côtés maintenant. Les canines barrées et les rides du nez Vashti ont commencé à s'écarter; se dirigeant vers le côté du bâtiment. Après ce mur était l'espace ouvert et finalement les forêts. Elle pourrait au moins gagner une meilleure tenue là-bas et faire face à ses ennemis. La vérité, c'est qu'elle ne voulait pas partir depuis des mois qu'elle n'a pas pu s'approcher d'un paquet. Peut-être qu'elle pourrait raisonner avec eux... plutôt que de se battre et de répandre plus de sang sur le sol alors qu'ils devaient l'être. Snorting Vashti a gardé ses yeux bruns fixés sur l'homme dans le verre, avant de tourner et de darder le long du mur du bâtiment. Sa démarche a été brisée avec le boiteux occasionnel mais elle a couru rapidement.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

La forêt se sentait calme. La neige, bien que lourde, ne le ralentissait que légèrement alors qu'il poussait à travers les bois. C'était sympa d'être loin de la société. Il pourrait être qui il était, et ne pas avoir à esquiver des questions ou à inventer des mensonges et des excuses. William était une âme libre ici. La nature n'était cependant pas une place pour l'homme commun, et quelque chose qu'il venait apprendre très vite en tant que jeune chasseur. L'homme n'était pas toujours le prédateur supérieur, et cela était particulièrement évident lorsque des créations étaient impliquées. Ils avaient l'esprit d'un humain, avec l'instinct d'une bête combinée. Pour certains, ils étaient encore plus bêtes que l'homme.. William s'arrêta, et se pencha contre un arbre. Un court repos était prévu pour le chasseur qui faisait de la randonnée depuis un certain temps déjà. Il entra dans son manteau, et sortit une petite fiole métallique. Enlevant la casquette, il versa son contenu dans sa bouche, sentant la brûlure de whisky alors qu'il descendait dans sa gorge. Avec un soupir, il glisse sa fiole dans son manteau et continue vers l'avant. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'il s'arrête. A côté de son pied, il semblait y avoir des indentations dans la neige. Le chasseur s'est agenouillé à côté d'eux, leur donnant un regard de plus près. C'était des pistes, mais pas n'importe quelle piste. Des traces de loup. Le chasseur gronda, levant les yeux sur les empreintes, et examina son environnement plus loin. Il était possible qu'ils puissent juste être de loups, mais des années de chasse étaient des bêtes l'avaient fait se méfier de douter de ses pires attentes. Le chasseur marcha vers lui, suivant le sentier que ces traces de loup lui avaient laissé. Curieusement, il a scanné son environnement, et a gardé une main sur l'un de ses revolvers holstered juste au cas où. Il a traîné dans les bois, mais pas en silence. La chaîne de son bouclier s'enlisait encore avec chaque mouvement qu'il faisait, ses pieds se creusant à chaque pas à travers la neige. Finalement, il est arrivé à une clairière, s'arrêtant au bord des bois, où il a vu une maison. Il ne voyait pas grand-chose de son côté de la maison, mais les traces l'y avaient conduit. Il s'est agenouillé avec un grognement et a commencé à regarder la structure.

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

Le bruit du Sasha qui passait n'empêchait pas Markus d'arriver après avoir tiré sur son pistolet. Il se tourna vers Sasha et sourit un peu en croisant ses bras au-dessus de sa poitrine. Il se retourne vers la forêt et agite les mains dans nos terrains de chasse.Il respire profondément et met les mains dans ses poches avant de tourner la tête alors qu'il entend un peu de bruit venant de l'autre côté de la maison. "Sasha reste avec Val."Il saute jusqu'au toit sur le balcon et va charger à travers les bardeaux craquent. Alors qu'il venait au bord du toit, il fait un saut en spirale vers le bas et atterrit sur ses pieds avec un gros bruit. L'acrobatique qu'il utilisait pouvait probablement être vu de la ligne de la forêt. Après avoir atterri Markus tourna autour du pistolet dans sa main alors qu'il regardait Vashti debout devant elle et pointait le pistolet sur elle. Il dit avec un grognement sa lèvre tirant un peu en parlant. Il a commencé à marcher vers elle en gardant le pistolet nivelé sur elle. Et sans même attendre qu'elle s'y conforme, il l'exigea rapidement. Qui êtes-vous? Qu'est-ce que tu fais là? Êtes-vous avec une autre meute?Le pistolet était coiffé et prêt à tirer et il avait des hydrashoks très douloureux chargés dedans. Il a parlé comme s'il méritait d'être écouté, comme quiconque à qui il a parlé devrait faire exactement comme il l'a dit.

Name: Markus Skarsgard Age: 27 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Ulfric Appearance (picture or written description): 6’2 muscular Strengths (at least 3): Exceptionally strong, Excellent Leader, quick witted, Weaknesses (at least 3): Tempermental, a old leg injury which can be taken advantage of, can be trusting Personality: A powerful man (wolf?) who has spent much of his life training his body, sharpening his mind he turned himself into a force seemingly unstoppable and incapable of being tricked. Though this came with a downside his tendency to focus on himself as to better serve others has often lead him to being hot headed in believing he knows what is best for others. History: The entirety of Markus life has been spent in strife. Born to poverty stricken family he went where the money was easiest as he grew up, crime. He quickly cultivated himself into a thug who at first began robbing convenience stores with his friends. This wasn’t to last as they sought bigger prizes and soon started going after jewelry stores.This went well for a while as they raked in the money and continued to keep their identities from being known. It wasn’t until one the crew suggested a bank that things went terribly wrong. A shootout rang out through the streets of the small town they had chosen as police had made it to the bank quickly on account of a hostage escaping. Markus fled the scene as his fellows were gunned down, and as he ran through the snow flurries he heard a growl and then everything went black. When Markus awoke he found he had been torn and ripped several wounds were on his body and blood splashed across his clothes and flesh. He stared at the man who stood over him and knew that something was wrong with him. The claws on his finger tips the way he grinned and the golden eyes they all resembled a wolf. Just as the man was going to speak to him Markus pulled his pistol and blew a hole through the man’s head and fled. The nights went by slowly Markus felt strange and when it came time for him to turn he had no idea what was happening, half a apartment complex ended up dead in that instance. Though due to this members of the Odessa pack came looking for him and offered to teach him what he is and he accepted. As he spent time with the pack he grew to enjoy their company his demeanor changing from what it had been with this new realization of what he was and what existed in this world, though he had his disagreements and they were all with the current Ulfric.Eventually Markus would be fed up with the current Ulfric’s lack of good leadership and challenged him… The fight almost killed Markus as he fought the much older werewolf, but eventually he came out victorious though very injured. Since then he has been considered a especially wise leader of the pack and lead with his Lupa Valerie only helping further his ability to control and keep the peace. Other: He has a chrome .45 1911 that he has kept from his criminal days. This is kept so that if he needs to deal with ‘issues’ that can’t be dealt with in wolf form he can do so. Theme Song

Vashti avait commencé à courir; sa jambe arrière sautait de chaque pas alors qu'elle arrondissait le coin du bâtiment. Sur son épaule, elle veillait à voir si l'homme dans le verre la suivait, n'entendant que à peine le bruit des pieds contre la terre. En tournant, elle est venue face à face avec le canon d'une arme. Les yeux bruns s'étirent, elle glissa jusqu'à un arrêt sur ses quartiers arrières; les cheveux s'affaissent sur ses épaules et regardaient se lever pour voir un grand homme se prosterner contre elle. À son ordre d'arrêter, elle leva les lèvres dans un faible grognement, mais quand il demanda qu'elle s'allonge... pour se soumettre à lui... elle comprit exactement à qui elle avait affaire. Un Ulfric. Grandir en mourant subitement dans sa poitrine Vashti a pris un pas en arrière et a été surpris de sentir sa queue serrée contre elle sous le ventre. Ses oreilles suivirent l'exemple et se plaignirent contre son crâne, avant qu'elle ne fasse un petit bruit de pleurnicheur. C'était de l'agonie, se mettant par terre devant l'homme et se soumettant à lui. Mais il l'a exigé d'elle comme un Ulfric devrait... et elle a dû obéir si elle appréciait sa vie. Là, en regardant la neige, elle a fait un petit bruit : "Vashti... est mon nom..." Elle n'a fait aucune mention de son sac, ni de la raison pour laquelle elle était là. Son sac ne voulait rien dire maintenant... et une partie d'elle ne savait même pas pourquoi elle est venue enquêter sur cet endroit. Se taire, mis à part le gémissement occasionnel, Vashti a osé regarder l'homme.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Acacia regarda que le loup noir s'éloignait soudainement de la maison, elle avait pris le robinet lumineux sur la porte de l'écran et vu la figure qui se tenait derrière elle. Alors qu'elle se tenait à moitié ouverte, elle ne savait pas si elle devait suivre le bodice en retraite ou non avant de se mettre brusquement en place. Le son de métal tapotant le métal dans un rythme de mentonnage l'a fait regarder le long du feuillage plus loin, entendant à peine cette mélodie mélangée de neige croquante. Alors qu'elle se tenait fermement là où elle regardait ce qui ne pouvait facilement être rien, elle pensait qu'un intrus suffisait. Elle ne voulait pas savoir si une autre était en train de s'inquiéter, mais elle ne pouvait pas dire si elle regardait au-dessus d'eux sans savoir. Peu de temps après, elle entendit la voix lourde de l'Ulfric. Cela lui fit tomber légèrement la tête, voulant voir ce qui se passait, elle secoua la nuque et commença à trotter légèrement à travers la neige, émergeant complètement de la ligne de l'arbre et se déplaçant à travers l'ouverture, les oreilles tombant en arrière puis perçant une fois de plus alors qu'elle s'approchait de l'emplacement de la confrontation soudaine. Une grimace s'est presque propagée sur sa mâchoire en voyant que c'était sur son ventre, la queue coincée entre ses cuisses, câlinant visiblement son sous-couche tandis que ses oreilles s'enterraient dans la fourrure tonique sur son crâne, personne ne s'est levé contre un Ulfric, sauf peut-être un autre ou quelqu'un qui s'était déjà dirigé contre ses forces de l'ordre. Acacia se tenait légèrement à quelques mètres de distance, écoutant avec des oreilles concentrées alors qu'elle soufflait doucement un souffle chaud de ses narines, elle était amusée par les événements et a essayé de garder cela pour elle-même comme elle est restée hors du chemin, ne voulant pas obtenir dans aucune forme de trouble elle-même.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

