[System]
Appearance:

Age: 14

Gender: Male

Personality: Martin has always considered himself a team player. He doesn't mind who's in charge, as long as everyone gets along. he often finds himself trying to act as a peacekeeper between conflicts. He generally dislikes people who are rude, mean, or tries to bully others. He prefers to stand up to them directly, even against the odds. If you aren't on his bad side, hes nice and polite to everyone he meets. Even going as far as giving to others if they need it.

Hometown: Goldshore Town

Background: Born in Goldshore, Martin was always a kid of low income. Team Virtue always claimed the money contained there was for a grand purpose, but they were just bullies in his eyes. Everyone here worked hard to get by and here they come stealing whatever they want. He hated it, but it's not like he could take them all on at once. With the general mistrust of Pokemon, everyone just had to wallow in the filth of their beloved town. Poison types flocked to the poisoned land. It was no surprise when rumors of a far away city was starting up the trainer thing, did Martin immediately jump at the chance. It was the farthest possible distance, but he had to do something. Sitting around here wasn't helping anyone. He had a mission, to become a trainer and give back to the town he came from.

Preferred Types: Bugs, Ghosts, and Poison.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: Not so secretly seeks to bring Team Virtue to justice. Is good at identifying poisonous fruit and common methods to cure them. Terrible at handling high stress situations. Will take others burdens as his own to help people.

Items: 1x Potion

Pokédollars: 500p

Species: Nincada(♂)
Type: Bug/Ground
Personality: (Naughty: ATK up, SP.Defense down) Nincada is always looking to get into trouble. Whether it be getting in peoples faces or stealing hats from other people. Always is seeking to prove something when in a battle.
Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: Always making some type of noise. Hope to one day make it's noise into a song. Enjoys the feeling of being in trouble.
Level: 8
Moves: Scratch, Harden, Leech Life.
Ability: Compound Eyes (Increases accuracy of moves.)
Held Item: None

[User]
Dawkin Trustram

@Joshua Tamashii

Dawkin listened carefully to the women and her rather helpful advice. She gave them a recommendation on how to deal with every Pokemon they might encounter. He smiled in response to her blatant shilling, "Ah well I thank you for your advice, but it'd be a shame not to put it to good use wouldn't it? I think we'll see how the plains treat us on our own, maybe another time." Dawkin said to the kind women and turned away. "It seems we have a plan of action for anything we might run into. Shall we?" Dawkin asked, gesturing to the wide open plains ahead of them. He would implement the Rapidash owner's advice for anything they ran into: and also keep an eye out to see if there was an opportune moment to catch a Ponyta. Probably not since doing so would raise the wrath of the accompanying Rapidash but... He'd look for it all the same.

---

Items:
x1 Potion
x4 Pokeball
x2 Super-Potions
x1 Escape rope
x2 Repels
x1 Awakening
x1 Paralyze Heal
x1 Antidote
x1 Moon Stone

Pokédollars: 5545p.

100%

Atlas
Gender: Male
Type: Steel/Rock

Species: Aron
Level: 11
Personality: A stubborn and sometimes disagreeable little fellow, he likes eating. A lot. He's smarter than he looks and can be quite devious in order to get what he wants.
Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: Fill in as we go. Probably
Moves: Tackle, Harden, Mudslap, Headbutt, Metal Claw
Ability: Sturdy. Allows the pokemon to survive an attack that would otherwise knock it out.
Held Item:

100%

Gender: Female
Type: Water/Ground
Personality:
Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other:
Level: 9
Moves: Water Gun, Tail Whip, Mud Sport, Mud Shot
Ability: Water Absorb, will regain health upon being hit with a water-type move.
Held Item: None.

100%

Gender: Male
Type: Electric
Personality: (Up to player.)
Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: (Up to player.)
Level: 9
Moves: Thundershock, Charm, Tail Whip
Ability: Static, may paralyze other Pokémon on contact.
Held Item: Dragon Scale.

[Assistant]
@PlatinumSkink

Amelia followed Dawkin as he visited the Rapidash ranch, listening to the lady as she spoke to them. She was fine with letting Dawkin take the lead here, incase there was anything he wanted to do on the route. She kept looking around at the route as the lady talked though, but she didn't miss a word that was said. When Dawkin declined to lady's offer to let them ride her Rapidash for a fee, she gave the lady a kind smile of her thanks before turning to Dawkin.
"Yes, I guess we shall." She said, a kind smile on her face. Deep down, she was a nervous wreck. She hoped that nothing came after them and chased them around. She couldn't run very far and if she tried to push herself too far, she would just cause her heart to act up, possibly putting Dawkin and herself in a worse situation. "Let's try to take things slow and steady. Make sure not to cause any probems for the pokemon here. Especially the more... hot-blooded kind."

[User]
@Joshua Tamashii

'Oh, and two more tiny things that slipped my mind,' the woman says. 'I did say the bigger birds don't care about humans, buuut… Fletchinders do blaze down fire to scare out their prey. And that fire… sticks around a while. It doesn't tend to spread, or these plains would have been a wasteland, but they form roadblocks. Careful of random fires out there!'

'And, Staraptors. They don't care about YOU, but if any of your Pokémon looks strong enough to be a challenge, they might swoop in and attack it. This only tends to become a problem when you get strong enough to fight your way through Route 6, but I should warn you nonetheless.' So she says. Then, in reaction to being denied.

'Aw, well,' she grinned about it. 'If the plains turn out more than you can handle, we'll be here! Good luck out there~!'

And with that, they were free to go.

While there were Ponytas young enough to need to chase after their parents, at some age parent and child separate and there's plenty of Ponytas just roaming around, feeding off the grass of the plains, running around and just being wild Pokémon, no Rapidash in immediate vicinity. They formed small groups, as horses do, but some do get separated, possibly when they had to run from some Tauros or Pyroars. If Dawkin wants to, he can find one.

The immediate area is relatively safe, mostly because all the Tauros are being knocked out by that trainer's Pokémon over there, but there ARE Bouffalants and Dodrios standing or running about here and there, watching their surroundings. Fletchlings are harder to see, because they're smaller in the grass despite still having territories, but they're rather pretty song is audible if you get close, which should be a sign of you're probably close to being attacked by a bird.

[Assistant]
Nincada
Gender: Male
Type: Bug/Ground
Moves: Scratch, Leech Life, Harden, Sand Attack.
Ability: Compound Eyes
Level: 11
Held Item: Everstone
Status: Perfectly fine.

Bulbasaur
Nickname: Sprout
Gender: Male
Type: Grass/Poison
Moves: Tackle, Growl, Leech Seed, Vine Whip.
Ability: Overgrow
Level: 11
Held Item: None
Status: Perfectly fine.

Goldeen
Gender: Female
Type:Water
Moves: Peck, Tail Whip, Water Sport, Supersonic, Horn Attack.
Ability: Water Veil. Prevents burns
Level: 8
Held Item: None
Status: Perfectly fine.

Slowpoke
Gender:Female
Type: Water/Psychic
Moves: Curse, Yawn, Tackle, Growl
Ability: Oblivious.
Level: 5
Held Item: King's Rock
Status: Mostly fine

Durant
Gender: Female
Type: Bug/Steel
Moves: Fury Cutter, Sand Attack, Vice Grip
Ability: Hustle. (More attack at the cost of physical accuracy.)
Level: 8
Held Item: None.
Status: Mostly fine

Ally for now?
Type: Poison
Status: Perfectly Fine.
Ability: Stench

6,912 Pokedollars
Antidote X2
Awakening
Endless Forest Map
Escape Rope
Great Ball X2
King's Rock X2
Vast Underground Key Card
Paralyze Heal
Pokeball X3
Rare Candy
Repel X2
Super potion X3
Thunder Stone
Water Stone

Martin wasn't taking the fact he had to leave The Vast Underground so quickly, but that could wait. He'd expected a Teleport to take him to the last city visited, but where was he? This did not look like Lakewatch Town. Actually, he was here before. Not from Pureplain, but on his way from Goldshire. He was in Worldedge. This immediately made him come to a few conclusions. The lady didn't make any stops from here to where was, he previously was. Martin's plans have been tossed out the window. "There goes my plan to look into the Endless Forest."

It took Martin a few minutes of looking around to figure out where in this city he was. The place had layers, and he didn't actually look at this place before. Machines were cranking out smoke, and the place had a heavy industrial feel to it. Seemed sketchy enough for Team Virtue to use as a stop. At least he wasn't in a cave, and could use the Pokecenter here. This place was famous for many reasons, and Martin suddenly had a lot of time. If he trained up a bit, he could eventually make it back to the cave and teach them a lesson. That, and check out the Pokemon in this area. He paid for tips on a different area, and was now back to lost again.

Stuck in one of the largest, if not the largest, city possible. He needed more than a moment to fully understand what happened. Martin gave a small laugh thinking about how he must be the first trainer to have gotten this far. He had to go back if he wanted the gyms, and forward would be a lot harder. What a situation to be put in. All Martin could do for now was take a deep breath and go with the flow. Someone would have a good idea of where to take his trip from here.

Then Martin remembered Trubbish, calling him out of the Pokeball. "Sorry to call you back Trubbish. The good news is we made it outside. The bad news, is we are now in Worldedge City. I did make you a promise though. You are free to go if you choose."

Action: Find and use the local Pokecenter to heal up.
Release/Keep Trubbsh (Depending on response.)
Talk to locals for information.


