[System]
Note to self: Don't forget to update the bio.
Age: 19
Role&Kingdom: Crown prince of Hiertania/Escapee
Skill and/or Weapon:
-Luthier is a capable swordfighter, his blade of choice is a rapier.
-Luthier is skilled at negotiation because of his Monarch-training.
-Luthier is an amazing (ballroom) dancer.
-Luthier is a capable tactician, though he lacks any practical experience.
-Luthier has a good grasp on politics, geography and economy as he would need those as a monarch.
Personality:
Luthier is an earnest, good-hearted youth. He is usually calm and level-headed, but may occasionally show some erratic behavior. While Luthier believes education is important, he believes emotions are equally important. He can't help but smile when he's doing something he enjoys.

Biography:
Growing up, Luthier was raised to be the main heir to the throne. In terms of strength Luthier could never keep up with his younger brothers, but he tries hard and is smarter than his brothers. During his childhood, Luthier was often teased by the other kids for looking as frail and vulnerable as he did. As a result of the other kids' teasing, Luthier spent a lot of time in the stables, taking care of the horses.

Later, when Luthier started his studies he would spend most of his days in his room studying, by lack of something better. He still went to the stables most days, where he'd feed the horses and generally just unwind.

(I kept it fairly simple, sorry if you'd expected more)

Appearance:
Luthier is short and looks fairly frail, if you knew nothing about the royal family you probably wouldn't believe he is the oldest.

Extra:
Because of all the time he spent at the stables, one particular horse -a completely white horse called Marrow (yes, like the bone)- really liked the prince and would obey him, but would hardly obey others.

(Hider title is inaccurate)

[User]
"How droll," A cold smile curved the servant's lips, her body veering away from the finished pot of porridge as she took the glinting knife from its sheath on the table. Eerily, her footsteps thudded against the stone floor as Anatole sauntered over to the tardiness-ridden maid who believed that she could do anything she pleased without getting any consequences. "For someone like you to think that you know what others desire in their lives when you can barely make sense of yourself in the morning." Her hand raised the knife before plunging it downward, stabbing an apple at its tip before Anatole flicked the fruit upwards as she caught in her palm. Without a wasted moment, she began slicing the apple in crisp strips, and tossed them inside the nearby serving bowl without even looking. "I know you take pride in being ineffective. I can see that in your eyes whenever you seem so amused when you break the sanctity of time. And, while others tolerate your mediocrity, rest assured that I will not." By the time Anatole finished the small tirade, almost half of the apples from the straw-woven basket sat sliced in the bowl. "People like you who waste time, who waste purpose are so enclosed in their little worlds that they forget that they are also stones in the kingdom's foundation. You believe yourself exempted from the rules, so entitled to your own benefits that you begin to believe that you know others when you barely even know how to respect yourself. Stones like that... are removed from the foundation, and replaced with a better material."

Finally, Anatole picked out the last apple from the basket as she slowly pierced the knife through the center before splitting the fruit in half, revealing the rotten core.

"Bad apples," She gestured to the darkened insides, and then, she threw the fruit into the waste bin. "Are thrown out." The servant's unfaltering gaze lingered on the maid as she shot out her hand to remove some apple bits which stuck to the sides of her mouth. "Aw, you wee lamb." Anatole furrowed her brows in mock care. "I suggest you swallow an entire apple, and wait for a prince to revive you. That way, someone will watch out that you don't accidentally stab yourself in the foot. After all, that's every fair maiden's dream, isn't it? A prince who will coddle them because they are afraid to soil their hands." Smirking, Anatole took the bowl of apples before placing it in Ally's hands with a gentle pat on the backside of her palms. "Make yourself useful."

The steadfast servant began mobilizing the kitchen crew into formation in order to facilitate the food serving. With the servants heaving pots and bowls of foods, Anatole arranged them accordingly from those with bread and pastries to fruits and vegetables up until the ones who served the poultry and seafood. Soon, the whipped crew assembled behind the kitchen doors as Anatole began her final inspection. From time to time, she approached one of the servants, giving them a reassuring tap on their shoulder before gently smiling at the nervous and anxious employees.

"Good job today, Erick." Anatole smiled, patting the lad's head. "The lettuce you harvested were nothing but fresh. Well done." And, to another, she also gave a comforting hand on the back. "I liked your creativity with the sop today, Krixa. The flatbread was a nice touch."

After she finished her rounds of assessment, Anatole wiped the sweat from her forehead as she cranked the door open which directly lead to the dining area.

"Forward, march!" She sounded, causing the servers to walk out of the kitchen in a neat single file as, orderly, they placed their assigned food on the table as well as the utensils and the personal plates before they turned around and left still in a single file lane. Finally, Anatole herself came out, carrying the large pot of steaming porridge with a cloth around her hands to dampen the heat. She heaved the pot in front of her, making her way towards the table before setting it down where she took a step back and took the lid off. "Breakfast is served."

And, just as she said these words, the roosters' cry echoed out from the outside walls, signalling that she was just in time. Anatole bowed to the people present at the table before she spun around, pumping her fist just near her chest in delight that she finished her first objective of the day. Her strides exuded confidence as the servant made her way out of the dining room and back into the kitchen where the weary staff lounged about, exhausted from the hell that Anatole afflicted upon them. But, before anyone could leave the room, a relieved chuckle escaped Anatole's lips, her face brightening into a gentle smile as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm proud of all of you today. Now, just because I won't be handling the other meals does not mean that you can all slack off." A devious, almost scheming smirk replaced the grin on Anatole's lips. "I'll be paying attention, very close attention to the future preparations." The woman sighed as she turned around, leaving the kitchen through the backdoor as she decided to make her way towards the training grounds where she expected Rowan to be training. It had become almost a routine for the second prince to practice his skill with the blade at the early hours of the morn, and while she was more than willing to help him out with training, she believed that someone else was more fitting for the task-- probably, the captains or the other formally trained soldiers. Still, it didn't mean that she would just watch on as he committed certain flaws and errors in his stances and styles.

The prince's ability really did not lie in his strength of the arm, but of the mind. But, Anatole nearly questioned her own presumptions just as she saw Rowan driving his sword through one of the wooden training dummies. The prince was not always capable of such a feat of strength as those dummies were made from the sturdy oaks and sycamores lining the kingdom's borders, but the sight was far from disappointing. In fact, Anatole felt those butterflies fluttering somewhere down her stomach. Without even meaning to do so on the prince's part, even the simplest act drew out a myriad of emotions from the otherwise stoic servant, and she cursed herself for such a weakness. So, before she approached him, Anatole let out a series of choked breaths to calm herself down as she paced around the hallway in an infuriating loop. But, finally, Anatole found the will to revert back to her neutral shell which allowed her to walk calmly towards the second prince.

"Prince Rowan, you've been training hard." She bowed upon her approach, and then, her eyes landed on the sword embedded through the target. The servant turned towards the dummy before she placed a reassuring hand on the sword's hilt. "Fine strength, my prince. But, if I may, you are placed too close to the enemy with your lunge. If the foe persists to live even with this blade in their chest, you are in range for a fatal counterattack." A sad look overcame Anatole's eyes as he realized that while Luthier received the best training from the castle's finest tutors, the king didn't bother to send a decent tutor to train Rowan extensively-- merely teaching him what he already knew which was infuriating at the very least. Anatole breathed deeply, deciding to change the topic away from the favoritism of the royal family, and to focus instead on matters which involved Hiertania as a whole. "Bandits have dared to cross Tiadan, and right into a lutairi settlement which they pillaged. The lutairi queen might send word soon for aid, but with this kingdom's seeming distaste for the lutairi, I doubt there will be a positive response."

The prince's visage spoke volumes of the suffering he went through. The sleepless nights, the suppressed emotions, and the painful isolation-- he deserved better; gods, she wanted to give him better. But, this was his fight, and the least Anatole could do for the man was to become a pillar to support him on his way to the top. After all, from the very moment she became his personal servant, she promised to see his dreams through to the end. At this thought, her hand sifted through her pockets, bringing out a hairbrush which meant only one thing.

"Do keep still, prince Rowan." She huffed, pretending that such an act didn't fill her heart with warmth. She brushed his unruly hair back, trying to tame it as a ringleader would towards a lion. Then, she pulled out a cloth from another pocket to wipe off the sweat glistening on the prince's forehead, and to outsiders, it would seem like a mother was taking care of her child. "There." Anatole spoke, keeping the grooming tools in her pockets once more before she turned towards the dining hall. "Breakfast has been served, prince. I know that you are not tired yet," A tiny grin formed on her lips as she took it upon herself to pull out the embedded blade out of the dummy. Next, she swished the blade through the air with a snap of her wrist, causing a drop of sunlight to scatter and refract from the sharp edge. "But, a spot of breakfast is always great for starting a new day." Then, Anatole spun the sword in her hand, ultimately holding it at the hilt while the blade pointed to the earth. She then extended the sword to the prince as she nodded towards the direction of the dining hall. "Lord Adelbrand is already there, and I believe he might be more than willing to train you, my prince, given that not many can endure the champion's rigorous tendencies."

[Assistant]
Direct Interactions: @AAB
In Area of: Lutaires Courtyard

Faylinn frowned slightly more as her fears were confirmed by the diplomat, but in spite of herself she was slightly happier due to his overall cheery attitude. The man knew how to keep things upbeat if he had one ability under his belt. The pair started to walk towards the throne room, the duo meeting up with a guard.

The pair of them had a brief exchange, but it was very apparent that the crown was still trying to gather the details ... it was rather obvious their neighbors hadn't really put forth any effort to stop this raid, from whichever one it originated with. The people in those kingdoms were heartless. It hadn't been so long since she was caught up in the attacks at one of those places herself, and her attempts to bring heart to her people had largely failed.

Of course, she didn't want to mentally accuse Hiertania without Fela and Leita completing their investigation, but it probably was them. Her kingdom and theirs had been at odds for years and ...