William pouvait dire que les habitants étaient des gens intéressants. En voyant un homme sprinter sur le toit de la cabane, le chasseur a levé un front à la vue inhabituelle. « Dix points. » William s'est cru sarcastiquement pendant que l'homme sautait du toit. Il savait qu'il se passait quelque chose, mais il ne pouvait pas le voir de sa position. Cela a incité le chasseur à se lever, à se croquer la neige sous ses bottes, et à s'enchaîner les uns contre les autres. Il a commencé à se déplacer le long du bord de la forêt, en gardant un œil sur la maison en tout temps. William passa son temps à se demander ce qui avait poussé un homme à se détacher de leur propre toit comme ça. Peut-être que ce n'était pas sa maison et qu'il a été pris en flagrant délit, ou couché avec l'amant de quelqu'un. Ça pourrait expliquer les coups de feu, mais c'était il y a un moment. Peu importe les raisons, il a vu un homme sans chemise courir comme une chauve-souris hors de l'enfer sur la maison. Finalement, il a vu l'homme et un loup dans la clairière. William s'est agenouillé à côté d'un arbre, prenant la vue. L'homme avait regardé comme s'il était prêt à tirer sur le loup, mais le loup avait des comportements inhabituels envers l'homme. Quelque chose ne se sentait pas ici. Les hommes ne sautent pas des bâtiments pour tirer sur les loups, et ils portent aussi un peu plus de vêtements dans la neige..

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

Il ne s'attendait pas à ce que le comportement du loup avant lui soit si soumis, mais elle l'était. Il accepterait ça. Il a baissé le pistolet et son comportement en colère est parti quand il a décollé le pistolet et l'a glissé dans l'arrière de son pantalon. En deux étapes, il s'accroupit devant le loup et la fixe. Eh bien Vashti, comme vous ne semblez pas avoir un paquet ou une raison d'être ici... je suppose qu'il serait poli de vous inviter hors de la neige pour l'instant. Peut-être rencontrez-vous d'autres de votre espèce..Il se lève et pointe à Acacia et lui donne un doigt pour qu'elle se rapproche. Ça vous dérangerait de montrer notre amie dans la maison.. Présentez-la aux gens... Assurez-vous que tout le monde sait qu'elle n'est pas de notre paquet, mais est une invitée pour l'instant... Partagez quelques vêtements avec elle laissez-la se baigner si elle veut lui donner à manger. Vous connaissez le marché. Markus a un peu froncé et son nez ridé. Il n'a donné aucune indication pour appeler d'autres loups alors qu'il s'éloignait du côté et sniffait profondément ses narines comme il l'a fait. Il a tourné la tête son nez lui donnant presque précision point d'épingle dans le temps froid où il était plus facile d'attraper des odeurs sur le vent. Ses yeux se rétrécissaient un peu alors qu'il semblait regarder droit sur William son sang-froid comme celui d'un loup le défendant territoire prêt à attaquer, ses muscles serrent ses mains en se fronçant les poings pendant un moment, mais il ne chargea pas hors de ne pas partir. Si quoi que ce soit ce serait plus ‘si vous êtes l'homme assez venir et obtenir certains, si ne pas se faire foutre.. technique d'intimidation qu'il avait récupéré d'une vie de crime avant de devenir un ont été.

Name: Markus Skarsgard Age: 27 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Ulfric Appearance (picture or written description): 6’2 muscular Strengths (at least 3): Exceptionally strong, Excellent Leader, quick witted, Weaknesses (at least 3): Tempermental, a old leg injury which can be taken advantage of, can be trusting Personality: A powerful man (wolf?) who has spent much of his life training his body, sharpening his mind he turned himself into a force seemingly unstoppable and incapable of being tricked. Though this came with a downside his tendency to focus on himself as to better serve others has often lead him to being hot headed in believing he knows what is best for others. History: The entirety of Markus life has been spent in strife. Born to poverty stricken family he went where the money was easiest as he grew up, crime. He quickly cultivated himself into a thug who at first began robbing convenience stores with his friends. This wasn’t to last as they sought bigger prizes and soon started going after jewelry stores.This went well for a while as they raked in the money and continued to keep their identities from being known. It wasn’t until one the crew suggested a bank that things went terribly wrong. A shootout rang out through the streets of the small town they had chosen as police had made it to the bank quickly on account of a hostage escaping. Markus fled the scene as his fellows were gunned down, and as he ran through the snow flurries he heard a growl and then everything went black. When Markus awoke he found he had been torn and ripped several wounds were on his body and blood splashed across his clothes and flesh. He stared at the man who stood over him and knew that something was wrong with him. The claws on his finger tips the way he grinned and the golden eyes they all resembled a wolf. Just as the man was going to speak to him Markus pulled his pistol and blew a hole through the man’s head and fled. The nights went by slowly Markus felt strange and when it came time for him to turn he had no idea what was happening, half a apartment complex ended up dead in that instance. Though due to this members of the Odessa pack came looking for him and offered to teach him what he is and he accepted. As he spent time with the pack he grew to enjoy their company his demeanor changing from what it had been with this new realization of what he was and what existed in this world, though he had his disagreements and they were all with the current Ulfric.Eventually Markus would be fed up with the current Ulfric’s lack of good leadership and challenged him… The fight almost killed Markus as he fought the much older werewolf, but eventually he came out victorious though very injured. Since then he has been considered a especially wise leader of the pack and lead with his Lupa Valerie only helping further his ability to control and keep the peace. Other: He has a chrome .45 1911 that he has kept from his criminal days. This is kept so that if he needs to deal with ‘issues’ that can’t be dealt with in wolf form he can do so. Theme Song

