[System]
Race: Vorcha

Sex:Male

Age: Five.

Class: Solder, Security Officer/Marine.

Appearance:

Slightly smaller then the average Vorcha, Duuka seems to lack much of the bodily 'improvements' that come from the vorcha's biology, suggesting that he was born somewhere that is much less hostile than Heshtok. While his skin is a pale white, Duuka is really seen without a blue and purple kind of war paint on his face, done up in a poor pattern of some kind; Those with the eye for it might recognize it as a pattern and color scheme akin to something that the quarians use for their suits, through poorly done. His eyes are a deep red color.

Background:
Born in a dark corner of the space station of Omega, Duuka was just one of many young mouths that needed to be fed in an environment that didn't provide food to do so. Despite being newly born, he fought with his newly born siblings over what scraps that was available, giving as good as he got and avoiding a painful death at the teeth of those that would remove some of the computation while making more food to go around at the same time.

He had been big and strong enough to walk (IE: A toddler) when the vorcha hunters swept through their corner of Omega to thin out their numbers; Duuka himself bolted from his attackers rather then trying to put up a fight, surviving his siblings and mother who had either believed that they could charge the solders with weapons or were simply less lucky when it came to running away.

Duuka would have no doubt died on his own if it wasn't for a quarian girl on pilgrimage that Duuka would call 'Si', due to being unable to pronounce the rest of her name when he was younger and turning it into a pet name for her once he could. Si had been rather down on her luck as far as her pilgrimage had been going, but seeing the young vorcha on his own having just escaped what was quite clearly a hunting party caused her to take pity on the small child and take him in to try and look after him.

While life was still hard for the both of them, for Duuka his time with Si was broader line heaven; He was under the care of someone who actually cared about his well being and he didn't have to fight with his siblings for scraps of food. Si even taught him how to read! During the night cycles, Si would tell him tales of her homeship and about what it meant to be a quarian.

As the years passed and Duuka grew big and strong enough to look after himself, he talked to his adoptive mother about going out on his own to find a job to help her continue her pilgrimage after taking so many years off of it to look after him; A pilgrimage of his own as he called it. As a gift to aid him on his pilgrimage, Si managed to give Duuka a Terminator I assault rifle; It was somewhat old and used, but the Batarian made assault rifle was still an impressive gift that Si refused to tell Duuka how she managed to get.

With a promise to remain in touch, Duuka went out into the galaxy with a wanted ad for a new bounty hunting group that was a forming in mind. He was going to do his best to make Si proud... Unfortunately this required him to get off station but this wasn't as difficult as it might have been for some; With Si's help, he found a ship that was heading for Ilium and slipped on-board via the cargo bay when no one was looking.

The food rations that he took with him for the trip didn't last the whole way despite his attempts to ration it out, but having grown up on Omega he was used to going periods of time without a lot of food. Arriving at Ilium was an...interesting experience. Open sky and natural sunlight were new and somewhat painful things to encounter for the first time; The first time his eyes encountered daylight it felt as if they would burn out of their sockets. Still, he was a vorcha who had been adopted by a quarian and thus could adept and endure anything.

Now all he had to do was find the meeting sight at the right time...

Equipment:
Terminator I Assault Rifle.
Junk 'Armor' (It's not so much armor as it is random junk clothing that covers his modesty and allows him to move freely).

Powers:
-Concussive Shot
-Cryo Ammo
-Disruptor Ammo
-Incendiary Ammo

Font Colour:
Orange.

[User]
"You sure did." kasyra replied glibly to the krogans statement. It was ironic, she thought, that he would say that, given that she did not really expect to survive her long term plans. "I might help fix up this wreck when we have a few parts to do it with, but don't expect me to volunteer for chief mechanic or engineer duty. Just because I'm a Quarian doesn't mean I like being neck deep in ship guts, or that I'm a technical miracle worker."

Kasyra certainly found that particular species stereotype frustrating. While basic engineering was taught to all Quarians, it was just that - basic engineering. Many of them, especially slightly older Quarians such as herself, had entirely different specialisations. She could maintain the ship to an extent, but that was it.

She was about to comment on the matter of food after an Asari mentioned how fish would not go well for her, when the human she had earlier pegged as the self declared head cook began speaking. Though he didn't explicitly state it, the way he spoke was all the statement needed. This man was definitely going to be the head cook. Kasyra did not particularly like that idea. Sure he was welcome to feed everyone else, but no way was she going to eat anything made by someone she did not know, much less a Levo cook.

It wasn't that she worried that he would intentionally poison her, so much as she had rarely met an alien that would properly account for Quarian needs. That, and she had no faith in the ability of a Levo to properly manage Dextro flavors. How could he if he could not taste it himself without puking his guts out for a month? And that was a best case scenario.

"You needn't worry about me mister master chef man." She began glibly, her tone making it clear that she didn't think much of his sudden desire to take over all aspects of the kitchen. "I'll make my own food. I'll also be buying a purifier out of my own pocket so this kitchen doesn't kill me" Had any of the Turians been around, she would've offered to cook for them too. As long as they put funds towards the ingredients of course. She wasn't running a charity.

With that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen. She didn't feel like arguing with the cook right now, he would inevitably protest and claim he was capable of feeding a Quarian. She simply didn't believe and preferred not to offend the man so early in their association. She headed to the quarters to find a spot to sleep. She didn't have any gear or other belongings beyond what she carried, so she would have to resort to leaving a note of some form marking out which bunk was hers. It did make her an easy roommate though. No mess to work around. Once she picked out a spot, she would busy herself checking her gear and resting until they reached Omega.

[Assistant]
The human ate quickly once her food was ready. She watched the room quietly then nodded to the chef when he assured her that he wouldn't use her rations. Satisfied, she finished her piping hot food within a few more bites then threw away the empty packaging. "Thanks."

She headed back to the med bay and remained there to read up on more advanced medical practices. Once the ship was docked in Omega, the young woman dressed in her armor and set her M-7 Lancer on the mag plate on her back. She checked the seals on her arms, legs, and boots then settled her helmet over her head. When the visor came alive, she looked over her levels and static buildup.

Alex walked out of the med bay and headed for the hangar. She nearly conked her head on a doorway, and grumbled to herself when she had to lean down a little further. She idly removed her gauntlet and ran a hand over a side of the ship, which caused a rather large static charge to jump off of her. Satisfied with her pre-space ritual, she replaced the gauntlet and leaned against another walk while she awaited their leader for this little school trip.

[User]
Duuka actually took a moment to consider that Krogan's words. As much as he would have liked to have claimed otherwise, he did have a point; A ship like this wouldn't have even drawn the attention of who steal shuttles and ships for spare parts beyond being pointed and laughed at.

He stayed silent as various people talked, partly because his mother always taught him that listening was an important skill and it was horribly rude to interrupt a conversation in progress if there wasn't an opening, partly because he had noticed the looks that he had received from several members of the crew; He suspected that it was because he had a basic understanding of grammar and punctuation that allowed him to minimize the inherited hiss that seemed to be present in all Vorcha. It wasn't that surprising through was it? Bloody bosh'tets.

As the matters of food came up and one of the human's decided to take over the kitchen and Kasyra had made her announcement before leaving, Duuka decided to get his own word in. "I'm good with whatever is put in front of me. I only ask that you leave the dextro food to either myself, the turians or Kasyra to prepare." He couldn't help but feel that there would be people looking at him strangely because of what he just said, causing him to become somewhat defensive as he explained "Levo races couldn't cook dextro food properly if their lives depended on it. Of sure, they can cook it so that it doesn't kill the eater, but it tends to taste horrible because they can't get the flavors right. Not their fault really, taste testing tends to result in pain and death."

Of course, any further discussion was cut off by the announcement that they had arrived in Omega. Clicking his tongue a little in annoyance at the fact that they had arrived so soon but accepting that this was the reality of the situation, Duuka turned his attention towards those crew members that were still in the kitchen; He was as ready as he was going to be already so there wasn't much need to waste time getting dressed or anything. "So... what sort of skills do we have?" He asked somewhat curiously. What skills they had on hand would go a long way to reveling what sort of jobs they should be aiming for. "...Is that a question to ask when we're all gathered together before going into Omega?"


[System]
Age: 18

Appearance: Rock n Roll

Arcana: Hanged Man

Build: 6'7"/114Kg
Personality: He is a thorough survivor. No matter the odds and no matter the enemies, he finds a way to live another day. For a life steeped in self-defense at an early age, he is still quite astute a student. Always near the top with his grades, it is after-school that he involves himself in a struggle of survival. All the while the failing health of his mother and a young sister compounding his struggle manifold. He is trained to look after himself and those he loves and no matter the odds or the sacrifices he'll see this through.

Background: Being a Gaijin in a strangely xenophobic environment isn't much good for a child. And when you are naturally as close to a bear things get ugly quickly. Born to a mixed couple in the high streets of Tokyo, Alexei hadn't hoped to get a life he got. After his father got killed in a building accident, Alexei all of 7 years was left alone to look after an ailing mother suffering from added dose of depression and a young sister he had to protect. The fact that he excelled in a strict academic system being an outsider was somewhat a cause of displeasure amongst his so called friends. As he hadn't paid heed to budding envy that sowly transformed to hate about the time the family fortune slowly trickled out of the coffers to look after his family.