[System]
Appearance: Sylvia is tall, slender, and generally dark. Tanned skin seems pale in comparison to her deep black, satin hair, an aesthetic which has been settled upon over centuries of deliberation. Pensive brown eyes sit calmly upon a face of sharp features, with only a freckle here and there to serve the purpose of accentuation. Aside from the aforementioned traits, there is nothing particularly noteworthy about her appearance for her area. By design, Sylvia hangs in the middle of a gradient. To one extent, she is undesirable in a society still dominated by segregated caucasians. To the other, she is too light to be regarded as suspicious, allowing her to function, if not somewhat awkwardly, in European society. Her body type is fair, though nothing to turn heads or be worthy of more than a moment's glance. Sylvia understands that she is here to keep the balance, and that requires hiding, not flaunting.

Personality: Sylvia experiences a bit of duality in her life. On one hand, she is deeply driven by purpose; she feels a powerful compulsion to fulfill her place in the universe as one of the ones to balance the world's fundamental forces elements. As a result, she has learned to value subtlety and, above all, respect. Not only for one's peers, but for the universe as a whole in its delicate glory. Of course, on the other hand, there's the party girl. The side of her which she tries as hard as she can to force into the shadow of the "refined," "sensible," "thinking" version of her. However, as with nearly all sapient life, Sylvia just wants to have fun. So, while she tries to stay calm and mind her own business, now and then she can be found being a bit irresponsible and well... less than inconspicuous.

Forceful Nature: The user radiates raw kinetic energy, releasing waves of force which violently vibrate the air/water around them and force anything nearby away from them. Anything which stays in the field or comes closer to the user will begin to experience intense, destructive vibrations. Not available to humans. (Low energy consumption)

 Force Wave: Perhaps the simplest ability at force-users' disposal, the user is able to produce an almost solid wave of energy in a direction, either broad and overpowering, or directed and sharp. Available to humans. (Low energy consumption)

 Amplify: The user applies force to an object or entity, enhancing any kinetic actions which it takes. This increases its resilience to kinetic energies which are applied to it, and enhances any movement which it makes. This can also be used to simulate telekinesis. If done properly, this technique is capable of vibrating an object. Available to humans. (Low energy consumption)

 Immovable Object: The user focuses their attention to a single object or entity, absorbing most all direct energy input and adding it to reserves, functioning as a defensive tactic. Non-kinetic energies are not absorbed, and will still affect the user. If more energy is applied to the user than can be handled, the stored energy will be released and backfire upon the user, sometimes with devastating effects. Weak versions available to advanced humans. (Medium energy consumption)

 Unstoppable Force: The user applies their focus to a single object or entity, giving it a sudden increase in speed. Foreign kinetic forces which are applied to the object will be converted into energy in the direction of movement, adding to the speed. Non-kinetic energies will not be absorbed. If the amount of applied energy is too great, the object or entity will experience the destructive force of the applied force, magnified to the extent of the extra applied energy. Not available to humans. (Medium energy consumption)

 Graviton Shift: The user upsets the gravity of an area, contorting it to their own will. On a rudimentary level, the user can change the direction of gravity, though with enhanced skill and focus they may change the strength of it as well. Not available to humans. (Variable energy consumption, medium to high)

 Pseudomatter: The user creates an organization of kinetic energy such that the application of energy onto anything that touches the field has an equal amount of energy sent back, causing it to act like real matter. allowing for the construction of kinetic walls, tools, and armor. Each construct requires its own bit of focus, however, restricting the amount of potential constructs and their applications. Pseudomatter is seen as being similar to a heat wave in appearance, appearing more and more unstable as the construct becomes more solid. Usable on a small scale by advanced humans. (Variable energy consumption, medium to high)

 Mute: The user absorbs nearby vibrations, silencing the area. Usable by advanced humans. (Medium-high energy consumption)

 Shatter: The user apples chaotic forces to the environment, causing cracks and folds to form. Destruction ensues. If focused to an entity, a great tearing begins as forces are applied from every direction. Incredibly strong/cosmic entities are able to resist this to an extent, due to their more durable bodies. Requires immense concentration. Not available to humans. (High energy consumption)

Equipment: Sylvia typically carries about herself nothing more than an Italian stiletto and a large walking stick - though it has an odd little secret. The stick, which Sylvia never lets anyone else hold or even touch, was originally an entire tree, having been compressed by tons upon tons of force into the humble form in which it now resides. As a result, it is incredibly dense, making it at once too heavy for any mortal to lift, and stronger than a boulder.

Human Persona: To the non-divine eye, Sylvia is, well, nobody. Every day, she wakes up in the early morning and heads to work in the farm which she lives at. A few hours will pass, spent doing nothing particularly noteworthy, and she will spend the rest of her afternoon disappeared into the local alchemical laboratory. Given that alchemy is a rather archaic belief and practice, few bother to step into the building which many assume to be simply a bunch of madmen attempting to turn stones into gold. This is where many will divide on what they claim Sylvia does with her life. Some will say that she returns home, where she stays with her brother, and spends the rest of the evening in inactivity. Some say that she roams the town, shopping for food, supplies, and interesting bits. Rarely, you'll find the person who remembers seeing her at a formal event, a dance, perhaps, or a wine tasting. Many will simply say that she disappears. There are two notable truths which should be exposed here. First, Sylvia does not have a brother. Rather, she has a favorite disciple who she permits to guard her home and live with her. Second, all of the tales are true. Most any bit of gossip which you'll hear, be it dull or improbably exciting, has a spark of truth to it. Sylvia does, sometimes, return home after a day of harvesting and work at the temple. Other days, she heads into the city to observe and experience the saturation of the culture. On occasion, she will treat herself to something dangerous or irresponsible. And some days, well, some days nobody can tell you where she goes.

Temple Description: Located in the denser section of early Paris, an innocent enough looking laboratory sits on the corner of city block. Inside this, "alchemical and physical studies," lab however, is a collection of the devout followers of the Immortal currently known as Sylvia Marquet. They're a quiet, studious bunch who value progression above all else, believing that it will allow them to become the strongest of the seven groups. Their doctrine? Become greater. Their only purpose, beyond serving their god that is, is to advance themselves as much as they are able, both scientifically and economically. Of course, this must all be done from the shadows, though at times the group has been known to stray from their commands a bit in the name of progress, typically with consequences falling along the lines of witch prosecutions and executions. Local technology is what might be expected for Renaissance Paris, though the disciples have access to slightly more advanced technologies such as experimental microscopes and other scientific equipment.

[User]
After he and his son entered the city under the cloak of Darkness they made their way to the temple. Force was essentially neutral in Sai's experience, which made its temple the best meeting spot for the elements to come together. Unfortunately, he had no idea what Force looked like unless it still to that same female form it had last time they met, so he'd have to be careful about who he revealed himself to.

As he snuck towards the temple, however, he realized that there was a large amount of Force users around, more than he thought would be normal. Taking a chance, he revealed himself to one of them who was alone. "Hello" he said. "I need directions to your temple. Could you help me?"

"Yes, sir." he said. "Force asked us to bring the Darkness user to her. Please, follow me."

Sai looked at his son. "Find the thieves guild in this city." he said. "They are loyal to Darkness, even if they are not users of his element. You will be safe there, as they would not dare harm one of his monks."

"But father, you will need my help."

"Against Force, I would need every monk and priest in the temple to even buy me time to escape. Do not worry, I'll see you soon enough."

Geren nodded and re-hid himself, heading off to find the thieves.

"Lead me to her." Sai said, then followed the man back to the temple.

[Assistant]
Fire comes back down, looking much better than before, and surprise! I'm impatient! He an barely get in those few words before I nod and flash away in light, trusting the brief flash of solar heat that I leave behind to give him an appropriate channel to follow me with. Streaking away into the sky, I take a brief moment to orient myself before darting off into the north once more.

I would normally have to ask about something like this, but I'm pretty sure I know exactly where Darkness is, and by extension, Force. I can feel a significant, borderline painful, lack of light, far more than is natural, in one building in the city and one alone.

With a flash of intense light, I appear in a small, abandoned house about a street away from the epicenter of darkness. From there, it's just a short run to the man himself.

I tackle him from behind at full speed, knocking him off of his feet in a crushing hug.

"Darkness! It's been too long!"

---

After a hasty round of apologies, we resume our path, me being pretty happy. More than usual, actually. After a brief SLOW walk, we wind up in what looks like some sort of laboratory. The follower of Force leaves us there and walks out, presumably going to fetch Force.

I have to sit down.

Horror of horrors.

Well, nothing to die but wait now, I suppose. I can at least have a conversation with Darkness; I haven't done so in ages.

"So, Darkness," I begin conversationally, "What kind of identity have you taken lately? You haven't contacted me in at least a century!"

[User]
"Darkness! It's been too long!"

Sai sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Three hundred years." he said. "It's been three hundred years since any human besides my highest ranking monks has known who I am and he first thing you do when seeing me is blow my cover. I guess I can chance disguises later, though." He relaxed a bit and greeted the other Immortal. "Nice to see you again, Light."

Eventually they make their way to Force's Temple and sit down.

"So, Darkness, What kind of identity have you taken lately? You haven't contacted me in at least a century!"

"I'm a Master thief and a father. Just promise me you won't reveal my identity to my son when you meet him."

[Assistant]
Dressed in the clothes of a scientist, the man scuttled into the chamber hurriedly. It was dark, but not so dark as to be blinding. Moreso, the chamber was in a constant state of sunrise – or sunset. Directly opposite the door, the goddess sat on something akin to a rather modest throne, thinking, as the room continually vibrated precariously.

"Miss?" The man'a voice trembled; he was nervous, and rightfully so.

"Yes?" The vibrations stopped as the woman opened her eyes, freed from her meditation.

"There are, well, some people outside. They look and feel like sin. They said that they were here for you."

"Good! They've finally arrived." Sylvia rose, and hurriedly started for the exit.