Pendant qu'il était couché devant les pensées de l'Ulfric Vashti était devenu sauvage. Les souvenirs de son dernier moment avec son pack ont refait surface et pour un moment rare, elle avait peur. La dernière fois qu'un homme lui a montré de l'agressivité, c'était quand le meilleur membre de sa meute, un homme impitoyable, s'est mis à l'avoir comme son compagnon, l'a presque battue à la pulpe sur le sol. Après qu'elle l'ait rejeté il n'y avait pas grand chose qu'elle pouvait faire mais combattre la bête plus grande et prendre ses coups........elle avait eu de la chance à l'époque..... Mais, elle a entendu des bruissements et a déplacé ses yeux vers l'homme. Vashti a été presque surpris de le voir s'agenouiller devant elle et de parler... son ton beaucoup plus doux alors avant. Ses mots... maintenant ils étaient surprenants. Il a parlé d'elle comme si elle s'adressait à un invité... pourquoi? Intrigué le corps de Vashti détendu et elle a lentement, régulièrement, atteint ses pieds. Élevant sa jambe de derrière raide dans l'air, elle a frappé ses oreilles avant-propos. Des vêtements... un bain... de la nourriture? Est-ce qu'il lui offrait vraiment ces luxes? Après son attention, elle vit derrière elle un deuxième loup, un loup à la fourrure de gingembre éclatante. A ce Vashti a incliné sa tête, puis tourné vers l'Ulfric. En le regardant avec surprise, elle a laissé un souffle de vapeur... Elle ne s'attendait pas à ce que ça arrive. C'était peut-être une bonne idée de venir ici.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Marrec Olivier Il était debout et se déplaçait au son des coups de feu, dormait un lointain souvenir. Sasha est avec lui, il pensait calmement, mais il se déplaçait encore avec une grande vitesse vers les escaliers, seulement pour s'arrêter au bruit de grognement et au mouvement de corps à fourrures multiples à proximité. Il tournait dans cette direction quand le Geri s'est montré, ses yeux l'eerie bleu pâle de sa forme de loup. Elle a immédiatement repéré Marrec, son front se plisant dans les débuts d'une chaume. Sa voix était plus profonde que la normale, bordée d'un grognement qui attendait juste de glisser dans un son plus plein et plus menaçant. L'Ulfric doit prévenir quelqu'un – il le fait. Il y a du bruit à l'extérieur, cependant, "Marrec a mentionné qu'il s'était déplacé pour passer devant Sam et voir par lui-même ce qui se passait. La femme lui a tiré un coup d'œil de flétrissement avant de le couper, ses longues jambes lui permettant de dévorer la distance entre eux et la porte arrière de la maison. Marrec suivit de façon plus tranquille, à peine préoccupé par tout le langage corporel dominant utilisé contre lui. Alors que les deux loups-garous s'approchaient de la grande porte coulissante qui s'est renversée sur le pont de la maison, ils trouvèrent qu'Aldo bloquait un gros morceau de la porte avec son corps, apparemment entré avec la commotion à l'extérieur. Marrec a repéré l'Ulfric à l'extérieur, mais n'a pas vu Sasha s'enfuir à proximité, et soudain son étrange expression est devenue d'une gravité absolue. Ignorant la tentative de Sam de mettre Aldo hors de la route, Marrec a utilisé un coude bien placé pour pousser l'autre homme hors du chemin. Sans attendre la réaction de l'un ou l'autre des deux loups-garous, Marrec a balayé la porte coulissante du côté et a marché à l'extérieur, seulement pour se retrouver au-dessus du loup inconnu. Immédiatement assuré que Markus était en sécurité, Marrec a glissé rapidement loin de la porte et le loup accroupi de sorte qu'il se tenait sur le côté de l'Ulfric, son langage corporel portant la menace du mal si quelqu'un vient trop près. Les yeux sombres traquaient la direction du regard d'Ulfric, le suivant jusqu'au deuxième interlope. Peut-être que le froid leur amenait des errants, il pensait avec un peu d'amusement. Sam Carroway Après que Marrec se soit hâté d'aller à l'extérieur, Sam a suivi dans son sillage, déviant du côté opposé de la porte de sorte que le nouveau loup était quelque peu encerclé. Sa posture était légèrement courbée et agressive, la teinte éclatante des yeux de loup regardant avec la qualité extraterrestre hors du visage d'un humain, ce qui fait que Sam semble encore plus prédateur. Malgré l'acceptation du loup par Markus, la forme du Geri a frappé avec une volonté de vomir, si l'étranger offrait la violence.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Observée silencieusement alors que l'Ulfric commençait à parler, pointant vers Acacia et balayant un doigt, elle se mit lentement à s'approcher de derrière l'étrange femelle, les oreilles en avant alors qu'elle faisait des notes mentales de tout, « Tour the House, Introduce, Guest Not Pack, Clothes to Wear, Bath and Food... J'ai pensé... » réalisant qu'il avait probablement entendu tout cela qu'elle a légèrement trempé la tête et qu'elle regardait soudain vers la paire émergente de membres plus dominants de la meute, elle elle-même visiblement baissée vers le bas de la feuille d'ivoire à la vue du Geri. A ce moment-là, Acacia se déplaçait lentement au-delà du loup soumis, regardant dans sa direction elle donnait un léger geste de sa muselière dans un mouvement à suivre, attendant à peine de voir si elle faisait Acacia a commencé à faire de longs pas, la tête accrochée juste sous la hauteur de l'épaule et la queue traînant juste derrière elle car elle ne regardait pas en arrière. Juste à partir de ces actions, il était évident qu'elle n'était pas trop confiante et qu'elle n'était pas trop haut dans la chaîne. Elle guiderait l'invité plus tôt vers la section invitée du bâtiment, principalement pour la capacité de s'éloigner des autres et aussi pour la collection de vêtements avant de la présenter. Elle écoutait les pattes derrière elle, l'étrange battement audible de la jambe boiteuse, même si Acacia n'a pas fait grand-chose depuis qu'on lui a donné des ordres et qu'elle était, bien visiblement, l'un des loups de rang le plus bas, ne voulait pas soulever de problèmes. Alors qu'elle s'approchait de la zone d'intérêt, la terre froide enneigée allait soudainement se transformer en porche en bois réfrigéré, et lentement au fil du temps, le loup-garou étrangement pelé commençait à cramponner, le dos arqué étroitement et la tête tombant entre ses membres antérieurs qui maintenant s'étiraient vers l'avant, ses yeux grands ouverts rempli de douleur partielle des changements que son corps devait faire, ce furent les premiers stades de déplacement, bien qu'il variât largement d'être et leurs capacités.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

Il n'y avait que le gémissement le plus doux de la protestation quand Aldo se sentait coincé hors du chemin, mais il n'osait pas se plaindre et simplement les regarder partir. Avec un coup d'oeil sur l'eau, il a commencé à se réchauffer et une décision scindée en secondes qu'un autre biscuit n'était pas encore en ordre, il a suivi Sam et Marrec hors de la porte avec une lenteur qui pourrait suggérer soit la négligence ou le fait très vrai que Sam Carroway a effrayé l'enfer vivant de lui. En conservant sa forme humaine, il s'est un peu abaissé alors qu'il s'approchait de l'Ulfric, ce n'était que de bonnes manières. Aldo se joignit silencieusement à la foule des loups-garous rassemblés autour de l'intrus, dont il n'avait pas pris le nom. Il regardait curieusement, regardant peut-être un peu moins bête sans qu'un biscuit soit logé dans ses dents, et se demandait à quoi elle ressemblait en tant qu'humaine. Mais ce n'était pas une façon de penser, n'est-ce pas? Après tout, elle avait l'air blessée, sans parler d'inoffensif, alors il a juste mis ses mains dans ses poches et a espéré que Markus continuerait à ne pas tuer le loup-garou qui lui avait donné un look hilarant qui était probablement le résultat de sa douce dent. Il a glissé un peu dans l'espoir qu'il n'avait pas l'air menaçant pour aucun des loups-garous, qu'ils soient de sa meute ou non. Il regarda Acacia guider le nouveau venu loin, et se demandait s'il devait suivre. Pourquoi pas? Il avait de l'eau bouillante et des biscuits. Il s'est étendu et est retourné à l'intérieur.

Name: Aldo Wicks Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Regular pack member, although he is high on that list. Appearance: Strengths: -Brave -Helpful/generous -Stronger than he looks Weaknesses: -Not too durable (cardiovascular) unless in wolf form -Low pain tolerance (tied to the above) -Shy around girls (that'll only bite him in the ass when it comes down to it) Personality: He's a quiet, booky person who sometimes tries, often unsuccessfully, to be funny, and he loves puns- the worse the better. He sincerely wants to be able to pick up girls, but...he freezes up; he just gets too anxious. He works out in an attempt to look attractive, but the whole talking to ladies thing really just sabotages him regardless of looks. Around trusted people/good friends, he can be surprisingly loud, obnoxious, 'fun' and rowdy. Since he likes to switch forms, he eats. A lot. Very high calories...and he manages (because of all the energy he uses by transforming) not to put on any weight. Perfect exercise! History: His childhood was...not extraordinary. It was, in fact, pretty boring, until he was eleven and found out that an older friend of his had been turned; that's how he discovered the existence of werewolves. Another year passed though, and his friend died because he hadn't found love. It was a hard experience for Aldo, and he was told that he should never become a werewolf. He just couldn't shake off his fascination with the Odessa Pack though. He stayed friends with the werewolves, and was turned a couple of months ago after an accident in which he startled a werewolf and got scratched...deep. Needless to say, when he got the wound treated and got home, all he could think was: "Shit." Other:

Vashti a regardé quand une quatrième figure les a rejoints... celui-là l'homme de derrière la porte en verre. Elle le fixa, maintenant un peu moins comique, sans nourriture dans sa bouche. Il était juste là... silencieux. Puis, réalisant que son guide s'éloignait, Vashti fit un petit bruit de surprise. Elle a lâché l'avant-propos et est tombée derrière l'autre loup-garou. Elle tombait dans le silence et se tenait près de l'autre. Sa jambe arrière a souffert mais cela ne l'a pas empêchée de trébucher sur la femelle à poils de gingembre. Atteignant l'un des ponts en bois de l'édifice, ils semblaient se trouver dans la région où les loups se transformaient régulièrement; où les vêtements étaient mis à l'abri et où l'intimité était assurée aux personnes laissées nues après avoir changé. Même maintenant, Vashti a vu le changement commencer à avoir lieu à travers le corps de l'autre étaient. À ce moment-là, elle s'arrêta et regarda, sans paroles, tandis que le loup tournait lentement l'homme devant ses yeux. Bientôt elle aussi se tournerait... et révélerait sa forme humaine à ses nouvelles quantités... ce serait la première fois qu'elle se transformerait en humain dans un certain temps. Assis sur les planches de bois, Vashti regarda en arrière sur son épaule où ils venaient de venir.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Coulissant autour de l'arbre, le chasseur sentait un regard plus froid que la neige autour de lui. Il n'y avait guère de doute que les gens et les loups qu'il regardait dans la clairière étaient en fait des loups-garous. La vue était trop inhabituelle pour qu'elle soit normale. William sentait que le grand homme savait qu'il était là, et il ne voyait pas pourquoi il devait rester caché. Il n'a jamais attendu dans l'ombre de toute façon. William s'est repoussé à nouveau, les chaînes se renversant une fois de plus contre son bouclier. Le chasseur marcha autour de l'arbre et regarda Markus, avec un regard presque serré sur son visage. Après tout, il a eu le plaisir amusant de regarder l'homme se lancer de l'immeuble. William a fait plusieurs pas en avant, maintenant debout dans la clairière avant de s'arrêter. De ses mains à ses côtés, il continua à scruter le grand homme devant lui. Les autres loups semblaient baisser la tête autour de lui, de sorte qu'il était clairement haut dans la hiérarchie, peut-être même l'Ulfric aussi. Le chasseur s'inclina respectueusement devant l'homme qui était devant lui. Bien que partie bête, William a senti qu'il était poli de reconnaître le pouvoir qu'il tenait immobile. Il admirait un bon chef, même si c'était un qu'il pourrait encore avoir à tuer.