So young Alexei, took various oddjobs to earn what little he could and help in anyway he can. He took over his mother's trade account, a gift from his foresighted father and at an early age began to study the share-market as closely he can. He knew whatever jobs he did will only barely scrape them through, it was the money from transactions in the shares that will be the major chunk. He also took upon the cleaning duties of the house and his mother since they couldn't afford help from outside.

Then came the decision of shifting to a cheaper locale with an accessible hospital, His sister's good education and development of hobbies and other such things. All the while, the fires that stoked envy in his contemporaries grew stronger. Then an incident happened. Heavily labored as he was, he now had to fight for his skin and his family's. As his sister was the mode to get a decent hit on him. Her Karate instructor, a brother of his classmate tried to molest her and though like many victims she tried to hide it, Alexei sniffed it out.

Heartbreak was followed by a bout of insane wrath as he flew into his dojo and beat the man into a bloody pulp, making more enemies on the way. This meant that it was judicious to leave town and thus, the Dragunovs came to Warakuma. Learning from his experience, he trains himself in jiujitsu at the local dojo, juggles gym, works in a construction company as part-time, manages the account of his mother and is the nanny to his sister along with being subjected to strange dreams and a long nosed Russian.

Equipment/Skills: pack of Luckies, keys to bike, wrist wraps and a zippo.

Persona: Prometheus - Prometheus was one of the Titans to side with Zeus and his siblings in the great war against the Titans, the original occupiers of Mount Olympus. When Zeus won the war and banished Prometheus' brethren to Tartarus for eternity, Prometheus and his brother Epimethius were given the task of populating the earth with creations. Epimetheus, who created the beasts of the world, gave his creations all of the gifts that could be bestowed, leaving Prometheus with nothing to give to Humanity. To compensate, Prometheus stole fire from Mount Olympus, incurring Zeus' wrath. However, it wasn't until he taught mankind how to trick the gods that he was given his ultimate punishment. Chained to a rock for all time, his liver was eaten every day by a great eagle sent by Zeus. Immortal, he could never die and his liver would regrow. And so he suffered, until the Greek hero Herakles freed him from his torment during the course of his famous Twelve Labors.

Appearance:

Abilities: Agi, Makatranda

Non-Persona Users

Name: Sagat Shrichapan
Age: 17
Build: 6'1"/ 89kgs
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Backstory: The tall dark guy who was mostly avoided of the aura he gave off. Sagat didn't have many friends in Yokohama where his family had lived for three generations. So when the offer of a possible opportunity of taking over a Thai restaurant came to his father, Sagat had hardly anything to lose from the shift. Warakuma was a silent pocket in the interior of Japan and though the people didn't give a oppressive xenophobic feeling like in his birthplace, many people still avoided him. With no underground scene to keep himself busy he took up the charge of server in the restaurant his father was planning of overtaking.

Trained in Muay Boran from a young age, he is a dangerous and belligerent fighter in the ring, his personality changing a lot within the four ropes. He was famous as the 'Daitengu of Yokohama' in the underground circuit back at his birthplace. He has come to Warakuma to change the pace somewhat.

Name: Inoue Matsuhita
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Appearance:
Build: 5'8"/ 59Kg

Backstory: Growing up Inoue was the fat girl that most her classmates made fun off, it gave her a serious complex of her appearance. When in Junior school she tried joining the martial arts club to improve herself she was mocked and mistreated for her bulging girth. Her pride wounded and self confidence down the drain, she came home crying and swore to not go school again. After a few days of constant convincing her mother finally changed the little girl's heart and as an added bonus found her a coach.

Seiji Mitsuhara, was a man of few words and even fewer things to lose. He was a martial artist who had fallen on bad days as he had gone bankrupt by his agent's swindling and was in dumps. When Inoue's mother approached with a earnest request, he thought he could make enough buck to live a average life. He moved to Warakuma and began his mission to transform Inoue.

Little by little as a mallet forges a fine blade Seiji remade Inoue, a prodigy hidden under all that lard. Four years of home schooling and a regimen that made her cough sweat out of her lungs he unleashed her in the Middle school tournament. Her final fight lasted a record one minute and with it her confidence and pride was restored. With a knowledge that those who mocked her could never be where she is and they'd always find a way to show her down she stopped giving a fuck.

She kept on training and slowly her ambition grew, the gruesome world of MMA being on her list next. Her intense home training continued but now she had company at school, two guys who were as far from the norm as oil to water.

[User]
Ayano Wakahisa: Wakahisa Residence
Date: Sunday, April 19th
---
As the sun shone and the birds chirped signaling a brand new day, Ayano who was still in her bed, didn't even bother to get up. What would this day bring about? As she laid there in her sheets, the girl looked up at the ceiling with a blank expression in her face, it felt like she was asleep for a decade, was she hibernating? She thought to herself. Her mind refocused back to better things, she pushed her blankets away and got out of her bed, stretching a few as she stood up. Grabbing her cellphone that was on her bedside table, the girl began to flip through her messages, she could've sworn she got one from a friend of hers an hour ago or two...What time was it anyway? Looking at the top-right corner of her phone, the girl saw that it was already 10:00 in the morning, no surprise there. After checking the time the girl finally found the message and it read:

"Hey, Yan~ Did ya know the mall is having an event today? There's a huge assortment of stuff! Threads, fabrics, and other crafting items!
There's also a sale on clothes, you know so you don't always wear those same bleak shirts you wear everyday?

Ayano chuckled at the message, her sense of fashion never was colorful. Maybe it was high-time she deviated from the norm for once? At least she had something to do now. After having the usual breakfast talk with her family and gussying up after her bath, Ayano set out to the mall.
---
Ayano Wakahisa: Warakuma Mall
Jeez, her friend was right, there WAS some sort of happening at the mall, what she didn't mention was that the mall was packing. Seriously, the sheer amount of people made Ayano uncomfortable just being there. Her first instinct was to get out, but she was here to shop, right?

As soon as Ayano entered the boutique, she was overcome by a scent that wafted through her nose. "Ugh, smells like cheap perfume..." She said while trying to cover her nose and swaying her hand as if to make the smell go away. Eventually overcoming the scent, the young girl found herself browsing through an assortment of clothes. She wasn't looking for a specific one in particular, just one that would nudge her sense of fashion from 'Blank and Bleak' to something with a tad more color. Neon was out of the question though. Digging through the selections some more, she found in the corner of her eye something that stood out. Deciding that she's got nothing to lose, Ayano grabbed the shirt and unfolded it, getting a closer look. Hey, a shirt that actually had a design she liked! It featured a group shot of characters from a game she was playing, with the title being laid out in the center. A smile on her face, Ayano entered the changing room and tried it on, to her surprise, it actually fit! Feeling happy with her choice, Ayano paid for it instantly. New shirt in hand she exited the boutique. While walking along the confines of the mall, the girl suddenly got a text message, from the same friend who had texted her earlier.

"Oh, forgot to mention. There's this new electronics shop opening soon, might wanna check it out some time soon!"

An electronics shop, eh? Why they didn't open that sooner is beyond her reasoning, but once it opens, Ayano vows that she will set foot in it.

[Assistant]
Keiko Kobashigawa - Warakuma Mall - Sunday, April, 19, 2015 -

The mall was bustling today, it reminds her of the city, it was a nice change of pace. She always feels like people are staring at her clothes when she walks through town, it was well worn but today auntie got her first cheque which was large, larger than Keiko would expected. Auntie has given her a large amount of the money and she told Keiko to buy some new clothes and have fun. Which is what's she doing, Keiko missed how it feels to buy stuff that isn't to just survive. She has already bought five bags of clothes for herself, a bag for auntie and two pairs of shoes.

All this shopping has almost distracted her from what Rui said, Keiko learned where he lived, but she decided she was just over thinking his comment and just decided to go shopping instead of worrying for nothing, but she will still worried for Matthew he hasn't showed up yet. Maybe Matthew will like a flower for when he comes back. A welcome back gift for when he returns.

But these bags are getting heavy as she walked, and somebody just gotten into an accident, she should rest for a bit before that happens to her.
Keiko just dropped into the nearest bench, with a sigh of relief. Keiko placed her bags on the ground, it was getting warm.

[User]
Shizuka Otonashi || Warakuma Mall || April 19 SUN
Just as Shizuka was despairing at how much difficulty she was having to retrieve the fabrics with her dark tresses being on the way of her sight, two- no, three people generously came to assist the poor "half blind" girl. She felt embarrassed to have them gather up her belongings for her but very much appreciated the help nonetheless. Just when the other female who picked up one of the fabrics shoved one person and created a domino effect of people colliding, Shizuka flinched in shock and felt slightly guilty for the people involved.

While she quickly stuffed the last of her fabric back into a bag, a gentle hand placed itself upon her shoulder with a voice of concern. Her gaze averted from the plastic bag to the gorgeous, foreign female at her side, who she couldn't help but stare for a moment even if the other may not be able to tell. It wasn't Shizuka's first encounter with someone of a foreign origin but how she seemingly spoke fluent Japanese surprised her, that and she had to appreciate how attractive she was, which was perfect if she ever got around to cosplaying.