"Miss? I don't suppose you could be bothered to tell us what's going on. We're all quite alarmed."

Sylvia paused, and turned her head to her disciple. "Don't worry about it. You're here with me because you're one of the smart ones, and smart people know when to let the big kids take care of things. Just a little bit of tension is all." Before the man could retort, Sylvia gently nudged him out of the way and entered the main hall of the building. She cleared her throat.

"All! We have guests, as I'm sure you've heard. These guests are important, and I've no idea how long they're going to be here. I'll be taking care of them for the most part, which means that all of you have a very easy job: keep up the hospitality. If they ask you to do something, either you do it or you prepare for the consequences that they will be dealing out to you. I'm giving them all explicit permission to kill any of you if you misbehave. Play nice, and keep up the refreshments." With the tip of an invisible top hat, Sylvia smiled and threw open the front doors, seeing two seemingly opposite figures resting on the benhh to the left.

"My dears, my dears! Bienvenue à Paris!" With a soft clap and a friendly tilt of the head, Sylvia put forth her best 'hostess' attitude.

"You're welcome to come inside if you please, if my people are half competent and fear for their lives there should be some local cuisine waiting on a table right on the entrance as soon as we head in." Sylvia then recalled that she had yet to specifically address her guests. She offered one hand to each, and gave a greeting nod as she spoke.

"Light, Dark."


[System]
* Human: Ashwing
* Elven, Fae: Pyrona
* Dwarven: Shadowfire
* True: Taraah

Race:

* Human disguise: Nordic human
* True: Red and black dragon halfling

Gender: Female

Age:

* Human disguise: 35 (mid age)
* True: 57 (Very young adult)

Home: On her way to the town with a backpack and bedroll, looking for a permanent home.

Appearance:

Human disguise

Source
Margaret is a huge woman. She stands some 185 centimeters tall and weighs just shy of 80 kilograms. As one who lives on the road, she keeps her body in pretty good shape. As all Nords, her complexion is unusually pale. A very observant person may notice that she is somewhat more sturdy and seems a bit heavier than she claims to, or for her size should in fact be.

Perhaps her most stunning features are her eyes and hair, both an unnatural red color. Her eyes seem to glow ever so slightly in the dark like the embers of a dying fire. She keeps the hair loose and shoulder length. Since she travels a lot she isn't used to keeping her hair perfect and thus is always a bit messy looking.

She wears a thick fur cape that covers her back and sides, regardless of the season. Under the cape are sturdy travellers' clothes littered with pockets and belts to carry her stuff. She wears a gambeson for protection on her Travels.

True

Source
Height at withers: 1,8 m
Total height: 2,5 m
Length (Standing): 5 m
Length (Head to tail): 7 m
Wing span: 9 m

A commoner would think Taraah is a huge, hulking monster easily dwarfing a horse, unaware that in the scale of the dragon kin, she is nothing but a runt, even a midget, to her eternal frustration.

Her scales are a mix of orange and ash grey, about as large as a human thumbprint. The scales get finer on her head, which is covered from the top by a horned plate. Her eyes are the most saturated red, glowing with magic and with a slit pupil.

Taraah's anatomy is closer to a mammal and her wings are leathery rather than feathety, giving her great agility at the cost of brute strength and effortless gliding.

History:

Human disguise

Born in the Eisenberg range in the far North, Margaret was a member of the local nobility. As the tradition goes in the north, the firstborn is the heir to the estate, be it a girl or a boy. As such, Margaret learned what she needed to live in the north, making her a great hunter and a fairly resilient individual while also gaining the manners of nobles.

Soon though, her heart started telling her that the life of a noble wasn't for her, to her father's unending dismay. She spent more time out hunting and drinking in the tavern than learning how to govern the small town she was to inherit.

When her father threatened to disown her, she laughed at the threat, packed her belongings and left the town. She was lucky enough to make an acquaintance in an alchemist that visited their keep a few months back and become his student.

While alchemy certainly held a certain appeal with her, Margaret didn't really fancy herself a scholar or an inventor and left her master's tutelage early, only skilled in potion making and herblore. Fortunately her master was a man of reason and they parted on good terms.

As she started running out of coin, Margaret, now a sturdy woman, started lending her skills to others, becoming a mercenary. As the years went, she learned several new tricks that eventually overshadowed her alchemical roots.

After travelling with caravans for a few years, she eventually gathered enough coin to settle down somewhere quiet, where she could practice her alchemy and magic in peace.

True

Ashwing is one of the last dragons left in the land, the rest long gone beyond the Iron Mountains to free themselves from the nuisance called humanity. She chose to remain because her opposition decreased drastically with the exodus and she saw an opportunity to add to her hoard easily.

True to that, she razed many smaller towns and holdings, often demanding ransom for kidnapped daughters (while keeping them good company, of course) and toying with the knights that came to 'slay' her before sending them back with nothing but the loin cloth to cover their modesty. The golden times ended though with the rise of the current king, who assigned more competent people to leadership positions who improved defenses all over the country.

Personality:

Taraah is driven by two things: Greed for coin and the mirth of causing mischief and chaos. She is in her element when fleeing from angered guards after recovering a particularly valuable piece of art she will get paid handsomely for bringing back, or just poaching a very nice necklace for her own use.

She doesn't shy from people, especially if they order a round of ale for her or come seeking use of or just being interested in her magic and stories. Despite being a noble dragon, social status has little pull with her - she would dress down an emperor if he was being stupid.

Whenever in her human disguise, she is a good companion to have around, ready to help with whatever is needed just as long as she gets something from it in the long run, friendships included. She is calm even when angered, and will usually punish the culprit through carefully planned humiliation rather than punching a few teeth out as long as someone doesn't insult her personally.

She has somewhat grey morality, but unless your proposal is really lucrative, she tries to stay on the good side of the law. Her loyalty can be swayed away though, if the counter offer is good enough. She will however never go back on a promise she gave.

Powers:

Inborn

Halfling's magic: Being born a halfling is a rare occurrence, as most often the whelp takes after one of the parents. Aside from having command over two kinds of magic (Fire and dark), theirs is also more powerful than that of a normal dragon.

Acquired

Fortune telling: Taraah carries magical cards with her. Aside from being able to use her other tricks through them, she can use them for telling fortunes. Her predictions are accurate, but the cards are not always easy to read and there can be a mistake in the interpretation.

Wards and charms: A very useful technique, the witch can construct wards that affect the area around them. The effect can vary, from blocking magic to shocking people around with electric bolts. She is not as skilled as a full alchemist and can only dream of building animated constructs. Charms are personalized, small wards that only affect the person wearing them.

Alchemy and potion making: A skill that makes quite the portion of her income, Taraah learned to use what nature offers and can mix various concoctions, from medicines to ales. Her salves are taking effect over time though, unlike holy items or healing magic that works instantly, however they are more potent if there is time to apply them properly.

External

Shapeshifting charm: Taraah wears a necklace that allows her to shapeshift between her human disguise, her true dragon self and anywhere in between. The necklace is a rose gold chain with an amulet made out of one of her scales and a spherical ruby set in the middle.

Equipment:

While she makes a hefty use of magic, it is not suited to all tasks. As such, Margaret carries a one and a half hand sword plated with silver. The blade has a slit in the middle which acts as a capillary to hold poison or other substances, and its guard is decorated with rubies. Finally, she has a stiletto knife in her boot as a last resort.

She carries a satchel around that contains materials and some equipment necessary for her witchcraft. The satchel has a booby trapped lock to prevent greedy hands from taking some of her possessions from under her nose.

Relationships:

TBD

Trivia:

* Human voice: Tracy Scoggins
* Dragon voice: Jennifer Hale
* Human theme: Cellofourte - Monster
* Dragon theme: Satan's arrival

[User]
Cross

D'Artagnan Riverwood

Location: The Road To Lorenstad

D'Artagnan expected to be thrashed by Malvor, the Katorian moved his horse backwards trying to escape from Malvor's wrath. His hand even went over to reach for his whip to try and defend himself. However he noticed Malvor walking over towards Thomas, grabbing his hand making sure his grip would be very painful. Moving his hand away from his whip and letting his horse stride closer towards the two, "Mr. Malvor it was my fault for showing the dagger to Thaddus, Please you do not have to be so harsh with his punishment." The Katorian positioned his horse so that he was between Malvor and Thaddus. He backed up for a moment, rubbing his chin, "But perhaps he could do something for me as payment for his theft." D'Artganan felt a sly grin coming onto his face. "I might need your sticky fingers for my next exploration." The Katorian imagined the many uses for Thaddus' sleight of hand, and whatever he was hiding behind his sunglasses.

"Of course if that is okay with you, I will pay you for your services." D'Artagnan noticed the outline of Lorenstad in the horizon. He could drop off the artifact and then get his next assignment from the museum.

[Assistant]
Eight

 "Oh you know," Minnow replied to Yoshina, "Dishes, sweeping — though I suppose the magical servant can do those things, so housekeeping…" She was counting off her fingers now, "Checking in and out guests, serving — oh can you cook?"

 She stared intently at the woman, awaiting a response. Only when Rudolph announced a dragon did Minnow startle.

 "Dragon!? Where!?"

 The innkeeper nearly tripped over the fainting Rudolph as she dove for the broom closer, scrounging up a broken piece of her broom. Rolling to her feet, Minnow brandished the wooden pole angrily.

 "Pesky Dragons! Point me to em, Rudolph!"

 But Rudolph was still ill disposed. Frowning, Minnow poked the wizard with her foot.