"... hey Virka? I know it's a bit optimistic ... but do you think there's a way we could stop these animosities through a different method? Forever?" The princess way trying to contain herself, but this was infuriating. Even when the kingdom somehow managed to get reparations, the monetary compensation was minimal and people just kept on getting killed by the next year.

[User]
Being personally trained by some of the best swordfighters, Luthier was fairly skilled with a blade. It seemed however today's instructor was more skilled, a lot more. And not only was this man really skilled, he was also ruthless. He showed Luthier a drill and gave him a minimal number of times to do it, not allowing him to leave before finishing them. After Luthier was done with the drills, (also fairly tired) they did another sparring match and once more the instructor worked Luthier into the ground. Training went on for a while like this.

By the time Luthier had finished his sword-training, he had long missed breakfast. His morning schedule was mostly free to allow such a rigorous form of training, though he was supposed to study in the time between his sword-training and the next appointment. Instead, Luthier went to the stables to feed Marrow. He stopped stopped by the kitchen for some apples and went on his way to the stables, settling for an apple as breakfast.

At the stables Luthier was immediately drawn to Marrow, a beautiful snowy-white mare with bony-white manes. Giving her one of the two remaining apples and a pat, Luthier smiled, beamed even. He knew he should've been studying, yet he didn't regret coming to the stables as it never failed to cheer him up. He fed marrow the last apple. It was funny if you thought about it, the crown prince was seen as the wimpiest prince, yet his horse was the strongest and most unruly. She was fiercely loyal to Luthier, but since Marrow was just a horse she couldn't hold conversation. As such, Luthier wouldn't stay very long.

Luthier turned to leave the stables, as a tired messenger arrived. "Sir, I've been looking all over for you, but you weren't in your room and you had left your sword-training by the time I arrived there." After taking a moment to recompose himself, the messenger explained what had happened across the border and excused himself. Luthier left for his study, deciding he would ask his uncle about their plan when he saw a good opportunity.


[System]
R.I.S.C. Dossier

---
Age

16

Physical Evaluation

Quinnlash is a young woman, five foot three, average build, and slightly underweight. She has very long hair (dark gray streaked with bright yellow) cut into sharp, straight bangs in front, and typically tied into a braid. When tied, it ends at approximately hip height. Untied, it falls nearly to her knees. She has extremely pale skin, unmarked with the exception of scarring around her empty eye socket (right), over which she wears a black and yellow eyepatch. Her remaining eye (left) is brilliant yellow. She has a sharp chin and jawline. Her muscle mass is slightly beneath consistent with regular exercise, and she is somewhat clumsy. She has a tendency to stumble if she isn't watching where she steps.

Psychological Profile

Quinnlash has some very strange psychological markers that nonetheless make sense when her history is taken into account. She is very much

1) Outgoing
2) Friendly
3) Cheerful
and 4) Supportive,
as well as

1) Anxious
2) Emotionally volatile
3) Prone to attention-seeking behavior
and 4) Highly competitive.

In addition, she seems to bear a great deal of attachment issues (for more information, check her background information).

Background Information

Neither we nor Quinnlash herself know exactly where she was born, but all she can remember is the house she lived in for sixteen years in Hovvi. Specifically, she remembers her own room, as she only left it—without permission, I might add—twice in her life. She was kept completely isolated by her parents, researchers on Modir and modium, and was only aware of what they allowed her to be. The only notable incident throughout her life was, as far as can be told, two or three months after she snuck out into the living room and saw the outside world for the first time. Her right eye spontaneously burst (very likely a result of sudden modium growth) and was subsequently removed.

The second time she snuck out was fully, immediately before meeting Besca, which was the first time she actually left her house. She was intimidated and fascinated, and the world seemed to stare at her very strangely. The only known survivor of the Hovvi Incident, she was removed from the town's ruins and taken to the Aerie, where she was subsequently tested for compatibility and given a modioscory to interface with a Savior.

There are a number of strange medical anomalies present in Quinnlash's system, such as her bright yellow eye and the hair being naturally yellow. More pressing is the unfeasible level of modium present in her entire system when she was first retrieved post-Hovvi Incident, and the filed and maintained seed growth of modium in place of her missing eye. Interim-Commander Darroh has taken over care of the child's training as a pilot, and should be contacted for any inquiries.
Savior

---

Designation

Ablaze

Body

Tall and lean, Ablaze is on the thinner side for a Savior. Long scutes of modium not unlike those found on some aquatic organisms run along the arms and legs, forming a sort of natural armmor-weapon combination. The fingers are long and end in sharp claws. At the pilot's request, its right eye has been covered with a thick plate of metal.

Weapon

Ablaze's weapon, suited to the name, is a cannon as long as long as Ablaze is tall that fires explosive blasts of fire. The mechanism by which it produces this fire is unknown. When phased, the cannon gains a charge mechanism, allowing her to charge a shot for up to five seconds to increase the destructive yield considerably, up to approximately twice the size and intensity of the blast at full charge. In addition, the cannon shots can be detonated on command, or detonation can be delayed as a form of trap.

[User]
The eyes that followed them back to the dorms were less hostile now, but still curious, confused. No one approached them, and those that drew too close received harsh stares from Besca that kept them at arm's length. They returned to the dorms unbothered, but she knew come tomorrow there would be questions, and her answers would be unsatisfactory.

"I've gotta go topside, try and preempt the storm of crap that's coming. I'll be back late, but I'll see you two in the morning." Besca hugged her again, and then left her at the door.

Inside, Dahlia was waiting. She seemed a bit surprised that Quinn had come alone, but quickly forgot it, and came hurrying over.

"Quinn I'm so sorry," she said, speaking fast and high-pitched and written all over her face was a novel of guilt. "I didn't—I shouldn't have done that I just…I was…I saw her and you and I didn't really see her but I should have stopped and looked and I was being so ridiculous. You were being so nice and I just didn't understand but that's my fault it's not your fault and—and—and—"

She gasped in a breath, held it to think. This time she spoke slower. "I'm just really sorry. I've been…you just…you mean so much to me. I've been so worried about keeping you safe that I never stopped to think that I should be trying to learn from you. That's not an excuse, it's just…it's just how it is. I'll do better. I'll really, really try."

[Assistant]
The look on Dahlia's face made Quinn want to run into her room, hide her face in her pillow out of shame, and never look at her again. This was something that she had very much not expected.

Though perhaps she should have, she thought bitterly. She'd yelled at Dahlia before today. Very, very rarely (once or twice), but it had happened. But this was the first time she'd ever been so...so mean about it. She had just gotten so angry, so fast, she hadn't been able to stop it. She had hurt her sister. And she'd meant to hurt her, even though it was absolutely her own fault in the end. The way she'd called, the way she'd hung up so suddenly, how she knew Dahlia thought of Roaki at the time; what else were she and Besca supposed to think?

She swiped her arm across her face to wipe the remnants of tears from her reddened eye, then looked up at Dahlia. Gently, carefully, Quinn reached down and grasped her hands in her own, lightly rubbing her thumbs in a circle on her sister's palms in what she hoped desperately was comforting instead of unsettling.

"No, Deelie, no," she murmured in reply, breaking off eye contact. She just couldn't bear it anymore.

She released the hands, then sat down on the back of the couch, staring into the kitchen at the half of the cake that Dahlia had made for her, still sitting on the table. "You must've been so worried when I called you like that." She shook her head slowly in both denial and regret, voice turning melancholic. "It was my fault. You have nothing to be sorry for."

[User]
Of all the ways Dahlia had expected this to go, hearing Quinn apologize to her had not been one of them. But then, that was silly; of course she'd apologize. Not because she'd done anything wrong—Dahlia was vehemently sure of that—but because it must have felt awful. They weren't fighting, they weren't enemies. They were family, and there'd been a misunderstanding.

"No," Dahlia said, following her to the couch to sit down beside her. "No, there is—and it wasn't your fault. Quinn, watching you win that duel was…I can't even describe how relieved I was. I was scared, really scared, and when you're scared you don't…you don't think of the thing that's scaring you as anything but…well, scary."

She reached out, flipping Quinn's braid from behind her. It needed brushing—she'd do that tomorrow. "I don't. But you do. You did. You saw Roaki for more than just an opponent, you saw her for what she really was. And even when she was sitting on the floor of that cell, completely helpless, I still couldn't see her as anything but a threat to you. That…that was wrong.

"There's something wrong with me, Quinn. There's something wrong with every pilot, and every program, and everyone that thinks what you did wasn't right, or that what's happening to her here is." She could feel it—her eyes growing hot. She held herself together though, even if she was admitting a mistake—perhaps especially because of that—she needed to be the big sister, still. "I don't ever want you to think I'm not with you. I don't ever want you to be disappointed in me. And if you are, that's not your fault, it's mine. So I mean it. I'm gonna be better. I might mess up, I might not be perfect, but a long time ago I wanted to be just like you, and somewhere along the way I gave up. Now I know I can still try."

[Assistant]
"I might mess up, I might not be perfect, but a long time ago I wanted to be just like you, and somewhere along the way I gave up. Now I know I can still try."

Quinn blinked, and for a moment she didn't understand. Dahlia...wanted to...be like her?

Her ears were ringing as she stared. Just like before, with Besca, there was a profound sense of disorientation and confusion. Besca may have been her hero, the person who lifted her out of her gray life and splattered it full of brilliant color. Dahlia couldn't quite fill that same role (though she definitely touched it a bit).

No. Dahlia wasn't her hero. But Dahlia was the person she wanted to be like more than anything. She was strong, she was brave, she was kind and gentle and she always looked out for the people she cared about. Quinn wanted to be all of those things. She wanted to live up to Dahlia's example so much. And she didn't know if she ever would, but she'd always try.

And now here she was, dazedly hearing her forever role model talking about how much she wanted to be just like Quinn, and not only that, how much she'd wanted to be just like Quinn for a long time.

