[System]
`[hider=Name][center][h1][color=khaki]Name[/color][/h1][/center]

[center]
[hider=Appearance][img]Picture[/img][/hider]
[color=khaki][h3][b]Gender | "Nickname" | Rank[/b][/h3][/color][/center]

[u][b][color=khaki] Appearance: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Organization Rating: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Defensive Type
Yoki: B
Agility: B
Muscular Strength: B
Spirit: B
Perception: B
Leadership: B

[hider=Future]
Yoki: B
Agility: B
Muscular Strength: B
Spirit: B
Perception: B
Leadership: B
[/hider]

[h1]OR[/h1]

[hider=Awakened]
Yoki: S
Agility: S
Strength: S
Invulnerability: S
Intelligence: S
[/hider][/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Abilities: [/color][/b][/u]
[u]Ability:[/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Biography: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Personality: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]
[/hider]`

`[hider=Name][center][h1][color=khaki]Name[/color][/h1][/center]

[center]
[hider=Appearance][img]Picture[/img][/hider]
[color=khaki][h3][b]Gender | "Nickname" | Rank | Alliance[/b][/h3][/color][/center]

[u][b][color=khaki] Appearance: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Organization Rating: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Type
Yoki: S
Agility: S
Strength: S
Invulnerability: S
Intelligence: S
[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Abilities: [/color][/b][/u]
[u]Ability:[/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Biography: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]

[u][b][color=khaki] Personality: [/color][/b][/u]
[indent]Text[/indent]
[/hider]`

[User]
The rest of the bloodbath went quickly, and Moerae found that although she herself sustained no injuries, there were too many Yoma about for her to protect the villagers from. Protecting the line of previous game-players didn't go as well as the Claymore hoped; she'd lost one human, who'd been dragged off into the bloodbath, and another had sustained a fatal-looking bite to the shoulder that took what seemed like both flesh and bone.

"My child!" a father was wailing to the sky as Moerae flicked the blood off her blade.

The wail cut off, and shuffling noises could be heard. Looking over just in time, the Claymore narrowly dodged the charging human, eyes wide as she watched the man huff, saliva and snot gathered over his face. His eyes, though, were livid with life — and rage.

"You! It's your fault!" the man shouted, a trembling finger pointed at Moerae. "It's your fault my Margot was killed! Why didn't you do your job properly?"

The girl blinked, understanding that the accusation was directed at her, but not understanding why. Were humans all so unreasonable? The man was accusing her in an attempt to find someone to blame other than himself. He'd been the closest one to his daughter, and he was the one who'd failed to shield the girl from the attacking Yoma, yet it was now Moerae's fault somehow.

I failed to cut down all the Yoma, yes, she thought, sheathing her sword as the man yelled in anger, preparing to charge again. But I'm not omnipotent, and there's no one to blame except the Yoma, and perhaps the world that we live in for being cruel.

The man ran at her, but Moerae was faster, dodging out of the way before her even finished his first step. But the man never finished; Raynald stepped back, a hand frozen at chest level as the human dropped, landing in a heap at the rank two's feet.

"A firm hand is all you need to deal with them," he told Moerae, dusting off his hands. He waved to the other Claymore. "Ansgar's making his own plans again, and you should probably listen. You're in them."

Hearing Raynald's words, Moerae quickly pinpointed where Ansgar was — it wasn't hard since the Claymore in question exuded Yoki when he didn't care enough to suppress it, the monstrous energy rolling off him as easily as light off the sun — and ran over, arriving within seconds.

Ansgar was currently up in Gideon's face, threatening the man. Moerae caught her name somewhere in the exchange — Gideon was to team up with her? What for?

"Oh, Moerae," Ansgar said, an easy grin on his face as he sauntered over. "Don't feel insulted that I'm getting you a bodyguard. It's just that you're new and rather inexperienced, and I have to make sure that you don't die on me. The last female — well, she was no fun. Weak — almost as weak as a human," he said, shrugging. "I got bored of her quickly — what fun is trying to tame the meek and submissive? — but you — you're stronger, aren't you?" he said, the same grin on his lips, except wider now.

Moerae dodged out of the rank one's way as he approached, mouth set in a hard line. This, she recognized. It was surprising to see that even the rank one was affected by such animalian qualities, but at the same time Moerae wasn't too surprised. Many a Claymore retained unfavorable traits after their transformation, and Ansgar was evidently among them.

"The organization didn't order such an action," she said flatly. Ansgar narrowed his eyes briefly, then relaxed again, his grin returning.

"Well the organization isn't much fun, is it?" he asked, laughing at his own joke. "Well, I say this meeting is dispersed. Nice seeing you all, and meeting you, Moerae," he said, waving a hand as he walked away. "See you all again — if you don't get offed first." With that, the rank one blinked into the wind, gone.

"I'd love to say that you should just ignore the idiot," Raynald said, breaking the silence, "but you'd both best follow. Ansgar's known for his temper, and his strength gets the organization to overlooks many of his unreasonable actions." The rank two paused, sighing. "Good luck to the both of you."

The rank two walked away as well, as did the rest of the group. Some cast curious looks as the left, while others looked rather amused at the whole thing.

---

[Assistant]
One could always count of Raynald to offer the cold, hard truth of the matter and he was spot on like he always was… Gideon and Morae could go their separate ways and maybe Asngar wouldn't find out immediately but it would only be a matter of time before he paid both of them a visit. They would not like those visits and it'd be questionable if they would even leave said encounter in one piece or even alive, it was too early to start making a noise and Gideon knew that so his only option was to quietly do as he's been told. It might prove valuable for him to find out more about this new Claymore, he wasn't about to make any assumptions about her but from his first impression she certainly seemed more tolerable than the others.

"Well I never saw this coming, we better get used to the fact that we're a team for the moment despite our own opinions. Believe me, I don't want this anymore than you do." He could have complained about their current predicament but it would do him no good at him, this was what life was going to be like until Ansgar decided otherwise or Gideon felt ready enough to make a move. It'd be interesting for him to discover if Morae would become an ally or an enemy in the long run, he hoped for the former but it was difficult to truly get to know another Claymore. From what he'd seen she appeared confident and surprisingly skilled, her ability to accurately detect Yoki was remarkable. Since his own Yoki sensing wasn't nearly as good, she'd strengthen one of his weaknesses and form this make-shift team into something formidable.

Gideon wasn't certain of what their next move should be, they could start heading back to their headquarters for further instruction or wait for one of their handlers to show themselves but who knows how long that'd take. And just like that he heard a familiar voice from behind him, he always had knack for approaching undetected and for a human that was an impressive feat.

"If it isn't my favourite silent Claymore and his new partner in crime…" Leon wore a smirk on his face, he was enjoying this and was unafraid to show it to these two. "What an unfortunate situation you two have found yourself in, Ansgar loves doing his own thing and who are we stop him having his fun?" His gaze drifted over to Morae as he regarded her coolly. "At the very least he made a good choice, you could have been partnered with much worse." He looked deep in thought for a few seconds before turning around and walking away with slow steps. "There is an awakened being in Gundor Keep, west of here, former rank four is held is using it as a feeding ground. It's been deserted for many years but the roads around it are often used by merchants and traders. Now it's a problem that needs dealt with, your problem to be exact. Goodluck." Leon waved a hand with a casual goodbye as he faded into the distance.

"I guess we better move out, there's no use in us being here anymore." Gideon didn't bother waiting for a response, he didn't even check to see if she was going to tag along but that was probably because she didn't have any other choice… just like he didn't. It was a fair walk over to Gundor Keep, he had passed it a few times before and though it was impressive, it was mostly ruins now and he never gave it a second thought. Technically this mission should have been easy for them, he could have done it solo but it was never smart to think all rank fours would be at the same level of power. He would know soon enough if she was going to be useful or simply a hindrance, Gideon found himself becoming increasingly excited to see how each new to was going to unfold as something wholly unexpected had just happened to him. Maybe this isn't going to be as bad as I first thought…

[User]
The handler Moerae made out with little difficulty; she'd met a few members of the organization during her time as a trainee, and if there was one thing uniting them all other than the name of the organization, it was their unsettlingly relaxed mannerisms. It was as if, because they didn't dirty their hands, they were somehow "above" the Claymores they handled. That said, Moerae didn't think her opinion of them mattered much anyway. Few were ill-behaved enough to truly unsettle her, and her job description didn't require her to put up with her handlers for long anyway.

Former rank four… That's a high-ranking Awakened. Higher than any I've tackled so far, Moerae thought after the handler had disappeared into the woods. She'd thought no more of the smug man after he disappeared, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. Nodding at Gideon, Moerae followed his lead and pace towards the west. Well-trodden dirt paths through grassland gave way to a sparse forest, the path disappearing as trees faded into rubble.

What made them desert this place? Moerae wondered, passing an lone stone arch that must have once been a doorway into a large building. All that was left now, however, was a faint stone outline of the structure and some slabs piled here and there. This was a large building once, but it seems most of the structures around the keep have long crumbled.

Soon enough the main keep was in sight, tall and proud amongst the ruins beside it. It was still a while off, but Moerae figured that now was the time to talk strategy, if there was going to be one.

"Are we going to go in with a plan?" she asked, slowing to a stop. Reaching out with her senses, Moerae found that the entire area — including the main keep — seemed devoid of life. Either the Awakened was out hunting at the moment, or it was smart enough to have supressed its Yoki.