[User]
Taraah / Shiina's smith

"Put your mind at ease, If I wanted to do something bad, you would not get a warning. I meant what I said, I'm looking for a home. I wouldn't want to torch it beforehand." She said, the corners of her closed maw tugging up in an imitation of a hominid smile. She learneed quickly that a toothy smile looks rather threatening on a dragon.

She poked her head and neck in through the door. The workshop looked rather cozy. The door wouldn't fit more of her, and she did not fancy changing skins again, especially since Shiina seemed immune to it. She lied down on her side like a lazy cat, only her neck and head up looking at the inside of the shop.

"I never touched a hammer in my life!" She said with an excited happiness in her voice. "I have enchanted weapons before though. I wonder if the magic would be stronger if used during the forging itself. However..." She grinned, "I fancy myself a bit of a patron of artists. So, show me your wares. If you are worthy of my attention, I shall shower you with bleasings!" I should make a religion out of this! she thought to herself, wondering if she should dare the actual gods.

[Assistant]
Shina cringed as she watched the dragon attempt to get through the workshop. She sighed with relief when the dragon gave up and left only her head in the doorway.

Shina cleared her throat, still a little nervous  'Uh thanks? I think?  she suddenly felt shy to show the dragon her wares, after all they weren't much to see, since most of her wares came from the townsfolk. But she did have a few nicer pieces, one of which she was NOT going to be showing.

 'I have a few pieces here which might be of interest, although, i'm sure not a patch on your own power and magic! Shina went over to her weapon rack and grabbed a couple of swords... 'These pieces came to me from far afield, this katana was sharpened by forge, note the kissaki has been hardened and laced with fine silver. This longsword came to me in shattered pieces, see how I have re-forged the blade with the strongest of iron? I even re-leathered the hilt.

Lapoo heard the commotion and flew down from Shina's bedroom. When she saw the dragon's head she let out a sharp frightened squeal and flew back up.  'It's OK Lapoo, she is a ....friend?  Shina turned back to the dragon head,  'So, what do you think? I know it isn't much, i'm hoping my good friend Guan will return from his journey soon, so I might head out with him and get more loot!

[User]
Taraah inspected the presented pieces with keen eye. One of the blade looked rather exotic, not like the straight blades favored in this land. In fact... "I believe our mist islander friend may be a potential buyer for the Katana. If I am not mistaken, blades likle these originated there. The plating seems rather well done!" She said with an approving murmur, reaching into her bag.

She pulled out the blade she uaed when disguised as Margaret. It was a normal straight blade, one and a half hilt, with rubies set into the pommel and guard. "My own could use a new coat. Perhaps we can strike a bargain later." She thought out loud, setting the blade in sheath at her feet for now.

The reforged piece puzzled her: "Surely, a reforged piece must be worse than melting it down into a bar to be used anew in different manner? If the blade has shattered once, it may do so again, no? Wouldn't it have a more meaningful life as a shaving razor?" She asked, interested in the process.

"You have my attention, young one. If you have a piece of scrap weaponry or tool lying around, let me show you what I can do for you." She offered. She also produced a bottle made of obsidian glass, blowing into it. The inside of the bottle seemed to glow orange. She plugged the bottle with obsidian cork and handed it over. "A sample for the forge. Fair warning, this fire is three times as hot as a charcoal that is being blown at. It will melt iron, stone, and if she is not careful, the smith. This amount should last you for an hour, enough to get you hungry for more if you like it." She winked.


[System]
Age:

22

Appearance:

 Subject stands 160 cm (5'2") in height. Subject also has light hazel eyes with short hair to match.

Abilities:

 Subject possesses an unobserved form of  Affinity with Pain*  (*Suffering?): Record has the Subject breaking a door off its hinges when it was accidentally closed on and injured her fingers. While it was evident there was damage – multiple broken phalanxes and torn skin – the injury seemed to have never happened, suggesting a Regenerative Healing Factor. The strength which she gained to break the door was hypothesized to come from her injury.

 The extent to which the two abilities are able to reach is unknown. Further insight is needed.

History:

 Subject is of Gaelic origin, raised in The United Kingdom. Parents show no obvious signs of empowerment, and have therefore the hypothesis that the Subject's abilities are of a spontaneous mutation is further supported. Parents are a non-factor.

 Subject is a student of Department of Law in the  London School of Economics and Political Science  – top of her class, with multiple intern experiences with many important figures. Many people know her.

 Her current residence is in the central London area, alone, supported with her position of Paralegal in Yip Tse & Chiang, a Chinese-based law firm.

[User]
One by one they fell, one by one the soldiers were shredded, torn apart, broken, bitten, pulled apart - all sorts of gruesome deaths in a theatrical performance by Gershwin May. Not even a hale of bullets from a heavy machine gun could bring her down - it did, initially, but she would just get back up and fight through as if nothing happened. She would grunt and fight her way through in an anguished pursuit to cease the pain. She felt if she killed them all... maybe her unending, immortal hell would end...

---

Big Boss noted exactly the direction Subject 30 was headed. He grabbed hold of microphone of a nearby staff member - speaking into it to all nearby foot soldiers:

"All units converge in Hallway A. Barricade the entrance, and prepare to fight."

[Assistant]
Cody tilted his head, as if listening to the approaching soliders. There was something different to them...he hummed to himself, pondering it for the barest of seconds. He walked into the hallway, unconcerned.

The reinforcements didn't bother him. Beyond the fact that he could see their shapes, due to the light of their beings, he could hear them. Their breathing, their movement, the creak of their armor.

"So...I don't imagine this is a dinner party"

His voice seemed to echo, but he didn't seem to notice that. Beyond, he could hear the fighting, the violence of Gerswhin's attack. He tilted his head the other way, thoughtful.

"I'm disappointed. Even now, your boss hides behind you. Is he just a coward? Afraid that he will indeed fall to me? Such a shame. Maybe he thinks I'll be weaknend and he'll win easily"

He had no doubts that Big Boss could hear him. His tone was calm, and neutral, and he gave a sigh.

"Oh well"

He began to weave light, creating cages, still seeking to contain rather then kill, but if pressed, he would kill. As he did this, he began to form balls of light, which he shot at the reinforcements, testing right them, the extent of the reinforcements strength.

[User]
Cody's ambient lights were the only source of illumination in the dark chamber. Around the room, soldiers were set up in successive layers, each with a specialized unit of attack. These units alternated with each other layer so that a single layer being wiped out would not be a hindrance in the attack approach. Each unit held different sources of weapons, ranging from heavy machine guns to actual artillery and mortar shots.

When the light cages formed around them, the soldiers did not flinch at all. Bullets passed through them in heavy volley, and all the soldiers were now fitted with the heat-resistant heavy armour: light cages were nothing to them now, walking through them as if they were never there.

Soldiers with heavy-set weapons approached Subject 30 slowly. The balls of light hit three to four of the soldiers, knocking them back to their backs. Soldiers spread out deftly and swiftly and continued their incessant fire, hoping that the repeated stress on the Subject's light armour would eventually be broken. He can't possibly handle all this stress. The knocked down soldiers were down but not out, and would slowly pick themselves back up.

The approaching soldiers noted the Subject's standstill, and formed an arc around him, blocking any ground escape. They continued to pelt him with an unending supply of ammunition - which was being continuously resupplied clandestinely through resources and openings heavily reinforced.

The hallway was now a fireworks display of muzzle fire and Subject 30's light.

[Assistant]
Cody was unsurprised when the shoulders escaped his light cages, protected by their armor. how many hits can they withstand? he wondered, but he was sure it was more then his own armor could withstand. He constantly shifted, adding layer after layer when it went down, but he knew he couldn't continue that for long. He needed to figure out a way of taking them down. He immediately began to look for weaknesses in the armour.

He began to attack their weapons, blocking the barrels with thick light plugs, hoping to prevent them firing with them. It didn't matter if it didn't work, as he began to fill the room with screens of light, like stationary sheilds, around him, merely to give him time to think. He knew he was surrounded, yet he did not care.

Finally, he formed his whips, and using them like losso's, he began to capture the shoulder's one by one, pulling tight, they would begin to tie around those he caught. He knew it was merely a stop cap, yet he continued to resist, as he began to gather light, forcing energy into a massive ball, that if he got off, would be similar to an explosion within the room.

[User]
The light plugs proved effective, and the blockage caused the high-speed propelled bullet to explode within the barrel. Those whose weapons were blocked were jolted violently in the recoil, falling to the ground. Some were hit in the head with the rifle, cracking their helmets and knocking them out. Some of the rifles exploded from within, and were rendered useless. Gunfire continued from the far-back ranks, but the approaching soldiers ran at Subject 30, hoping that they could take him out in strong hand-to-hand combat.

The lassoed soldiers, while resistant to the heat and damage from the light whips, were still carried and tossed around and away. This necessitated a shift in strategy:

Subject 30 was too dangerous to approach mid-way, but in terms of long-range and up-close, the soldiers had a shot. The mortars continued their artillery explosive shots, hoping that the concussive blasts from the explosions would disorientate and perhaps dismember him while the upfront soldiers closed in to take him down fully. The numbers were dwindling, but they were still as deadly.

---

The reinforcements were getting closer. Helicopters covered the skies by the dozen, and on the ground, Armoured Personnel Carriers and tanks on full speed, bringing in a literal army of trained soldiers and weapons to rescue any UNARM personnel, and take down any and all threats. If one could look over the huge crater that hid their facility, they were within the horizon, the gunships even closer.

Gershwin was perched on a rooftop and roared tyrannically.

[Assistant]
There was a moment for Cody where his shield broke, and a bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, in the split second before he got his shield back up. He stumbled, before rising and throwing multiple light balls at his opponents to seek for week spots, noticing the change in tactics. As the soliders closed in, Cody began to move.