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

La femme s'est allongée dans le lit quelque temps après que son Ulfric soit parti avec sa boisson à la main, un léger soupir respirant légèrement sur ses lèvres et dansant à travers les oreillers au froid soudain de l'air d'hiver qui est entré par la porte ouverte du balcon. Bien sûr ses yeux étaient fermés alors qu'elle roulait sur son dos, son corps nu caché par la lourde couverture qui a été jetée en désordre sur elle-même et le reste du lit bien qu'il était étrangement vide sans l'homme là-bas et au lieu de rester longtemps, elle jeta et se tint, trouvant facilement son pied sur le sol qu'elle connaissait si bien. Sa peau lisse est restée intacte même après ses longues années de vie en meutes, sauf pour un seul coup sur son visage, une cicatrice qui a suivi sur ses yeux et l'avait aveuglée de façon permanente après l'avoir reçue. Un chasseur l'avait donnée à elle et elle n'avait jamais vu le carnage qui était devenu de son corps quand ils l'avaient trouvé. Au début, il avait été terrible de ne pas pouvoir voir et son père avait voulu la garder bien qu'elle ait insisté pour y aller encore, a juré qu'elle ne serait pas inutile et qu'elle ne l'avait jamais été. Elle était super avec les autres, incroyable même quand elle a résolu les problèmes sans beaucoup de problèmes et s'est toujours retrouvée revenir à l'Ulfric, où qu'elle ait été avec qui l'avait escortée. Il avait fallu longtemps avant qu'elle n'apprenne vraiment le territoire et après un certain temps elle avait découvert quelques endroits où elle pouvait aller seule, quelques endroits que Markus avait fréquentés à l'époque. À l'aide d'une main mince, elle a choisi une chemise sur le sol et a cherché sa culotte - celle qu'elle n'avait pas portée depuis le dîner de la veille avec d'autres membres de la meute bien qu'elle les ait perdus rapidement quand les deux étaient retournés dans leur chambre. Elle soupira, abandonna de les trouver et glissa la chemise au-dessus de sa tête, celle que Markus portait la veille; elle était grande sur elle, recouvrant facilement son corps nu pendant qu'elle sortait sur le porche à temps pour entendre trois coups de feu. "Markus?" Elle a interrogé pendant qu'elle tirait ses cheveux rose clair de sous la chemise. Elle leva la tête légèrement et sentit plusieurs autres loups sur le vent une deux odeurs humaines différentes adn supposait que c'est ce qui l'inquiétait. Elle n'a rien dit alors qu'il donnait un ordre à Sasha et a sauté du balcon pour affronter un des loups qui se trouvaient sur leur territoire. "S'il a besoin de toi, va le voir. Je suis en sécurité à l'intérieur de l'enceinte."

Name: Valerie Levania Naachreen Age: 18 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bisexual Human or werewolf Pack member or loner Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lupa Strengths Difficult to startle or unsettle Sensitive to the emotions of those around her Decent at negotiations Weaknesses Loyalty is a virtue, and a curse Does not trust easily Blind Personality: Valerie is loyal to a fault, she will defend those she loves or trusts until she can't fight any longer, even if she knows they're wrong she won't let anything happen to them. Sweet and quiet she's also easily embarrassed and shy, often remaining quiet through entire exchanges. She hates when she's treated differently because of her blindness, and often reacts in violent aggression or passive aggression. History: Valeria was born the daughter of another packs alpha, though this pack was different then the others. They lived in the mountains and as a child she was fascinated by the colours of the territory around them and the mountain flowers especially. This pack had plans for her, they wanted to make peace with the Odessa instead of war and upon agreement the girl was given to the alpha, as a future mate or tracker though she was better bred then half of the pack in the first place. It was that day that during the exchange and meeting they were attacked by hunters and her eyes were injured and she never saw anything again. She was only fourteen at the time, barely a woman. Two years later she became the Ulfric's mate partially because of her uncanny ability to tell lies from truth, and her senses and partially because of how close the two had gotten in the time they had spent together since her arrival. Other: TBD

Sasha Sasha se tenait debout, en conflit. Markus était son Ulfric et avait donné un ordre, mais en faisant cela, il s'était laissé aller sans protection pendant qu'elle se tenait et regardait son conjoint. Malgré la confiance de Valérie dans la sécurité du complexe, Sasha n'était pas tout à fait d'accord – Valérie était la faiblesse de Markus, et était donc une cible principale pour quiconque cherchait à affaiblir l'Ulfric avant de le défier ou simplement le tuer. Malgré la distance, Sasha s'est concentrée sur la partie de son esprit qui était liée aux autres loups-garous – elle était plus faible sous forme humaine, comme si la télépathie fonctionnait mieux dans l'esprit du simple loup. Elle pouvait cependant se faire une vague idée de l'endroit où ils se trouvaient, comme si de faibles échos de leurs voix divergeaient à sa façon, bien que cela ne fonctionnait qu'avec des voix mentales qu'elle connaissait bien et qu'elle entendait souvent. Par cette méthode, Sasha a trouvé Marrec et Markus à proximité. Frappant une lame longue et fine qui était attachée à son avant-bras et cachée sous la Manche longue noire qu'elle portait, Sasha a donné un coup rapide de sa tête qui a envoyé ses cheveux bruissant autour de ses épaules. Marrec l'a. Je resterai avec toi.

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Alors qu'Acacia a déplacé son corps enroulé sur chaque os en mouvement, elle n'a pas l'air trop douloureuse au début et comme la fourrure a commencé à reculer dans ce qui semblait être une peau pâle, le son clair des os en arrière à la place pouvait être entendu. Ceci et cela se sont moulés l'un dans l'autre ou se sont divisés pour ce qui était nécessaire. Certains os changent complètement, d'autres simplement redimensionner ou manœuvrer. Lorsqu'elle a retrouvé sa figure humaine un petit moment plus vite que l'autre, elle était debout et s'est serrée comme si elle était prête pour un marathon. Elle se dirige lentement vers le haut, figure mince et décentment plus courte que la plupart, probablement la plus courte autour quand elle atteint légèrement les brins d'auburn de sa vue. Tournant lentement alors qu'elle roulait les épaules, elle sauta les genoux, les chevilles, les doigts et même le cou en regardant la femelle plus foncée et plus grande atteindre la pleine forme humaine. Les vêtements de saphir de combat émeraude brillant et presque contre nature semblaient danser sur la figure avant elle, c'était avant qu'ils se fermaient rapidement et la silhouette petite secouait la tête, la peau pâle presque translucide au fur et à mesure qu'elle se déplaçait, et enduits en quelques endroits par une encre de couleur éclatante qui semblait être des fleurs, des papillons et des choses généralement inoffensives. Permettre à l'invité de trouver d'abord des vêtements était la priorité, bien qu'elle ait permis à cette figure nue de trembler quelque peu dans la brise, elle s'est maintenue décemment avant de se déplacer avec des pas allongés mais lents vers le cabinet. Elle a sorti une paire de pantalons de cargo kaki brunâtre-jaune, les regardant bizarrement pendant un moment, elle a hissé, "Des vêtements d'hommes surdimensionnés", avant de les glisser lentement sur sa figure, marchant dans un par un. Les manches du tissu plus longues que ses jambes, car elle semblait à peine s'en soucier et s'emparait simplement d'une ceinture d'un dessin de pièces de rechange pour fixer le pantalon autour de sa taille. Peu de temps après, elle a trouvé un bouton en haut d'une chemise bleue, sûrement cela ne convenait pas à la figure féminine, mais elle a fait peu de vocalisation dans sa transition. Alors qu'elle a boutonné la section de torse, elle a commencé à marcher vers une entrée, "Est-ce que vous voulez un bain du tout?" Elle s'interroge doucement d'un ton doux, c'était presque comme un murmure, comme si elle essayait à peine de parler. Ses yeux regardant sur son épaule pour voir si la plus grande figure suivit ou non, "Ou, voulez-vous quelque chose à manger? On dirait que ce serait une bénédiction, de la nourriture chaude... Elle a continué à peine à laisser de la place pour la réponse. Alors qu'elle s'approchait de l'une des différentes entrées de l'immeuble, elle approchait soigneusement pour verrouiller ses chiffres de porcelaine autour de la poignée de porte avant de l'ouvrir pour révéler la chaleur de l'intérieur, en attendant que la femelle aux cheveux foncés et toniques entre en elle commencerait bientôt à montrer les choses, encore à une distance du salon principal où la plupart se réunissaient, elle étiquetait les choses rapidement comme si elle voulait que le rôle d'un guide, étant en charge de cela, pour finir. "Oh, je suis Ace... Je ne pense pas que j'ai pris votre nom?" Les lèvres douces d'un rose clair naturel se déplaçaient alors qu'elle parlait, la tête tournant alors qu'elle regardait derrière l'étranger au fur et à mesure qu'ils se déplaçaient.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