Does it know that we're here? Moerae wondered, anxiety creeping in. She hadn't even hunted an Awakened under rank twenty before, much less a single digit like a former rank four. Although it was comforting that she had the current rank three paired with her, Moerae felt like the mission seemed a little mismatched. The Awakened the mission detailed was of higher rank than herself, not to mention the fact that Awakened Beings generally saw their former talents increase exponentially when they tap into their hidden wells of Yoki. Does the organization really think that a rank three and a rank twelve can take down an Awakened rank four on their own?


[System]
Age: Unknown (Part of the mystery!)

Race: 'Gifted' human

A healthy, radiant complexion and brilliant emerald irises make for a pleasant first-glance at the woman. Though the lack of sun-starved, pale skin may leave one wondering if the woman isn't from some sunbathed region. The smooth accent rolling from her tongue indicates otherwise, though it is difficult to place.

Keen features add to the intensity of her gaze; high cheekbones and a sharp jawline furthering the appearance of ferocity that goes well beyond the woman's underlying wolfish nature.

Raven locks fall to her lower back--assuming the woman has actually let them loose. It's more often she's seen with her hair twisted into a careful knot or a neat ponytail.

The result of ceaseless, almost obsessive, training is difficult to conceal behind any given attire. Her thick frame is undoubtedly more muscle than fat--though it offers a contrast to the sharpness of her visage if one takes the time to note the curvature of her figure.

Few scars are visible on her form, though on the occasion they are it would seem the woman bears very few. Faint lines cross her chest diagonally, similar lines replicating the effect on her upper back. Nicks and slender markings are scattered over her flesh here or there, the lines having grown so faint it is difficult to take note of them at all.

She exudes confidence bordering on a cocky attitude. Every graceful step is taken with a sureness, a sense that the woman is never second-guessing where she's headed; even if it's simply to slip inside a tavern for an evening drink.

Elizabeth has an unusual set of powers. While she is known for her excellence in studying shadow oriented magics, her origin leaves her with the additional benefit of her God's blessing; sharp eyesight, a sensitive sense of smell, and a pair of canines that seem almost out of place though they are relatively small. Her athletic abilities are increased as a result of this blessing. (See history for further explanation!). She has training in acrobatics, necessary medicine (field medic), and maintains the ability to utilize materials to create curious little trinkets littered with magic that produced unusual results.

Throughout Elizbeth's form the glint of steel is noticeable.

- A total of 10 throwing blades rest at her thighs, three strapped to the outer thighs, two to the inner thighs. This protects those vital arteries as well as provides additional weapons!

- Two daggers are sheathed at her hips, carrying a curious, deep violet glow.

- The inside of her boots are lined with much smaller blades, far too small to be adequate weapons in combat. Each was coated with a carefully crafted poison.

- A flintlocke bearing ornate designs, elven in nature, remains holstered toward the back of her belt.

- A bag clearly impacted by magic carries far more than it should.

- Though her pauldrons are small in appearance, clever tinkering has lead to their lining... tubing that connects one pauldron to a canister concealed in the other. When activated it releases a gaseous neurotoxin.

- Hidden beneath her leather bracers is a spring activated blade (Assassin's Creed style yes, sue me!).

South of the primary human Kingdom of Peilos rests the much smaller, secluded Kingdom of Lyceum (lie-see-uhm). The walled in region is tucked away on the southern coast, buried in a sea of pines and everpresent fog. The constant rain makes it a least favorite destination on any tourists lists, and if that didn't scare off the average traveler, the stories very well might. The Lycians (lie-see-ahn) were a separate community of humans, defected from their primary peoples thousands of years prior to the culmination of the great war between the elves and the humans. Though it began as a religious community, the dedication of their priests brought them the gift of their god. He was known simply as 'the great wolf'. If he had a name, no one spoke it, and the rumors that trickled from the once open city were twisted and altered over time. The humans there had been granted exceptional strength and speed, their grace no less benefited from the blessing though they become a brutal foe. The grin of a Lycian offered a showcase of pearly white, deadly teeth. The signature of these "creatures" as they were now deemed, was the brilliant yellow coloration of their eyes.

Elizabeth overtly was nothing particularly special. With a heavy hood to hide her features, none would know she carried any such blessing. Dark leathers constantly adorned her form, the woman's choice of accessory always the glint of steel. She was but a simple traveler if she was allowed to keep that hood on. This comfort did not last.

In the beginning she was known only within the walls of her own home. An accomplished assassin, rising through the heavily corrupted ranks of her city. Having separated themselves with thick stone walls and heavy iron gates, the citizens of the region had become reclusive, and ultimately infighting had begun. Their newfound immortality (or so it is rumored) lead to the realization that none would pass on to allow another to inherit title, to work along the ladder of nobility through not only achievement but the death of others. Assassination was more than a carefully concealed profession within these walls, it was a lifeblood. The very essence of the city. It's recent history was bathed in blood.

It was no surprise then that during the war a curious letter found itself on Elizabeth's desk, a sophisticated loopy script detailing the events of the greater world beyond those gates, and the need for someone as talented as her. She left the safety of her walls, of the towering pines and constant storm clouds, only to find herself ostracized.

While her work in the war had earned her heavy praise from her allies, her enemies were far less keen, and those bright yellow eyes made it clear she was not 'pure' in her humanity. Her home likewise had turned, shutting their gates in the interest of maintaining their reclusive status, naming Elizabeth nothing short of a traitor to their tiny nation.

[User]
Liz turned to follow Thortan inside, her gaze quickly settling on the scenery. She studied the interior of the mansion just as she had the woman outside, taking in every detail...memorizing every exit, and every hiding spot. It was the involuntary process her mind launched into anytime she entered a new structure. Her own mind was not far from Thortan's, though neither of the two realized that of course. Memories of her own were flickering through her mind. The first time she had met with the Queen it was when tensions had initially risen.

It was worth noting, in Liz's own mind, that the tensions were not without merit. Whatever she had advertised it was obvious the Queen had no intention of giving the humans any real power in her envisioned empire, and it was only a matter of time before they would figure that out. Liz had seen it quickly, and she had offered her opinion without hesitation. When the Queen had laid out her vision for Liz she could not help but be impressed. It was something she could support, and so here she was.

Those early days had been full of thrills. Constant work had been rolling in for the assassin, and she had barely a moment to spare for the sake of sleep. It was ideal, for someone like her. The waiting had her restless, irritable, and anxious. She wanted to see things moving, to watch that progress the way it should. The more reclusive Kingdoms, Liz felt, were to blame. Even her own people. To name support without providing men...it seemed pointless. Had the numbers come together properly, they would have at least matched the humans more evenly, if not managed to outnumber them outright.

A hiss escaped from her nostrils as she let her mind work through the train of thought, and by the time she found herself settling at the table she was cutting that thought process off. It wasn't much use at the present moment. Even within a mansion, even with her history working as what the elves deemed a 'royal assassin', she was far from polite. Her cloak had most certainly not been removed, nor had her weapons. Her constant attire gave off the appearance of being ceaselessly ready for a fight, and yet here there should be none. The leathers, at least, were well worn in and there was none of that irritating creaking and groaning one often heard from newer leathers. She attempted to get comfortable, waiting for the food they had been promised.

[Assistant]
Lia entered the mansion, fists clenched at her side. The house, if you could call it that, was huge. A stark contrast to her beloved crowded yurt, stuffed with friends and comrades. Until her power had grown way beyond, until she became someone shunned from the village. She looked at her early laugh with a mix of longing and bitterness, of a lover denied a touch before they were ready to be alone. This place would do nothing to remind her of home, and maybe that was a good thing. Because her fire was never able to be contained in the desert and dunes of Saadia. Her mind drifted to Samir, wondering if he was alright. He refused to leave the human realm, staying behind to help the stragglers of the exodus, the lost ones trying to get somewhere safe. As much as he proved to be a useless teacher for her, they had grown to be friends. Sharing rice and fruit together on the floor of his tiny market room, sleeping face to face on that same floor, exchanging stories and hopes for the future. She had told him where she was going, even though he had received his own invitation. He decided to stay back just a little longer, new lost elves were coming to him weekly looking for a way out of the realm that was becoming increasingly volatile to our kind. Lia had never had a hand in politics, never much cared. Her power, after a certain age, ended up consuming most of her attention and energy so all the stories that came from the traveling traders fell on deaf ears. She knew the war would never touch the tribe, but she was concerned for Samir. She hoped he bailed before he got himself killed.

 Lia trailed behind the group, taking in all the rich wood and ornate-ness of the house that still held a tasteful appeal. She took a seat at the table and said nothing. Her hands clenched at her side, her nails a steady pressure into her palms, slicing half moons into the fleshy part of her hand. The action kept her in the current moment, and grounded. When her mind wandered the flame built, fueled by whatever thoughts her mind seemed to wander to. She took in the table, followed by a deep breath, and waited for the next thing to happen.

[User]
Thortan walked out if the kitchen, as usual his trademarked smirk on his face. Looking all the more ridiculous in his bright pink apron. He wheeled out a cart with the dishes of food on them. He gently placed each one in front of Lia and Liz. Finally settling at his own seat with his dish. He removed the lid and breathed in the rich straight aroma.

"Please eat, enjoy it. Lia, since we know the least amount about you please, regal us with your story. After the usual pleasentries of getting to know each other, and this wonderful dinner we can truly start the practice to control your flames. So please, I wish to know more about you." He said casually eating his soup, his eyes flicking constantly to Liz and her dish.

[Assistant]
There was no loss of memory for Liz, and the woman was already well accustomed to the constant shenanigans of their host. It was with a stoic face she received her plate, an equally deadpan expression remaining as she inspected the bone further. Soup bones were often the largest bone of the utilized meat, and the woman appeared to be measuring up what the size of the animal might have been. There was nothing that would surprise her at this rate, and so the woman responded with as much grace as a dog-lady might.