He began to punch those closest to him, moving with grace, and some ease, but he was tiring. He knew he had to stop them quickly, and so he began to punch, kick and hit with speed, and power. His light abilities fueled his punches and he began to move through the ranks.

He hummed as he fought, and the lights around them began to flicker, and he unconsciously began to draw energy from them, causing him to sway slightly.

---

Caits began to make her way out the building, stumbling along, bleary eyed and exhausted, her gun in her hands, and she looked up at the sound of helicoptor. She gave a heavy sigh, and began to make her way onto a roof.

[User]
Subject 30's light empowerment was very powerful when up close. The shots of light worked like a cannon blast up close, and the armour took a visible toll absorbing the impact, and it struck the soldiers inside even harder. Those shot up-close were knocked out.

Those that got close enough, before being shot away, managed to land some hits on Cody. Strong and toned as they were, and protected as they might be, it seemed that they were not strong enough to penetrate his shield - only a stronger kinetic force seemed to be the only choice. Thus, the ones that did not get shot, turned around, running back to retrieve a resupply on firearms.

In the back, a man stood amongst the lower row, and readied his Rocket-Propelled Grenade launcher, aiming the warhead at Cody.

---

Gershwin stood at the very corner edge of the building she was atop. Her shoulders were hunched and arms were spread as if like a predator sizing up his prey, and knowing it had the bigger bite. But off the corner of "its" eye, she saw Agent Caits. 10 meters behind her, a missile was headed her way. With intentions unknown, Gershwin jumped and launched herself at the missile, intercepting it mid-air before it hit Agent Caits.

 The explosion, concussive and heat, would have disintegrated her body. In fact, it was, but now her entire body was a phantasmal, ghastly, monstrous replica of her former self. Her elbows seemed to have spikes and her fingers elongated to claws, her mouth no longer the pleasant smile but instead a sharp maw with daggers for teeth. Horns seemed to sprout out of her head and her jaw, her spine with long, barbed, serrated protrusions. She started to looked like a demon. For all intents and purposes, this may not be her final form.

She leaped at the inbound helicopter which was just over the crater ridge, and with her sharp claws, pierced right through it. It exploded right then and there, and Gershwin howled in pain as her body got hit by shrapnel, fire, the spinning blades, before landing face-first back on the rooftop. She rose back up as if from the dead, a pained look in her eyes - those glowing orbs on the remnants of her human orifices. She turned back around, noting the incoming helicopters.

On the other end, at the only entrance to the UNARM facility, vehicular noise sounded. The land units were here.

[Assistant]
Cody began to gather light to him, seemingly unconcerned by the rocket launcher aimed at him. As each blow landed, Cody's body acted insinctively, quickly replunishing his shield. Sometimes however his power wasn't quick enough, and blows landed on him, causing him to stumble, or grunt in pain. Yet this didn't seem to stop him, as his body rapidly began to heal him. He couldn't stop it, it was merely his body's reaction to it.

He gathered light to him, forming it into a massive ball, that he would fire as soon as the launcher fired. And then he crouched, covering his head with his arms, knowing there would be a resulting explosion, and knowing that it would hurt his ears.

Far away, Cody could hear the sounds of battle, and knew Gerswhin had joined the fray.

---

The blurred figure that leaped in front of her, saving her life, was seen at the cornor of Caits's eye, and she ducked, the resulting heat washing over her, somewhat lessoned due to it exploding on impact to Gerswhin. Caits rose from where she had been blasted, weary, but knowing she had to continue. She wasn't afraid. It seemed that everytime she was to die, Gerswhin stopped that from happening. She knew she shouldn't rely on Gerswin, but if she was going to die anyway, she might as well be a little reckless.

An Avenging Angel. Perhaps that was what Gerswhin was.

Caits began to choose targets, and began to shoot. She stilled aimed for injury, and not death. She just couldn't make herself kill, evne now.

[User]
The soldiers took note of the gathering light forming into the large ball of attack. While the majority kept their rain of fire, only a sane select few took cover.

The ball of light was launched and so was the RPG.

The soldiers in fisticuffs turned around to see the smokey trail of the grenade and the bright luminescent orb make contact, and that was the last thing they saw.

 The resulting explosion blew up into a hellish ball of supernatural fire that engulfed the entire chamber room. The light blinded the soldiers, and the flames and kinetic energy was enough to knock everyone out unconscious. Cody should be no exception to the immense energy released. When everything settled, every surface of the room was charred and singed, a powerful conflagration in a seemingly infinitesimal amount of time, gone.

There were only about five soldiers left, who came out their cover and approached Subject 30. They walked slowly, rifles raised and aimed at the downed Subject. They had the physical numbers against them, but their power was unsubstantial, even non-existent, against the Anomaly. They all trembled in fear.

---

While Gershwin leaped further and further away from Agent Caits, taking on entire groups at once with a vengeance for pain, group troops spread out to every building. Radio chatter was filled with phrases such as: "charges ready," "building D secured and armed," "sector A armed," "kill everyone on sight."

A tank took aim with its long barrel, and took its shot at Agent Caits.


[System]
Age: 12002.
Race: Undead(Human).
Sex: Female.
Description:

Truly a figure which most would dread to see coming at them. She stands at an even six foot tall and weighs a solid one hundred and ninety pounds though most wouldn't be able to tell since she looks like she weighs half that. Most would assume a warrior such as herself would have sizeable muscles but her body looks soft and feminine, at least the parts that remain. Given the fact she's animated with dark magic muscles are hardly necessary since biologically speaking she has no right to be moving at all, let alone with such strength.

Her skin is a blue tinged grey like that of a drowned corpse. Her body might be a bit less bloated than the average floater but she looks no less drowned. Her hair is a murky dark green, not unlike kelp. Her hair is straight albeit messy more often than not and cut just above her neckline. Her face while bearing some slender femininity is a bit rounder, a softer jawline with cheeks that are more full with a lower cheekbone that accentuates the eyes which... Well, require some explanation.

The sockets which once housed eyes are empty now. More than that the eyelids themselves are missing as well, leaving the eye sockets open up to the edges of the skull, leaving only the eyebrows. Inside the hollow apertures her eyes once occupied is a deep darkness, an abyss so black staring deeply into them can leave one's grip on sanity loosened. As though swimming in the shores of the fathomless darkness which appears to stretch on for eternity are two spheres of winding light in an unearthly yellow hue, one mote for each socket.

Her armor is no less imposing than herself despite it's piecemeal collection of parts. Her helmet is a large dark iron greathelm, concealing all but the intangible clots of yellow light that serve as her eyes which shine through the narrow eye slots. Her body armor was actually taken from a famed "Turtle Knight", a massive breastplate far too heavy for any average knight to use. It's plates are half an inch thick and curved in the shape of a turtle's shell, something most knights would find unmanageable but she doesn't seem to mind it's motion restrictive design and excessive mass. For shoulder protection she wears a large set of dark iron pauldrons. On her arms she wears dark iron gauntlets and vambraces. Her legs are protected with a set of gilded but scratched iron greaves complete with once elaborate cuisses that look like whatever designs they were embossed with has been smashed into a spangle of loose metal atop the plates. Her weapon is a large ship anchor which has been covered with more than few centuries worth of rust, wielded by the loop it's tied by. It's attached to a chain which is wrapped several times around her left arm which is her dominant arm.

Notable Belongings:

- Her anchor. Despite the endless years of rust the old makeshift weapon's thickness had ensured it's survival so far. It may be pocked and riddled with old barnacle shells but it still holds up to both the rigors of travel and the trials of combat. The chain attached to it's ring is a recent addition, the original one having broken apart deep below the waves quite a while ago.

- Her armor. A collection of borrowed pieces from foes she has slain. Some parts are even segments of armor that have been strapped or crudely nailed onto preexisting articles. She tends to show preference towards heavier, more protective gear.

Backstory:

In the beginning Gangraena was the daughter in the lineage of famous knights. Practically every single member of her family had gone on to serve in knighthood, most becoming the stuff of legends once they shuffle off their mortal coil. Man and women alike, there wasn't a single member of her family that didn't fight. She was strong yes but to call her slow witted would be an understatement. Even the wooden training dummies took quicker to learning the arts of combat than she did. Still, she eventually did learn a thing or two though her basic technique still basically boiled down to "Hit target real hard". When the time came she was knighted and sent forth on her very first mission. She was to sail across the Ondorss sea alongside a detachment of her fellow knights as well as a crew to man the ship. It was there they would reinforce a fort bordering barbarian lands.

Of course right in the middle of their voyage a terrible storm struck, overturning their ship and sending all aboard it off into the roiling waters.

Most of the sailors aboard the ship drowned that night but Gangraena's fate was chosen by a different force. As she drowned shadowy forces dragged her below, pulling her body well into the depths. Her form drifted in between the great oceanic crags and into the great tear in the earth's face below the waves.

So deep below she was pulled. She was dragged into depths which in ordinary circumstances would hold pressures too great for the soft bodies of most surface dwellers. This was no ordinary circumstance however, dark magic protecting her from the dangers of the deep until she was brought into a long forgotten temple which had sunk into the ocean ages ago. This mysterious entity took her into it's flooded halls and set her upon it's unearthly altar.

When she awoke everything was grey. Strange symbols littered the walls and statues of some olden ichthyoid deity were scattered about, some mostly intact and others not so much. Without any instruction or purpose she started to float about without direction. As she swam from the temple she was starting to float away so she grasped for something to hold onto. She managed to grab hold of the anchor which had fallen off her ship which was destroyed in the storm. With the anchor weighing her down she was able to set her feet on the ground and begin upon her long trek, dragging the anchor along behind her like it was some old oar.