A heat began to build within Quinn, a tiny sun in the middle of her chest that spread out through her body, sending tinglies racing up and down her spine. It was incredible. Another feeling that she knew. That she'd felt fragments of over the years, scattered shards of sunlight, but nothing like this. it took her a long time to think of a word for it. How she'd felt deep down when she'd snuck out of her room for the first time, past the fear and the knowledge she was doing something wrong. The rush she felt when she'd solve a puzzle. The brilliant light that had shone within her when she'd cast that fishing rod.

Oh, that's what it was.

It was pride.

She leaned over and wrapped Dahlia in another gentle hug, hoping that some of that wonderful sunshine would pass between them. It was only when she spoke that she realized how warm her voice had suddenly become. It was strange. So much that had happened today was strange. But she had never felt more like Dahlia's sister than she did right then.

"Thank you, Deelie. You're so much better than I deserve."

[User]
---

---

It had become familiar, this feeling, ironically so much like waking up. When Quinn opened her eyes that night, she was there again, laying on the boat atop the spread-out towels. The sky was pale blue, darkness receding from the edges eclipsed by the distant forests. Beyond the lake's cliff-faced rim, a warm orange light was beginning to rise. Though the sun itself wasn't quite visible yet, it was reflected there in the water, surrounding the boat like a glowing, red-orange pond.

It was at once pleasantly quiet, but if she listened, Quinn could hear the sounds of people on Hovvi's shore, see little dots of them scattered about the harbor and the beach. Too far for detail, too far to have been heard, really, but there it was anyway. The shadows of Dahlia and Safie laughed and chatted out by the buoy.

Behind her, there was a slight whooshing sound, and a distant splash.

Quinnlash was sat on the railing, fishing pole in her hands. The line was cast out far, though no farther than Quinn could remember having sent her own that day.

Even in the burgeoning daylight she looked gloomy, darkened by shadows cast from nowhere, as if it were still night for her. The only exceptions were here eyes, which were no blacker or lighter than they ever were, and the horns on her head. They'd grown again, ever so slightly, and had begun to branch at their tips. Like the rest of her, they were unaffected by the sun. Instead, they caught moonlight that wasn't there, and glinted and shimmered like polished white gold.

She glanced sidelong at Quinn. Her knees came up, tucked in close to her chest, and though it should have thrown her wildly off balance back onto the deck, she just hovered there, only tangentially touching the railing.

"You didn't do it…" she grumbled. "You didn't kill her."

[Assistant]
Quinn took a deep breath of the lake air. It was far away now, but still so hauntingly familiar, and a part of her knew that if she wasn't so disconnected from everything in these dreams she would be crushed under the weight of her own sorrow.

But she was disconnected. So instead, she walked up to the railing next to Quinnlash, picked up a fishing pole, and cast it into the lake herself, watching the blunted replacement for a hook zipping out of sight before it plonked into the water. She was silent then, gazing out in the predawn light at the cliffs where once stood a white house.

In the distance she could hear Safie's voice along with Dahlia's, and it cut into her heart even here. There was a quiet certainty in her that no matter how much time passed, that wound would never scab, never heal. She'd never even gotten to say goodbye.

"No," she said simply after some time, "I didn't."

She shook her head. "You said before that she wasn't broken, just bad." For the first time since she'd sat at the railing, she looked back at Quinnlash, eye filled with genuine curiosity. "But you saw her in that cell, right? She's not a taker." The thing that might have once been a hook tugged, the bait that hadn't been there before drawing a fish that swam happily away. "She's had everything taken from her."

Another deep breath. "Every time I think about it, I'm more sure that we the right thing." She unconsciously brushed her fingers, featherlike, across the top of her head where Besca's chin had sat during their embrace. "And they think so too. That counts for something, right?"


[System]
Age: 20

Short bio: Raised by an adoptive family, Prompto lived a lonely childhood devoid of any friends. As a child, he was self-conscious and deemed himself unworthy of his peers. Although he befriended Prince Noctis in high school, Prompto has never truly rid himself of his inferiority complex and greatly doubts himself. Along with that, he carries a deep secret regarding his past, one that continues to haunt him.
Despite his burdens, Prompto remains upbeat, optimistic, and is often the first to crack a joke in the aim to make his friends laugh. Prompto prefers to see the good in people rather than the bad, and he has a soft spot for animals, particularly chocobos.

Other: Shortly after high school, Prompto discovered his love of photography and is rarely seen without his trusty camera in hand. As a result, he has many days of their journey recorded and isn't shy to snap pictures of complete strangers.

Weapon: Being the marksman of the group, Prompto is skilled with using a gun and favors that as his weapon.

Family: unknown

Relationships: friends: Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus

[User]
"Nice to meet you, Sarah." Prompto rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling lightly as she spoke.
"Couldn't really blame you if you were trying to steal one," he joked, glancing towards the chocobo guilty of throwing the blonde. "They're so cute!"

Once Noctis and the others joined them, Prompto confirmed that he was with them. He felt a twinge of guilt as Ignis asked about the fuel needed for their vehicle. Ignis' annoyance was evident, but Prompto couldn't blame him. If the ranch wouldn't be able to help them, they would likely have to get the vehicle towed.

After the introductions were over with, the group of four followed Sarah. Prompto hung onto her every word, fascinated with the chocobos and their environment. The ranch for the golden birds seemed like the perfect haven, at least until Deadeye was mentioned. Even as Sarah explained their plight, Prompto's jaw dropped. Something had to be done.
"That's awful..." The blond eyed Noctis, silently pleading for the prince to offer their services. They could take the beast down, couldn't they? Lives depended upon it!

Before Noctis got a chance to answer, they arrived to the dining area of the ranch. Tables were set up here and there with several visitors eating their freshly cooked meals. The owner greeted them while Ignis took notes of what food was being served.

"Just here to buy some fuel, if you have any." Noctis wasn't oblivious to Prompto's hinting, but he chose not to address the Deadeye issue until their first problem was resolved. "And...to look at the chocobos," he amended, stepping aside so that Prompto might snap a few shots of the ranch itself.

"Fuel? Let me see what I can do." Wiz chuckled to himself when he saw Prompto photographing everything in sight. "If you can manage to get them to sit still, you might be able to snap a few good shots of the chicks. They're fast, though."

Wiz's friendly warning didn't deter Prompto, he was eager to try. "I'll come! If they're fast, I guess I'll just have to be faster." Using his free hand, he checked to make sure he had the correct lens on his camera and fell into step alongside of the girl, keeping a few paces between them. He smiled back to his friends, snapping a picture of them off guard. "You guys coming?"

[Assistant]
A laugh left Sarah when Wiz mentioned how hard they were to get to stay still. There was no joking about that considering they had to keep the chicks in a large caged off area so they wouldn't escape. "They are fast indeed." She nodded in agreement before her attention moved to the camera in Prompto's hands. Oh he was a photographer. Got it! Cool.

Beaming she lead the way towards the area where they pinned in the chicks only to see that no one was coming with them. Looking over her shoulder it was noticeable that Gladiolus was giving a smile and a wave while Noctis was talking to Wiz and Ignis had begun to look through their sales shop. "Well looks like it's just you and me." She said with a charming smile to Prompto as they rounded the main building and went into the back.

After a small walk they came to a large pin and inside circled about 9 baby chocobos. The fluffy little foot tall versions of their parents bounced around and flapped their wings playing with one another. "These are the baby chocobos. They are around about 1 to 2 years old and are just starting to mature before they grow into adulthood. On days when we feel they are safe they roam the farm and tend to venture no further than the course but with Deadeye climbing onto the course from time to time it's just safer to keep them pinned. But we've made climbing areas and things like that for them to play on." She said pointing towards the 3 level of hay off to a side along with a large tube for the creatures to crawl through. And something that looked like a slide off the end of the highest bale of hay. One chocobo was sliding down the 'slide' tweeting happily as it did so.

Picking up a bucket from the side of the pin, she left Prompto to his photos for a moment before returning with a bucket full. "Now the trick is to get inside and not let them out. The feed stall is over there. Don't be surprised if they make laps around you and… if they peak you I'm not liable for it, but I will wrap any cuts because… well they're rough when they get excited." Reaching up she unlashed the side, a notation that stopped the baby chocobos almost instantly. "Plus they don't see new people often so they're bound to get excited."

As soon as they entered and got the gate shut the chocobos began doing laps around their feet twitting and jump while flapping their little wings. "Oh!" Sarah said quickly. "I have an idea."

After dumping the amount of feed she was supposed to into the bin. She set the bucket up high and scooped out some into her hand. "Here. Hold this in one hand and your camera in the other, that way you can get a good close up shot." She gentle put the seed in his hand crotched down with him being careful not to move with her hand cupping a small amount too, keeping their hands close together in hopes to encourage more of the tiny creatures to come forward. "Despite the fact that I went flying through the air, they are rather nice creatures just… nervous and skittish because of the situation with Deadeye. Luckily these little ones aren't affected by it because they haven't had to encounter him some… aren't so lucky." A small sad sigh left her as she thought too much about the situation.

However her blue eyes perked up as she saw one of the chocobos cautiously coming towards Prompto's hand.

[User]
Prompto expected the others to accompany them, or at least he believed Noctis would. Shockingly, his friends turned down the invite. That left only him, and Sarah. The girl was sweet and friendly, but that was the problem. What if he said something stupid?
Prompto glanced to her and managed a tense smile in return for her charming one. "Oh...yeah! Looks like it," he laughed nervously, gripping his camera a little tighter as they made their way towards the back. When the others were around, he felt a little less self-conscious.

The further they walked, the more Prompto calmed down. The ranch was the perfect distraction. For anyone even remotely fond of chocobos, this was heaven.
"This is great!" Prompto looked on in awe, admiring everything the ranch had to offer. The chocobos couldn't have asked for a nicer place to live. Here, they could he happy, content, safe...
Not quite. Prompto lowered his camera, remembering what was said about the monster called Deadeye. As long as that beast lived, lives were at risk.