The gift the Lycian's received provided them with a powerful jaw, and unnaturally sharp teeth, despite the fact only the canines appeared minutely changed, all of their teeth had benefited from it. So it was with this gift she had taken the bone in hand, brought it to her mouth, and found the ideal spot to break the bone open. She reclined back in her chair with an easy posture, eventually working at the bone enough she could break it in half. Without so much as batting an eyelash, the woman began sucking the marrow straight out. Evidently it didn't taste that bad.

"I can still taste the broth. The soup would be good. Had you offered any." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, and rather than irritation there was something of a challenge there. She wouldn't rise quite so easily these days. After a moment or two she'd looked to Lia, curious to hear if she would indeed offer her story. And yes. She kept slurping the marrow straight out of the large bone--as quietly as she could, if it was any consolation to the others at the table.


[System]
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Dwarf
Country of Origin: Since his mother was the only child to a minor noble of Mindirion and his father a Human from Miraheim, Kace spent half his life in Mindirion, learning etiquette, how to conduct himself as a highborn and receiving a general nobles education, before moving to Miraheim to learn to fight, to sail and how to be a man. He lived in Mindirion from the time he was born, until he was 13, and then lived in Miraheim for the remaining six years. He grew fond of both places and would call both of them home.

Appearance:

Due to his mixed race, Kace is about 5 feet, 5 inches tall. He typically wears silks and leathers in the colors of Mindirion and knee high supple leather riding boots when in the company of nobles or when he needs to make an impression, but when travelling or lounging, he prefers a generic and comfortable tunic, trousers, jacket and simple leather shoes. In combat, he wears gambeson, chainmail, brigandine, visored helm, greaves and bracers, all black and decorated with gold inlay. Sometimes he opts for a shield (in the same color scheme) and other times he prefers to wield just his sword or axe, or both in either hand.

Personality: Kace is a generally kind person. He's good at making friends, and really enjoys joking around and spending time at a pub or tavern with good friends. However, he also knows when a situation requires more tact. He's extremely mature for his age and finds himself skilled both in political strategy and military strategy.

 He's grown up around both smallfolk and nobles alike, leading to a very humble man, without classist prejudices, going against the norms of Dwarven society and their caste system. Kace knows the value of a good ally, making himself unlikely to go out of his way to make an enemy, but he also is a man of principle and a strong sense of right and wrong, and his willing to fight to defend his beliefs.

History: Kace's parents were neighbors on the border between Miraheim and Mindirion. Their families were feuding over a field that lay over both borders and the dispute turned bloody for a while before Kace's parents, Gisli and Ulvar, both young at the time, met and fell in love. They married and brought peace to their two families.

 Kace was born a year later. He received his mother's family name, Cilrok, as his middle name and, following the traditions of his father's people, received Ulvarsson as his last name. Zoden Cilrok was a minor noble house of Mindirion, owning a small estate in the northwest of the country which Kace's mother was the heir to. His father was a well-off Highman but not from noble stock. Kace was raised in his mother's house until he was 13, where he received a typical noble education before his family moved to his father's farmstead, just over the border, where he learned to fight and sail and be a typical Highman.

 Kace adapted well to living in both worlds of Dwarven nobles and Human warriors but his lives were distinct. He had his friends on either side of the border but never did the two worlds mix, unless he was with his parents. He found himself excelling at both fighting with a sword and with his words. Politics and warfare both came naturally to Kace and at the ripe age of 18, he found himself embroiled in an interhouse Civil War with the other dwarven houses, with half rebelling against the Rasuh Etar, and the other half remaining loyal. House Cilrok remained loyal and Kace himself, being a noble and having the training of both a Dwarf and a Highman, distinguished himself as a leader and strategist, only losing two battles in the course of the Seven Month War, both of which due to overwhelming odds, and unsuspected intervention. However, not only was his battle prowess tested, but also his political prowess. Kace, now having just turned 19, brokered the peace treaty that saw the end of the war, with both sides agreeing that since he was only half a Dwarf, he would be relatively impartial. He ended the Civil War and helped Orthen Durgon cement his power and restore peace. Hence why only a few months after his 19th birthday, he was sent for by the Monks, who saw the potential in someone who could both negotiate peacefully and aggressively.

Weapon Preference: Primary weapon:

. Secondary weapon:

 Carries a shorter utility seax (about eleven inches long, meant for work on a farm or on a ship) at all times. During battles he opts for a longer and broader seax (about thirteen inches long, meant for combat and hewing limb from body.)

Side: Knights of Ekilore.

[User]
ORIRIL, FIRST SWORD OF THE WILT-LEAF

---

As the others quickly moved from the ship and walked ashore Oriril stayed back and watched as the humans conversed with one another. Had High Druid Valieon not made mention that the Monks requested a nobleman from Miracia he personally would have left humanity to itself. His cool gray eyes peered across the lot of the with mistrust as he made his way off the ship, the sound of masterwork elven greaves clunking against the deck. The day had been spectacular as nature tends to be and he couldn't help to stand in silent admiration of it. Until his eyes came to rest on the tower.

The craftsmanship could not be denied, of course, but here among nature it seemed so out of place. The marble looked TOO perfect...
too...Man-made. Just the thought of Old Aerion man creating such an presumptuous building reaffirmed in himself why humans couldn't be trusted. In a hurry get his assignment over with Ori quickly walked towards the entrance of the tower, bumping into a pair of men speaking with one another.

[Assistant]
Sir Roland Grey - Ekilore

It didn't take long for the rest of the gathered to arrive. Roland didn't do much to acknowledge them, even cocking an eyebrow but remained silent as the tattooed shorter man addresses him. He did acknowledge Sir Duncan when he arrived. The man was a radicalized holy warrior in Roland's eyes but he knew his skill was legendary.

"Sir Duncan," The knight gave Duncan a curt nod. "Yes, I'm sure you have." Roland replied in a mildly boasting manner.

"Ah, it is time my lords. Come right this way. Do watch your step. All these stairs can be such a chore," the Eunuch said with a sheepish smile. Roland did not see or hear a signal. Odd. Perhaps it was magic of some sort. Despite it's growing rarity, it would not be unheard of. The monks have had access to old magics for generations.

Roland entered through the door and climbed a brief staircase and entered the observatory. The group stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by the monks. They sat in what appeared to be small thrones on a stone platform that circled the outer edge of the room. There were seven in number, each of them cloaked in a grey-white robes with a hood hiding their faces. All except one who was not presently in his seat, instead gazing out the glass walls watching Aerion through the thin clouds.

As the group placed themselves in the middle of the room, the standing monk turned to face them, stepping down from his platform to meet them face to face. He stood taller with excellent posture than Roland and seemed to have a solid build. It was impressive considering the supposed age of the man, given that his hair had little color other than its full silver grey. His face was fairly youthful too with no disfiguring marks or facial hair. It was a bit disorienting really. Was this man old or young? The most unusual trait was his eyes however. They were a deep red and drew Roland in, as if they were attempting to hypnotize him.

The red eyed monk spoke with a strong voice: "Thank you for coming, brave Knights of Aerion. You stand in the room of the monks of this grand tower on a day that could decide the fate of this very world." The monk looked at the "knights" with a discerning eye, analyzing them one by one. He then smiled, as if he was pleased with the collection of men and women he had gathered. "We monks are gifted with many abilities that have been developed over the course of many long years. These abilities allow us to see things that others can not. In these visions, my fellow monks and I have seen something that brings great hope for this world. Through deeper mediations and some readings of ancient texts, I believe that we have found the possibility of everlasting peace" the monk said with a deep pause.

"It is no secret that Aerion has encountered many difficulties its rather grand history. With such things as pestilence, war, and famine all leading to many untimely deaths. It is all such a grim tale that I dare not elaborate any further. But..." the monk continued waving to the eunuch that escorted them earlier. "This artifact, known as the Orb of Ardor in your common tongue was a recurring motif in our visions," the monk said showing them a rough sketch of the orb from one of the books that clearly based on the condition was one of the most ancient of the many books in the Grand Library. "If the myths surrounding this orb hold true, this may be able to fix all that and end the chaos that is sweeping the land."

"And what do you want us to do?" Roland asked curiously.

"A fair question to ask," the monk replied. "This Orb was believed to be shattered long ago with its pieces becoming the desire of many because of its so called 'value' as a treasure with no owner being astute enough to realize its true purpose. This, in turn, caused the shards to be scattered across all of Aerion. For this prophecy to hold true, we must gather all these pieces to put the Orb of Ardor back together to unlock its power. Undoubtedly, you chosen few will become heroes."

"The quest will bestow its own rewards. Mountains of riches you shall receive," one of the monks said suddenly.

"The conclusion of this quest will fulfill all your ambitions, and thus you can finally revel in languor and indolence," said another.

"The pleasure of the flesh will be forever yours to partake."

"Others will look upon you with eyes of jealousy, at what you have accomplished, and at what they wish they had."

"Your cravings will eternally and everlastingly be fulfilled."

"Your thirst for battle will be seen, and in the end your enemies will fear your name. Your own might will be the last they see in your path of destructive power!"

"Your names and your legacies, that which binds you to this world, will be forever transformed on this quest. All shall know your names, and you will become more than what you are. You will become truly immortal," said the red eyed monk before them, being the final monk to speak allowing the other 6 to speak first. "And most importantly... you will save this world."

"Do you accept this quest?"