Snapping back to reality, the raven haired female flashed a faint smile and replied, "O-Oh, I'm quite alright... I-I apologize for the trouble, but thank you for your concern and I'm truly grateful for your assistance. And my, you and the other gentleman have quick hands, the mess was cleaned up in such a haste." Speaking of the male who assisted her, upon closer inspection, his face felt slightly familiar... Perhaps someone from school? It wasn't everyday you'd see a foreign student in a Japanese school, which tends to make them stand out whether in a positive or negative way.

Another female voice was speaking to Shizuka, to which her attention was given to. While what the other was telling her seemed like a warning, she supposed it was her way of being concerned for the apologetic girl. Taking her advice, she stood back on her feet and dusted herself before explaining, "Um... I-It's only polite to apologize to someone who you unintentionally bump onto, bu-but I suppose you're right. It was rather rude of her to, but accidents are prone on a day like this. I-... I'll be more careful, thank you miss."

[Assistant]
Alexei Dragunov | Warakuma Shopping Center

"Ah! thank you, Onee-san!" said Elena with a blush from the compliment from the other girl. Though she was displeased by the rude interuption by the other girl, her features didn't convey a hint of her displeasure. She removed her hand from the girl's shoulder and continued after a pause.

"Oni-san here taught me the quick-fold. Well, I'm glad that you are alright. I'm Elena Dragunov. Do you need help with carrying the bags someplace? Maybe you can sit someplace and check if all the stuff is alright." she said cheerfully as Alexei looked at them. Standing to his towering height as everyone got up.

"You go on ahead and take a look, Kotchishka. I'll help her settle and join you." Alexei interrupted with his deep baritone. Giving the girl a full look to see if there were any injuries. Elena just nodded and bowed before she hopped towards the sale. Her objective was complete, with effectively making Alexei help the girl she could possibly look for a good gift for her brother.

"Should I carry those for you, Miss?" Alexei asked in a polite grumble.


[System]
"Oh Jesus, are you even trying?"
T H E . O R I G I N A T O R
Age:
Sixteen
Height; Weight:
5'5"; 149lbs
Stripes:
Ten
Reason for Admission:
- Flooded the boy's bathroom with ink and doodles... Three separate times.
- Sent little, scary drawings into the girl's locker room on multiple occasions.
- Started one too many scarps in the school yard (that smile of his started wars, one of the teachers had said).
Years Admitted:
Four

---

Special Abilities:
Art Manipulation
Physical Strength:
Hideously weak. No, seriously, Robin bruises easier then a peach and sometimes has trouble even opening a door. He isn't unhealthy in the slightest, in fact he's quite harsh on himself when it comes to eating right and exercising, but in the end he just finds himself with lack luster muscles and an inability to change this fact about himself. He's quick but not extremely so, and seems to have two left feet. Overall rating: 3/10
Mental Strength:
What Robin lacks in physicality he makes up for in smarts. Brute strength is replaced with brute honesty, wailing fists pushed aside for startling, harsh commentary. He is a little spitfire, a smiling manic with a mouth he obviously keeps unfiltered to rile people up. Robin has the eyes of an artist (albeit, a bad artist) and he uses his observant nature to point out various flaws and insecurities of people, places, or things. His bad mouth has often gotten him into trouble, and his excuse for all the horrid yet intellectually accurate words he spews is normally "I don't like lying to people's faces, ya know?" Due to his mental-oriented nature, he is relatively well off in the ways of mental fortitude. Overall rating: 9/10
Weaknesses:
* Drawing: Yes, an art manipulator with the inability to draw (draw well at least). Even if Robin is aware of his sucky art he never lets on. Sometimes he'll draw a scribble and look proud, but in the end it's just a scribble that will eventually leap off the page to wreak havoc and nothing more.
* Fighting: Robin likes to stay on the analytical side of things and often lets his drawings do the dirty work for him. He bruises easy and isn't a fan of violence in general, even if his words say otherwise.
* Observant People: People who can see through his smiley facade scare him, greatly.
* Water: Like, really. Water gets all his papers soaked and all the colors bleed together to make an even bigger mess than before. It's a real mess when Robin and water collide.
* Women: Gynophobia, the fear of women in a social and physical sense. Spurred from Robin's awful mother, he often has trouble talking to and approaching women in public, and will at times scurry away in an effort not to see any at all.

Restrained?:
Yes
Details:
Robin's restriction is literally censorship. Yep, when his words or drawings get too out of control, his collar puts into act a various amount of bleeps or blurs to ensure that Robin can no longer speak out with his horrid words or draw anything too big and deadly-looking.

---

Background Info:
Robin liked drawing. Ever since he was young he made hideous attempts at art and showed it off like masterpieces. The first time his power came into action he was five and he had just drawn a huge bunny-cat combo. It leapt off the page with vigor and trotted across his room savagely, spurred by the boy's imagination alone. Robin had to squash it with a book to get it to vanish. He drew more creatures after that and honed his powers. His mother called him a freak. His father called him a genius. Robin called himself "an artist".

Robin didn't like his mother. She was the opposite of a war; she was boring and chilling and lazy. Her voice gave Robin nightmares and he eventually grew a fear of all women because she was either overbearing or nothing at all.

He went to public school and did well in most classes, besides gym. He always got caught trying to sneak out in gym. The extra punishment laps never helped him like the class any better.

Robin hung around as the head of a small school gang once. They enjoyed his plots and followed his word like monkeys. He liked them. They ended up not liking him after a certain smile and harsh set of language and devised to bully him one day in the boy's restroom. That was the first instance of ink and doodles running rampant. The entire first floor men's restroom was coated with ink stains for the rest of the year. Robin looked pleased rather then apologetic.

This accident happened many more times after that.

The second time it happened Robin was skipping class. The third time was Robin getting some relief from his boredom. The fourth incident happened when one of the taller girls got too close and scared the hell outta him. The last incident happened when he sent a few naughty scribbles out to rile up some upperclassmen. He was locked sent away for good after that.

Interests:
* Mischief: Robin's one true love. His words are normally meant to stir the waters in an effort to spawn some issues or playful problems. Of course, they're also the reason he often ends up with black eyes and bloody noses.
* Drawing: Even if he's god awful at it, drawing still helps Robin unwind and his creations are helpful, even if they're a bit harder to control.
* People Watching: "It's not perverse, it's just a hobby!" Robin enjoys looking out for peoples weak spots, and people watching is just how he does so.
* Graffiti: Though Robin is god awful at sketching and painting, he is surprisingly adept at graffiti, and when given the time and place and items he'll gladly put his tag up (in record time to boot!)
* Smiling: Robin's snarky grins have earned him a reputation of being a "fake ass". He'll smirk even when he's putting down another poor soul with his harsh words. Sometimes a more sadistic light can be caught shining between his teeth, but for all intents and purposes they're just regular, seedy smirks. And he loves making them, for some reason.
* Cooking: Robin's a killer chef, and he adores making food as much as he enjoys eating it.

Other:
* Estranged from his mother
* Really likes animated movies
* Really hates sweets

[User]
T H E . S E C O N D . D A Y
The school gates were wide open, the small shops by the entrance bustling with life. Children cried in their parents' arms if the parents were present, cheering up only when offered a treat. The entrance ceremony had been yesterday, and today, the visitors that had come with the new students were leaving. Childhood friends said their goodbyes, promising to meet during the upcoming break, and those with no one to greet them made their ways to their rooms.

Even the rooms were solitary, with no windows. Those who had family with them found it awkward sleeping in such a suffocating room. Those who'd been there years before found it familiar. The air conditioner helped cool down the stuffiness of the room, and besides Greenwing wouldn't be Greenwing without it's shitty dorms.

As the noon slowly crawled past, more and more visitors started to leave, even the shop owners starting to close up shop. Food trucks were the first to go, followed slowly by the disassembly of the stalls. The front gates that was clogged with life only a day and a few hours ago slowly dwindled to the Greenwing Academy student body, gathering as their collars prevented them from following after their family, some teens picking up younger children over their shoulders to wave after the disappearing crowd.

As the gates shut close with a loud BANG, the speakers on all of the watch towers clicked on, buzzing the familiar, "FREE PERIOD" warning that so many returnees had been greeted with before. Confused new students looked around, past students immediately doing whatever they tended to do. A few stragglers watched from the gate as they watched two cruise ships sail off the island, trying to wave to a haze that was indistinguishable.

And thus, another year of Greenwing Academy began.

[Assistant]
Justice Rivera

---

Reddened tan skin tickled a young boy's face as he stood with others, waving goodbye to a disappearing crowd. He'd turned his mother, who had unwillingly gone along to send him off to school, as a child momentarily before the crowd dispersed, earning a well deserved smack on the face. The woman didn't hold back even despite Justice having reverted to a child, he mused, holding the gate with his now much smaller hands.

"Well, time to look for some familiar faces," he grinned, pulling away from the gates and rushing past new students. Considering the actual school year didn't start until tomorrow, the day's free time allowed the prisoners-- ah, the students-- have some time to explore the school without being dressed in uniform. Some kids-- either new or just really enthusiastic about school rules-- had their black and white uniforms already on, but little children (like the kind Justice was pretending to be) were dressed in clothes their parents had helped them with before they left.

He made his way towards the statue by the fountain, where a girl slightly taller than him with long white hair played with the water. A few other kids played in the water itself, one even completely submerged, Justice making his way to sit on the ground beside the white haired girl. "Hola Gabby," he greeted with a playful grin, dipping his hand in the water as well, trying to grasp at the water and letting it slip past his tan fingers. "What's for lunch tomorro?"