When they reached the pen, Prompto melted at the sight. There were baby chocobos everywhere he looked, each one as adorable as the next. He laughed as one of the small creatures slid down the slide, flapping its little golden wings. "They're so cute!" He couldn't help but gush over them and snap a few shots while Sarah left to retrieve the feed.

"Heh, no problem. I'll take the risk." Being new to chocobo chicks, Prompto didn't think they could do much damage. How could they? Their little beaks were so tiny! A peck or two couldn't hurt...could it? Even if it did, it was worth the pain. Prompto followed Sarah inside, taking care not to let any of them escape. The chocobo chicks were happy and excitable, which only made them even more adorable.

Prompto snapped a few photos. Most of his pictures were angled from above since he didn't want to scare the creatures by being level with them. The chocobos weren't used to him, plus his camera may have frightened them.
"Wow, thanks! A-are you sure?" He looked to Sarah's hand, gratefully accepting the feed.

"Yeah..." When Deadeye was mentioned, Prompto fell solemn. He knelt down beside her, keeping his camera balanced on one knee. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that..." he stopped mid-sentence. One of the fluffiest, roundest little chocobo chicks started to move forward. The chick ventured toward them tentatively, eyeing the newcomer curiously.

Prompto barely breathed, he didn't dare scare the chick. Just a little closer...
Tempted by the sight of food, the chick continued toward them. Prompto snapped a picture, confident that it was his best photo of the day. To his delight, the baby chocobo got over its fear and started to eat.

A group of chicks watched a few paces behind. Once they saw that their friend was getting his fill of feed, they became braver and surrounded both Sarah and Prompto to get their share.
All was right in the world, until two of them started to fight over who got more.
"Whoa, wait! There's enough for both of you," Prompto tilted his hand to show them. The baby chocobos stared at his hand, then to each other. After a brief pause, they continued with their argument.
While that went on, a chocobo pecked at a button on Prompto's vest. One of the largest chicks attempted to block the others from getting the feed in Sarah's hand, and the ones not hungry started to peck at both Prompto and Sarah's arms.
Most of the time, chocobos were wonderful creatures, but they weren't immune to being troublemakers.

[Assistant]
Their waiting paid off as the chicks soon too interest in the two of them and approached them with eager pitter patters of their feet after the brave first chick approached. After a few moments of silence, Sarah spoke, sharing some new information with him. "Chocobos are like humans in the sense that they have their own personalities. They start driving from the time they were chicks and well into adulthood." With a movement of her head, she gestured towards the chicks fighting. "They're brother and sister so, of course they fight." Then she transferred the food in her hand and pushed the bigger chick away who squawked at her disapprovingly. "She has an eating problem and is a bit of an attention seeker compared to the rest. My hope is that she'll become a racing Chocobo with her love of attention."

It wasn't long before the peaking started to push through her jeans and to her skin before she tossed the feed to the side and stood up. Sadly though it didn't stop the chicks from finding even more of a desire to peak at her leg; "Hey guys seriously, blue jeans do not taste as good as feed." She said with a laugh giving them a push with her foot to get them away from her. The creatures squawked at her in response before they approached her once again. "Nope." Again they got another pushed with her foot before she reached behind them and unlashed the gate. "Come on Prompto, we don't want to keep your friends waiting and you're going to lose a button if we stay here much longer."

A laugh left her as she pulled open the door and the two slid out ensuring that none of the pesky chicks escaped the cage. After latching the cage, she led the way to the group.

"You said something about needing to talk to me about something?" She brought up the topic that he was about to address before the chick started to approach them.

[User]
"Whoa, hey! Eat the feed, not us." Prompto laughed good naturedly and rose, smiling down to the group of squabbling chocobos. "See you guys later! No more fighting, okay?" After he managed to escape the pen without a chocobo chick jailbreak, he walked alongside of Sarah.
While they walked, Prompto looked to his camera. He'd gotten plenty of good photos, all except for one. He wished that he could take a photo with Sarah. For memories sake. Photographs were important to him -- this was a day he wished to remember, and Sarah was someone he didn't want to forget.

I could ask... Prompto bit his bottom lip, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. No! That'd be weird. We just met! While he inwardly argued with himself, he glanced up, surprised by the question.
"Oh -- right! About that..." Prompto slowed to allow them some time to speak before they regrouped with the others. "I'd like to...I mean, we...I didn't exactly ask yet," he stammered out the beginnings of his proposal to hunt the creature down, only he wasn't sure if his friends would be on board with the idea. They hadn't enough information on the beast.

Still. He wanted to help, and he wanted to impress her, if at all possible. Even though Prompto knew he should have asked the others, the words left his mouth before he could think to stop himself: "We're going to take down Deadeye for you."


[System]
Age: Nearly 2,000 years old
Powers: Mind probing, mind control of dimmer mortals

Bio: After the assassination of King Zachaeus, Dregen is now the oldest vampire anywhere in the world. He is the last surviving contemporary of the vampire lord Nosferas, having lived under his iron-fisted rule over mortal men and vampire alike. Unlike Zachaeus, who secretly despised Nosferas, Dregen happily served under the undead tyrant and eagerly administered Nosferas' dominion in exchange for a safe and pampered life. When Van, the first vampire hunter, slew Nosferas and his vassals warred against each other, Dregen went into hiding. When Zachaeus and the men who served him won against the rival vampires, Dregen found refuge in the icy polar wastelands far to the north to escape Zachaeus' wrath. For centuries, Dregen has eked out a meager existence in an extremely harsh environment, hiding from Zachaeus or any vampire hunters. In spite of his extreme isolation, Dregen has learned of the power struggle between Edward and Ulrek Bathory and the chaos that has befallen the Land Under Shadows.

[User]
At sunset one night, Edward left his family to hunt. He fed quickly and gathered some animals whose blood would sustain his family. He had to protect them as well as finish up whatever training remained. He sighed as he returned to the little shack they were currently forced to stay in, along with the followers and soldiers and such who remained loyal to Edward after what had happened in his homeland. Luckily, they outnumbered those who were loyal to his brother, but he knew his brother had probably hired others to replace those who weren't.

Anyway, he looked out the window as Emily fed their son, wondering what was happening while he was away. He frowned as he became very worried, and narrowed his eyes when he became angry. But, he had to be strong, for everyones' sake. They needed a strong leader and that was what he had to be.

He mentally prepared himself for whatever lay ahead.

(I was not sure what else to write.)

[Assistant]
Present

---

Pine boughs above roared softly in the evening breeze as Edward withdrew into his cabin in the evening. The warm glow of the hearth shone out through the doorway into the darkened forest as the vampire prince quietly opened and then locked the door so as not to disturb his sleeping followers within, casting orange firelight upon Bartolomue for a moment before leaving him in the dark once more.

He almost always took the night watch, as it allowed him to share most of his waking hours with his nocturnal liege. As the Commander of the Guard of Castle Bathory, it also seemed fitting to him that he should accept the more strenuous duties and lead by example. It was important to maintain a sense of duty and discipline, Bartolomue felt, even after all that had happened. Never mind that Castle Bathory and all but a handful of its guardians had been destroyed in Ulrek's War. As long as Edward and his son drew breath, the House of Zachaeus Bathory still remained and Bartolomue would serve them until his dying breath. That final breath was now much nearer than when he had started, for almost thirty years had passed since he made that pledge to the previous Guard Commander on the eve of Castle Bathory's destruction.

He was scarcely a man when he accepted the role of Guard Commander and was tasked with escorting Edward and Emily out of the doomed castle to safety. Twenty-seven years later, he had given nearly all of his life to Prince Edward. They had spent the past three decades moving from country to country like thieves on the lam. In the first few years after Ulrek's War, Edward and his loyal retinue had been welcomed into the courts of kings and lords, their hospitality belying selfish hopes of using the last Bathory heir as a puppet vassal to rule the Lands Under Shadow in their stead. But as time went on, and the Disciples of Solomon went farther afield to achieve Solomon Kane's quest to rid the world of vampires, the remnant of House Bathory was welcome in increasingly fewer lands. Now, Edward and his retinue lived in true exile in remote lands on the edge of the world: an abandoned trapper's cabin in the Red Forest near the edge of the Fire Lands.

The guard commander sat against the shaggy trunk of a red pine, staring out into the starlit forest, he wondered as he often did whether he had wasted his life in service to Edward. Edward was no closer to earning his father's throne than he was when he accepted the mantle of Guard Commander. In truth, Edward was in a much worse position than when Ulrek and Solomon Kane ousted him from the Lands Under Shadow. Five years after leaving the Lands Under Shadow, Edward and his retinue were the pampered guests of a wealthy merchant living in the safety of a walled compound in the great city of Aepiranth; twenty-seven years on, they lived like peasants in a sod-roof cabin of half-rotten timbers situated in a brutish, untamed land hundreds of leagues from home. What would another ten years bring?

It's not about my life, Bartolumue reminded himself, it's about those of the ones I left behind.

Bartolumue recounted the rumors that made their way from the Lands Under Shadow: the once-unified kingdom had become a barbaric and violent hell in the absence of the vampire lords. Petty kings - increasingly under the sway of the zealous Disciples of Solomon - waged constant war across the land. Reavers from the Broken Lands plied the coasts and rivers, taking boys as thralls and maidens as wives. Peasants were enslaved by dwarves to mine mithril in their ancestral mines. Violence and terror ruled the Lands Under Shadow in the absence of the vampires. If there was any chance to return Edward and restore order to their homeland, Bartolomue was resolved to take that chance. For in truth, it was his people languishing under the duress of war and famine and terror that he had pledged his eternal support to, not some exiled vampire prince.