[User]
Elric silently regarded each new arrival as they came to the entrance of the observatory. Though some of them introduced themselves, Elric did not reciprocate as of yet, merely watching each of the arrivals as they came. Finally, the eunuch returned to allow the knights into the presence of the Monks in their observatory. Apparently their company was complete. Elric looked over each of the men once more as they stepped through the door of the observatory: three men, himself included; one half-dwarf, if his size was any indication; and an elf.
As he entered the observatory, Elric removed his helmet and held it under his right arm. He gave his full attention to the monks, and particularly to the one who appeared to be their leader, and listened to the quest that the monks wished to set before them. The quest seemed nearly impossible, and the rewards seemed too good to be true, but Elric trusted the visions of the monks, and he trusted the gods to guide him and his fellow knights on this quest, and so, when the monks asked if they accepted the quest, Elric stepped forward, giving the monks a respectful bow. "I, for one, accept the quest," he announced.

[Assistant]
Kace stood for a few moments, anticipating a response. When all he received was a cocked eyebrow from one of the Ethorans, he dropped his smile and replaced it with a stoic look. He knew all too well these types of nobles, having grown up around many of them at court in Mindirion. He turned to face the door and awaited a signal to proceed.

 Three others arrived after Kace. Two more men and an Elf. Kace noticed a rather unfair amount of representation amongst those gathered. Once the Elf arrived, a Eunuch appeared to lead them to the monks. They all looked and sounded so similar that Kace could not tell if it was the same one who had led him here from the docks.

 When they entered the observatory, a monk with hypnotic pure red eyes began speaking. He spoke of riches and immortality. Things that Kace was not here for. He was here to protect his people and the world. He could not shake the uneasy feeling this group of mystics gave to him. However, he was here on a mission and he was not going to turn back just because more humans made him uncomfortable. When posed the question on if they accepted their quest, Kace was the second to step forward.

 "On behalf of House Cilrok of Mindirion, of the Highmen of Miraheim, and of the all the peoples of Aerion, I too accept your quest." Kace projected with confidence.


[System]
Here is Shelby's CS, still under construction though.
Age: 26

Sex: female

Basic physical appearance and attributes: Shelby has somewhat pale skin, she stands at five foot six inches tall, bright blue eyes, thin lips and a slender face. Shelby has a delicate frame, and is not nearly as strong as Calypso. Shelby will wear her hair in cornrows when fighting other than that it is usually in a sloppy bun while she works. She is missing the tip of her pinky finger on her left hand, scars on her back from being whipped, and tattered wings tattooed on her entire back.

Weapons and armour: Bladed staff, Samurai sword, Colt 1911 with night sights.

Personality: Shelby hangs on Calypso's every word, she is obedient and extremely loyal to Calypso. She is very smart, and creative with constructing weapons, and various slaving tools. Shelby is relatively quiet, in Calypso's presence. Away from Calypso, she can be quite the little chatter box. Like the saying goes, while the cats away, the mice will play, it could not be more true with Shelby.

Occupation: Calypso's protege, she primarily makes weapons and slaving tools. Shelby also does a majority of Calypso's slave running.

Faction: whomever Calypso decides, in this case, Moriarty.

Backstory: Shelby was a mischievous child, growing up in North Battleford, a small reestablished settlement, in the Canadian Providence of Saskatchewan, it was a relatively quiet place. After being taught to read and write, she would study anything she could get her hands on. Shelby held a fascination for melee combat, since she was too young for a gun, Shelby would create swords, staffs, and spears from the remainder of petrified trees. Shelby's parents constantly scolded her, the people of the settlement would voice their displeasures with her as well.

At the age of ten, Shelby made her first Nuka grenade, to test it out, she tossed it in the settlements brahmin pen. Needless to say, this caused an uproar with the community. Her parents, unable to corral her enthusiasm for chaos, were faced with a daunting decision. They were forced to decide between, having her stay with the town sheriff, a corrupt man Mr. Fusiler was, but he kept the piece in the settlement. Or, they must pack up their family, leave, and never come back. They had no caps, barely enough weapons to hunt with, let alone defend themselves in the wasteland. Her parents relinquished her to Mr. Fusiler.

As Shelby began maturing into a young woman, Mr. Fusiler would abuse her, in various ways. This caused her to fester an hatred for everyone in the settlement. The once friendly, outgoing youth, was becoming a wolf in sheep clothing. At fourteen years of age, she heard rumors of a crazed woman, who with her Chinese remnants, were en slaving and slaughtering towns on her way to the States. Shelby had hoped, the Battleford would lie in her path.

Just after Shelby turned fifteen, her wishes came true. As the local hunters returned with horrific news, the crazed woman, Calypso, had stormed through Lloydminster, and was heading to Battleford. News of this sent everyone into a panic, Shelby relished every second, as she watched the towns people scurry to set up defenses. Mr. Fusiler locked Shelby in the backroom of his barn, as he did so many times before. Over the course of the last year, since Shelby first heard the rumors of Calypso, she had been preparing for this day to come. She would pick the lock to the barn door, and at night, would pilfer various things. Shelby made a staff like no other, using a pair of lawnmower blades, a conductor, braided fuel lines and flamer fuel.

Gunfire erupted, along with screams of the people Shelby had grown up with, it actually made her smile, as most of the town has shunned her. They were getting what they deserved, having never taken her accusations of Mr. Fusiler's disgusting acts. Shelby pulled up the wood plank in the floor, where her staff resided, looking it over as she picked it up. She picked the lock on the door, cautiously, she snuck outside. Shelby watched, as Calypso masterfully orchestrated her minions in the takeover of Battleford.

Catching some movement behind some brush, Shelby saw Mr. Fusiler take aim at Calypso's back. Igniting her staff, she sprung from her spot, Mr. Fusiler yelled for her to run. Instead, Shelby spun around, and with a loud swoosh and the crackle of flames, she sliced his stomach wide open. Mr. Fusiler's son sought to attack Shelby, she kneeled down, sweeping her staff upward, stabbed the young man in his throat. Shelby heard someone clapping, "Bravo darling, bravo" a dramatic voice called out. Turning to find, Calypso walking over to her, Shelby placed her staff on the ground.

"Take me with you" her blue eye sparkled, awaiting Calypso's answer. She saw two of Calypso remnants restraining her parents as they called to her. Calypso looked at them, then back to Shelby, picking up Shelby's staff.

"Prove you are indeed worthy of such a request" Calypso said, handing Shelby the staff.

Shelby walked over to her parents, without hesitation, they pleaded, apologizing profusely for anything they had ever done to the girl. None of it fazed her, she spun the staff, and executed them right there, no tears, no remorse. She looked at Calypso, she smiled back at Shelby, "very well done indeed, we shall hone your skills my dear, come now."

It has been eleven years since then, Shelby has grown into a woman, Calypso's protege. Calypso shares a special bond with Shelby, a mother like bond. The only person, beside Sensei Lee, that she has ever cared for.

[User]
Brandy Brooks - Salem Beach - Early Afternoon

Ace shook his head, "Nah…not the time. I'm on break right now with my girl." He paused, "By the way, I hired a waitress and cook to help me out at the diner. You know to give me time to spend with you or anyone else for that matter. Bit of an attitude on her, has nothing in this world, even the clothes she's wearing once belonged to me. Escaped from Children of Atom. I think if you started over, you might like her…"

Brandy ran her finger around on Ace's chest, "I'm really sorry, you know that's not me. It's just...I have someone that I want to really get to know, spend time with in a different way now." She looked up and kissed his chin, "I've never really had a relationship. Shelby just got me so worked up, maybe it wasn't right, but she did point out something. I need to stop letting people walk all over me, not sure if I can do that again though. I may need your h…." Then it clicked, she raised her head and looked at Ace with a long face, "Di...did you say she is wearing… your clothes ?" that last words and a saddened pitch to them.

"Are you alright kid? That was a hell of a swing? You need to put your hips into it next time, knock her on her ass." said the woman who was in the diner this morning.

Brandy blushed with tears still in her eyes, "Kind of, I feel terrible though, been a bad day so far." She wiped the tears from her face, "I'm Brandy, welcome to Salem, just wish the circumstances were a little different though."

She looked back at Ace, "How did she get you clothes?" Gunfire echoed from nearby, startling Brandy, she clung tightly to Ace.

"I'll be right back! Don't worry I'll try and bring you back a souvenir!" Sara said and headed towards the gunfire.

Brandy's eyes widened, "Why would she go towards it? We need to get out of here Ace, I have that turret in my house, maybe we should go there? What if we're being attacked?" Her heartbeat thumped as she began to get more scared when more gunfire erupted

[Assistant]
Ace Makovich – Salem Beach

Brandy ran her finger around on Ace's chest, "I'm really sorry, you know that's not me. It's just...I have someone that I want to really get to know, spend time with in a different way now." She looked up and kissed his chin, "I've never really had a relationship. Shelby just got me so worked up, maybe it wasn't right, but she did point out something. I need to stop letting people walk all over me, not sure if I can do that again though. I may need your h…." She raised her head and looked at Ace with a long face, "Di...did you say she is wearing… your clothes?"

He looked down at her; he realized he may have said too much earlier. Luckily before he could answer her question Sara showed up in the nick of time. He came to check up on Brandy and give her some pointers for throwing a punch, He'd rather Brandy not fight again, she tended to cause more trouble for herself than anything.

Brandy introduced herself to Sara, at the moment he was more worried of what Sara might say now. However, before he could say anything Brandy looked back up at him, "How did she get you clothes?"