_
From then on she simply walked. She had no direction to follow so she'd simply walk until she ran into something and then try to walk around that. This continued for thousands upon thousands of years. Though long as such a trek might be it could of been shorter but she had a terrible sense of direction and often wound up walking in circles for many years at a time. Sometimes she would fall into pits that could swallow mountains and occasionally she'd run into mountains that make those of the surface world seem pitifully small by comparison. Being a realm vastly larger than the surface land it's features often dwarfed those that appeared above

After such an unfathomably long time spent wandering the vast sea floor she eventually came upon a shore. Trudging up this deep sea creature of undeath continued along the sandy coast until she found a quaint little fishing village. At first they were terrified but after a while they came to accept that she meant no harm. She spent a fair amount of time among them, slowly learning their language and how to fish. Over the course of many generations she eventually got the hang of both.

Such was life until a humble mercenary company came through one day. They were a respectable bunch of warriors who needed a place to stay and restock their supplies. When they saw how strong Gangraena was they were thoroughly impressed. They offered her a place in their company if she wanted to fight alongside them. She accepted the offer and went along with them the day after. Since then she's fought many battles, now wielding her anchor as a tool of death rather than just an old keepsake. Over the years they'd lose men both to battle and to sickness. Eventually after a few bad bouts of combat the company was all but wiped out. It was just her and the captain who had suffered severe wounds in the end. He decided if he did survive his injuries he was just going to retire on what funds they had left. Thus Gangraena was the only remaining member of their company.

Since fighting was what she knew best she decided to just keep up what she'd been doing so far. She traveled the land now a lone mercenary, killing for coin to afford repairs on her armor. Then the cataclysm happened. Since the power she was bestowed rested within her it was almost as if nothing had changed. She felt no weaker and now there was more demand for mercenaries than ever before.

This is where her story begins.

Magic:

She's been reanimated by a dark, ancient power that calls her physical form home. As such there's a number of changes to her, some simply being facets of being undead and others brought upon her by the forgotten one's power.

Firstly as a member of the undead she no longer holds the needs of the living. She does not need to eat, sleep, drink or even breath. Diseases and poisons sit idle in her flesh for her blood had ran still long ago. She no longer experiences fatigue and can exert herself endlessly without fail. While she no longer feels pain nor the comforts of warmth she still holds a dim sense of touch.

She has no eyes of the tangible variety but she can see perfectly fine, not only in the light but also in the darkness no matter how tenebrous it may be. This comes at the cost of being able to see in color, leaving her only able to see in shades of grey. She no longer holds any sense of taste or smell either.

In addition to the traits of her undead are the dark gifts bestowed upon her. She holds a strength far greater than any mundane man or beast. The entirety of her body is connected by this strange power so that even if an arm, a leg or even her head is removed she can control them no less than when they were still attached to her. Not only does this long forgotten essence keep her flesh from rotting like some mere cadaver but it also protects her from the harsh tolls of the water. While the beasts of the sea once respected the pact that was made between the waters and her sunken benefactor that may have changed since the cataclysm. Where once no beast of the waters would prey upon her now only fate knows which water dwelling creature still respects their ancient oath.

Though sometimes a boon undeath carries a number of drawbacks as well. The most notable drawback is that as she is no longer alive her flesh does not knit together over time like the living do. While she may not decay every wound she receives never leaves her. Her only means of maintaining structural stability is to patch together the skin with thread and, in more severe cases, to nail metal braces to the bone.

Due to the nature of the power animating her any remaining magic derived from the gods of light and life will naturally react negatively when exposed to her dark essence. Necromancy however is especially effective on her given her undead state. This can be either a boon or a curse depending on the whims of the necromancer.

Strength = 10.
Perception = 3.
Endurance = 10.
Charisma = 5.
Intelligence = 2.
Agility = 2.
Luck = 8.

[User]
The person, who turned out to be a woman, at least according to the voice coming out of the helmet, had nicely piped in, interested in a job as well. Taking into account the words spoken by her, as well as her strange appearance, coupled with the eerie armor set, she looked like quite the capable candidate, figured Urdal.

 The half-elf, quite satisfied by the short lowering of arms, which had occurred, almost skipped over towards the woman, going behind the demonic in heritage man. He stopped walking at around three feet from his new recruit, who looked quite normal, when compared to the other individuals who had gotten into his posse, and extended his hand in greeting.

"Very well! I'm Urdal, and I'm glad to be... Working with you..?" His voice trailed off when he started inspecting the ancient armor set worn by her, as well as the big anchor. Another thing that caught his eye were the yellow shining lights, coming from between the slits of the helmet. Normal, yes. His disappointment was immeasurable, but he made a valiant attempt to hide it.

[Assistant]
Seeing as the dragon's hissy fit had subsided, Aredis hadn't intended to push his luck. Struggling greatly, he heaved himself up with the staff and began to mutter a prayer under his voice, hoping to at least dull the pain in his entire leg. It seemed to help for the moment at least. As he did so, he saw a rather odd scene unfolding before him, the orc and the monstrous drunkard from before had a rather...interesting engagement occurring. Then another man, or was that a bull? No no, that was not quite right. Aredis had never seen a bull in human form. He'd interacted with a fair amount of the normal variety when he occasionally ventured out to tend to the crops of farms near his forest. They were an unfortunately dull beast. Thoughts of food and violence. Not as sophisticated as most other beasts. So much seemed to have been sparked by his idle comments to the half-...actual dragon. Which reminded him, what in Gods names was an actual dragon doing here? It had been some time since they had cared or attempted to interfere with the affairs of mortals. If he remembered his history they had also thought themselves Gods and profane the worship of the true inhabitants of the Heavenly Accord.

With labored strides, he would move to the woman who was still quite belligerent. There was a certain...aura about the woman. Forsaken, perhaps. It was something he understood. Yet she had taken it much worse. The heavy plate about her made it clear that she had once been a keen user of such an outfit. Now, however the Holy Woman had become frail. Thin. How she managed to carry the weight of the armor on her shoulders was a mystery to him. Unshakable resolve will give a person strength that transcends their physical form though. Aredis once would have been one of comparable resolve. Recent events had him questioning his entire life. What had the point been if it all led to this. He hoped this journey would allow him to discover things about himself.

"Your faith is admirable. Yet you are falling and you haven't prepared for the impact. Once you have, pulling yourself from the depths shall be an arduous task. If you succeed however, the recovery will bring you enlighten." Perhaps that was a bit overkill, the druid pondered. It got quite irritating to others, but he enjoyed speaking in an overly clergy like way. It would evoke fiery responses. This would perhaps bring his end sooner than later, yet what did he have if not an exciting life. Change was coming in this world and he wanted to follow. In time his social inadequacy would fade. Yet he knew he would still intentionally perturb the others. It gave him a small smile. At this point he had not wanted to address his also violent companions as it hadn't worked out well with the apparent dragon.

[User]
Sparing little time she reached over and gripped Urdal's small hand in her thick gauntlet's grasp. Like shaking hands with a gorilla he'd find her grip quite crushing and the shaking was quite indelicate as well. She didn't even need to set her anchor down either since her main hand was the left. Since everyone shook hands with the right it spared her the delay of having to set it down first.

"Nice to meet you Urdal. My name is Gangraena. Most folks call me Gang for short." She released his hand. "It'll be great, don't you worry!" She assured him, giving a big thumb up with her now free hand. After that she let her hand return back to her side as she turned to look over the rest of the crowd that had gathered in front of the tavern.

"Any of you all working with Mister Urdal here?" She asked the bunch in general. She wanted to meet the rest of the crew she'd be working with, maybe make some new friends before they die like the others. Taking stock of the lot she noted a scaly guy, a sword guy, an orc guy, an axe lady, an old man with a stick and a horned guy.

They looked like they were all getting along just fine.


[System]
Age: 35

Background: Étienne was born on Montreal. His parents moved from Avranches prior to the Atomic Awakening. Both were single when they moved and met years later on the northern floating city. As a boy, Étienne, also known as Eti lived on the streets of Montreal. His parents busied themselves with their jobs, relying on their son's better judgement; even at a young age. Apparently, his immature judgement was not as developed as they hoped. He found himself on the wrong side of the law, but usually only misdemeanors. By the time he was 18, he had turned himself around and began work as a longshoreman.

He spent a few years working the docks of Montreal until he picked up a job as a Boatswain's mate aboard a Freighter. Aboard most ships, the Boatswain is in charge of a group of sailors, referred to as a Boatswain's mate who take care of all the other duties, not specifically assigned to the helm, engineering or with a warship, the gunners. The Boatswain's mates help load and unload cargo, mop the floors, run errands and a sundry other task, jumping in and helping the gunners or enginemen when necessary.

Étienne eventually rose to the position of Boatswain aboard the frigate, "Walpole". He enjoyed his time until the ship was stricken by a firebreather from the surface. Most of the crew plummeted to their death. The chief engineer, Derrick Hanlon and the ship's Boatswain, Étienne Richard survived aboard a floating life raft. The two were picked up by a frigate and taken to Baltimore. While in Baltimore, he tried to use his experience to secure a position aboard ship. He met with a new captain, Sahara Drake, hiring on as a Boatswain's mate, training as a gunner.

Personality: Étienne is calm, cool and collected. He is slow to anger with a high degree of patience. He prefers his ship to be taken care of, clean and orderly with everything in its proper place. It is generally a pet peeve of his to become annoyed by a disheveled appearance. During an engagement, he understands things being disorderly. He is the first to put things back where they belong. Étienne enjoys games of chance exhibiting a natural poker face when necessary. He does have a tell when bluffing.