Vashti a mis ses mains sur ses hanches et a souri alors qu'elle suivait lentement derrière 'Ace'. À la mention de la nourriture, elle se branla et secoua la tête : « Je suis Vashti... et non... la nourriture serait une bénédiction très bien reçue en ce moment. » Elle la suivit par l'entrée de l'immeuble et s'en alla à l'œil large; regardant l'intérieur comme un enfant dans un château, "Wow....." Cet endroit était tellement plus grand que tout ce que son vieux paquet avait jamais eu le privilège de posséder..... Stride ralentissant, elle a été rattrapée à examiner les meubles et autres objets, avant d'aller s'arrêter et d'attraper un parfum en l'air. Il faisait chaud... accompagné de l'odeur faible mais détectable de la viande crue. Sans aucun doute c'était la cuisine. Les épaules tensaient Vashti marchait avant-propos, à côté d'Ace, puis la passaient devant elle. En montant devant elle, elle a suivi ses sens, jusqu'à ce qu'elle arrive à une porte ouverte. Plongée dans elle a souri quand elle a trouvé une très grande salle à manger, et ce qui semblait être la porte dans la cuisine. Reprenant son guide, elle sourit : « Ça vous dérangerait si je regardais? » Elle démangeait déjà d'entrer et de se mettre au travail... si elle devait cuisiner pour elle-même, très bien. Elle a soupiré : « Je ne veux pas prendre le contrôle de tout...... juste quelques jours depuis que j'ai eu un bon repas... »

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Aldo se tenait mal à l'aise dans la cuisine tandis que les deux femmes allaient changer à la fois les vêtements et les corps. Il n'était pas le genre de personne qui essayait de regarder, mais il a dû essayer activement de le garder hors de son esprit. En prenant l'eau chaude de la chaleur, il était un peu irrité maintenant à la façon dont son esprit avait erré. Il a sorti un plateau et trois tasses, a fait le chocolat chaud et a renversé une généreuse pile de biscuits et d'oréos au chocolat. Quand il s'est retourné, il y avait une très jolie femme dans la porte qu'il a supposé être le loup de tout à l'heure. Oh, mon Dieu. Il ne pouvait pas faire ça. Non, pas du tout. Ses mains ont grandi un peu et serré autour du plateau, et il n'a pas pu... faire un contact visuel. "Peut-être que tu pourrais t'asseoir et manger du chocolat chaud pendant que je t'arrache du f-food?" Bien joué, idiot. A ce rythme, vous mourrez encore plus tôt.

Name: Aldo Wicks Age: 21 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Regular pack member, although he is high on that list. Appearance: Strengths: -Brave -Helpful/generous -Stronger than he looks Weaknesses: -Not too durable (cardiovascular) unless in wolf form -Low pain tolerance (tied to the above) -Shy around girls (that'll only bite him in the ass when it comes down to it) Personality: He's a quiet, booky person who sometimes tries, often unsuccessfully, to be funny, and he loves puns- the worse the better. He sincerely wants to be able to pick up girls, but...he freezes up; he just gets too anxious. He works out in an attempt to look attractive, but the whole talking to ladies thing really just sabotages him regardless of looks. Around trusted people/good friends, he can be surprisingly loud, obnoxious, 'fun' and rowdy. Since he likes to switch forms, he eats. A lot. Very high calories...and he manages (because of all the energy he uses by transforming) not to put on any weight. Perfect exercise! History: His childhood was...not extraordinary. It was, in fact, pretty boring, until he was eleven and found out that an older friend of his had been turned; that's how he discovered the existence of werewolves. Another year passed though, and his friend died because he hadn't found love. It was a hard experience for Aldo, and he was told that he should never become a werewolf. He just couldn't shake off his fascination with the Odessa Pack though. He stayed friends with the werewolves, and was turned a couple of months ago after an accident in which he startled a werewolf and got scratched...deep. Needless to say, when he got the wound treated and got home, all he could think was: "Shit." Other:

En entendant des pas, Vashti s'est tournée et a cligné quand elle a vu quelqu'un à l'arrière de la cuisine... l'homme de derrière le verre? Debout, elle le regarda pendant un moment, le masturbant et prenant note de tous ses traits. En fait, il était plutôt beau... alors qu'il ne fouillait pas une bouche pleine de biscuits. Au son de ses mots étourdissants, elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de vomir et de faire un pas en avant : « Calme-toi. Je ne mords pas....habituellement..." Elle s'est encore rapprochée et a souri aux tasses chaudes de chocolat chaud, « Je suis désolé si je t'ai surpris... quand j'étais à la porte... Je ne m'attendais pas à rencontrer tant d'autres personnes... » Elle a hurlé à la mention de la nourriture, "Je peux vous aider avec la nourriture si vous voulez. Je suis Vashti."

Name: Vashti Kelvin Age: 20 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Loner Pack name: None Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one. Appearance (picture or written description): (Wolf Form) Vashti is ‘5 foot “10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males. Strengths (at least 3): Brave Confident Strong for a female Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history) Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed. Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression. At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn’t handle being alone for long. History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly. But, when one of the pack’s more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn’t return his love. This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti’s left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack’s territory; leaving her home behind forever. For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang. Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

Dracul a regardé les cadavres en bas. Les cadavres des deux loups-garous qu'elle avait tués. S'il y en avait deux, il y en aurait probablement d'autres. Probablement un paquet. Dracul regarda les empreintes dans la neige. Elle les a suivis d'en haut. Après un certain temps, Dracul a repéré une grande cabine. Le paquet est probablement à la maison. Mais Dracul n'a pas été assez stupide pour essayer d'attaquer un paquet entier seul. Au lieu de cela, elle rentrait rapidement chez elle, prenait plus de boulons et de poignards, puis attendait un loup-garou vounérable. Dracul est rentrée chez elle et a saisi ce dont elle avait besoin avant de rentrer. Elle est restée près de la cabane, mais pas trop près. Elle était juste en dehors de la vue, de cette façon si quelque chose quittait la cabane Dracul aurait une bonne chance de les obtenir. Dracul a réfléchi à la raison pour laquelle elle est devenue chasseure. Son seul ami. Une personne géniale. Qui avait piraté Dracul dans les bois. Et puis c'est arrivé. Elle avait été attaquée par un loup-garou. Dracul avait été ignorée par le loup mais son seul ami n'avait pas été aussi chanceux. Après sa mort, Dracuk décida de chasser les loups-garous. Elle était sûre que tous les loups-garous n'étaient pas terribles, mais elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de tenir une rancune contre leur espèce.

Samantha "Sam" Carroway Age: 24 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Geri, second-in-command Appearance: 5'8", lean with muscle. Strengths: Sam is cunning, which has allowed her to become Geri: she fights dirty and she usually finds out who she is fighting and what their weaknesses are. She trains with MMA and weights so that besides the obvious strength of a werewolf, she has the upper hand on those who don't weight train - and a more even playing field with the males. Besides that, Sam is fairly intuitive and can often guess who might be coming up against her soon. Her position is a prized one, since many would like to defeat Sam for the position of pack leader. Loyal to her leader, Sam maintains her position as an additional defense. Weaknesses: Sam is a little too involved in the pack politics, which makes her both cynical and aggressive, where perhaps coyness might work better at times. Sam has a strong case of claustrophobia, inducing a panic that can heighten her senses to painful degrees and ruin any attempt at reasoning. Very little patience or diplomatic abilities. Personality: Although intelligent, Sam's mind works more along the lines of street smart, with book smarts only prospering when she's alone and relaxed, never in a school environment. She is active and full of life, but she is also heavily involved in the Odessa pack. As second-in-command, she can issue orders to the majority of the pack, but her orders rarely go against the will of the pack leader. She has no desire to aspire to pack leader and acts as an additional defense. Although bright and good of mood, Sam's sense of humor is frequently absent and she is more often a stern alpha than a buddy. History: An active lifestyle spanned Sam's mundane human history. She went hiking and rock-climbing, caving and white-water rafting: she lived with vigor and joy. She didn't bother with college, instead going on extended hikes that required picking up jobs where she could for a little extra cash. She ended up in Odessa for a while due to a decent job, at which point her life changed. Sam's introduction into the werewolf world was by a werewolf passing through Odessa, seeking to create his own pack. He caught her and a few others that obviously weren't locals or well known, infected them, and kept them contained in small enclosures until he could more readily transport them. Due to the watchfulness of the Odessa pack, this lasted only a couple months and the new werewolves were collected and brought to the safehouse to recuperate - the man was, naturally, removed. Sam adapted quickly to her new lifestyle, driven by the need to escape the small enclosure. She quickly moved up the ranks due to a dislike of being a follower and the general ordinary quality of the Odessa pack, meaning her fights were not often too challenging. In her fourth fight, Sam went too far and heavily maimed her opponent to a state of near death, though he healed eventually. Due to the extreme aggression she exhibited, Sam often found her opponents backing off quickly, and became Geri by her seventh month as a werewolf. She has been a werewolf for 8 months now. Marrec Olivier Age: 30 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Hati Appearance: 6'2", muscular. Strengths: Size - large in human form, so considerable in his other forms. Very grounded, doesn't get distracted Reliable, trustworthy Weaknesses: Size - not especially agile, not a particularly fast runner Not particularly quick of mind or tongue Fails at the finer points of politics Sometimes struggles to shift Personality: Marrec is steadfast. He might initially come off as that slow, friendly fellow from the boonies, but there's a mind behind the easy grin. He works through problems with no doubt of a solution and doesn't give in to stress or anger easily. He only responds to actual attacks on himself when he feels the other werewolf needs to be reminded of their place, but verbal assaults are rarely worth the expenditure. This, of course, changes when it comes to the pack leader; Marrec takes his position as enforcer seriously and will place his life on the line for his leader. History: Marrec initially lived in North Carolina, but moved to Odessa, Colorado with his then girlfriend. When they eventually agreed to part ways, Marrec decided to stick around Odessa, as it had become home to him. He was a substitute teacher at the time, which led to him one day advising a very distraught teenager. When the boy became extremely distressed, he began changing. Despite Marrec managing to get the boy calmed down, he sustained several deep scratches from a growling, yellow-eyed mixture of human and wolf - just enough change to be infectious. The boy, realizing the potential concerns, told another werewolf about the very confused Marrec, who was then watched until it was clear he was to become a werewolf. Marrec found himself stepping into the strange world with friendly, helpful individuals who knew exactly what he was going through, and hasn't really looked back since then. He was selected as enforcer recently, due to the previous enforcer dying from the witch's curse. Though there was some muttering at another unmated werewolf being selected, Marrec exhibited desirable qualities needed. His first fight was due to his promotion, since the other werewolf didn't think he was qualified. Although he won the fight, there is still doubts about his capabilities.