He looked at her and shrugged his shoulders, as he was about to stammer out an answer, shots rang out in the distance. It caused Brandy to clutch at him tightly with her nails, Sara's eye glimmered in joy and she ran off in the direction of the shots. Brandy pressed harder as she seemed to tense up, "Why would she go towards it? We need to get out of here Ace, I have that turret in my house, maybe we should go there? What if we're being attacked?"

Ace got up pulling her up with him, "You're right. But let's go to the diner, it is closer to us." Ace started walking over there clutching Brandy's hand, but she stood still and firm in her place. Ace tried pulling hard but she was firm in her position, like a little kid who refused to budge. Ace let out a sigh, "Okay…take it you don't want to face Betty. We'll take the side door…and go down to cellar."

Brandy hesitantly agreed and they walked over to the diner. She gripped his hand very tightly, he looked back at her and she looked frightened. *She must have really been sheltered if gunfire frightens her.*He pulled her closer to him and held her tightly. He kissed the top of her head "It'll be alright. Come on, if you hurry we can get to safety quicker."

They walked over to the diner and reached the outside cellar doors. Ace went to unlock them, but they were already unlocked. *Right, Betty broke in here. Need to make note to replace lock and get better security.* He opened the door and had Brandy walked down first. He closed the doors and they were down by the storage area, "Mind the mess, I used this area for the diner's food. My living space is the other half. Let me get light."

He turned the lights revealing a room with multiple fridges and freezers as long as with barrels and crates filled with goods. They walked over to his room; he saw Betty's old children of atom rags and pushed them under the bed with his foot. He grabbed Brandy close to him and planted a kiss on her lips. He sat on the bed and made out with her for a bit.

He stopped and looked at her smiling, "I hate to stop this, but I should check upstairs, make sure everyone is okay." Brandy didn't want to let go, He kissed her again but managed to pry himself loose, "I'll be back soon, I promise."

[User]
Shelby Jackson – S&W Weaponry/Home

Shelby and Waylon managed to carry Eliza to a chair to sit her down, "Thank you. I don't really have any idea on where to go from here. Everything I owned that meant something to me was on my horse and I don't know where he went. So I don't know what to do." Eliza stopped herself for a minute and raked her hair with her fingers, she was getting a little emotional and was trying to calm herself down. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I've spent too much time alone, and afraid. I can't do it anymore."

Shelby got down on her knees next to Eliza and brushed her cheek, "Don't worry Babe, I'm not going anywhere." She looked at Waylon, "Have you seen a horse? Would you be willing to look for it? Someone must've seen it."

"I can do that, did you want to get her upstairs, or did you want to wait?" asked Waylon.

Shelby looked at Eliza, "Let's wait a little bit before we do that, I saw you wince a few times leaving the clinic Hun." She jumped up, "OH, and find out if Brandy actually followed through with it would ya?"

Waylon shook his head, "You're terrible." He walked out the door.

Shelby turned back to Eliza and held her hands out to her side, "Was it really that bad? I mean, the girl needs to be defensive at least once in her life right?" She waved it off and grabbed a couple bottles of purified water from the dorm size fridge, "Here ya go Hun." Shelby drug a second chair over by Eliza and sat down, "If you need anything please just tell me." She took a swig of water and just looked at Eliza, tears started to flow again and she put her hands on Eliza's knee, "I still ca...can't believe you're here, I missed you terribly. I was worried to death, almost literally about you."


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 17

Class: 3-2

Appearance:

Hobbies and interests:
Nori is very much interested in spirituality, literature, and languages. In his spare time he can be found either feeding his lust for literature, browsing through books, or spending his time outdoors, going for a jog or swim. Needless to say, he is part of the literature club, although not everyone can appreciate his love for obscure, old and foreign books.
Although one might expect Nori to excel in school due to his curious nature, he is actually your average student. He is just a little bit better in the languages, and a little bit worse in mathematics. (To him it is like a language he is not able to master.)

Personality:
Nori is a soft-hearted person, who is rather serious and focused most of the time. He can at times be very mischievous though, playing pranks on those close to him. He especially has great pleasure in scaring his little sister Yumiko by telling her ghost stories.
Nori is not especially introverted nor extroverted. He is an easygoing person and gets along with almost anyone. He values life greatly and can see the beauty in almost everything and everyone. Accompanied with this characteristic is that one of the only things that can really put him on edge is when someone talks low of themselves or others (especially when it is not justified).

[User]
Gruffydd's laughter cut through the air like a knife. At least, his friends reacted like it had, intent as they were on the tales of the mysterious building and its mysterious magic. Or whatever they thought was going on. HE could see in his peripheral vision that he had attracted some attention for it. No matter.

 "What's so funny, Iorwerth-san?"

 Aside from how you still can't pronounce my name right, Sano? It had bugged him at first, when he had first moved here, but there was almost nobody in this country who could pronounce a Welsh name properly, so he had gotten used to it. Now he even found it amusing. But that's not what this was about. No, his friends were being stupid, so he was going to have some fun.

 "Doesn't it seem odd to you," Gruffydd said, a grin plastered on to his face, "that it would be so easy?" A wry chuckled wormed its way out of his throat, "You know I'm a big fan of old stories, right? Well, whenever the supernatural comes on to the scene, and its offering something, there is always a price. What does it mean, I wonder, that whoever spread this rumor neglected to say what that might be, hmm?" He leaned in to the others as he went for the kill.

 "How horrible it must be, that they'd be so worried about scaring everyone away." It would seem that quite a few people had paid attention to his little performance—while not entirely silent, the classroom was a lot quieter than it had been. Not like he minded.

 Sano Masao was the first, of those he'd actually been talking to, to speak again, "Iorwerth-san, you shouldn't say things like that."

 Gruffydd grinned. "But you opened yourselves up to it. Besides, it's the truth." And it was—these people really had no appreciation for the old stories. "And besides, if there is any actual merit to these rumors, fear is the appropriate response." Sano blushed with embarrassment, as did the others. Before any of them could say anything more, Gruffydd stood up, slinging his bag on to his back. "Anyways, I have a few things to take care of. Just remember to be careful if you send texts from any strange buildings, alright?" And with that, and one final chuckle, he slipped out of the room.

 But for all of his joking, Gruffydd had to admit to himself that he was just as enraptured by the rumor as anyone else. In part, because he had been right—if there was anything behind the rumor, there would be a price to pay. And there's no way it's about finding your 'soulmate.' Maybe talking to the dead. Maybe. And he had overheard something, in all that dribble back there.

 "There's no way Keigo didn't write that himself."

 "He swears he didn't!"

 Alright, Keigo, let's see how this story of yours pans out. Probably nonsense, which'll be good for a laugh. But if not—however unlikely that is—they'll need someone who has some idea what they're doing, or they'll wind up dead and hanging from an antenna, or something. The second-year wasn't someone he was overly familiar with, but it as chance would have it, he did recognize the name. And he did know which class he was in.

[Assistant]
Ryuusuke looked on idly as Keigo moved over to another group, before one of the members of the group...

Chiasa was her name, if he remembered correctly (not that he really put efforting into remembering, but it so happened to work out like that, generally).

...before Chiasa pulled in a girl that Ryuusuke hadn't seen in first year.

As Ryuusuke expected of any group containing Keigo, Talkmaster, they were loud and energetic and too grating for Ryuusuke to handle, even considering that he was nowhere near them.

Ryuusuke sighed. He would consider this as a good opportunity to analyze the girl's personality, if it weren't for the fact that he could barely sense her presence over the white noise that was the Chatterbugs.

And then, to make things more complicated, another unknown made themselves known.

Annie was a girl who had transferred in near the end of last year, but she was still relatively new to him. But she'd asked him a question.

"It's all total nonsense," Ryuusuke said, waving his hand in the air lazily, "though I imagine it won't stop some people from checking out the building anyway. That's not my problem, though."

Oh my god, they were still going. Ryuusuke stood, and was about to head out of the room, when someone came in the room. Wasn't a teacher. Looked older than him. Saw him maybe once or twice around the last year, but never too frequently.

Upperclassman.

So, it looked to be that Keigo was attracting people from other years as well.

"Don't you guys have anything better to do with your time?" Ryuusuke called to Keigo's group.

[User]
The black haired teen made her way down the stale hall with much celerity. Each step Rin took made her excitement inflate--finally, no more boredom! Sure, school was okay, but Rin's lack of friends left her social life empty and beyond boring. If she had something to look forward to or even just wonder about, this rumor would keep her set and content for a little while. Her mouth almost watered at the thought. When she turned into the right classroom, she halted at the doorway and let her eyes scan before settling on a group of students clustering.

"Oh, yeah, okay: so y'know that old building here? Well, supposedly, if you enter one of the rooms and enter a special code into your phone, you'll get a response telling how you will die," a boy somewhere near the center urged.

No way! Rin squealed internally. "That is so cool," she sighed to herself, leaning against the roughly sanded door frame. Maybe that Keigo guy was around, but even if he wasn't, everyone around here had to at least know enough to fill her in. Drawn like a moth to light, Rin carelessly pushed herself closer to the developing group of students. The corner of a desk caught her by surprise as she stumbled past it, accidentally shouldering Nori Takahashi and knocking his glasses off his nose.

"Oops."

[Assistant]
Overhearing both Ryuusuke's angry comments as well as a rumor about your cellphone foretelling your own death sent shivers down Annie's spine, weather she believed it or not she was not a fan of all of that spooky stuff.
"oh well you guys h-have fun, I have a thing i need to do... eeh"
turning around to leave she took a wrong step losing her balance she stumbled to the floor with a thud.
"aauh... ewuu..."
she whimpered as she robbed her forehead small tears in her eyes from the pain as she looked back, still laying on the floor.