Crew Position: Boatswain's Mate, training as a gunner. Of course, there are usually more Boatswain's mates aboard ships than any other position. They do most of the work. They help carry ammunition to the gun decks when necessary.

Aspirations: For now, Étienne is happy serving as a crewmember aboard ship. He would enjoy rising through the ranks. He would like to return to his previous position as Boatswain and eventually a lieutenant either on the gun deck or on the bridge; maybe even making first officer one day.

Appearance:

[User]
Étienne Baptiste Richard had hung around Baltimore long enough. It was time to get to work. He had all his possessions packed up in a tubular shaped white canvas bag, roughly four foot in length and two feet in diameter. He heaved the thirty-pound sack onto his shoulder and strolled the docks looking for his ship. There were much larger vessels tied up to peers, but somehow, he knew they were not what he was looking for.

Walking the docks caused memories from his time spent in Montreal to come flooding back. He worked the docks for more than a few years before he went to sea. 'Sea' the thought made him laugh. No one sailed the seas any longer. Today, they sailed the heavens, the skies or the airways. Gusts of winds caressed these decks, no longer the lapping of waves.

The ship was smaller than any he had flown aboard. Most of his time was spent aboard cargo ships, but even the few combat vessels he'd worked on were much larger than this one. This was more a patrol boat than an actual Frigate, but that was her designation, so Frigate she would be—The Drake.

Étienne walked up the gang plank toward the deck spying his new Captain, a real fire breather this one was with her wild red hair and flamboyant attire. 'Going to be a fun cruise,' Étienne thought to himself. He stepped aboard with his sea bag flipping off his shoulder and to the deck at his feet. The six-foot two-inch Frenchman of African descent snapped off a professional salute, "Étienne Richard, reporting for duty, ma'am." His accent was decidedly French. Once the appropriate salute was returned, he lowered his arm. "I am trained in the use of your deck guns, ma'am—among other things." He didn't want to say too much as this was his first meeting with the ship's captain. He was prepared to store his gear and begin to inspect his new duty station. Étienne was excited about this assignment and prepared for a deployment.

[Assistant]
Jillian hugged her parents and her siblings thightly. No one had spoken about the difficulties that lied ahead but they all were aware of the possible dangers on board a frigate that was going to be hunting for monsters. Warm goodbyes and farewells had been exchaged when Jillian picked up her brown duffel bag and hung it over her shoulder. As she walked out she read the information again she had received. "The ship is called The Drake and the Captain is Sahara Drake." She said half out loud. Jillian picked up her pace she didn't want to be late on her first day and make a bad first impression.

When she arrived on the docks she started looking out for the ship she was enlisted on. Jillian didn't bother trying to read the names of the big ones. Scanning the ships she noticed a couple of frigates and she went by them one by one till she found the right one. The Drake. Jill stopped for a moment to examine the Frigate. She could tell it wouldn't fit a whole lot of people and with supplies space would be scarce but it had a balloon and a solid body so it could fly and right now that was all she cared about. A spark of joy appeared in her sea green eyes, forgetting all the dangers that might lie ahead for a moment.

Jillian stroked a few hairs that had escaped the braid because of the wind behind her ears and walked on board. She saw two people on board. One male and one female. The male had a big bag so she asumed he was one of the crew aswell. Her eyes rested on the captain for a moment instantly felt the authority radiating from her. Jill was impressed by the female captain and would sure find a great role model in her. "Jillian Bosson, engineer. Reporting for duty Captain." she said as she stood straight and saluted. At least she hoped she did it right. Her experience on vessel like this being directly under a Captain in the fleet was very limited. Her skills, working spirit and her fighting spirit were hopefully enough to forgive honest mistakes she possibly would make.

[User]
Oh man. He was gonna be late.

Not because of oversleeping, or getting lost, or even having second thoughts about risking his neck out there in the open sky. Nah, nothing like that; Jaroslav had been up before sunrise, known exactly where in the city to head, and nothing under the sun could've convinced him to skip out on an adventure like this. No, rather, he was going to be late 'cause, well--- he'd fallen in love.

Jaroslav stopped in front of a yet another ship for the umpteenth time that morning, gaze trailing along its hull. This one was big, much more so than the small one-man boats he'd steered so far. He whistled, lingered, imagined how it would feel to ride something like that, and then promptly remembered he was supposed to be looking for a ship called the Drake. A few dedicated steps later, he spotted another docked beauty, and the cycle began anew.

By the time he finally spied a familiar combination of letters painted on a ship's side, everyone else was already present. Or so he assumed, anyway - he had taken his sweet-ass time, after all. The frigate was... far smaller than he'd imagined, honestly, especially in comparison to the large transport ships he'd admired earlier. The guns kinda made up for it, though. 'Sides, size wasn't everything; smaller ships were easier - and faster - to steer.

Jaro raised a hand in greeting and made his approach before he could be distracted again. He was getting pumped.

"Yo, this the Drake?" he gave the ship and its crew a quick glance-over, then grinned and swung his old, worn bag down without waiting for an invitation to do so - or an answer to his question. "Cool. I'll be your helmsguy; Jaroslav Moravec. You ever heard of The Blazer?" he jabbed a thumb in the direction of his chest, grin widening. "Same guy. Hope you ain't the type to get seasick."

[Assistant]
It had been made clear to Saharah that the people chosen for her crew had not been chosen for their history within the navy, but rather the skills that made them worthy of the missions they were setting out on. On one hand that brought her this Gunner who seemed far more suited for the job than he probably let on, or at least, for service onboard a ship. On the other hand, it brought her someone like this Helmsman, who clearly had little to no experience in the military, but was instead chosen for his skill at the helm. She would need to set some things straight.

"As everyone is present, let me make this clear. Firstly, this is a Naval vessel. I understand some of us have prior experience with military training, and some of us do not. So let's not leave any doubt. This ship will opperate as a Military vessel. Regardless of your experience, or lack thereof in such an environment, you will act accordingly. You are to address me as ma'am, or Captain. You are to salute when you address your superiors and you will show the proper respect for the chain of Command."

She took a long deep breath, hands planted on her hips. "That being said, you all were chosen by the Admiralty to be a part of this crew regardless of prior experience due to your skills that make you suitable for what we intend to do. I have no doubt a time will come that we'll be rather happy to have a Helmsman who can throw out procedure and act on instinct. But until that time comes, we will be running this ship as it was intended to be, a Military vessel. No matter how small it may seem, this is what is needed to out maneuver the beasts in the sky."

With another breath she turned on her heels and walked to the other side of the ship. It wasn't very far... "Today is a test flight. We are heading out to hunt some Devil Vulture that have been seen breaking the clouds not too far from the city. Assuming we can prove successful in hunting something like that, we can look forward to hunting more dangerous creatures."

That seemed about it for briefing, and so she turned to look at the other three gathered, the crew her life, and of course their own all rested in. "Well, enough talk. Let's get out there and kill us some Devil Vulture. Drop your things below and prep the ship for launch. We leave in ten minutes. You have that time and the proceeding flight to familiarize yourselves with your stations. Get to it!"

[User]
Jillian could barely surpress as squeak as Jaroslav Moravec came on board. The Blazer was on this vessel, THE BLAZER! was part of the crew! Jill took every bit of self control she possessed to keep her from going all fan-girl over him. She was determined to make a good impression and she asumed the Captain wouldn't particulary like it if she had a engineer fawning all over the new helmsman. No she had to keep her cool. She couldn't mask the slight blush that creeped up nor hide the sparkle in her eyes but she hoped both the Captain and Jaro would see it as enthousiasm for the mission and not being impressed by the helmsman.

Jillian brought her focus back to captain Saharah when she started talking. Jill nodded a few times in acknowledge what was said. She had thought they would start a militairy routine, it was an official militairy vessel afterall small as it was, and Jillian didn't think it would be much of a problem for her. She felt honoured that she was chosen and was eager to start. She hoped she could live up to the expectations and military life.

When the Captain was done with the debriefing she picked up her duffel bag. "Yes Ma'am!" Jill said as she heeded to the Captain's order after a salute. She went down below and put her duffel bag on the starboard side not far from the stern. She put on her toolbelt and went back to the deck and went to go over a checklist to make sure everything was well attached and nothing would snap or fall apart when departing. Next she went to check boiler to see if it was working properly. Jillian glanced at the the time. Ten minutes wasn't alot but the quick checkup was done before the time was up. "All systems check!" She hadn't expected anything wrong, it was a new vessel afterall but better be safe then sorry. Especially when floating in the air on a big ballon with nothing between the clouds and the Earth to keep them from falling down

[Assistant]
Étienne listened to the Captain's speech about the ship, its position in the navy and its sea trials. He was interested in getting underway and quick to respond with a professional, "Aye, Captain!" When she was complete. He noted the rest of the crew appeared to be young and green. He hoped that would not be too much of a problem. It is not that he disliked working with younger sailors, he knew they required training just as anyone of their age would, it was just that he knew there was always a certain level of arrogance accompanying youth. He could forgo that. Hopefully, they shared his professionalism.

When the Captain dismissed the crew, he strode to the number one gun to check it out. The turret was located on the prow, allowing the gunner to engage targets to the front, both 45 degrees below the attitude of the ship and thirty degrees above the attitude of the ship without hitting the structure of the balloon, that kept them aloft. The turret could traverse a full 360 degrees when level, but he knew not to fire into the deck of the boat. That would be very bad. Étienne left his sea bag outside the turret, opening the tight hatch to view the interior.