"No lunch," said the girl-- who upon closer investigation would be revealed as just a very pretty boy-- "Cafeteria's closed tomorrow."
"Haha, funny, You like jokes? Seriously though, what is it--"
Gabriel gave a small frown, touching the collar on their neck before glancing up at the sun that shone over the large walls of the city. "Oh wait, haha, not tomorrow. There's the usual lunch sets and like.... pizza--"

The conversation was cut short by water being splashed in Justice's face, at which the teen in a boy's body stood up, pitching a, "Yo what the fuck--" a grin on his face as he clambered on top of the edge of the fountain to jump on who he assumed was the perperator's back--

---

---

Peridot King

---

Curly blonde locks waved in the wind as a girl hung upside down on a tree northeast of the open space, skirt showing off uniform shorts that were probably stolen. Using her hands as pretend binoculars, she searched the school, from the guards atop the watchpoints to the fights on the ground that weren't being stopped, she focused in and out of each scene with pretend, "Vweeeeeeen," noises paired with small bubbles escaping her lips as she did so.

"Such pretty little kiddies this new year," he cooed, grabbing the bottom portion of her jaw in excitement, her upper teeth clamping down on her knuckles. "I gotta go and greet em, I gotta~" As she pulled herself up with much trouble, holding her breath as her stomach hurt from the effort, her hand slipped and soon she was falling a distance below, her laugh accented by large bubbles escaping her lips.

[User]
Robin observed the crowd, as he so often did, and chuckled to himself.

They were all the same, every year. Every single knew child stood in wait for direction and every returning soul ambled along to their posts, ready for another year of Hell. It was a fun passed time, watching confused or apathetic faces shift, especially when his collar was kicked in and he was unable to greet anyone or draw anything without being blurred and bleeped like some kind of indecent act on the TV. His eyes skipped across familiar and unfamiliar faces as he crumbled paper in his fist and pressed his back against a rough tree, feeling grounded by the splinters that pricked through his uniform. He chuckled again, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he stared idly at a certain gathering of children.

They were all newbies, he could tell by the curious curve of their brow and shifting of their hands. One of them looked about his age, sixteen, and she was folding her hands over and over as if trying to start a fire without anything to catch it. She said something quietly to the boy on her left (?a brother?) and the boy sighed and turned towards the gate. His gaze was forlorn. How pretty. Robin followed his gaze for a moment and then returned to staring.

Another game he liked to play was "Guess the Freak", and it was best done at the beginning of the year, where new meat remained foreign and unknown in his mind's eye. The girl and the boy seemed painfully average (and related. Robin noticed their shared noses and pale hair), but the collars around their neck signified their need for punishment. Robin touched his own collar and muttered a vivid swear weird. A harsh beep emitted just in time to cancel the hideous waste of vocabulary, and Robin winced as he saw a few eyes turn his way, curious and new. He returned his stare to the two possible siblings, ignore the whispers and gazes, and watched. He watched and watched and watched until the girl did something of note. She ran her finger along the inside of the choker. Something sparked. His mind screamed lightning freak! and, just as she attempted whatever she wanted to do, a minimal shock of electricity burst from her collar. She straightened and drew her finger away, babbling suddenly and quickly to her brother. And her brother, confused, placed a hand to his own collar and gulped.

They discovered a restraint. Robin discovered a new girl to avoid.

He eventually grew tired of the view and sighed, eyes turning down to stare idly at the blurry, scribble-picture of what would have been a rad-looking snake if not for his own restraint. The blur was impossible to see through. Stupid, stupid school. Robin let his head fall back hard against the splintering. And, with narrowed eyes, he wondered where the few kids he knew well were hiding.


[System]
Age: 28

Class: Fighter/Captain

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Raikon is a tall, well built man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 220lbs he is an imposing figure to behold while on the battlefield. His intimidating size is mitigated by a very kind face, constant genuine smile, and expressive green eyes. He has bright red hair cut short on the sides and left slightly longer on top, with side burns that connect to his beard, which is well kept and trimmed. His hands and forearms are marked by a smattering of scars from years of battle, others, more serious, are hidden under his armor and clothing.

Character Perk: Optimistic Leader- Raikon tries to see the best in everything, and always finds a ray of hope to guide him. He inspires his comrades to action, providing a resistance to intimidation, fear, and mental spell effects to them and himself.

Character Flaw: Sore Loser- When things don't go his way Raikon can have a hard time letting go, often trying to gain victory even when defeat is already assured. Others will have to force him to stand down, even if it means injury or death.

----------

Alignment: Chaotic Good

STR: 16
DEX: 12
CON: 14
INT: 10
WIS: 12
CHA: 14

Abilities:

Unshakable- Raikon is an experienced veteran and does not lose his composure in the midst of battle. He cannot be flanked unless it is from behind.

Quick Draw- Raikon can switch between his weapons and shield almost instantly, never losing a step in battle.

Last Stand- If Raikon were to receive a mortal blow, he may take one last offensive action before becoming incapacitated.

Skills:

Diplomacy (60)
Intimidate (20)
Sense Motive (60)
Perception (40)
Survival (20)

Spells: Raikon has no inherent magical ability.

Armor: Raikon wears a padded undershirt, chainmail armor, and a belted, hard dark leather tunic. His hands are protected by thick leather gloves which match his rough leather boots. Chainmail hosen are held tightly to his legs with strap and belts to maximize mobility and protection.

Weapons: His weaponry is varied with a javelin on his back, long shining steel sword strapped to his left hip, and a round steel shield hanging from his right. He also carries two sharp daggers tucked between his weapon belts.

Items/Misc: Raikon carries a backpack with various supplies including a 20ft coil of rope, tinder and firebox, maintenance gear such as whet stones and oil, rations and a water skin, thin wire, a bedroll, oiled tarp and waterproof cloak. He also has a collapsible oil lantern and basic medical supplies: A needle, thread, bandages, and herbs to fight back infection.

Biography:

In the capital city of the kingdom Mejise, in a small two room hut, a young boy with hair like fire learned a very early lesson about life and death. As his father beat his mother senseless on the floor of their shack, a young Raikon Delnai learned that often times there will be no one there to help you, and that sometimes to protect one you must kill another.

Raikon took his fathers sword and struck him through the side, instantly killing him and saving his mother. Free of his wickedness, his mother guided Raikon along a path of gentleness, teaching him to use his strength and courage to protect others, and to always be a careful, loving man.

The lessons were reforged and refined many times as Raikon grew to adulthood. He joined the military at 16 to protect his mother and city from enemy invasion. The empire of Burena had become greedy, and had lashed out on the independent provinces at her border, intent on gaining land and strength. As the battles went on, the trials of his position forged iron bands around his heart. He proved himself to be a capable warrior and effective leader, eventually gaining the ear of the generals around him. He continued to learn: to command, to inspire. As the war went on from months to years, and it was looking as though it would go on forever, he learned that sometimes it takes only one person standing fast for just a moment longer to make a difference, and that he could be that person.

In the final battle for Mejise, his comrades had nearly all fallen to the hands of the Burean military. The few survivors were hiding behind the walls, waiting for the enemy to finish their breach, and storm the final stronghold. Raikon fought along the battlements alone, taking down the enemy archers who had managed to entrench themselves. With the way clear, he descended into the courtyard, and began to barricade the final door alone. It wouldn't have been enough, but his courage inspired those around him, and more men felt the fire relight in their hearts. They continued fighting the enemy off until, finally, Burena retreated and the castle held.

The tide had turned, and a year later the war was won. Raikon had aged into a fine commander, and under his leadership Mejise rebuilt their fortifications, reworked alliances, and found a time of safety once again. But it wasn't long before Burena became hungry once more. With the enemy military mobilizing, Raikon and a small band of like minded mercenaries came together, marching to offer their services to defend the independent nations of the free Eastern lands.

[User]
At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably.

Then how did we get here?

With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice.

Wait, what the hell?

He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real.

Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means…

There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"

[Assistant]
He turned back and looked at the man named Caspian as he introduced himself, nodding his head in a short bow. He frowned and thought back to the places he'd been. "Its nice to meet you Caspian. Kalakyth, Where is that? I've been all over the eastern lands, I've never heard of the place." He grumbled, scratching the back of his head, "Where in the world are we?"

He spun around quickly, his hand reaching to his sword out of habit, as he heard the newcomer call out to them. When he saw the man had stayed a good distance away and appeared relatively unarmed he relaxed, letting his hand back down to his side. Caspian answered before he could, and the man seemed to lose interest almost instantly and started mumbling to himself and wandering around. An elf and... whoever that was. He sighed and shook his head, feeling a dark weight start to form in the pit of his stomach.

He watched the newcomer walk over to the window. He could hear the man talking about something but couldn't make out the words as he hadn't followed. But he saw the jacketed figure reaching and peering out the window and his gaze followed. He could see the icy mountains beyond, the frost and icicles clinging to the window ledge. The dark feeling grew. Magic, something he had no experience with and never understood.

Raikon glanced back over to the short blonde next to him, wondering what secrets he may be hiding as well. He felt oddly out of place, which only compounded the feeling of confusion that was building within him. He took two slow breaths and set his jaw, remembering to focus only on what was important. He looked around for supplies and signs of activity. First he had to make sure they were safe, and took advantage of everything possible.