[User]
As if their stupidity attracted more stupidity, multiple students came buzzing through the doors, seemingly attracted to Keigo's moronic ramblings like flies to honey. All Etsuko wanted in life was to be left alone – so, why oh why, was God punishing her? Etsuko sighed through her nose, attempting to remain polite, the only thing holding her resolve in place would be the punishment her parents would wrought on her if word reached their all-hearing ears. And, undoubtedly, it would reach them somehow – probably from the mouth of a certain neighborly peer.

"So, whaddya think, Ueda? Scary, huh?" Keigo said excitedly, nudging her in the shoulder.

Etsuko stared at him, slightly lost, before remembering what they were talking about.

"Oh…yes." It was a lie of course, but if she encouraged such friendliness towards her then she would be stuck with them for the rest of her life.

"Ha, Etsuko finding that scary?" Chiasa laughed, slapping her neighbor on the shoulder. "I've never seen her scared. Name a horror movie and we've seen it – she didn't jump once and she didn't act scared, either. This girl is made of stone."

Etsuko glanced at Chiasa from the corner of her eye, remembering the days over the summer where her parents forced her to watch movies at Chiasa's house while they were hanging out with her parents. Truthfully, she was utterly terrified after seeing those movies and couldn't sleep right for days. What Chiasa had taken for stone-faced in all reality had been the face of someone frozen in fear. But Etsuko wouldn't correct her on this; then it would give Chiasa the impression that she was okay with sharing her vulnerabilities with her, thus meaning they were friends. And they were not friends.

"Oh, maybe you should go to the old building then." Keigo joked and Etsuko felt the intense need to sneer. She hummed in response, not knowing exactly what to say in the situation.

[Assistant]
Gruffydd was getting very annoyed at this point. He had not thought it possible, but there was more inane drivel here than in his own classroom. He would have put an end to it quickly, if he had found Keigo in the small crowd that had gathered there. It turned out that, despite generally knowing where they were, it is difficult to look for someone when you don't know what they look like.

 But after a few grating minutes—including one mocking underclassman whom he chose to ignore—he was able to puzzle out which one of them was Keigo. As he approached him, Keigo made a rather interesting suggestion to a supposedly fearless classmate of his. While, in the back of his mind, part of him knew that he couldn't really blame Keigo for this when he had jumped into the headfirst, Gruffydd needed to let off some steam. Plus, he was being a little shit. While the girl he was talking to was acting polite, it was clear to him that she had no interest in this cacophony—she just lacked any sort of enthusiasm for it all.

 "My, my, how positively noble." Gruffydd's voice was dripping with sarcasm, "You're Keigo, right?" With the underclassman's affirmative, Gruffydd continued, "I just have to tell you how courageous that is. You go around telling everyone about how somehow got this mysterious code, to text from this mysterious building, and then suggest that someone else go and try it out. How unspeakably brave of you."

[User]
Nori smirked faintly, raising an eyebrow at Keigo's description. This was the big rumor? This was what the students had been rambling about for the past few days? It honestly didn't sound any different from the ghost stories he scared his little sister with.
The mention of how Keigo had found a list of numbers which he supposedly had not written himself made the story only slightly more believable; but how could he prove that he wasn't lying and actually hadn't written the list himself? Even so, even if Keigo hadn't, maybe one of his friends had in an attempt to play a trick on him. (Nori had some experience with this himself after all...)

His thoughts got disrupted when a small, dark figure bumped into him. When he looked down he noticed it was the girl from before who had left the classroom so assertively just moments before he had.
Slowly a name came to mind. "Rin..." Seeing her almost childlike expression of fascination Nori couldn't help but smile. "I don't want to spoil the fun for you, but you know it's just another ghost story, right?" he said nearly apologetically.

"Don't you have anything better to do with your time?" he heard from behind him.
Turning around towards the source Nori could hardly distinguish a dark-haired boy facing Keigo's group.
"Well at least he isn't talking about us," he murmured, more to himself than to Rin. Moreover though, how did Nori realize only now that he was not wearing his glasses? He must have lost them in the small collision just then.
"Ah, don't move..." he ordered Rin and gently grabbed her by the shoulders as to ensure that she indeed wouldn't. Bending down, he reached for his glasses which had fallen exactly in between the girl's feet. He got up again and held them up against the light, checking for any scratches, before putting them back on their original spot.

The first thing Nori noted when he had regained his vision was how teeming the classroom had gotten. Around him had gathered students from all years. Being in one of the higher classes, he hardly recognized anyone. One particular person he could immediately identify though.
Making his way through the crowded room, rising above all other students, was his classmate Gruffydd. With a thunderous voice he overwhelmed the remaining murmurs.

"My, my, how positively noble," he spoke as he approached the center of attention. "You're Keigo, right?" he paused for a moment, awaiting the boy's response. "I just have to tell you how courageous that is. You go around telling everyone about how somehow got this mysterious code, to text from this mysterious building, and then suggest that someone else go and try it out. How unspeakably brave of you."

Nori watched Keigo stiffen up completely. He could understand his reaction; although Gruffydd was a good-natured person, you definitely didn't want to get on his bad side, especially considering his muscular build.
He saw the smaller male struggling to find words and believed he could even smell his cold sweat. A small chuckle escaped his lips at the thought, breaking the tension in the room.
"He's got a point there," Nori immediately added, not wanting to create the impression he was laughing about the large Welshman.
"Why don't you show us the way, and go on in first, Keigo?" he suggested with a teasing voice.


[System]
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Valerie's appearance seems very well put-together, almost embodying her background of nobility with a soft delicateness offset by steadiness, confidence, and inner strength. She has fair, unblemished skin, pale blue eyes, and long, dark brown hair most often secured in a low bun with a moderate amount of loose strands flitting about her face. Her height is a few inches on the tall side, and her physical build is slim and lithe, with subtle muscling visible where her clothing hugs her body. Obviously not a powerhouse of strength, but capable and in excellent condition.

Armor/Clothing: Her light-weight gear functions well enough with her style of combat and of fashion, and indeed, she finds the blend of noble elegance with mercenary ruggedness somewhat appealing, and some part of her even desires to stand out clearly from common sellswords. The high quality tailoring and craftsmanship speaks volumes about her history, or at least gives away that she wears clothes and gear more expensive than a common mercenary and adventurer just starting out should be able to afford.

Starting with her upper body, Valerie wears a long-sleeved and thin undershirt close fit to the point of a second skin. Over this she wears some actual protection, in the form of a light but sturdy leather breastplate to protect her heart and lungs. It was custom tailored for her and fits extremely well, secured around her neck and lower back. It cuts off just below her ribs, sacrificing some protection for the sake of full flexibility and range of motion.

Her leggings are closely fitted and comfortable linen, with some extra layering of leather around her thighs, hips, and waist to better protect her upper legs. Buckled loosely around her waist is her sword belt, as well as a decorative sash of dark blue silk with golden floral patterns. The sash flutters down from her right hip, partially concealing the hilt of the long, thin dagger sheathed there. Her boots are made of soft leather, designed more to be comfortable than tough, and are buckled below the knee, and again at the ankles.

Under her clothing she wears a pendant with the snowflake emblem of her family, secured on a very thin golden chain.

Weapons: Valerie's primary weapon is a thin, extremely sharp sword, most suited for dueling engagements but functional enough in other styles. It packs a surprising bite, given how quickly Valerie can strike with it, either thrusting or slashing, and can pierce many armor types. It's not a fragile weapon, either, and can block or parry incoming strikes if she needs to. Valerie can wield it with either hand (technically right handed, but she's very ambidextrous) or with both for added strength.

Her sidearm is a long, thin knife at her right hip, which she can wield in either direction front or back, but will only do so in the event that she is somehow disarmed of her sword.

Combat Overview: Speed, decisiveness, grace, and fluidity define Valerie's style. She's very well trained in the use of her weapon, and knows well how to make the most of situations with skillful deflections that turn blows aside rather than stopping them cold, and open up holes in her opponent's defenses for her to exploit. Her offense is swift and precise, and rarely forces her to overextend on the attack and expose vulnerabilities. On the defensive, Valerie is light-footed and agile, able to dodge most attacks lacking swiftness, while parrying attacks strong in speed but lesser in strength. And while she prefers single combat, she's both swift and aware enough to handle multiple enemies of lesser skill simultaneously. At full strength, Valerie is a deadly enemy to fight, with the speed and precision to turn small mistakes from her opponents into lethal ones.

She still has significant weaknesses to overcome, most stemming from her overall lack of actual experience in battle as opposed to rigorous training. Underhanded tactics can catch her off guard, and fighting hand to hand or grappling are both particular weaknesses of hers. Her physical endurance has not often been tested, and her choice of extremely light armor doesn't help much when she ends up getting hit. Despite her determination, she can only endure a limited number of wounds.

Personality: On the outside Valerie is quiet, calm, composed, an excellent picture of nobility. Inwardly she feels very passionately about causes she puts herself behind, something that can sometimes show in the heat of a conflict. She's quite sociable and kind with the majority of those she encounters, and tends to be both understanding and forgiving of others. She does, however, retain some aspects of her upbringing, and is just a touch vain.

Her morals are quite strong, and indeed drive her to do things that have little benefit for her to offset the risk. She believes the position of power she was born into gave her a responsibility to help those beneath her, rather than a right to rule over them.