He sat quietly in the dark for some time, allowing his eyesight to readjust to the dim starlight of the forest before resuming his patrol around the camp. Wielding the crossbow issued to him as a castle guard some thirty years ago and a short scimitar favored by the local people of the Fire Lands, Bartolomue set out into the forest. His studded leather cuirass creaked softly as each inhalation pressed his paunch against the undersized armor. The grizzle-bearded guard may not have been in peak fighting condition any longer, though Bartolomue was still a seasoned fighter to be sure. Many an assassin and vampire hunter attempting to take Edward or Emily's life had met an end at Bartolomue's hand, and he still had plenty of fight left in him.

A ghostly call sounded through night as the guard captain patrolled the forest: a deep, resonant howl in the distance that transitioned into a high-pitched squeal. A terrifying sound if one didn't know the source, but Bartolomue recognized it at once as the bugle of a stag elk - a strange but harmless denizen of these exotic woods. Theirs was a crepuscular call, notifying Bartolomue that dawn would be coming soon. Through the pine boughs up above, the night sky slowly began to transition from black to dark blue: confirmation that the night was nearly through.

Perhaps it was knowledge that his watch was nearly over that lowered his guard, but it was much too late when the guard captain heard a sound that - unlike the calling of the elk - was much more sinister.

Footfalls on the pine-needles behind him.

Bartolomue spun on his heels immediately, leveling his crossbow, and found himself face-to-face with the round, swarthy faces of two Firelander men. Clad in lamellar armor, their bows were already drawn with vicious iron arrowheads aimed directly at his chest. Several moments of tense silence passed as Bartolomue and the Firelanders held their weapons pointed at one another.

"Lower your weapon," whispered one of the Firelanders in an almost unintelligible accent. The fact that they even knew his language at all was impressive enough.

Bartolomue held his crossbow toward the Firelanders, but glanced back at the cabin behind him. The guard captain knew he wouldn't survive this encounter, not against both of them. But he could at least alert Edward and his other fighting men before he was slain.

"INTRUDERS!" Bartolomue screamed before being struck across the face and having his crossbow and sword physically removed from his posession.

Shouts of alarm rang out from the cabin at once. Prince Edward accompanied by five crossbow-armed men stormed out the door into the forest at once. In the torchlight of Edward's men-at-arms, they saw some twenty to thirty men clad in lamellar armor surrounding the cabin, bows drawn but aimed just beneath Edward and his men, perhaps as a show of some small measure of good will.

Edward's guards shared no such goodwill to the intruders, pointing their crossbows directly at the cohort of exotic warriors surrounding them despite being hopelessly outnumbered.

"Who goes there?!" Edward's guards barked "Identify yourselves!"

Two of the lamellar-clad warriors stepped aside, allowing the presumed leader of the Firelander warriors to step forward toward Edward. Unarmed, but clad in a tunic studded with lamellar plates, his face was round and chubby - even more so than was typical for the nomads of the Fire Lands with their fatty diets. Perhaps a noble among their people? Did the Fire Lands even have nobles to speak of? Edward's men had presumed the people of this country to be simple barbarians with no sense of social order. But the armor and weaponry clearly demonstrated a level of craftsmanship that was not possible among true barbarians. Whatever this man was, he approached Edward and gave a brief bow of the head in respect.

"Please, lower your weapons," the leader of the Firelanders requested in the tongue of the Lands Under Shadow. "We are friends of Prince Edward Bathory."

[User]
Edward was checking on his resting wife and son, Zachaeus(named after his grandfather), when he heard the sounds outside. He thought there was chaos. There was something amiss. He frowned. He took a breath and headed for the door. He opened it and saw his head guard and others confronting someone who was a stranger to him. He frowned at what he saw and he stepped outside.

"Who are you? I demand to know your name and why you are here."

Edward used his commanding royal tone when he spoke. He had to keep a strong appearance for the sake of his family and the others who remained loyal to him. He had gotten word of many humans and vampires still loyal to him, and praying for his return as well as the restoration of the kingdom to the way things were, and could not afford to lower his guard at times like this. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at them and waited.

"Well?"

Edward was not going to be patient, not now.

[Assistant]
"I am a servant of the Prophet Ongu, the Left-Handed Lord, the Son of the Moon God. He is the immortal master of Amhezan; what your people call the Fire Lands. Before your birth, Prince Edward, our Prophet visited the Lands Under Shadow and learned the wisdom of your father. In time, he came to call Zachaeus a friend. A fortnight past, a vision came to our Prophet. He knew that Zachaeus' son had found his way into his wards, and sent me here to find him."

"I know it must seem unbelievable to the ears of an outlander," the Firelander said, noting Edward's incredulous scowl. "But to our people the Prophet's wisdom simply is. You will soon find that the Prophet's wisdom is no more incredible than the fact that the sun sets and falls each day without fail. His foresight and truth are immutable laws of nature. His wisdom is infallible; his will irresistible."

"And what, then, wills your master?" Asked Bartolomue. The eyes of Edward, his guards, and the Firelanders went to the Guard Commander as his Firelander captors brought him before their leader. His eye was blackened from where one of his captors had struck him, visibly unnerving the other guards although Edward remained resolute.

"The Prophet seeks an audience with Prince Edward."

The leader of the Firelanders gave a sharp whistle and the sound of pine needles crunching softly underfoot could be heard as some large beast was galvanized into action from the darkness of the forest. Edward's guards aimed their crossbows at whatever approached. Ambling into the torchlight of the clearing in front of the trapper's cabin came a four-strong team of shaggy, two-humped camels - exotic beasts that elicted dumbfounded awe in Edward's guards. Leather tack and saddles strapped upon their shoulders held up a giant wooden palanquin. The Firelander leader grunted something in his native tongue to the camels, bringing the camel team to a halt directly in front of Prince Edward. With gurgling groans of annoyance, the camels awkwardly stooped down onto their knees, lowering the palanquin to a comfortable height at which it could be entered. The leader of the Firelanders approached the palanquin and opened a door for Edward to enter.

The interior of the palanquin was spacious indeed, and could comfortably seat four. Giant seating cushions were neatly arranged inside, and windows were affixed with several layers of breathable silk curtains that would serve to block the sun's rays - clearly fashioned with vampire occupants in mind.

"Your wife and son shall ride with you," the Firelander said, beckoning Edward inside the palanquin with a flourish of the hand. "Your men shall walk with us. We will make the journey to the Prophet's court as comfortable as possible, but do recall that his will is irresistible. Refusing to heed the Prophet's summons is not an option."

[User]
Edward narrowed his eyes as he listened. His suspicion was great. He glanced behind him. The doorway had been left slightly open. He could hear the sounds of slumber within. His wife and son were sleeping and he would hate to disturb them for any reason at all. He sighed and looked back towards the males before him. The prince frowned. His guard remained high. He took a careful step forward.

"Before I do anything of the sort, I ask for one thing. You must give me your word that no trickery will befall us, that no harm shall be done to any of us. Only then, will I speak with him."

His wife awoke, having head his loud voice. She stood in the doorway, holding their child in her arms. She frowned, worried.

[Assistant]
"Prince Edward, while your men are decidedly brave and loyal, they are very much outnumbered. Had we wished harm upon you and your followers, we would have already carried it out."

"To be fair, they have already inflicted some harm," black-eyed Bartolomue chimed in.

"You were subdued," the Firelander leader corrected. "If we wished you actual harm, you'd have been slain before you were even aware of our presence."

"In any case, Prince Edward, I can assure you that you and your followers shall be treated amicably. No harm shall come to any of them."


[System]
Nicknames: Lady 'N', Thalia
Age: 19
Sex: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual
Role: The Inventor

Appearance: Natalia stands at a generous height of 5'8, and in terms of weight she is about average for her age and body type, but she has more developed muscle than the typical females she knows (or rather, used to know), especially in her arms and upper body in general. She has long slender arms that match her fingers, and although her legs are also long they have a little bit more meat on their bones, particularly near the thigh area. Her skin is tan due to her mother's partial mainland native ethnic background, and she has a spray of light brown freckles that rest on her nose and over her cheeks as well. Her eyes are a rich caramel color and her chestnut brown hair reaches to her mid back, although it is usually kept up for survival purposes. As far as clothing goes, Natalia likes to dress up nicely, and she will usually be found in a (often tattered) dress and a pair of thigh-high stockings tucked into her fashionable yet also practical black boots with buckles. She will hardly agree to go anywhere without a corset on. When a dress or skirt is not an option, an oversized shirt and a pair of trousers will do.

Personality: In an ideal setting, Natalia is an old soul. Compassionate at heart, she has always had a desire to help anyone she can, and is a believer in true romance at the end of the day. However, above all else, Natalia also believes in intelligence, and she isn't blind to the fact that it is her wit and acquired guarded nature that has gotten her through her life, most evidently so as of late, since her home city has become so desolate. She is booksmart and has also started to become streetsmart, always crafting her way out of delicate situations. Whether she invents a mechanical apparatus or just a really good lie, it is almost always sure to work. Because so many people have screwed her over, including those she was once close to, her open-book and heart-on-her-sleeve have unfortunately gone into hiding, with only the most seemingly trustworthy still able to peek inside her intricate mind. A word to describe Natalia's view on life is Bohemian.

Bio: Natalia was born into a rich, upper middle-class family on the North side of London, consisting of her rather obtuse mother and cold and distant father, as well as a younger sister, Emilie. Her family had always had money, from what she was told, although she was never sure how it was obtained; her father kept himself in his office most nights with the door locked shut during what she could remember of her childhood. Her mother mostly spent time with other socialites, drinking and shopping the days away, and Natalia and Emilie both learned to entertain themselves, with Emilie finding a passion for athletics and animals, while Natalia tended toward artistic and scholarly pursuits. This was much to their parents' dismay, as neither of the girls was ever ladylike enough to satisfy, most especially Natalia. Over the past few years, Natalia began to notice things were going downhill, even for her own affluent family, and more secrets seemed to be kept than ever. When Natalia's mother finally broke down and told her that they planned to marry her and her sister off to wealthy men in separate families to keep their titles and status, Natalia and Emelie ran away together, hoping to make it on their own, without the misguided intentions of their parents. Sadly, they were forced apart anyway when Emelie never returned from an attempt to find the two of them food one night. Because of this, Natalia currently resides in the Slate area hoping that she will somehow bump into her sister again one day.