He saw the cloak on the steps, broken casks of what could have been ale or mead long ago. None of that was useful. With the growth being undisturbed it looked as though the four of them were the first to be in this place in as long as they had been alive, probably longer. He shivered with unease, and turned to look at the statues. He didn't recognize the construction, everything looked ancient. His eyes moved up to the giant red ruby, or whatever it was being held by the center statue. The back of his head throbbed, and he remembered for a moment deciding to pray at the temple before going back to the inn, pray for their lost comrades. He remembered a great red stone. Everything else was a hazy mess.

His eyes looked down to just above the statue, and he wondered if he could climb up, or get someone else to reach the small wooden rails he could see positioned there. Raikon looked back to the dark haired man pondering at the window. He seemed to have an interest in the magic of this place, and Raikon wondered whether the gem or his memory would mean anything to the fellow. He looked over to Caspian and held out a hand. "I'll be right back," and then walked over to the steps. He called out to the other man at the window, "You there! Come here for a moment. What do you make of this gemstone?"

[User]
Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. "Oh, that's… huh. I wonder…" He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. "Oooh, that's interesting. But it's… no, wait."

He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don't know why we're here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They're not enemies yet. They're lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. "Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn't I?" he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited.

He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. "Well, it's big and red. Gems don't usually get that big though, so it's probably magical," he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. "Yeah, magical… and I think I've seen that… yes!" The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. "Yes, that it's. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can't say that for certain." He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. "I'll need a closer look to be sure…"

After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Dacheus. I'm a mage," he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. "But I guess that's obvious."

[Assistant]
He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word *mage* circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus."

He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind.

He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."


[System]
The Basics
Nicknames/Titles:
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Home Planet: Lothal
Race: Human
Sexuality: Straight
Force Sensitive: Yes, but doesn't know it, nor does he really care.
If yes, to what extent is their control over the Force:
Weapon(s): A-116 Marksmen Blaster Pistol, Modified E-11 Long-Range blaster mostly for scouting areas.
Loyalty: First Order
Position: Smuggler/Marksmen/Mercenary/Bounty Hunter

The Face Stuff
Height: 6'2''
Weight: 197 lbs.
Body Build: Athletic
Notable Injuries/scars: A scar that starts below his left ear and comes across to the end of his jaw.
Hair color: Jet Black
-Length: Shoulder
-Style: Ponytail typically
Eye color(s): Blue
Skin tone: Tanned

Marking/Tattoos: None
Clothing: Highly Modified Baragwin Shadow Armor with a dark blue color to it.along with a targeting assessor.
-Anything notable of the clothing: The First Order's symbol directly on the chest

The Good Stuff
Biography:

Joran doesn't remember exactly anything from his childhood except that he would do anything to scrap by. From about the age of nine, he was taken in by a man that taught him how to fire a blaster to defend himself. From that point, the man took him under his wing, allowing him to grow into a mercenary that no longer had to fight to just get by. They would take on numerous missions for the Empire, but nothing that really put him in any limelight, as he most kept to the shadows.

The once Mercenary eventually was made a complete First Order agent who spends most of his days doing exactly what that man did for him. Give some Orphaned children a purpose. He felt he gave them a life instead of them starving on the streets, begging, or being taken to a worse fate. At least this way they would grow to have a fighting chance against the universe. At least that was always how he rationalized it, which was the same way it had been rationalized to him.

The First Order has made sure that they have kept him on their payroll, even if he isn't out on a mission, as they feel he is a valueable asset to them. While he himself not even realizing it, not that he would really care if he knew, he is force sensitive, which was another reason they have kept him on the payroll, and around.
Personality: A very crass, unapologetic person. Doesn't care if he offends people with his dialouge, nor does he really care if he steps on peoples toes when it comes to having a set plan in stone. He believes firmly that you cannot account for every variable, so why bother even trying to plan out things, as he would rather just react to the events taking place over wasting time. To him, every second planning something is a second he could be doing just about anything else. He refuses to tone himself done for anyone.

Like: Spicy Foods, High Paying Jobs, Taking Risks, Gambling, Explosions caused by him.
Dislikes: Waiting long periods of time, Being forced into planning out details, other Bounty Hunters/Smugglers. Sweet Foods. Explosions by other people directed at him.
Triggers/Hot Button: Plans
Skills/Strengths: Improvisation, Dependable/Reliable, Highly skilled Marksman, Charismatic, Outgoing
Flaws/Weaknesses: Impatient, Reactive, Never Has a Plan, Hot-Headed. Abrasive, Crass, Crude

[User]
Why she allowed him to touch her let along hold her was beyond her but she enjoyed it and thus didnt care. As she laid with her and wrapped his arms around her she let out a throaty whine noise-one of contentment.

She snickered against him, "We are already partners Joran." Her nail grazing the skin on the back of his neck now, "Snoke told me my mission was to train you until I see fit. When youre a full Force Master then we can put in that request." Perhaps a bit formal in speaking but she did want to go on more missions with him.

She relaxed as he asked her of The Force, "The Force manifests itself inside of midiclorian-something that is inside of everything. There are some who are able to control the midiclorian in high amounts. Those are the Force Users. The Jedi, the Sith, The Gray Ones-they are only a few lables for those who can perform such tasks like moving heavy objects or mind tricks. There are some with control over other aspects of The Force like you or me." She pulled him a little tighter to her at the thought of that vision again. She paused another moment as that Orange saber flashed in her mind. "In short, yes. The Force is all around us."

[Assistant]
"You have the most adorable giggle." Joran decided to tease her a bit, as he just enjoyed giving her some shit every now and then. "Don't worry... you secret is safe with me." His smile never left his face as he yawned just a little bit that he had been stiffing for a little while. "Though that doesn't mean I won't use it to my advantage."

"Well we need to make it known that I have no intention of not being your partner. You make things so much more fun." He could feel her body getting closer to him, which he gave no objections to. Slowly he pulled her more on top of his body, so that he could really tuck the blanket around them, and hopefully be more comfortable to her, since the bed was only meant for one person. "I feel at ease around you... Like the stress of a mission doesn't exist. I haven't felt this comfortable... ever."

"Do you think the Force influences things? Like connects people to each other?" He was now wondering just how much the Force had to do with the fact that they were in a bed, together, like this. "Because if that's the case, I Feel like I can dig being Force Sensitive. It's brought me someone to trust." His eyes closed as his breath slowly started to stabilize.

[User]
Solaras groaned as he made a moment of using it to his advantage. Force, she didnt even know she was ticklish there until this mission!

"Im quite sure people will understand the arrangement in due time. In case you couldnt tell Im severly feared with and without the helmet." Her form adjusted so that one leg was hiked up and her arms slipped around him ever so gently.

Solaras wondered what he meamt by his words. "Honestly, I do not know. As much as I like to plan I dont question fate or the flow of everything in thag sense. We have our own decisions to make and they intermingle with others leading to conclusions and such...." she lifted her head to look at him curiously with a light tint to her cheeks. She lowered her head again, listening to his heart beat slow, hers following in suit.

She snuggled into him as she too felt the grip of sleep upon her. "It brought me happiness..." she quietly mumbled enjoying this moment until she fully slipped into darkness.

[Assistant]
The shift into the world of dreams was always so weird to Joran, as he always knew that he was actively dreaming. Well, at least normally that was the case. But in this one moment, he didn't know what to believe. He couldn't remember how he even got to this point, or what had lead to this point. This point being an extravagant wedding that would bring politicians and a ton of others to the wedding. It was apparently to be heralded as the wedding of the century.

The two subjects? Why Solaras Apontha and Joran Jace, two of the highest ranked members of the First Order. Both of which had recently resurfaced with a Vengeance, having personally led a space battle against the New Republic. The war was still brewing, but this also caused a much needed Cease Fire between both sides.

Standing beside him was Solaras, her hair down and she was wearing a beautiful dress. Their hands were softly locked as he looked over at her smiling. "This mission was your idea, and yet I feel like this was an elaborate scheme." The smile was his traditional infectious one that held a certain charm to it, something that completely matched the tuxedo he was wearing. "If you wanted to marry me, you just had ask, you didn't have to make up some mission to lure people in."

Apparently this was the only real way to draw a bulk of the politicians that needed to be slaughtered like the pigs they were into one area. Solaras' marriage to the Smuggler Extraordinaire himself. This had been his first mission since being captured by the Republic, and had taken months to actually setup. "I mean, you got person that could actually marry us and everything. You'd think that we'd just fake it. I think someone just doesn't want to admit it. You just can't stand the thought of me looking anyone else.... Not that I do or have!" He quickly added, knowing not to upset her on the wedding day.

[User]
In a breath her consciousness slipped only to return to her in full. Her hair was down, her face full of makeup and her body being weighted down by a breathtaking dress. Her hand was linked in the warm hand of another. She followed her own arm to see it connected to Joran's. Looking at him fully her breath caught in her throat. He looked amazing. The words came from her with her own signature look of an arced brow, "Fine then." She grinned evilly as she leaned a little closer towards him. "Joran Jace will you marry me?" She paused a moment before grinning wider and winking before standing up straight again, gripping his hand a tad harder for a moment.