History: Valerie is the third child of four of the wealthy and powerful Winter family of the kingdom of Ardennia, and the only daughter. While not in line to rule the kingdom, her family watched over a large swath of diverse land with farms, towns, forests, rivers, and small mountains. Her kingdom, however, had an expansionist king with dreams of conquering their northern neighbor and expanding his domain. After years of military swelling and building of tension, war was declared following a loosely conceived insult against them, likely fabricated for an excuse to attack.

The Winter family was called, and answered. Valerie and her brothers had been trained among other things in the art of war, and were to serve as commanders of varying levels in the army. Valerie, however, refused the call, bringing some shame upon her family and soon forcing her to leave her home. She traveled far from her kingdom's borders, using her honed skills with the sword to pay her way in adventuring, which she took to naturally. Her experience thus far is limited, but it has served to build up her confidence, and reassure her that she made the correct choice in leaving her home behind.

[User]
The jerky came as a welcome distraction while Valerie waited for the pain to subside, even if she wasn't particularly hungry. The conversation was much for the same purpose, although she was curious. She'd just come suddenly much closer to an angry wyvern than she'd ever wanted to, and she still felt a bit jittery from the adrenaline.

"Two years well spent, if you ask me," she said, putting away the cloth. "We probably wouldn't have escaped so well back there without it." Valerie didn't envision any kind of magical training in her own future, but she supposed it would be foolish to rule it out. For the moment she had enough to learn. She laughed a little at Markus's comment about his lack of a life beyond mercenary work. "Well, we'll have to work on that when we get back."

After a few more minutes of rest they started moving again, delving through the thickening forest. It was a bright day, with the sun thankfully piercing through the trees above them. Valerie imagined it would be easy enough to get lost in here without the proper guidance.

"What do you think that smoke we saw came from?" she asked. She figured that would be their first target, assuming they had no more unfortunate encounters with winged creatures.

[Assistant]
He was glad to hear his hard work on learning some spells was appreciated, especially by a fellow mercenary. Often time he felt like a very poor wizard rather than a Swordmage in earnest. He knew differently though, and this Swordmage couldn't hide his grin at her remark on when they got back. One more reason why I want to live through this. Though honestly, he was quite excited for what lay before them. He was pragmatic, and he'd like to think he wasn't stupid, but there was a reason he took on this job. No one forced him into it, and it seemed Valerie felt the same way. A passionate sense of adventure and excitement, and knowing by the end of the day that they had survived great odds.

"I'm not sure. Orcs probably." he said to her question, as they began again. "There aren't any people out here... Save mainly some bandits." His last remark was an afterthought, but he realized that very well might be a truth.

They trudged through the ever thickening forest. Branches and leaves making a ubiquitous and oddly shaped roof that shielded them from the majority of the sun. Somehow, it was not so cold in the forest as it should have been, as if the air was thick enough to leave some residual heat for itself. He'd heard tales of deep wilderness like this one, many from his Elven tutor. In the far woods, you could be beglamoured by Nymphs, assailed by Centaurs, meet beasts the size of townhouses, or Elves that were not as forgiving or as accustomed to civilization as his old master.

It seemed their next obstacle wouldn't be nearly as fantastic as these, but dangerous if left unchecked, nevertheless. The two young sellswords first heard a chittering and a barking laughter. Markus held his hand out just in case Valerie had not heard it yet so she would stop to listen, but she probably had. Better to be safe than sorry. Goblins.

The Swordmage crouched, unsheathing his sword as quietly as he could and making his way to the closest bush that was toward the noise. He knelt down and peered through the brush, and he was quite glad he had not been humming an Elven tune a bit ago or they would have been discovered.

At first it was hard to see them with all of this green, for their skin was a sickly and mottled moss green. They were barely waist height and thin, with elongated ears and noses. Their eyes were filled with malice and a cruel cunning, however. Their hands gripped spears and jagged scimitars, and they chatting among each other in what looked like a small meeting. There were 7 of them in all, it seemed, standing at the center of the next clearing. Two of them prodded each other with their devilish fingers at the side of the meeting, clearly on opposing sides of whatever was going on.

[User]
Valerie would gladly take on bandits at the moment, if it meant avoiding another run-in with a wyvern. Of course, the reality of it was that they would probably run into them both, considering the poor luck they'd started out with. And any bandits surviving out here would no doubt be of a tougher stock than the kind Valerie had dealt with in the past.

She kept close as they moved through the forest, the thickening foliage providing her with yet another obstacle should a fight come about. Valerie still needed a great deal of practice maneuvering in these sorts of environments to be able to do it efficiently, or quietly. With focus at least she could avoid snapping every wayward branch and crunching every pile of fallen leaves. It would have to do.

The sound of the goblins reached her ears easily enough, as the mood on their walk had been far more tense than when they started out, with good reason. She crouched beside Markus, finding an opening in the brush big enough to see through and observe the foe. The goblins were hardly as imposing as orcs, but they had a significant numbers advantage, and those wicked spears and blades could wound or kill easily enough. Valerie didn't much like the idea of attacking them head on. She supposed they could go around, but their odds of sneaking by didn't seem too favorable either.

"Can we manipulate them somehow?" she asked, whispered as quietly as she could. "Turn them on one another, to whittle them down?" They didn't seem to like each other too much, from what she could tell, and they were obviously prone to violence. How to stir up a fight between them, she didn't know. Maybe just waiting would do the trick. "Whatever you want to do, I'm with you. I'll follow your lead."

[Assistant]
Markus heard Valerie's suggestion, and began to attempt to figure a way they could do that. His mind whirled with possibilities, but at the end he decided that he wouldn't be able to think of anything on the fly. He shook his head. "Whatever you want to do, I'm with you. I'll follow your lead." she said. He gave her a nod, his eyes steeled. He leaned in even closer, giving a whisper. His gaze had not left the Goblins. "I think the best shot we have is to maximize the element of surprise." he told her, his words barely audible.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and this time looked her in the eyes. "When I give the word, attack the Goblins on the right. They've no armor. Thrust quickly, and you can have two dead before the third realizes what's happened. I'll go left." He waited for her to confirm, and then he looked back at the diminutive creatures before them. He squeezed her shoulder one last time, before his hand slipped off and grabbed the sheath of his sword for a two handed grip.

Past the bushes, they prodded one another with words and fingers. Chittering and barking at one another in their cruel and alien language. Markus had learned a bit of Orc, but most of the Goblin language eluded him. They spoke too quickly and used too many guttural squeaks to be coherent to him.

Just that second, one of the Goblins poked another a bit too hard. The other did not take too kindly to that and slapped him. It would be comical if the two sellswords weren't about to jump into the fray. Suddenly, the slapped Goblin tackled the other. The other Goblins gathered around to watch and screech, waving their weapons about and threatening to join in. "Now."

[User]
Making good use of surprise did seem like their best bet. Inflict greater wounds than they could recover from before they could react at all. And speed was among Valerie's strongest attributes. She nodded back, grateful for the squeeze on her shoulder. Even against goblins charging into battle was no easy task, but it helped when she was alongside someone she trusted.

Three on the right for her, the other four for him. It was hardly the time to squabble over numbers, and she had to admit she had more confidence in Markus than she did in herself. She studied the three, the first armed with dual daggers, the second a scimitar that a human could've wielded with one hand, but held in two here, and the last with a spear and small wooden shield. Valerie slowly closed her fingers around the hilt of her blade, and waited for Markus to give the word. "Now."

She moved ahead without hesitation, drawing her sword with a ring of steel and rushing at the goblins on the right of the group. They turned and stared in shock for a moment, and that was all Valerie needed to end the first of them, removing his head with a clean slice before she stepped forward to attack the next. They were swift to react, and the second already had his guard up for her when she made her attack. He was not a skilled opponent, though, and a few quick moves opened up his flank for Valerie to plunge her sword into, ending him.

The spear wielding goblin had enough time to line up an attack before Valerie could properly align herself after discarding the second foe. A thrust of the spear came at her, and had she been a moment slower it would have skewered her through the midsection. Instead, she managed to turn it aside just in time. The goblin was surprised at her quick reactions, and failed to get his own shield up in time for her counter. Valerie's thrust might've done the same skewering to a human opponent, but against the goblin her blade pierced through his throat. The creature slowly fell backwards off of her sword, where he lay still.


[System]
Nickname(Optional): June Bug

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.

Clothing:  Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.

Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.

[User]
Neil slid an apple down his arm and caught it nimbly, spinning it on his finger before plucking it out of the air. Whatever Junebug decided, he was on board for. He was just excited to get things going. Not having his conscience dirtied was a definite plus, and whatever loot they got from destroying both of these gangs was likely worth it. Though his Captain's orders caught up with his head before he bit the apple.

"Wait...What!?"

Fast forwarding an hour later, Neil had procured a ride from some of Stinger's associates who he had convinced it was in their best interest to get him to Stinger as fast as they could. There were three of them. One man was young and red haired. with a wild smile on his almost too-wide mouth, hollering and hooting at anything that looked vaguely female as he stood atop the passanger's seat. The driver was far more level headed, though suspicious. Neil couldn't quite get a bead on him, his face concealed in a strange mechanical mask with only one eye uncovered through a high tech optic scope.

Neil sat next to something that was either once a man, or a humanoid alien. The thing cackled louder than the douchebag up front, his body covered in fur and his face very Hyena-esque. At least he wore loose pants and a jacket. Neil was not prepared to be bumped into by some mutant/xenos and their junk.

As they approached, Neil saw guns trained their way at the bunkered, barbed wired fence. The lowest dregs of thuggery stood watch, various mechanical and organic vagaries attached or warped about them. Neil no doubt thought they would be formidable to fight in hand to hand or ranged, which was likely why they were the first line of defense. The one at the gate was the criminal Neil had seen last time he came here, when it was the first time. He had a large gun, likely 20 MM rounds.