Acacia continua de marcher, écoutant les paroles de la femelle derrière elle, répondant à peine quand elle parlait, elle s'arrêta finalement près d'une pièce, celle qui sentait si librement de la nourriture. Alors que Vashti passait et se déplaçait à regarder à travers elle Acacia hurlait légèrement comme elle parlait et demandait, mais avant d'obtenir des mots, elle entendait un membre de la meute, Aldo pour être précis parlant à la place, grimpant sur ses propres mots autour des femmes... à nouveau, elle roulait les yeux et commençait lentement à marcher. De fines mains glissent dans ses poches de cargaison, les lèvres se séparent légèrement car elle permet aux oreilles fines de recueillir le son de ceux à l'intérieur et autour du bâtiment. Presque comme un claustrophobe, elle émet une grande respiration et s'est soudain retrouvée émergeant une autre sortie sur le porche glacial. Elle se laissait regarder à l'intérieur avant de fermer la porte et de se déplacer pour s'asseoir sur le bord du pont, les pieds et les jambes croisés alors qu'elle utilisait ses bras pour l'appuyer vers l'arrière. Le blues et les verts qui s'affrontent de ses yeux se déplacent pour regarder le ciel sombre, les taches de lumières blanches éparpillées à travers elle avec la beauté de la lune, pas encore plein il semblerait. Alors qu'elle regardait vers le haut, elle allait finalement permettre à ces yeux errants de flotter fermé, sans en avoir besoin à l'intérieur, elle se détendrait et permettrait à Aldo de traiter avec le nouveau venu, s'il pouvait vraiment obtenir quoi que ce soit fait qui soit. Elle sentait que quelque chose n'allait pas dans la nuit, mais elle se contentait de l'ébranler à ce moment-là. Alors qu'elle inclinait la tête en arrière, les brins enroulés de cheveux auburn s'accrochaient lâchement entre ses épaules. Elle a laissé ces lèvres roses claires se séparer, aucun mot émergeant comme elle s'est simplement assise là où elle était, respirer même et se tenir tranquille alors qu'elle attendait jusqu'à ce qu'elle ait besoin d'elle prochaine, ou même jusqu'à ce que la faim la frappe.

Character Sheet Acacia 'Ace' Malikov Age: 19 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bi-Sexual Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack Member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lower Ranking - Pack Member Ace stands at about 5'5 with pale almost translucent skin stained in a few places by scattered tattoos and holds a slender figure, her hair of fiery untamed auburn hangs just below her shoulders. Her skin is fair and is met with an unusual blend of blue / green eyes (replace the image eyes) that stand out brightly. Her appearance barely suits her nature and she looks more bubbly and outgoing than she really is. Ace's fur is a brighter more eye catching ginger, matching almost equally the colours of her natural human hair. She is larger than an ordinary wolf, yet smaller than most her pack-mates. Ace being predominantly found as her wolf phase, catches the eyes of anyone who may be in the woods, passing by where she is. Her eyes are strikingly bright and quickly draw eye contact when she stares or glances at others. Strengths (at least 3): Observant / Keen Eyesight Fast and Agile Strong Good Swimmer Decent Shifter Weaknesses (at least 3): Almost Useless with Weapons / Fighting Easily Startled Distant and Avoidant Uncontrolled Shifts When Fearful or Over Excited Personality: Ace almost lives to be a loner, her preference for singularity and distance draws her to being a low ranking member, she avoids confrontation, and being almost useless in any battle be it barehanded or with weaponry she prefers to use her agility, speed and keen eye sight to prevent too close a proximity of any thought threat. She has a high flight instinct and will generally submit to any high wolf if a fight breaks loose, she is seen to be easily startled and will even sink herself in water to avoid anything chasing her. Her suitability to companionship is low, though she is a compassionate and gentle creature, almost too much so to be where she was. History: Mostly Unknown Except that she Reigns from Russia and somehow landed herself in Odessa, her accent isn't as strong as many would expect, but she will occasionally speak in her native tongue. Ace fears her untimely death, her inability to mingle well with others causes her great stress due to the knowledge a mate is her only chance. She spends her days off alone, wandering and wondering where she'd be best off. She wasn't suited to pack life and knew it, but she also knew she probably wouldn't survive alone without someone to call for help. Ace trails behind those of her back, learning what she can when she can and applying it in a more distant, avoiding and fleeing manner. Can the young werewolf solve her problems and find her will to survive? Or will she succumb to that of any mate-less werewolves untimely and unkind fate. Other: Can generally be found off by herself hiding alone among the mountains coverage and a majority of the time as her wolf self.

Un vent souffla fortement pendant un moment à travers la clairière et les cheveux de Markus suivirent les extrémités de chaque écluse dansant dans la brise. Il leva la tête à la reconnaissance et après un bref moment de silence qui semblait durer pour toujours, il parla. Je te vois là-bas. Qu'est-ce qui vous a amené à une terre aussi sacrée d'ancêtres et d'esprits? Est-ce que tu me vois avec les yeux ouverts, fils de l'homme?Ses jambes ont commencé à bouger alors qu'il marchait à travers la neige bien que cela ralentisse ses pas un peu le froid semblait ne pas le déranger car il a donné peu d'attention aux parents autour de lui. Il s'est déplacé à moins d'une trentaine de mètres avant de s'arrêter de nouveau et de répandre ses bras large. Il n'y a rien, mais des secrets ici pour être vus seulement par ceux de sang digne. Cherchez-vous à trouver des réponses? Etes-vous venu pour une bénédiction ou une malédiction?" Seulement trois types différents de personnes pourraient connaître ces mots, loups-garous, compagnons humains, ou chasseurs. Il savait par le bouclier sur cet homme de retour qu'il n'était certainement pas un conjoint, et il ne sentait pas comme un loup ou l'enfant d'un. Si ce n'est pas à ces questions alors sûrement pourquoi envahissez-vous de tels terrains avec vos pieds entachés?

Name: Markus Skarsgard Age: 27 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Ulfric Appearance (picture or written description): 6’2 muscular Strengths (at least 3): Exceptionally strong, Excellent Leader, quick witted, Weaknesses (at least 3): Tempermental, a old leg injury which can be taken advantage of, can be trusting Personality: A powerful man (wolf?) who has spent much of his life training his body, sharpening his mind he turned himself into a force seemingly unstoppable and incapable of being tricked. Though this came with a downside his tendency to focus on himself as to better serve others has often lead him to being hot headed in believing he knows what is best for others. History: The entirety of Markus life has been spent in strife. Born to poverty stricken family he went where the money was easiest as he grew up, crime. He quickly cultivated himself into a thug who at first began robbing convenience stores with his friends. This wasn’t to last as they sought bigger prizes and soon started going after jewelry stores.This went well for a while as they raked in the money and continued to keep their identities from being known. It wasn’t until one the crew suggested a bank that things went terribly wrong. A shootout rang out through the streets of the small town they had chosen as police had made it to the bank quickly on account of a hostage escaping. Markus fled the scene as his fellows were gunned down, and as he ran through the snow flurries he heard a growl and then everything went black. When Markus awoke he found he had been torn and ripped several wounds were on his body and blood splashed across his clothes and flesh. He stared at the man who stood over him and knew that something was wrong with him. The claws on his finger tips the way he grinned and the golden eyes they all resembled a wolf. Just as the man was going to speak to him Markus pulled his pistol and blew a hole through the man’s head and fled. The nights went by slowly Markus felt strange and when it came time for him to turn he had no idea what was happening, half a apartment complex ended up dead in that instance. Though due to this members of the Odessa pack came looking for him and offered to teach him what he is and he accepted. As he spent time with the pack he grew to enjoy their company his demeanor changing from what it had been with this new realization of what he was and what existed in this world, though he had his disagreements and they were all with the current Ulfric.Eventually Markus would be fed up with the current Ulfric’s lack of good leadership and challenged him… The fight almost killed Markus as he fought the much older werewolf, but eventually he came out victorious though very injured. Since then he has been considered a especially wise leader of the pack and lead with his Lupa Valerie only helping further his ability to control and keep the peace. Other: He has a chrome .45 1911 that he has kept from his criminal days. This is kept so that if he needs to deal with ‘issues’ that can’t be dealt with in wolf form he can do so. Theme Song