Mission Statement: Natalia is currently searching near and far for her little sister Emelie, while trying to stockpile as much money as she can in order that she may someday leave the country in search of a better life.

Occupation: Due to the current climate, a reputable source of income is well, hard to come by. Therefore, Natalia makes sure she is taken care of by any means necessary, which usually results in the assistance of miscellaneous gang members, whatever that entails (hence the moniker "Lady" N, it refers to her title as a used-to-be leader royal, as well as her time spent as a "lady of the night").

Gang Affiliation: Naturally, the gangs run things around here, and Natalia is no fool when it comes to watching her back and making certain not to get in the way of any of the gang members' big plans. However, when their paths do meet, the only affiliation Natalia currently has with any gangs comes primarily in the form of making money (helping to distribute drugs like Parem or other prohibited substances, selling her body, etc). Other than that, she is at present more of a rogue/freelance type.

Her father, however, was likely involved with one or more of the gangs (possibly how he made his money/secret keeping), but Natalia doesn't know this for sure yet.

[User]
Waylan had sat at his favorite Parem den and had gotten high while dodging RazorGulls to pass the time until it was about an hour before the job."Whelp guess I need to get my stuff. " he said taking another puff before getting up and left without paying saying his usual response of " put it on my tab! " . Waylan then walked to his little place he called " home" if you could really call it that, more so it was just an alleyway he stashed his bag full of explosive and flammable compounds.  " Fuck I'm getting low. " he said to himself frowning as he checked his stash. Guess that isn't Waylan would be paying the Slates local black market a date. Using his matchbox again Waylan lit a bushel to numb out the cold and began to walk to the black market putting and blowing out smoke the whole way.

Once Waylan arrived at the market he looked around , it wasn't impressive looking just a bunch of people in rickety old stands ment to be put up quickly and collapsed quickly if any guards came. Walking to his usual stand Waylans face broke into a smile his bushel hanging from his lips. " Donnie how's my favorite illegal contact? " Waylan asked to small Zhu Hanian man. The man turned to Waylan and scowled but then smiled as he joked around and parted Waylan on the back." I'm doing good now that my best customer is here! "  he said heartily and went back behind his stand. Waylan made a "awww shucks" gesture and began to negotiate the prices for his supplies. Once arriving at ten Kruge which Waylan was thankful for as he barely had twenty Donnie gestured to Waylans right index finger which turned out to be a prosthetic.

 " need any lighter fluid for that? It will be on the house. " Donnie asked Waylan as he got out a cansiter. Waylan smiled and said  " Aww in fact I do Donnie old pal thank you very much." he took the canister and pocketed it then took his supplies and put them in his bag before leaving. In fact Waylan didn't need the lighter fluid he had just bought some a few weeks ago but when you lived in the Slate you don't turn down free stuff. Chuckling as he took some hits off his bushel and blew out smoke Waylan began to walk to the North side so he could do his job. Upon getting to the house Waylan would notice two things, one the DimeLions had some big guys as their muscle two the merchants house was incredibly nice which probably ment the man was incredibly wealthy.

Once he reached the two gang members he smiled and walked up to the door. " Alright boys this is where the magic happens" he said and took out four things from his bag sticky putty, a clear liquid , some fine metal dust, and a empty glass vial. Pressing the putty on the edge of the door where the handle met the frame Waylan then opens the empty vial and pours the liquid in there and some of the metal dust. Corking the vial he then shakes it and pressed it into the putty." Stand back" he tells the DimeLions as he backs up a few feet. After a minute a small not very loud but quick and forceful bang! is heard as the vial explodes breaking the door frame rendering the deadbolt lock useless.

Waylan smirked as he walked inside and began to take his share of any valuables he could sell or any loose Kruge he found." Like taking candy from a-" he made a muffled noise as a bag was thrown over his head. Suddenly blind Waylan was pushed until the kidnappers told him to step up, doing so he then got pushed in what he figured out was a carriage by the clopping of horse hooves. Lurching to a stop Waylan was then pushed into a small house and down the stairs where he was forced to sit in a chair as they shackled his hands behind the chairs back. They then took the hood off and after squinting for a bit to get his vision back from the blinding light Waylan saw a man in a expensive suit staring at him.

The man frowned and walked up to Waylan until his leather shoes were a couple of inches away from Waylans boots. After clearing his throat the man smiled and said  " Pardon me for taking you like that but I guess it is fair seeing how you were robbing my house. " the merchant said. Waylans face got pale and all he could think was  'oh shit'.

[Assistant] Fedosia walks around the North side. She 'trips' over the pavement, falling into the arms of a slightly older man. "Oh dear. I'm so sorry."  She smiles apologetically, allowing herself to shiver a little; her thin coat wasn't near enough to ward off the cold and wind. "Would you like to come inside, warm up?" Fedosia uses her practiced smile of gratitude, but her attention is elsewhere. Sounds of a struggle was heard from a nearby house, a merchant's house that she'd been invited to on occasion. She looks up just as a man in a sack is being thrown into a carriage, and she gasps softly. Her target looks in the same direction, but now that the carriage was pulling away, doesn't see anything. "What are you-? Hey!" Fedosia had taken advantage of the man's distraction, and she'd taken a money pouch hanging from his waist and taken off. The man follows her, and she ducks into a small shop in a side street. She watches the carriage from the window, wondering what on earth was going on, and if there was maybe a way she could benefit.

[User]
Viktor Morgan walks down a dimly lit dark back alleyway, in pursuit of a man who had stolen a pocket watch, a watch once belonging to his father. He had tracked the man down on a tip from a local street vendor who had seen the man several times, passing his stall and playing with the watch each time. The watch itself never worked and was more a sentimental piece, as it was all Viktor had left of his father. And he was determined to get it back at all costs.

The one thing Viktor always wondered about the watch was what was the design that was carved into the case. It was the symbol of the PitVipers, the coiled rattlesnake. Hi father always said that he stole the watch from a watch maker, but Viktor knew there had to be more to the story.

Following the tip, Viktor made his way down the dark alley, to what seemed like a dead end, only to find a small protrusion in the alley wall, which to the untrained eye would look like just part of the wall, but as Viktor could tell, some by sight and more by feeling, he noticed that it was a door set into the alley wall. He tried to push on it, but it didn't budge. Feeling around, he as able to make out a panel, which he assumed slid open enough for someone to look through and find out who was at the door. Viktor clenched his fits and pounded the door. He didn't normally do this, but seeing as there was nothing else around, he figured the only way to get in was to lie to the doorman and somehow slip into the shadows once he was inside.

As expected, the panel on the door slid open and a pair of beady eyes look him up and down. "What do you want?" The voice was deep and raspy. "I'm here to see a guy about a job." This was partially true as Viktor was here for the guy who had stolen the watch, but he wasn't looking for a job, at least not at the particular moment. "Who sent you?" The voice sounded suspicious. Viktor paused a moment and had to come up with something quick. "James, something or other, didn't catch his last name. Spoke to him at the tavern just up the road. Said if I needed work he had a job for a "guy like me" and told me to seek out a door in the back of this alley." The eyes widened and the panel slid closed. Viktor could hear some rustling and the door opened inward.

"Please step inside. We may have some use for you." Viktor stepped inside and the door closed behind him. It was dim and dark in the hallway behind the door, perfect for him to blend in the shadows and slip way. "Follow me." Viktor followed behind close, but not too close. He was inside now and he could feel like there was something else going on here, more than just him taking back the watch. Viktor kept following down the narrow hallway, but noticed it turned off to the right and thats when he made his move, slowly and quietly slipping away down the hallway, as the doorman ket on walking straight.

[Assistant]
There's a pretty lady (sorta familiar) making her way down the alley. Jay tightens her grip on the box on her hip, but the woman doesn't seem to notice. She approaches the door and murmurs a quiet "excuse me" in Jay's direction. Nope. Jay's hand closes around the brunette's wrist, pausing her mid-knock.
"Can I help you?" she growls, letting her low voice drop further than usual. Strange sense of familiarity or not, her client (and by extension, her paycheck) is on the line. Who the he-. Her hand drops, and she takes a step back apologetically.
"Lady N. Didn't recognize you, ma'am." Jay'd been notified that she'd be involved, but they hadn't been expecting her for several hours. Jay bangs on the door, and the hatch swings open. She exchanges quick words with the man on the other side, then turns back to Natalia.
"You're early, so they're not quite ready for you. Would you mind waiting here with me?" She pulls off the long coat to reveal another coat underneath and offers it to the poorly insulated woman.
"It may be a bit."

[User]
Natalia was taken aback when the stranger grabbed her wrist tightly, and she gasped, looking at the hooded figure with not only shock but also malice. Just when she was about to go into fight or flight mode, the figure addressed her by name (or, a least, her street name). Letting go of her wrist and taking back her cloak a bit, the figure turned out to be a female. Natalia was surprised yet again, but she decided to remain calm since her opponent had released her.

Hearing that she was early and would have to wait a while, Natalia decided that it was likely in her best interest to respond to this shadowy woman, if she wanted to keep her job and receive her pay when it was over. "Sure, I suppose I can wait here with you..." Natalia had her guard up, but she tried not to act too sketchy, for fear of being dismissed from a payout that she desperately needed. "And thanks," Natalia took the coat tentatively, examining it fully before donning it herself, in case any Tom-foolery happened to be taking place, "It sure is a bit frigid out here today, isn't it?" She asked her.


[System]
Age:26

Motto: If you have to fail, fail spectacularly!

Race: The fallen, a group skypieans that fell from the sky long after cursed by an ancient creature with devil fruit powers. They live atop a black cloud in the north blue, where no one dares visit.