The smirk on her face as a plan of slaughtering officials came to the forefront of her mind, the sabers strapped to her thighs feeling chilled against her skin. "Some how some way they would know if it was faked, they're politicians my dear." She batted her eyes at him, her stomach flipping as she looked at him again. She squeezed his hand once again with a tint across her face, "You're right. I can't." She looked away a moment trying to hide her face from him. The mere thought of him being with another sent a pulse of anger through her that she quickly stopped. "Besides...I don't really know what I would do without you by my side."

[Assistant]
"Does this mean I am taking your last name? Are you taking mine? How does this work?" Joran teased a bit in only the way that he could in a moment like this. Of course they would be killing a few people in a few moments, but at the same time, technically this was going to be a legally binding marriage. Though that caused the butterflies to flutter in his stomach. She had rescued him, those memories flooded his mind as he could feel everything that had happened before this moment for some reason. This was the most realistic dream he could ever remember being in.

"You would be the most beautiful politician to still not have a significant other. You could do a billion times better than some smuggler." The after affects of the... torture? There was some kind of torture he was slowly starting to remember as he closed his eyes. It was as if something washed over him painfully for a moment, and then suddenly he remembered everything, and just knew she could be with anyone in the universe she wanted. There had been plenty of suitors after her during their last time of Coruscant, that he had told her to go after, because it was in the direct aftermath of his torture.

[User]
"Joran Apontha...Solaras Jace.... I like the later better." She lightly mused to herself. A light laugh bubbling up from her throat to add to the realism of this mission she barely remembered forming. Her mouth snapped shut as memories she didn't remember having came crashing before her eyes. Her brows drew together in an act of concentration to keep it together. She saw orange. She saw blood and pale skin and broken bones and fear. Alot of fear. She saw chains and torture and lightning and de-

A small gasp escaped her as his voice broke these new memories. She looked towards him with a tilted head, face full of worry and sadness. She acted on her own at this point as she reached over and gently turned his head towards her. "I could marry someone powerful. I could marry someone strong and perfect and wealthy and influential." She gripped his other hand with gentle ease, "But they would never make me as happy or feel as safe as you do." Where were these words coming from? WHy was she saying this? It had to be for this wedding right? Yes that must be it. "There is no one in the galaxy I could imagine risking my life with more than you. You mean so much to me Joran, have you not realized that?"

[Assistant]
"I will say that Solaras Jace doesn't match how wonderful you look in that dress." Joran's lips were quivering a bit as she had put him in his place with her words. Of course he knew that, he remembered how far she had went to track him down. He'd read the various mission reports on the matter. He'd been transferred between countless ships and planets, each location being tore through just days after he had been in those spots.

"Nothing in the universe makes me happier than hearing that." Now it was his turn to wonder exactly where the hell these words had come from, but it also felt like he could feel the words coming from an outside source. Waving it off as just his imagination, he smirked. "You know, maybe we can keep the marriage around after we get some revenge on the traitors? We could be the next power couple." Another part of his post-smuggler antics had sent him into politics, since he was now sidelined for the time from any longer term mission, and he needed something to do.

[User]
"I can say tge same about you Joran. You look quite dapper in your suit." She smiled brighlty at him as an image of him passed out due to fatigue entered her mind. She forced it out as she laced her fingers in his. "I like making you happy."

"You know..." she koi-ishly glanced at him from the side. "...if we do keep this marriage we're going to have to go on a honey moon." Her ears were red at the thought but smiling none the less. "Once we crush everyone else of course.'

[Assistant]
"You know it isn't hard to make me happy. You easily have the easiest time out of everyone, without any effort even. Which is impressive." Joran chuckled softly as he glanced down at the tuxedo and shook his head. "I look like I am so out of place in this thing. Especially since everyone knows where I come from, and what I use to do in life." Joran cringed a bit at that thought, since everything about him was now in the public's eye, since the First Order was using his kidnapping as ammo against the Resistance.

The world started to shift as he felt a searing pain tear through his chest. Looking down at his chest, he could see the burning red blade of what he could only assume was a saber. The only thought that ran through his mind at the moment was, 'Oh, you have got to be shitting me!'. Feeling the blade be pulled back through his body, Joran didn't move for a moment, as part of the audience sat there in complete shock, the others screaming and trying to escape from the area

Everything moved into slow motion as he closed his eyes and fell to the ground, but never hit the actual ground as he was jarred awake in reality. The pain in his chest was still dully aching from the wound in the dream, but Solaras was also in his arms, almost as if she was wrapped so tightly around him that she was trying to protect him.


[System]
☆Mikoto☆

---

"A travelling maiden collecting the world's strangest curiosities"

---
Age
16
Gender
Female
Race
Human
Height
151 cm
Weight
43 kg
Alignment
Chaotic Good
Aliases/Titles
The Peddler Witch

---

Appearance
-

Personality
Mikoto is an interesting individual who always keeps two things on sight, profit and entertainment. It could be said that she lives for these two things, though she is somewhat of a mellow individual and would never put her priorities over someone else's well being.

Background
Mikoto claims to be the daughter of a peddler from Rexicorg and an ancient deity of the North lands, though this is obviously a bold faced lie. Is it, right?

What's known for sure is that the girl was born on the winding tunnels of Rexicorg and as soon as she was able to walk, she began travelling the world with her mentor, learning both the art of the trade and the path of trickery.

Nowadays, Mikoto roams the land alone, with her traveling pack full of all sorts of uncommon goods, in search for what opportunities lie beyond the next hill.

Powers
Mikoto wasn't born with any kind of special power or even the ability to control magic. She could be considered a perfectly normal, even puny, girl, given the fact that she's rather short and probably would not be able to hold herself in a fist fight.

However, during her travels, Mikoto has accumulated quite a bit of tricks up her sleeve. From magical talismans, and smoke bombs, to pepper bags and rope traps, Mikoto has it all and much more, so finding a situation were she's not prepared is about as hard as finding a diamond on the roadside.

Skills

Skills are what Mikoto lives for. If you give a problem for her and enought time to think, she'll most likely come up with a solution, or at least some other completely new questions.

Weapons

Then again, Mikoto carries around an inumerable amount of things that could be considered weapons, but if you asked her, she would say that her broom is the only one that she trully considers as such. Mikoto got it from a witch in exchange for what might as well be a lifetime's worth apple cider that she bought from a ruined brewer who wanted to become a musician after his brewery was destroyed by zombie termites.

Mikot has been fiddling with the broom for as much time as she had it an ever since, it has become a multipurpose weapon/tool that Mikoto can empoy for things that go from flying to fighting, to well... sweeping the floor.

Equipment
Just like above, Mikoto carries too much things with her, so a better question may be "What she does not have?", though for Mikoto the answer is simple. She doesn't have what you have, but it's only for as ong as it takes for her to make a deal with you for it.

Other
"Theme Song"

[User]
As the young girl began frolicking through the woods of Rivenwood, Astraea was not far away from the creek that she was skipping at, he had a small camp set up in the forest, and it didn't bother him being out in the wilderness alone and with only his horse the androgynous looking boy was crouched down next to the stream wearing a set of comfordable clothes instead of his usual armor, and didn't have his weapon on his person, it was on the horse's sattel nearby.

Astraea had a small pale filled with water and a brush, he was just cleaning his horse as he heard the humming of a girl, followed by the person that the sound was emanating from, he took a moment from his scrubbing to watch the girl skip by on some stones in the sea and got a look at the girl's eye socket and the odd white bunny she held tightly in one hand, Astraea thought the girl looked stark odd and borderline crazy by the way she looked and by the way she was acting.

Most people here in the woods would be on their guard or at least cautious of everything around then, this girl on the other hand looked like she was just having a carefree skip through the streets of her village, town, or city, Astraea hoped that nothing would happen to her as his horse whinnied and shook their head, Astraea grabbed the brush and went back to scrubbing his horse clean with the brush, keeping the girl in the corner of his eye.

[Assistant]
♪Lalala... the boy I love is so far away... lalala♪ A girl holding a broom over her shoulders and carrying a heavy looking case on her back, walked by the packed earth road humming a song quite happily. And what was not to be happy with on her opinion? The sun was warm, the breeze was cool and the ground was firm. Business sure was going to be good, that she knew. Now, the only thing that she needed was...

"A customer, no, two! That must be my lucky day." The girl almost squealed when she noticed the two persons by the roadside. One, looked like a travelling lady knight and the others was a bit... odd, since she was a small girl holding a toy bunny and skipping over some rocks. Nevertheless, if Mikoto would let details such as these bother her she couldn't call herself a trader.

Thus, she approached them and once she was close enough to be heard, she called "Good morning, ladies! That must be your luckiest day out here, for I, Kanzaki Mikoto -peddler extraordinary- have arrived with all that you may need. From potions and magic talismans, to food and even underwear, I have it all, so please, don't be shy." Mikoto said, with an ear to ear grin stamped on her face, as she dropped the heavy box on the grass covered and unlocked it to show that her boast wasn't in vain.

Far away from there, another meeting was about to take place...

Mountain Village of Orello

After about a week of solitary trekking through the mountains, Aria had finally reached civilization again. The mountain range which she was walking through right now, rises from the edges of Rivenwood and is the source of most of the water that gives the ancient forest it's life. Thus it was no surprise that the villages that exist on it would prosper from it.