William se tenait à terre alors que l'homme s'approchait de lui, sa figure étant immobile. La nuit restait calme, mais maintenant elle se sentait tendue. Le grand homme avant lui s'interrogea sur ses raisons, ce que William médita aussi. "Hmmm." Il a pris 3 pas vers l'avant, la chaîne clique le long de son bras. "Beaucoup de ça dépend, frai de la nuit." Il a placé sa main dans la fente de son manteau, le reposant sur l'un de ses étuis juste au cas où. "Je ne viens pas pour obtenir le fardeau de votre affliction cependant." De sa main libre, il a griffé sa moustache, le manteau poussiéreux soufflant toujours si légèrement avec le vent. Le chasseur s'arrêta, observant l'homme devant lui une fois de plus avant de continuer. "C'est par hasard que je suis arrivé ici, mais peut-être par le destin que j'ai rencontré un paquet de loups-garous dans ces bois. Je ne viens pas tuer vos proches, à moins que vous ne soyez pas un ami de l'homme." William glissa sa main lentement dans la fente opposée dans son manteau, le plaçant sur un autre revolver. "Dis-moi, loup-homme. Seriez-vous une bête, ou encore un homme? »

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.

Une profonde inhalation d'haleine a été tout ce qui est venu de Markus au nom ‘fray de nuit'. Lentement, il s'est calmé bien que les muscles le long de ses épaules tendues comme s'il se préparait à attaquer l'homme. Donc vous êtes venu ici par accident? S'inquiétant de la façon dont un meurtrier professionnel comme vous pourrait être si ignorant de son environnement.. Markus, mains glissé dans ses poches pour montrer qu'il n'a pas essayé d'être agressif alors qu'il s'approchait de là où il était à environ cinq pieds de William. Sa position disait qu'il était prêt, mais son comportement a dit qu'il ne voulait pas infliger de mal. Je vous suggère d'enlever vos mains de ces armes. Vous n'auriez pas l'occasion de les dessiner avant que vous ne tourniez ma neige rouge. » Markus n'a pas parlé comme s'il faisait des menaces oisives, il a parlé comme si c'était ce qui allait vraiment descendre, comme si aucun autre scénario ne pouvait jouer dans cette instance. Peut-être que tu voudrais une escorte hors des bois. Il a levé la main pour signaler Marrec, puis il s'est retourné vers William. Ça te plairait? Ou pensez-vous que vous pourriez trouver votre propre chemin?

Name: Markus Skarsgard Age: 27 Gender: Male Sexual preference: Hetero Human or werewolf: Werewolf Pack member or loner: Pack member Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Ulfric Appearance (picture or written description): 6’2 muscular Strengths (at least 3): Exceptionally strong, Excellent Leader, quick witted, Weaknesses (at least 3): Tempermental, a old leg injury which can be taken advantage of, can be trusting Personality: A powerful man (wolf?) who has spent much of his life training his body, sharpening his mind he turned himself into a force seemingly unstoppable and incapable of being tricked. Though this came with a downside his tendency to focus on himself as to better serve others has often lead him to being hot headed in believing he knows what is best for others. History: The entirety of Markus life has been spent in strife. Born to poverty stricken family he went where the money was easiest as he grew up, crime. He quickly cultivated himself into a thug who at first began robbing convenience stores with his friends. This wasn’t to last as they sought bigger prizes and soon started going after jewelry stores.This went well for a while as they raked in the money and continued to keep their identities from being known. It wasn’t until one the crew suggested a bank that things went terribly wrong. A shootout rang out through the streets of the small town they had chosen as police had made it to the bank quickly on account of a hostage escaping. Markus fled the scene as his fellows were gunned down, and as he ran through the snow flurries he heard a growl and then everything went black. When Markus awoke he found he had been torn and ripped several wounds were on his body and blood splashed across his clothes and flesh. He stared at the man who stood over him and knew that something was wrong with him. The claws on his finger tips the way he grinned and the golden eyes they all resembled a wolf. Just as the man was going to speak to him Markus pulled his pistol and blew a hole through the man’s head and fled. The nights went by slowly Markus felt strange and when it came time for him to turn he had no idea what was happening, half a apartment complex ended up dead in that instance. Though due to this members of the Odessa pack came looking for him and offered to teach him what he is and he accepted. As he spent time with the pack he grew to enjoy their company his demeanor changing from what it had been with this new realization of what he was and what existed in this world, though he had his disagreements and they were all with the current Ulfric.Eventually Markus would be fed up with the current Ulfric’s lack of good leadership and challenged him… The fight almost killed Markus as he fought the much older werewolf, but eventually he came out victorious though very injured. Since then he has been considered a especially wise leader of the pack and lead with his Lupa Valerie only helping further his ability to control and keep the peace. Other: He has a chrome .45 1911 that he has kept from his criminal days. This is kept so that if he needs to deal with ‘issues’ that can’t be dealt with in wolf form he can do so. Theme Song

Valérie soupirait alors que la jeune fille parlait, ses lèvres s'éloignaient pour permettre à travers le souffle court de l'air qui s'est terminé avec le Lupa touchant son propre visage pendant un moment alors qu'elle regardait aveuglément sur la rampe du balcon, ses yeux un gris doux qui semblait avoir beaucoup de pâle au cours de la dernière année. Avant sa sélection comme Lupa elle avait des yeux argentés brillants, mais quand elle était jeune ils avaient été un gris de tempête profond qui a laissé tous ceux qui les ont vus se sentir comme s'ils avaient regardé dans le cœur des tempêtes d'hiver. La fille clignotait comme un flocon de neige touchait sa joue et elle souriait tranquillement à elle-même pendant qu'elle pensait à la première fois que Markus l'avait embrassée, dans la neige dans une clairière non loin d'où ils étaient. Il faisait froid dehors et même la petite femme l'avait sentie bien qu'une certaine chaleur s'était propagée à travers elle quand il l'avait fait et elle voulait se souvenir de ce sentiment puisqu'elle ne pouvait pas voir son visage à l'époque. Alors que ses pensées se concentraient sur lui, elle s'approchait pour le trouver, à peine capable de toucher son esprit pendant qu'elle s'efforçait d'entendre sa voix; le peu qu'elle avait attrapé était irrité et chaud avec une nouvelle colère qu'elle avait souvent vue auparavant. Elle s'est cassé les yeux et s'est retournée du balcon, passant devant la femme qui devait la surveiller. "Je ne le laisserai pas seul en danger." Elle a parlé, décidé de ne pas rester en arrière et simplement être protégée comme si elle n'était qu'une jeune fille ayant besoin de protection tout le temps. Elle avait détesté au début comment il ne la laisserait jamais seule à cause de sa cécité, mais au fil du temps elle se familiarisait de plus en plus avec la région et, au lieu de simplement leur permettre de continuer à la guider, elle avait exprimé son désarroi et prouvé qu'elle pouvait se tenir à elle - même si cela s'était soldé par une perte au motif qu'elle avait combattu et expérimenté un combattant. Ses compétences sont ailleurs. "Si tu insistes pour rester avec moi, alors tu viendras à moi avec lui." À l'intérieur, elle a trouvé son chemin vers le placard qu'elle gardait ses vêtements et a sorti une paire de jeans ainsi qu'une chemise pourpre plutôt simple et les a tiré sur un soutien-gorge et une paire de culottes fraîches. Ses pieds sont restés nus dans le cas où elle aurait besoin de se battre et avec ses compétences en croissance lente pour se protéger elle pouvait utiliser ses pieds comme une bonne arme pendant que ses mains trouvaient son équilibre. Valérie n'arrêtait pas d'attendre que la fille l'arrête, même si c'était dans son meilleur intérêt et qu'elle savait très bien qu'elle était la faiblesse des Ulfrics, bien qu'elle serait une force. "Je vais aller Sasha. Je serai du côté de mon Markus." Et avec cela, la femme a quitté le complexe pour suivre le sentier laissé par l'Ulfric et l'odeur de son sur le vent pour la guider.