Abilities: to be completed

Weapon: Sasayaki - A legendary kusarigama forged from the remains of the fallen's greatest enemy, the mythical "sky god," which signifies the the once might of these cursed people. Despite it's power and durability, no man dared to wield the weapon, fearing that touching the kusarigama would once again anger the gods and cause more misfortune upon the fallen. Since then, it has found the hands of Issac, and through a turn luck, ingested the whisper whisper fruit, earning it's new name.
Weapon personality: Sasayaki has no sense of boundaries, and makes it a point into the private lives of every person she meets. When excited, the blunt end will become free, looking back and forth as if the weapon could, which is not far from the truth. Sasayaki can control sound in her immeadiate area, giving her the ability to see through sonar, and the ability to talk. Her high speed vibrations increase the impact power of her blunt end, which she calls the "Sonic Boom headbutt." Issac constantly reminds her that she doesn't infact have a head, but Sasayaki insists that she is more alive that any other punk around her, and if anyone else says otherwise, they will be 100% more dead. She is short tempered, unfiltered, and always looking for trouble. Despite this, she is committed to protecting Issac's "clumsy ass," because without him, she would know what it was like to see. For fun, she likes to take Issac on walks.. don't ask..

Bio: Issac comes from a curse race, that is often shunned by those around the north blue. Once a race of legendary hunters, the fallen have become a shadow of their former selves after their greatest victory backfired. Not much is known about the events that lead to the fall of the cloud island, but the elders have spoke of a powerful creature that curse the land before the fallen lost their place in the sky.

Many of the inhabitants of "Black cloud island" live a life of superstition, but not Issac. Where other avoid mishap, Issac seeks to overcome his curse, pushing his luck further than any fallen before him. Because of this, Issac is constantly a victim of unusual circumstance, and the townfolks began to call him, "Lucky" as a joke in the village. This name has only fueled the odd man, driving him to someday beat the odds. With this in his heart, he took the strongest weapon the town possessed, Sasayaki, and set out for sea. Issac was going to become strong, strong enough to stand with great men that existed in greater seas. Issac was going to sail the grandline, redeeming his name, and maybe, finding the creature that cursed his family to reclaim his life.

Since starting his voyage, Issac has survived 5 shipwrecks, 8 evacuation level weather events, 7 unexplainable building collapses, 3 navy assaults, and 2 sea king rampages. His currently location is a small uninhabited island, which he washed ashore on after being launched in the air by an upstream. Issac has been alone for 121 days, surviving on fruits and supplies that inexplicitly wash ashore. In this time, he came to the realization that the curse didn't want him to die, only to suffer, which caused gave him a dangerous plan when a devil fruit washed ashore one day. Issac planned to eat the fruit, and test his luck in the ocean, when for no reason at all, the fruit vanished. He would later discovered his weapon, sasayaki, had eaten the fruit in his stead, foiling his plans, but giving him the unbreakable companion he had always needed. Issac survived on comprimises

Personality: Issac is constantly fluctuating between foolishly optimist, to devastatingly pessimistic. He is constantly failing at what he wants to do, but somehow he always get by. If there is one constant in his life, it is that he is willing to challenge any superstition, even if it seems foolish. This leads him to easily becoming baiting into dangerous situation to prove a point.

Famous cursed words: What could possibly go wrong??

[User]
"when i get on that ship im gonna freeze that damn weapon" Siera said furiously making her way back to the ship racing over the waves on a stream of ice in front of her. When all the sudden klank fly's past her with a grin on his face and cigarette in his mouth. "There is no way that scrawny smoking twerp just pulled that off!" she thought to her self when she saw klank fly by. Now her anger was directed at klank and klank only.

When she started to get closer to the ship she threw her right arm forward and and created a big 10-ft ramp of ice in front of her aiming her directly at the ship. She leaped of the end of the ramp and started to do back flips in the air enjoying the last remaining view of the island that the weird guy and the talking weapon was on. "you know at some point im gonna have to start remembering there names" she thought to her self while crashing into the side of the mask on the ship.

She was in a trance lying the on the ground with her head on the floor and butt in the air laying against the mast she just crashed in when she noticed that damn weapon staring at her again. "there is now way im doing that" she mumbled under her breather when she was getting up off the floor. "You need to get a hold of that damn weapon before it sinks this ship and possibly all the food they might have!" she turned and point at big head quickly and said "by the way i haven't eaten anything in days so were do you guys keep your food"

"Well you can have some food once you have proven that your legs are strong enough to even be on this ship" he said with a deep and stern sounding voice.

"I'll just find my own way around then." She said with her stomach growling loudly so that she will hurry up

She looked over to her side at klank and said "hey Idk how you managed to pull that off but next time your gonna lose! Also your the pain in the ass on this ship" she turned around and flicked her left hand at klanks feet freezing the wood underneath him and walked over towards the mast and leaned against it. with a grin on her face.

[Assistant]
Klank was walking back towards Bighead and Isaac when the girl crashed into the ship. He shot a quick glance at her butt as she lied on the floor. "Hm," he whispered to himself, raising one eyebrow. At least there's something to look at, he thought. She finally stood up and he watched as she spoke her mind. He was glad someone was on his side, but that only lasted until she mentioned food and then asked where it all was. Klank rubbed his head in thought. The food supply was low as it is and taking on new members would pose a problem. They would definitely have to find another island. In the middle of thinking, Sierra pointed and seemingly challenged him. He chuckled when she called him a pain in the ass. That chuckling ended when ice formed beneath him and he lost his footing, falling to the floor. He crawled off the ice and brought himself to his feet. When he looked at the girl, she was grinning like she had won.

 "I see we have a prankster," Klank called out. He flashed back to his first year on the ship with Captain Bighead and the crew he had before. The men were big on games, and though it took him a while to put himself on the same level as the others, Klank became quite the prankster himself. He was known, then, to take these types of things a little too far. He Looked to Bighead and smiled a devilish grin.

 "Uh oh," Bighead laughed. "Just remember, Klank, no one damaged the ship more than you when the old crew was aboard."

 "Had to teach them a lesson, Captain. Looks like she'll have to learn the same one." Klank looked Sierra in the eyes, smile gone. "All in due time." He let a few ideas run through his head before he started thinking about the food situation again.

 "Captain," Klank said, suddenly. "We need to find a town to restock the ship. We've been running low for weeks and if we're gonna be taking on new crew, then we will run out in days. Won't be much of an adventure if we all starve to death."

 Bighead rubbed his thick beard for a moment. "Way ahead of you, Klank." He wasn't, but Klank shoved it aside and went below deck to get accurate counts.

[User]
Issac felt awful, knowing that his brief sentimental notions caused the others harm. He had lived with the curse for his whole life, but subjecting others to the madness that he survived daily was another storm. "My apologies," he said with a bow. "I did not mean for you all to become entangled in my plans." Sasayaki swayed back and forth anxiously as the others found their way back to the ship. For the most part, he let her be her own person, being alone for so long, but Issac knew even untrained dogs eventually had to learn their manors when taken inside. He wrapped his arm to the base of her chain, reeling here in. "And she is sorry too."

"Don't tell me how to feel," she screeched, trying to tug away like an overtired toddler. "I'm. Not. A. Toy."

"Never," he said with a smile. "You're the only friend durable enough for me to keep, and I'm sorry I had to curse you with self-awareness." He felt the chain loosen, sulking down over his shoulder, the head of the chain snugly across his back. "I don't know you, but I want you, all the more for that." He started.

"Words fall through me," Sasa joined, he previous hostility easing with every word. "Always fool me, and I can't react"

Issac smiled again, wondering what a world without her would have been like, even though it was looking like that would was more and amore possible with the new arrivals. Despite them all, he couldn't imagine abandoning his troubled child, not even if it cost him everything; Issac just kept smiling as the took them both. "And games that never amount, to more than they're meant, will play themselves out."

Just as the chouse hit, he could feel the massive hands to the strange new captain on both of their shoulders and join in with low bellow of an overgrown mouth. "Take this sinking boat and point it home, We've still got time, Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice, You'll make it nowwwwwwwwwwwww."

"Brings be back," Bighead said with the manlyiest single tear that seemed to catch ever ounce of sunlight. "But a man needs adventure! A man needs to roam the sea free! A man doesn't have time sunday morning brunch!" Bighead turned to Issac, picking him to his level by the shoulders. "Do you know what's in brunch, Lucky. Do you know!? It's all carbs! ALL OF IT! WHERE ARE THE GAINS?" He shook, clearly reliving some hidden baggage. "Nowhere," he finally said, putting him down. "Nowhere."

Issac didn't know what a carb was, but was just happy someone called him by his chosen name. "Dam right, cap," he nodded eagerly. It was then that he noticed that the deck was quickly emptying, the others getting to rest after their dramatic entrances. He couldn't know for sure, but he suspect that he might like these new crewmates, and their unique quirks, but Issac needed to see them alive long enough to get attached. "No what, sir."

Captain Bighead smiled, clearly having a plan in mind. "If you're strong enough to keep such a powerful weapon in line, you're strong enough to steer this ship." He pointed to the rear of the boat, seemingly pieced together after a series of unfortunate events. Klank wan't to stock up, so bring us somewhere safe," he smirked.

"Somewhere safe," he nodded. "Right, I can totally do that." Issac couldn't be truly believed that if he had tried hard enough, he could get lucky and find the perfect island to prove his worth. He dodged the slippery sections of the deck as he made his way to the helm, softly resting his hands on the new burden. "Somewhere safe," he said one last time, turning the wheel with no map, no point of reference, and no idea how to operate a ship of that size.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, back on the island, a mysterious woman appears. The island is deserted, with the exception of a single bottle and a note attached to it.

"Got the milk, but I just realized that we didn't have any glasses. Going to store to find something really amazing. Can't wait for brunch with your sisters.

Always yours,
Snugglebear Bighead II"

The woman looks to her ship, a silhouette of characters watching from the shoreline. "Still playing hard to get, I see." The milk breaks in her hand, cold fluid running down as she grins. "I do love our little foreplay, but it's time to come home, Snugglebear."