Orello in particular was known as a brewer village for ages, and it's malt liquor and beer are known through all of the Imperium. It's said that even some of the Imperial Army commanders appreciate it, so tends to have an unusually high concentration of soldiers, despite being an isolate countryside comunity. Not that the troops who get stationed here have much to complain, of course, specially since this is a place used to drop the greenhorns for a few months of rough physical training, before sending them to more dangerous battlefronts.

Anyway, the white knight walked into the settlement unfazed, since she longed for a hot meal and someplace to rest, after spending so much time alone in the wilderness. Soon enough, she found a tavern named "The Dancing Sheep", a simple two story building that doubled as an inn as is usually the case with these small villages. As soon as she pushed the heavy wooden door open, Aria was showered with the marvelous smell of roasted lamb and beer sauce, as well as a hearthy music, played by a few bards.

"I guess this is as good a resting place as I could ever hope for" Aria though as she found a table to sit and called a tavern girl.

[User]
Melissa giggled to herself as she spotted the girl in armor from the corner of her eye. Well then, here was a fresh new recruit for her to convert unto the Holy Word! Why, the gods must have looked down upon her fate ever so kindly. With a little more bounce in her step, she changed directions and began to head towards the female knight person while clenching her stuffed bunny tighter to her body.

She was a good few feet away from the girl knight and her horse when a new voice made itself known. Tilting her head, she followed the sound and turned to see a rather eccentric looking girl who looked more like a traveling magician than a merchant. Melissa listened to the self-proclaimed speech carefully before grinning widely at the one called Mikoto.

Without further ado, she walked up to the taller girl with no regard to personal space. Her single seen eye widened just a bit before she leaned in forward on her tip-toes. The bunny, Miranda, was held close to her chest as she crossed both arms together.

"Mikoto is a funny name. Does that make you a funny person? That's a lot of stuff you have there miss. Is it funny stuff? Hey, hey, do you wanna meet God? Can I take your eyes? I really like your eyes Miss Mikoto. Are you from around here? Your name doesn't sound like you're from around here."

The girl continued on with her questions with no signs of stopping soon. Some of them were simply enough while others were a little more disturbing to digest. Specifically, Melissa kept asking if the other girl could spare a body part or two. But while one fated encounter was taking place, another one was occurring nearby. Further into Rivenwood was the village of Orello.

A small place, like much of Rivenwood's towns, but one that held particular favor to the fresh soldiers of the Imperium. One such soldier strolled along the dirt pathways with a smile to his face, confident that today would be a good day to train. Ah, but first, a stop at "The Dancing Sheep" was in order.

Sedril may have only been here for only a few weeks, but he was already liking his life as one of the Imperium Guard. Stepping inside the tavern, the boy took a whiff of the smell of fresh meat before being led towards a seat. He noticed a pretty girl with pure white hair sitting across from him and immediately cast his gaze away nervously.

"Yeah, that figures," he mumbled to himself as he waited for a server. "Way out of my league. Here's hoping she didn't catch me staring…."

[Assistant]
Things only seemed to get stranger and stranger, the first girl with the open hole in her head had turned around and came back just as another girl arrived with a broom claiming to be a peddler and called Astraea a lady, before he could make an attempt to correct her on what she said, the woman made an introduction and told them her name, which to the both of them sounded odd, Astraea could tell the one eyed girl thought Kanzaki's name was odd when she said it sounded funny.

" Um, well actually I'm not a lady, I'm a guy really." He told the two women." And I don't really need any of your things or trinkets or whatever it is you are selling, I suggest you use that broom for what it is used for and make money that way, Kaz." Astraea told Kanzaki. Astraea grabbed his pale and threw the brush inside of it, this moment right now was pretty strange, these girls just popping up in the woods right where he was camped, if he was paranoid he would think it was a trap or something.

" If neither of you don't mind answering, Why are you two out here in the middle of the woods ? It's just people don't usually travel around the woods too much really and the area I'm camped at now doesn't get a lot of people, so if you don't mind me asking what are you two doing out here ?"

[User]
Well, things were'nt going as smoothly as Mikoto thought that they would. Nevertheless, a true saleswoman can't let things like a psycho girl and a trap knight get in the way of her profit, so she straightened her posture, before locking her case and setting it on her back.

"Well, well, well... I'm truly sorry for mistaking you for a girl, noble knight. Nevertheless, you should take it as a compliment to your youthful looks, which... can be kept like that for much long with this elven lotion." Mikoto said to the kinght as she produced a small glass pot from within her cloak and offered it to him "Would you care to give it a try? The first one is on the house, of course" she said with a shameless grin stamped all over her face.

"As for your other questions, I've already answered them. I'm a peddler, and our kind go were our legs... and the scent of gold guide us, no matter if it's in a quaint village or in the middle of a battlefield, we will be there."

Then, Mikoto turned to the invasive girl who was almost trowing herself over Mikoto "Erm... those are a lot of questions for such a small girl. Perhaps... you'd be interested in a bottle of fresh apple juice? Don't worry, it has been cooled with a magic ice stone from the Northland. Come on, I'll give you a free sample too" Mikoto said, producing yet another bottle and three cups were she poured some of the juice, giving two to her potential customers and drinking one herself.

"Ohh... that was good" The peddler said as the cool juice went down her parched throat "Now, about your other questions, missy" she said, petting the girl's head as a way to keep their distance "I'm Kanzaki Mikoto -Peddler Extraordinary- from the winding tunnels of Rexicorg. If you think that either my merchandise, or I are funny, you're welcome, afater all making people happy is part of a peddler's job too."

"Though," Mikoto said, inching away from the girl when the talk took a more sinister turn "I think that I'll wait a few more decades before I meet God, unless he wants some novelties too, in which cas I'd be more than willing to cut a deal with him. And, erm... I'm sorry, but since those are the only eyes I have, I can't sell them... actually, they were a present from mom, so they have sentimental value, you know?" Mikoto said, still trying her best to sound funny, despite the fact that the girl was starting to creep her to the bones.

---

Meanwhile, on the village of Orello another kind of fate was at work...

"Huh?" Aria said when she noticed the boy, actually, a young soldier who sat across from her. Given that this is a rather small tavern, it wouldn't be uncommon for this to happen, specially with so many soldiers coming in for lunch.

Aria also noticed how the boy's gaze wavered to and from her, perhaps... he noticed how tomboyish she looked in that armor and was thinking something weird of her? In fact, as she scanned the boy, Aria noticed how he looked quite cute, yet had a certain handsomeness aura around him, certainly the kind who will grow to become quite a ladykiller in the future.

Anyway, after all that staring, Aria felt rather self-conscious and her face began to get hotter... was she blushing? But for what reason? It was not like she got an interest in the boy or something like, nevertheless, she felt like the right thing to do was greet him, after an impolite stare such as the one she did.

Shifting her head up, so that their gazes met, Aria moved a mesh of hair back into its place behind her ear, before saying "Good morning. I hope that I'm not bothering you." in a soft voice, calm like the sounds of a snowy morning.


[System]
Evan Finn
"You might want to re-think that."
Titles: Apprentice Scribe
Social rank: Knight-born (technically a peasant I would guess)
Job or societal position: courtly Scribe

Age:20
Gender: Male

Appearance: When Evan was younger, he was relentlessly bullied by his peers for having rather sharp, rodent like features, particularly with his pointed nose and smallish eyes. Most often, he would be called "Ratface" or some similarly charming appellation. To his pleasure, these features would grow less pronounced as he grew older, although not enough to shake the association with rodents. He has short unkempt hair, the color of which seemingly unable to decide between blond and light brown. His build is slight; taller than one might expect from initial descriptions.

Personality: He is a fairly quiet young fellow, preferring to let others take the initiative in conversation and speaking only what he feels is necessary and only after some thought. He keeps to himself. Given how he grew up, he can be initially wary of people and holds a general disdain for physically imposing men. He'd rather avoid confrontations than try to get back at any aggressors, seeing as the amount of effort put into retaliating verbally or physically is simply not worth it.

History: Simple enough, Evan is the only son of Sir Ilan Finn - a commoner turned guard turned captain of Winterhouse's guard, knighted for his distinguished service to Rikard Weade - and a maid in the keep's kitchen. When he was born, everybody expected Evan to take after his father, a stout man. But Ilan's child had been sickly, lighter than most babes when they were born. It would not be unexpected if Evan had died in infancy or even his childhood, with the harsh chill of the north. But he lived.

His mother died of illness during a particularly harsh winter when Evan was barely 7. His father did his best to raise him alone, although admittedly Ilan could never bring himself to fully embrace what his weak son was. Although it was hardly Evan's fault, it was still a small shame for Ilan.

His weak constitution as a boy ensured that he would never be a warrior, and rather than have him struggle with following his father's path Ilan had him placed under the care of the keep's Senior Scribe, Barnabas. Evan had no problems with the changes this brought about in his life. For one, it would mean the end of getting pushed around by the bigger boys and he would get to stay indoors. He came to greatly enjoy reading and learning. Under Barnabas' tutelage, he learned history, geography, politics, literature... In fact, his own level of education was almost on par with Rikard's children.