"You got some balls coming back here." The man said, barrel on Neil. Even the Hyena-man had the good sense to move away. Neil didn't seem perturbed, though he held his hands up.

"Hey, hey! Come on, what's that for? I'm coming back to explain stuff."

"Well, if you've got a good explanation as to why Miguel and a dozen of our lads disappeared, maybe you can make it out alive." He chuckled, then screamed at the others. "Let them in!"

The rumbling of the cars were drowned out by the laughter of the watchmen, and Neil tried not to get nervous. Oh, he wasn't nervous about if Stinger was angry at him. Neil had been beaten, humiliated, and even tortured once or twice as a Highlander Crewmember. He was mostly afraid of Stinger's interest of him, and he would rather leave by giving her vague promises of some nature rather than having to refuse her and fight his way out. Not only because it would hinder their initial plan to pit the Spiders against the Scorpions, but because he wasn't about to betray Junebug's trust. When he told her about it though, she laughed and told him to be firm like she knows he can be. He had no idea what to make of that.

Pulling up to the fortified, ruined mansion, Neil hopped out and told them to keep the car running. Even without being able to see his face, the masked man gave Neil a look that essentially loudly asked if he was kidding. Neil just grinned and headed inside, past three men playing Bazrika, a fun electromagnet drinking game, and headed upstairs until he was ushered in to see Stinger. He sighed before the curtain was drawn, and stepped inside the room. He hoped she was in an agreeable mood, but not too agreeable.

[Assistant]
Meanwhile...
Taya stumbled through the debris, catching herself on her front foot and turning, gun barrel leading. The young woman saw no one following, but the amount of thugs on this world she didn't trust simply not being able to see a foe. Holding her position for a few seconds, once she was satisfied Taya turned and hurried down the alleyway, finding the main road that led to the launchpad that held the Highlander, still stationed where the three had left it. This world was a bit poorer than most, and even now as she walked under the archway to the hanger she felt the dust and grime on her skin. She didn't say it, but she was still very much used to being pampered on her homeworld. The Captain and Neil's stoicism in the face of all they've had to deal with kept her mouth shut over broken nails or lack of hygiene, but now that she saw the Highlander before her, she wanted nothing more than to take a bath and wait for further instructions.

Once she put in the code, the Highlander's entryway door slowly lowered, air seeping out of the pistons, giving a hiss like a viper as it moved. She forgot how much she missed the sound of her boots on the hollow steel of the fallen door as she stepped into the ship, quickly placing in the code to close it behind her. Once the door was closed, she finally noticed the lights were out, and there was a hint of a strange smell in the air. Sniffing, she couldn't tell what it was. It was faint and likely unnoticeable if her senses hadn't already been on edge.

Groping in the dark, her fingers ran over the lighting toggle on the opposite wall. She gritted her teeth and lowered the thing, glad it wasn't stuck fast like it had been before. It creaked, but once it hit bottom the lights flooded the ship's interior. Now she could see everything in front of her, but nothing seemed different. Well, why would it be? She thought, and Taya began walking toward the cargo bay. Just put your gun up and go take a bath. Neil didn't install the bathing area for it to go unused. Her smile bloomed on her face, and she shimmied down the stairs leading to the cargo bay.

Once down there, she abruptly turned to the left where most of the arms and armor was stored, unstrapping her submachine gun and placing it carefully on the rack. She felt competent with it, but she knew the other two felt she had a lot to learn and she guessed she couldn't blame them. Losing your cool in a firefight was not entirely safe.

"Where are the others?" A deep voice sounded behind her. Her soul left her body for a brief moment before she recognized it as Saxon, calming down. He made her nervous at the best of times, but at least he wasn't an enemy out for her blood.

"They're still in town. They said they would call us whe-" She turned and looked behind her, her words drowning out in a scream of terror. Even a hardened soldier would have been disturbed at the sight. As she looked across the cargobay, she saw what looked to be Saxon's corpse on the floor, hollowed out and filled with various juices. Beside it stood a beast that resembled him, and she knew must be Saxon. It was clearly a Hexanagallion, but he had gone through some sort of metamorphosis! His massive, brutish arms now had bones like spikes protruding out of his arms, each a meter long. Under them on his broad chest were two smaller arms, now curled up. Smaller being relative, as they were thicker than Taya's limbs certainly. Other than those, the further bone-like protusions along his vital areas acting as a sort of natural armor, and the wet stickiness clinging to his naked skin (which had likely been the source of the smell) it was Saxon. So that was what he had gained from his healing?

"You uh...you look good." She said uneasily.

Saxon smiled. "I feel good."

[User]
Junebug wandered through Teosinte, making her way to what a shocking number of gang tags identified as the Spiders end of town before the groups of blustering thugs flooded the streets. Even though the field guards weren't in town yet, there were plenty of unfriendly glares from partisans of both gangs, and from locals who assumed that anyone going around armed must be affiliated with one or the other. Realistically, Junebug had to admit she had been in more unpleasant places, there had been gangs of cannibals in the ruined cities on Segovia and children routinely went missing in the night. In her mind those situations were temporary, the results of wars that Andor's Armored was in the business of brining to an end as swiftly as possible. Andor was no humanitarian, but his interest in warfare was economic, and finishing a contract quickly was always to be preferred. That being said, any local thugs who bothered the mercenaries and the locals the recruited as camp followers and to help with their logistics train, could expect to learn what a couple of LAVs and a company of infantry could do to pissant indiges who got above themselves. In Teosinte there was no such force, and this wasn't a war, this was everyday life for these people, and it would go on till everyone on the planet was in one gang or the other. Or dead of course. That was the more likely outcome for most people. Sayeeda wasn't a humanitarian either, but she was here and she could do something, and so she would.

The bar she selected was called the Aracnophilla, or at least, Sayeeda presumed that was what the artists semi literate scrawl was supposed to say. It did have a fairly artistic rendition of a spider buggering a chained scorpion above the door. The interior was as promising as the outside, a single large room with a dozen tables infront of a dingy bar. At the back of the room was a stage on which a tired looking woman gyrated, shaking nude and unlovely flesh at a few patrons gathered around. The men seemed to be whipping at her with what looked like piano wire attached to wooden handles. She flinched from each blow but the vacant look in her eyes made it clear she was too stoned on something to much care. An interlace of old scar tissue suggested this wasn't her first, and perhaps not her hundredth time at the particular stage show.

Junebug slid up the bar and ordered a whiskey, motioning for the bartender to leave the half empty bottle. She sniffed at the neck of it, making sure it was of a high enough proof to kill bacteria before taking a sip. It was raw and oily, with very little to recommend it except for the bite of what might have been pure ethanol mixed with water and food coloring. She grinned, she was just going to have to get Neil to take her someplace nice next time. She didn't realise the thought had made her laugh till someone grabbed her wrist.

"Something funny to you bitch?" a slightly overweight looking gangster demanded. He was clearly compensating for his balding patte by growing a full beard, which was none to clean and none too good.

"None of your bussiness yokel, why dont you fuck off while you still have your legs to carry you hey?" she suggested. Predictably his eyes narrowed with anger and he yanked her towards him. Junebug spun into the motion, using it to add momentum to the elbow which she drove into the suddenly shocked thugs stomach just below the sternum. Air whooshed from his lung and he began to choke as he simultaneously tried to gasp for air and vomit. He fell to his knees and sprayed out a mouthful of his stomach contents before collapsing into a wracking cough. Junebug kicked him hard in the kidneys and then again in the stomach as he rolled over. He coiled up, desperately trying to cover his vitals, he was crying now, but Junebug had learned in a hard school that it always paid to put the boot in while the other fellow was down. She raised her boot to kick him in the teeth.

"I think he learned his lesson," a deep basso voice said, punctuated by the click of a hammer drawing back. Junebug paused in mid kick and looked up to see a man with crossed bandoliers and spider tatoos on the top of both is hands looking at her in what might have been amusement. She grinned back, her smile as hard and terrible as a glacier.

"Oh I don't know, never hurts to drive home a lesson for the slower ones," she responded, though she was already stepping away, reaching back to the bar to retrieve her bottle.

"Never the less, maybe we leave poor Jorge alone right?" the man persisted. Junebug took a sip directly from the bottle and shook herself like a wet dog, trying to speed the adrenaline from her system.

"Whatever you say," she responded indifferently. The man watched her for a minute and then eased back the hammer on the handgun and slipped it into a cross draw holster above his hip.

"Your that offworld mercenary, working with the Scorpions right?" he asked.

"I'm from offworld, you can tell by the fact I still have all my teeth and a full set of chromosomes," she rejoined with a cocky grin. The newcomer didn't rise to the bait, merely watching her.

"As for working with the Scorpions, no, right now I'm not working with anyone, just looking to get a drink and..." she nodded her chin in the direction of the fallen Jorge who was crawling away towards the back of bar, if the man had friends, they weren't in a hurry to assist him, "enjoying the night life." The man nodded agreeably.

"Well my name is Talin, and if you aren't working with the Scorpions, then I have someone who I know is dying to meet you," Talin said with an oily smirk. Gunfire sounded off in the distance.

"Not really looking for company friend," she said, nodding again at Jorge as a couple of thugs scopped him up by the arms, shooting baleful looks at Junebug.

"I am afraid that I must insist, and if you refuse, I will have to get as many men as I need to make you comply, and that would really start our relationship off on the wrong foot don't you think?" Junebug took another pull from the bottle and slapped it down on the bar.

"Well, if you insist..."