Name: Valerie Levania Naachreen Age: 18 Gender: Female Sexual preference: Bisexual Human or werewolf Pack member or loner Pack name: Odessa Pack position: Lupa Strengths Difficult to startle or unsettle Sensitive to the emotions of those around her Decent at negotiations Weaknesses Loyalty is a virtue, and a curse Does not trust easily Blind Personality: Valerie is loyal to a fault, she will defend those she loves or trusts until she can't fight any longer, even if she knows they're wrong she won't let anything happen to them. Sweet and quiet she's also easily embarrassed and shy, often remaining quiet through entire exchanges. She hates when she's treated differently because of her blindness, and often reacts in violent aggression or passive aggression. History: Valeria was born the daughter of another packs alpha, though this pack was different then the others. They lived in the mountains and as a child she was fascinated by the colours of the territory around them and the mountain flowers especially. This pack had plans for her, they wanted to make peace with the Odessa instead of war and upon agreement the girl was given to the alpha, as a future mate or tracker though she was better bred then half of the pack in the first place. It was that day that during the exchange and meeting they were attacked by hunters and her eyes were injured and she never saw anything again. She was only fourteen at the time, barely a woman. Two years later she became the Ulfric's mate partially because of her uncanny ability to tell lies from truth, and her senses and partially because of how close the two had gotten in the time they had spent together since her arrival. Other: TBD

Marrec Olivier-Hati Alors que Markus s'approchait du chasseur humain, Marrec l'observa. Son grand cadre était calme, l'énergie des loups-garous piquants était soumise au point qu'il aurait pu facilement passer pour humain si en compagnie de certains des chasseurs les mieux entraînés – c'est-à-dire s'ils étaient dans un endroit plus normal parmi les loups-garous moins évidents. En quelque sorte, même sans l'énergie étourdissante autour de lui comme une tempête électrique miniature, Marrec était une menace simplement à cause de la taille et du sourire doux et facile qui tournait sa bouche vers le haut mais ne touchait jamais les yeux noirs sans gras au-dessus. Sa posture semblait détendue à un coup d'oeil, mais la lâcheté était simplement la disposition d'un loup-garou prêt à s'avancer et à prendre la balle destinée à son Ulfric, si le besoin s'en faisait sentir. À chaque pas l'Ulfric s'approchait du chasseur, Marrec recopia, mais même son esprit rusé commença à se frayer avec la proximité – il n'était tout simplement pas aussi rapide que Sasha. Là où Sasha pouvait s'embrouiller, en éliminant les menaces, Marrec était plus un bouclier vivant et un bélier battant qui pouvait faire plus de dégâts, mais aussi dans plus de temps que le Skoll de la meute. Sa bouche s'ouvrit pour émettre une protestation, mais Marrec décida rapidement de ne pas interrompre son Ulfric – la manifestation de préoccupation pourrait très bien transmettre la faiblesse au chasseur. Au lieu de cela, l'exécuteur a laissé un souffle tranquille et s'est installé pour l'habituel je vais-tu-tu-si-je-doit routine de garde du corps. Sam Carroway – Geri Alors que les membres de la meute se séparent, Markus et Marrec vers un étranger, Acacia guidant le nouveau loup-garou dans la maison, et Aldo retour à la cuisine, Sam a décidé de s'en prendre à elle seule. L'énergie étourdissait le long de sa peau alors qu'elle taquinait le loup plus près de la surface, le tout trop tôt en acquérant des dents et des ongles plus tranchants le long des yeux loups. Un dernier coup d'œil sur la maison et ses compagnons, Sam se déplaça sur le côté de la maison jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit au point où les arbres se frottaient contre les anguilles. Sentant l'abri des ombres engloutir sa forme, Sam commença un jogging rapide à travers la forêt. Ses pieds nus ont laissé des empreintes dans la neige, mais sa peau est restée lisse et non perturbée par le vent froid qui bombait contre son cadre. Alors que Sam se déplaçait plus loin dans les bois environnants, son corps se déplaçait dans une croûte basse qui faisait peu pour réduire sa vitesse. Les cheveux sombres flottaient derrière la femme en mouvement, parfois jetés dans son visage par le vent fortifiant. Le vent était plus fort dans les montagnes et portait des odeurs de loin, mais à la surprise de Sam l'odeur du sang était forte – assez forte pour être proche de leur maison. L'inquiétude se répandit sur le visage de Geri tandis qu'elle sentait les loups-garous parmi le cuivre chaud du sang. Est-ce que ce nouveau loup a amené plus avec elle? Sommes-nous attaqués? Sam sauta vers le haut, s'emparant d'un gros rameau et se balançait dans l'arbre. Elle grimpait plus haut, les membres se déplaçaient avec le muscle et la facilité malgré les membres rares des arbres. Quand elle s'est sentie en sécurité dans sa hauteur, Sam a commencé à suivre l'odeur avec la plus grande prudence, devenant un nouveau murmure caché sous le vent. Il ne fallut pas longtemps pour qu'elle vienne sur les corps, qu'elle soit finalement enterrée par la neige, puis révélée par le soleil tardé. Un piège arraché de la bouche de la femme, les mains tordues dans de vraies griffes alors qu'elle s'approchait. Sentant le vent, Sam n'a trouvé personne à proximité, mais quelqu'un avait été... et ils avaient tué Ted et Susanna. Son visage commença à contorser, une muselière s'allongeant hors de son visage. Se penchant au sol et regardant vers l'extérieur en cas d'attaquants, Sam lâcha un hurlement perçant qui louait l'air de la nuit. Sasha - Skoll "Je vais aller Sasha. Je serai du côté de mon Markus." Sasha regarda Valérie sortir de la pièce, soulagé que le Lupa permettrait à Sasha de revenir aussi du côté de Markus. Même si elle savait qu'elle devait suivre ses ordres, c'était la vie de Markus qu'elle était censée protéger, pas celle de son conjoint. Bien qu'elle ait envisagé d'engager davantage d'exécuteurs, Sasha s'inquiète des problèmes potentiels qui pourraient découler de loups plus dominants. Éventant une vue rapide du relief, Sasha s'est déplacé pour suivre Valérie. Un arrêt rapide a amené la femme noire dans sa chambre pour prendre un fusil de calibre 12, scié pour un transport plus facile. En la balançant sur son épaule, Sasha a suivi la piste de Lupa avec un trot rapide et facile qui a été le bénéfice de longues jambes. Elle s'est déplacée sur le côté pour que ceux qui ont vu le Lupa ne repèrent pas immédiatement l'exécuteur, espérant prendre toute menace par surprise. Avec son rythme, elle a rapidement envahi la Lupa et suivi le murmure des voix jusqu'à ce qu'ils deviennent des mots clairs et identifiables. Elle a repéré Marrec et Markus près d'un étranger que Sasha a vite remarqué était armé. À coups de dents dans un sourire plein de malice et de plaisir, le loup-garou a balancé le fusil de chasse en avant et ralenti jusqu'à un arrêt, fixant le chasseur à ses yeux.

William "Captain" Hendrick Age:36 Gender:Male Sexual Preference:Hetero Human or Werewolf: Human Hunter Appearance: Standing tall at 6'1 with a very built figure, William has a well trimmed mustache, and keeps his dark brown hair short and neatly tucked under his hat. His face appears worn, almost as if it had aged faster than it should have. His tired looking eyes, which some mistook that as a sign that he's exhausted, are a pale green in color. Strengths: +Strong +Fearless +Good Swimmer Weaknesses: -Mentally Scarred -Slow Runner -Stubborn Personality:William is rather level headed and understanding towards people and beasts alike. However, he can come off as distant at odd times, but still intend to mean well. On a good day, he's rather talkative with strangers, and somewhat sarcastic at times as well. He can be rather courageous, and willing to go out of his way to help others if he feels they need it. On a bad day however, you may find that William will generally keep to himself and his whiskey, and spend hours reflecting on his life. History:William Hendrick comes from a proud line of werewolf hunters. His father was a hunter, and his father's father, and so on. Specialized weapons had been crafted by some of his ancestors to aid the family line in their task of protecting humans from werewolves and other terrible night creatures. Most of his childhood was about trying to live a normal life, and keeping his hunter background a secret. His father taught him how to defend himself, and all the different techniques necessary in surviving an encounter with a werewolf. William slew his first werewolf when we was nineteen. The experience was invigorating, but it was something he didn't quite enjoy. He met a girl, whom later became his wife and moved down to the coast, where he spent his free time sailing on his sailboat. This hobby of his gained him his self appointed nickname "Captain." Though his background was surely going to bring trouble to his decent life, and it did. His wife was slaughtered by an aggressive pack of werewolves that lived in the area. When he discovered this, he was devastated, and filled with rage. William tracked the beasts, systematically slaying the ones he could find. Though he would encounter a rare few, that feared him more than man feared them. The cowardly ones, those that weren't out for blood, he would lower his guns and spare their lives. Eventually William felt it best to move on, and he wandered across North America, only stopping where he saw there were clear signs of werewolf activity. A year has passed since his wife's death, and he finds himself now in the Colorado Mountains, in a town called Odessa where he rented himself a motel room to rest up and get off the road for a short while.. Other: Wielding dual .44 revolvers, loaded with silver bullets, William delivers punishment to the werewolves he encounters. His arsenal however does not stop there however. Forged many years ago is a family heirloom that his father passed onto him. A shield attached by a chain to a wrist mounted device, weighs heavily on his left arm, but has protected him from many devastating blows. With this device, he can trigger blades inside the shield to extend outward, and chuck his shield towards his prey, and retract it with the chain. Whenever this shield is with him, or resting on his back, there is a distinct sound of a chain rattling lightly with each step he takes. Other than that, he enjoys sailing, drinking, and finding new ways to kill night creatures.