[System]
Age: 10
Appearance:
Faction: Omnibus Scientia

Personality/Backstory: Long story short, Alice is a genius. At the age of six, she was zooming through advanced calculus problems at a pace that made her father's college students quiver with insecurity. However, because of her high intelligence, she was always something of a loner - children her age were so stupid it was obnoxious, and adults never understood her idea of fun. As a result, Alice grew distant from others, viewed them as inferior. They treated her like the outcast she was, and soon, Alice learned that cruelty was the only way to protect herself from the ridicule of others. After the plague wiped out her entire family, Alice decided to make a change - she would project a kind, bubbly image to the world, to endear herself to others, for she could not survive on her own. Her ruse worked all too well; before long, the marriage of her feigned innocence and ruthless intellect had given birth to companions, and, with the help of a few well placed lies designed to revive the dashed hopes of the unsuspecting, Alice turned her companions into followers, and Omnibus Scientia was formed. And, oh, the fools kept joining and joining...

Other: Alice's greatest tool is her intellect. She is useless in a fight, and relies on her followers to defend her. However, Alice does have a talent for hiding herself, when she must. She is very paranoid about what she eats and drinks out of a fear of assassins. Nonetheless, on rare occasions, she may let down her guard if offered chocolate chip cookies.

[User]
@Mivuli@LovelyAnastasia

Shiba was watching everything from his perch up high when he saw that they came to trade he kept an eye on his watch timer but was able to go back to drinking his scotch. soon he noticed that Kim was talking to someone outside but that person she was talking to just gave Shiba a bad vibe. He kept his eyes on his timer but he got set up quickly and got that woman in his scope, This time Shiba was ready to take them down the second Kim gave the signal for shoot which was making a gun with their index finger and 'shooting' the trespasser The second that she gave the signal Shiba would have the green light to take her out. Shiba would avoid killing the trespasser and try to just shoot her in the shoulder but it would none the less get their point across. Shiba will always avoid the killing blow when possible but he wont take any chances when it comes to the shop and his friends...

[Assistant]
Drake went inside to double-check the merchendise. He knew that some people had sticky fingers, or less self-control when it came to food. In a way, he couldn't blame them-- rationing sucked, even when there was a food source at the local Wally World. The ganja guys there probably had the munchies just as much as someone who didn't partake in the herb.

A thought suddenly struck him funny as he took inventory. I wonder if they bake the chickens before they cook them? he thought. He grinned, chuckling. "Pot for every chicken!"

[User]
Erren walked towards the shop, sky in tow,many begun to reload his revolver. Leaving the graveyard behind was an easy task, yet he couldn't understand how some people found it so hard to peel themselves away. People were dead, yes, but there was truly nothing that could be done to save them; not even the continuum could. Even still, the idea of praying to Gods for the peace of souls, or even talking to the graves in any manner was looked upon by him as nothing but mad triviality created by people that could not let go of the people they had lost. Maybe the people who did such things weren't mentally capable to deal with change and loss, but there were some that could handle the stress. It felt so alien to him; so otherworldly that he couldn't fathom it.

Approaching the shop from the side, Erren heard an unmistakably thick accent from... Was it Scotish, or something else? He couldn't quite tell, but coming to the entrance pretty much forced him to a conclusion. A girl with a thick accent, missing eye and red hair? Definitely Scotish, even if it was pretty uncommon for someone with that thick an accent to be around these parts. There were a couple others who seemed to have come to trade or whatnot, but the woman seemed the most... Unapproachable.
"Kim, hey. This kid giving you trouble?" he asked, looking at the woman with a cold stare of distrust. Then he tapped the revolver to the side of his head in a slight attempt to threaten her.
"If she is, why don't we show her how I deal with people who come knocking on a door of outcasts after a large number of us were killed? Should make for a great... Spectacle..." he said, a small smile creasing the sides of his lips as he finished.

Kim was a quiet person, as everyone knew, but there was a lot more to her than everyone probably thought. She almost looked like a personal war front slave; throwing herself into the line of battle like a freaking suicide bomber, with deadly skills to boot. Erren took a couple guess a while back, with most coming to the possible conclusion she might have had some kind of inferiority complex. To throw herself into war on a whim or flip of a coin seemed a little... Absurd, to say the least, but it was like she didn't care. Either she was extremely cocky, or mostly crazy, or a bit of both. Yet, neither seemed to fit her entirely perfectly. She had the skills to warrant an ego, but the ferocity and willingness to complete insanity. But nothing seemed to be a perfect piece to finish her psyche. Erren had taken quite a while trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside her head, but only ever coming to the idea of 'inventing a brain extrapolation device and cutting her head open'. For some reason, though, that didn't seem very appealing.

He stood in front of both Kim and the Scotish woman, holding the revolver slightly upwards past his head, but resting against it. Then, he brought it down to hip height and aimed it at her.
"Please, state your true intentions before I put a bullet through your spleen. That, or show us what you have to either sell or trade, because we aren't really in the mood for petty games." he said, the last of the light in the sky glinting in his eyes, "And don't lie to me, or our little friend on the roof will be the least of your worries." he finished, the smile that cracked his lips blossoming into a smile of enjoyment. He hadn't held someone at gunpoint since he took a couple Gamers hostage a few months back, and he felt elated; ecstatic. A feeling that couldn't be rivalled by anything.

[Assistant]
The Cyclops
Don't Shot Me, Bro
@Jangel13@Vocab

---

'Kid'? Her? Now she was highly amused. Were there really any actual 'kids' left in this world? Seemed like only snakes and salamanders were truly left. A soft laugh left her lips. Tilting her head to the side, the red head turned her one piercing green eye to the boy in front of her. He looked a little too happy to be pointing that gun at her. And being shot so soon wasn't exactly in the plans for today. Her lash marks were only just healing. The dust on her face was a good cover up of her abnormally pale complexion, but there was no way she was going to let these trigger happy kiddies see her weakness.

You couldn't exactly just walk out of the Gamer Gang. Not without a punishment.

One she had been just fine at taking. But now it seemed to have become a disadvantage, instead of a badge of honor. It made her shirt stick to her back and her shot gun made it ache a bit too much. She hoped she wasn't bleeding through the jacket. It was her favorite jacket. With a small sigh, the amusement drained from her face. Looking up at the sky, she supposed there was not much more free time left before she got another pretty pucker bullet wound to match the other. Her eye shot down, the sharp pale color a bit cold, but could you blame her? She was in serious pain and this little snips weren't making this easy.

With the Cyote and Slinker inside, she had assumed she would be treated with suspicion, but allowed to meet inside as well. The Slinker was a lot creepier than her. Hey, she was friggin' adorable compared to that guy. But they were being cautious. After losing their friends, it was only right. They were mad and wanted to take it out on someone. She could empathize. Just...maybe not at this moment.

"Look, Greenie," she stared the boy down, "If I wanted a fight, I would of stayed wit' the Gamers, not risked meh skin comin' here alone." Cy grabbed the Gamer patch on her jacket sleeve and with one solid tug it was released from its stitches with a nice RIIIIIP! Tossing it in the dust at their feet, she just put her hands up.

"If you think this is a game, yer in for a cold wakin' up, Greenie," her voice was warm but low and serious, "Gamer-Scorp fightin' is about tah blow up in the matter o' days. A lil' tussle with some of their stranglers ain't gonna be nothin' compared to the truf war that's comin'." She gestured to the area around her. "And a few extra guns is somethin' worth more than twinkies and a can o' Coke for both sides," Cy stared him down, "Some smaller gangs have already been assimilated. And some wiped out."

She let the simmer for a bit.

"Ain't you wonderin' why yeh been gettin' so much attention lately?" she cocked her head towards the graves, "Ya'll think yeh can handle both them gangs on yer own? But whatever. Shot meh if ya like. I thought ye lot with be a little more intelligent, but maybe I should try my hand with the the Earthkin."  She slipped a little white sheet of paper from on of her pockets and twirled it this way and that. Looking at it, it was oddly untouched by the grim of the world around it. Like it had been from a very well kept up book.

"Heh, don't think the O.S. will let meh back in their mess fer a while," she looked back at the child soldiers then up at the sharp shooter, "Try not to mess up meh pretty face, alright Sharp Shot?" She looked back down at the boy and girl before her. "Gotta keep The Cyclops face a might bit prettier these days. Bad fer business if an info seller looks like a Frankenstein."

She licked her lips and set one foot back. Bracing herself. Hey, not everyone could be reasoned with and this crazy eyed Greenie looked thirsty for her blood. "Map of the Scorps hangout," she said plainly, "That, kiddies, is meh trade."

[User]
Alice scowled at the monitor in her room as Charon looked straight at the camera. What an annoying man! She didn't seem to be the only one who found him obnoxious - when he greeted the onlookers, he received no response at all.

"Before you get to look through your books," said Katie, "I'm afraid there are some formalities to deal with. You'll be meeting with the Oracle... remotely, so you can't threaten her again. Follow me."

Katie left her position and made for one of the room's back exits, motioning for Charon to follow.

***

As she approached the room she was leading the medic to, Katie whispered, "You and I should talk later... privately. But, for now, just try not to get into trouble. She can be a fickle little one."

Without awaiting a response, Katie turned on her heel, leaving Charon alone with the brat.

***

Despite her best attempts to maintain regal composure, Alice couldn't quite hide her irritation at the fact that the man she had ordered to be killed was now standing before her, alive as ever. "Sit down," she said coldly, "If you want to keep living, you'd better do what I say. Firstly, you will give up those samples you mentioned. They don't belong anywhere near me. Secondly, you must swear not to try to undermine my authority again. Usually, I make people swear it in the name of the Highest, but I doubt that would hold much weight with you, so how about you swear it in the name of your sister, and everyone else you've failed to save?" An icy smile formed on Alice's lips. If Charon dared refuse, he would just be killed like she had wanted, and he was bound not to agree to such an oath!