He is set to take Barnabas' place, as the man was getting up there in the years, and his eyesight was starting to fail him. Given the nature of the Whiteland's masters, the position is somewhat superficial as the Weade preferred to take matters into their own hands, and that included letter writing, which would normally be a scribe's duty. As it was, Evan was mostly trained in record-keeping and occasionally preserving manuscripts and maps by copying them.

Skills: Reading & writing, with a natural instinct for picking on subtleties and implications

Dreams and fears: Once upon a time, Evan might have held dreams of becoming a knight known in all the lands for his prowess in combat and chivalrous nature. He has outgrown such desires for the most part. Now, he holds little ambition. As long as there is a warm fireplace, food at the table, and no prospect of violence, he is content. Thereby, no happiness would be gained by losing his comforts for any extended period of time.

Favored equipment: Quill pens, ink and parchment. But most importantly, a sharp mind.

Extra: Nothing to put here, really

[User]
Joren Volkov was a man fond of frowning, and often found himself frowning for one reason or another at any given time of the day. He grimaced in the mornings as he limped around his chambers, every step sending a jolt of pain through his leg -- the mornings were always the worst. By noon on even a bad day, Joren liked to think, he could outrun any other cripple in the Whitelands. In the mornings, though, he was invariably reduced to a slow shuffle on a good day or a cane on a bad one. As the years had passed, more bad days had started to come than good ones.

He found himself frowning again by midday, drilling the paltry guard that had been left to garrison the castle since the late Duke had marched off. Mostly they were boys who had never left the village or fought someone with a body that wasn't made of straw, and Joren's frown would grow deeper as the men grew more tired. By the afternoon he would call off training and the guardsmen would go off to patrol -- or, increasingly, to drink in the village and chat with servants in the halls.

Joren would continue frowning throughout the various council meetings and court sessions that he was able to attend, and that frown grew ever deeper on the day that the boy regent called the lords to him. It was a necessary formality, of course, but still one that might have been better off saved for when the new Duke, Joakim's brother Gregar, finally found the time to come back to his seat. A sixteen-year-old regent without a hair on his chin did little to inspire confidence in one's vassals.

Regardless the day passed, and lords began to pour into the keep. Among those was an envoy of Joren's own family, some distant cousin or another, from whom Joren learned that his children were growing up well at home. He had often considered bringing them to the Wintershouse -- or perhaps even retiring from his position and going to them -- but the boy regent was in need of good guidance now if he ever would be, and so it was Joren's duty to stay.

It was also his duty to keep one of his trademark frowns from becoming too apparent when Joakim had announced the army marching into the Whitelands, and Joren found himself even more taxed when the boy declared that he would be travelling to free a captured knight himself -- and that Joren would be accompanying him. It had been years since he had left the keep, to be completely honest, and he hadn't sat a horse in a good thirty years, with good reason. Regardless, he could hardly disobey, especially when Joakim had already managed to point out his leg and his horse issues in a single remark. And so Joren nodded in silence and resigned himself to a long trip on horseback to manage a garrison of unfamiliar soldiers who owed him no loyalty. With any luck the horse would fall to the right if it fell, and Lord Perris would not circle around to take the Wintershouse while everyone but the coin-counters and the drunken guardsmen were gone.

After the meeting Joren met with his garrison, chose someone he was reasonably certain that he could trust to manage the guard, and then went off to see about finding a sturdy horse. One low to the ground, perhaps.

[Assistant]
Argos of Plios considered himself to be a religious man. He was, after all, a prominent priest of the church of the true faith and known throughout the Whitelands as a seer of good nature and true virtue. Still, in his many years at the helm of his various flocks Argos had come to find that religion and politics tended to mesh quite readily. He'd served as the personal advisor and spiritual councilor to a variety of nobles both high and low and found even more so now that he was getting on in age that his services were always in demand. Everyone wanted to know that their immortal soul would reach the afterlife, everyone wanted to know what their fortunes would be on earth.

It was in this capacity as spiritual advisor that he'd been summoned to the capital of the Whitelands under mysterious orders. The note he'd received had contained a rather generous donation to the priest's sometimes affluent flock and promised there would be no shortage of work in that area in the near future. Furthermore the message had also contained some. . . suggestions as to the nature of his upcoming sermons. There really wasn't anything uncouth about changing the topic of his lectures and so, after some thought, Argos agreed. What would it hurt to preach a little fire and brimstone?

In the few days since he'd gotten there the priest had spent his time worming his way into the courts and hearts of the various militaristic kinds. His reputation was not overwhelming but never-the-less his name was still recognized and many were willing to give a little coin to hear what words he had to say. In all cases he stuck to his previously set topic: the dangers of earthly authority, specifically authority which could be wielded by those who were incompetent or untrained in its use.

Understandably this whole situation had instantly put him on the outs with the ducal court but really, that was just as well with Argos. His mysterious employer was continuing to send him bags of gold and so Argo was just as happy to continue flapping his lips. When Joakim and the ducal entourage prepared to depart that same employer made sure Argos had a writ of sanction by a higher religious authority to observe, report, and give council on the actions under-taken but the young liege-lord. It simply wouldn't do to have a proper young noble travel about without real religious overview? What would become of his morals? More than that if Joakim declined he risked the support of his barons by appearing a godless heathen. And so, as the journey began Argos kept yapping and Jaokim's just recently built-up position began eroding.

[User]
Tension hung heavily in air ever since word had reached them of Lord Rikard's death. It was also unlikely to dissipate soon, so mused Evan Finn, the informal Master Scribe. This was a most delicate time for the Whitelands, and especially for the young Weade Joakim. Already multiple parties were openly moving to take advantage of the current instability,

The regent had reacted well enough, and Evan felt a small sense of admiration for the boy he himself was only a few winters senior. Joakim had acted quickly. Maybe not with as much surety as the Weade were known for, but it was sufficient for now. That didn't mean he was placing all his faith in the boy. Evan hoped Gregar arrived sooner rather later.

It seemed as though they barely had time to mourn for Duke Rikard, although the formal ceremonies for that would probably arrive when the heir to the seat of Winterhouse, Gregar, returned. Evan had no news of his father, who had been among those accompanying Rikard.

"The world stops for no one." Evan muttered to himself as he set about collecting the various relevant ledger books of the keep with the help of another apprentice scribe. Technically, he was still an apprentice himself. But dear old Barnabas had suffered some sort of fit and was currently bedridden. He had been in the towers when the first messenger crow arrived. It remained to be seen whether he would be well enough to continue his duties.

"You say something, Finn?" called an older scribe from across the small room.

"Nothing, Fletcher. Prepare the record books from last year in case the Marquis needs them. You'll be his errand boy when he arrives." Evan gathered the books in a small stack and bound a leather belt around all of them. He left the work to the other scribe.

He had only seen the Marquis of Urik a few times in the past, and quite frankly, Evan didn't like the man. There was a saying about the Gallatins in the Whitelands - 'Everybody in the courts know what the Gallatins are thinking.'

Even if Galen hadn't been born into that particular family, Evan didn't think his opinion would change. The man just irked him. Something in his countenance, the way he dressed... Winter's breath, he was no noble but as a northerner he felt no man should be that proud to dress that extravagantly! More and more it seemed to Evan that the northern breed was dying out with the way some of these nobles acted.

As great apprehension he felt at thinking a man like Galen Gallatin was the one being put in charge of Wintershouse. it was not his place to speak out against it. After all, he was just a mere scribe. But somebody really should have.

Setting aside his misgivings, he had a messenger sent to the marquis to inform his of his new position and had the servants told to call for him when he arrived.

In the meantime, Evan had other work to do.

He settled himself in the Master Scribe's study, and laid a thick, heavy tome on the main writing table. The book was rather simply titled, Historie of the Most Noble Weade Family.

He set aside another table for his personal journal and gathered various other books and letters, another table for a lamp, before gathering his writing paraphernalia. The feel of the pen in his hand relaxed the scribe, and he spent a long while in contemplation before opening the tome to the latest blank page before carefully writing.

54th year of Passing, 21st of October
-Scibe Evan Finn

The land is strife with many ongoing conflicts waged in the name of His Royal Majesty King Etwine of Borhilon. The Ironhills, under the dominion of His Majesty and governed by Duke Perris of Harrighfield, saw conflict over the rights of ownership to a particular mine. Negotiations failed to hold, with the result that King Etwine issued an invitation to battle for the possession of the mines.

His Grace, Duke Rikard Weade, Rikard the Just responded to the summons of his liege and brought with him twoscore of his own men, including his son and heir Gregar, joined by other nobles under his vassalage and their levies. Alas, Rikard fell in battle, leaving the Whitelands under the temporary rule of his thirdborn son, Joakim Weade.

Rumors are abound in the land of Lord Perris' bullish use of power. Many suspect this conflict is merely a stepping stone to secure a greater hold over the land of Borhilon, darker rumors tell of ambitions for the throne.

This is a turbulent time for the Weades, as Lord Perris makes a claim to Winterhouse's seat, affirming the idea of Lord Perris' hunger for more power.

Lord Regent Joakim called a meet at the Winstershouse, whereupon various nobles swore their fealty to the heir apparent, Gregar. The following noblemen pledged their service and loyalty to the new Duke Weade...

The room remained in silence, but for the flickering of the lamplight and the scratching sound of pen upon paper. Evan Finn went studiously about his task.

History was unfolding.