On the left side of the breech, he found the gunner's seat and weapons controls. The seat was equipped with a five-point harness, keeping the gunner strapped in, due to the depression and elevation levels of the weapon. The cannon was equipped with a hyrdo-pneumatic automatic loader that kept a constant supply of rounds fed from below deck into the chamber of the weapon. It operated on a series of gears and chains. The standard munition was a 47mm x 360mmR 3.3 pound shell. The QF 3-pounder Dubois could fire twenty rounds per minute, or one round ever three seconds. Its muzzle velocity was at 785 meters per second, firing High Explosive (HE) Ammunition. It also had Armor Piercing (AP) ammunition available when needed. The effective range of the QF-3 was just over 1800 meters but could reach targets out to 5100 meters. The weapon had a telescopic sighting system allowing the gunner to find targets out to its maximum range.

Étienne was pleased with the weapon system and was familiar with its use from a previous assignment. He felt comfortable enough to head below deck and stow his gear. He was happy with this assignment even if some of the crew were young and inexperienced.


[System]
Character Sheet-
Age: 25
Pronouns: She/Her
Profession: Data Entry (from home)
Personality: Surprisingly friendly and outgoing. She always wants to go out and do something, especially since she works from home.
How long have you lived in Ashton?: 2 weeks
What would most people know about you?: Went to college for English, wants to write a novel, no she does not want to be a teacher
Additional info you want to share: Nyx is the most boring person you can be. She drinks but doesn't do drugs. She lives alone and calls her mother every night before bed. Has had a very normal and healthy life. As far as Nyx can tell everything is great! Except she can't hold down a man. Her mother keeps telling her that it is her fault, and is always the one to ruin the relationship. "You're too cold! I shouldn't have to tell my adult daughter she needs to be more imitate with her boyfriends!" - Nyx's mother. She can't help, she just isn't a very physical person. She is honestly happy as long as she has her friends around.

[User] The story begins at 4:00pm on the first day of December. Holiday decorations are all around, and Christmas songs dominate the local radio stations. All seemed well this morning. However, reports are coming out that the body of Ashton's recently retired sheriff, Nick Dalton, has been found near Azure Lake. No more information has been released on the matter, but much of the town is in as state of shock. Sheriff Dalton was considered to be a hero by many...but at the very least he has always been seen as a good man by most.

[Assistant]
Nyx let the radio chatter as she continued to unpack. She had lived in Ashton for two weeks, long enough for most people to have set up their entire apartment and even begin decorating. Nyx was not like those people. Nyx had her desk setup, complete with electric blanket, space heater, and water heater. Her desktop wasn't top of the line, but it did well enough. She didn't need it to do anything super exciting, or run complex programs or video games. She was just extremely proficient with excel.

Her desk was the only thing set up. She had her boxes of kitchen goods half opened, enough for her to find bowls for soup and cereal. She still hadn't found any of her silverware, and a plastic spoon sat next to her sink. Nyx didn't want to ruin the environment, all those turtles and jellyfish. She thought it was about the turtles and jellyfish, though she wasn't sure.

The radio finished another round of "White Christmas" updating everyone on the body that had been found by the lake.

"The entire reason I moved here was that it was supposed to be some nice town." Nyx sighed.

[User]
Pop pop pop pop!

Helena's fists hit the heavy bag in a quick four-punch combo. She slipped to the side and took a step back from the heavy bag, bouncing on her toes and waiting for her imaginary opponent to mess up. The opponent she pictured in her head threw a cross, which she easily slipped, then followed with a quick left hook. She ducked under it and moved forward into range and unleashed another combo. She hit the bag with a quick left hook to the body, to the head, then popped a cross to give her some cover while she slipped back out of her opponent's range. Helena breathed through her nose and let out a soft exhale through her mouth as she waited for her imaginary opponent's next move. She controlled her breathing, staying calm and collected as her heartbeat grew faster with every movement. Before she knew it her timer was beeping and the final round was over. She dropped her hands and pulled off her training gloves. They weighed 16 ounces and were her favorite gloves. She had several different pairs of gloves for different types of training, but her 16 ounce gloves were always her favorite. Maybe it was because they were the heaviest she wore, maybe it was because they provided the most cushioning for her hands, or maybe it was because they had lasted her so long. Either way, she was very partial to this specific pair of gloves.

With her workout over, Helena made her way to the lockers and showered. Fortunately, her boxing gym offered showers, something she was incredibly grateful for. She finished, got dressed, and quickly put her damp hair up into a loose ponytail. On the way out, she saw her coach who was training another young prospect. "How'd you do, Champ?" he asked her, holding out his fist.

She gave him a fist bump and replied with a large grin, "Not bad, but always room for improvement!"

"That's what I like to hear!" he said with a chuckle, "Go home and get some rest kid."

"Sounds good, Coach!" With that, she exited the gym. The air was like ice. She had a love-hate relationship with the cold weather. On one hand, the city always looked gorgeous with the blankets of snow covering everything in sight. On the other hand, she tended to experience more asthma in the cold and that hindered her ability to train outside of the boxing gym. She already had to be cautious when training, the cold just made it harder. At times, even sitting down in the cold could trigger some of her symptoms.

Helena quickly made her way to her car and hopped in. Somehow it was much colder in there than it was outside. She cursed under her breath and started it up as quickly as possible, hoping the heater would warm up within the next few seconds. The young woman pulled out of her spot and made her way home. For the past year, she lived with her friend Brittany on the other side of town. They lived together since they were 15 and were still good friends, so naturally they didn't mind renting a two-bedroom apartment together once they were financially stable enough to do so. They were lucky to get a place a few miles away from Brittany's family's home. They were just far enough to be independent, but close enough to go to family dinners and events every couple of weeks.

Before getting home, Helena made a detour to the local cafe. They had great hot drinks, which were especially welcomed in the winter. She parked as close to the entrance as possible and made her way inside. Her plans were to get herself something small and to bring home something for her roommate.

[Assistant]
Location: Brewster's Coffee & Treats

As you enter the establishment you are greeted by an obviously disheveled waitress that you recognize. She is a sweetheart of a young woman named Dawn, and despite having a history of messing up orders she is always polite and helpful. Her hair is messier than usual, and despite the cafe being rather slow at the moment she seems anxious and overwhelmed.

"Welcome back ma'am. What can I get you? Start you off with a coffee....or a tea?"

[User]
"Hey Dawn!" Helena greeted, happy to see the young waitress. However, upon seeing Dawn's out of sorts look, Helena grew concerned. Even during the cafe's rushes, the waitress never seemed too overwhelmed. Why was today so different?

"Is everything okay?" Helena asked, though it was obvious something was wrong. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and slipped it out to take a peek. She didn't like being on her phone when talking to others, but considering this was her business and personal phone she always had to at least check.

The notification hit her like a metal bat. Ashton's Retired Sheriff Nick Dalton, Dead, Body Recovered Near Azure Lake. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and she even felt her eyes become a bit watery. Although she wasn't close to the man, she had seen him around town here and there. His kindness was strong in and out of uniform. He was the town's role model and hero. How could he be dead? She didn't bother reading the article, at least not yet. Questions zoomed through her head, but she shoved them to the side.

Helena gulped, pulled herself together, then returned her attention to Dawn. "Everything okay?" she repeated, clearing her throat and allowing a faint smile to appear on her lips.

[Assistant]
Rosaline sat at a table in Brewster's near a window, warming her cold hands up on a large cup of hot cocoa. Her hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulder as she skimmed over some university notes for an upcoming assignment. She glanced up briefly as Dawn greeted a customer, taking a moment to sip on her drink.

It didn't escape her notice that the two women were being weirdly quiet at the shop entrance, she'd have thought the new customer would have been seated and already ordering by now.

[User]
Nyx turned the radio off, looking out her window. It was a winter wonderland outside. If it continued to snow all month, she would have her first white Christmas here in Ashton. When she was younger and living her parents in South Carolina, there was never snow, or worse it iced the small town over. It was beautiful in a way, making everything looking preserved in clear acrylic.

Nyx grabbed a striped sweater to put over her black t-shirt, then a light jacket, and then her parka. She had been stuck at the house all day, and there was only so long she could sit at home alone. She grabbed her mittens and earmuffs, with a scarf wrapped around her face. She grew up in the South, she didn't get understand how much she would need to bundle.

Grabbing her backpack, keys, phone, and wallet she decided it was time to do some sightseeing. Her car was parked on the side of the road, but she had no faith in her ability to drive in the snow. Ashton actually had things within walking distance, which was an amazing change of pace. She checked her phone and used Google Maps to make her way to a small cafe called "Brewsters Coffee and Treats".

By the time Nyx arrived, she felt like she couldn't feel her face, hands, or feet. She made a note to herself that perhaps she should learn to drive in the show. Was that a class she could take?

[Assistant]
It was another freezing day and Sal was not here for it. Don't get it wrong, it was gorgeous and she loved it, but today, at this exact time and moment - she was fed up. Studying during what little hours she was awake and at home and then heading off to work the nights and early mornings away, it was a wonder she ever found time to take care of herself. When she finally was able to drag herself from the confines of her warm bed, she dressed and shuffled herself out the door of her apartment.

Locking up the apartment, she glanced at the new neighbor's place a few doors down. She was pretty quiet and obviously kept to herself - something Sal was appreciative of. There were too many people in these apartments that just liked to get too wild during the day which threw off her already fucked sleeping schedule. Shaking the thought of the new girl down the hall, Sal pulled up the collar on her black winter coat and began the trek towards Brewster's. She was in some serious need of a pick me up and Brewster's was the best of the best.

Upon arriving Sal noticed the amount of people congregated at the entry way to be a little more than usual for the cafe's slow hours. It didn't matter how delicious this place was, it was a still a business that had off hours where traffic ran thin. So for a number of people to just be standing around at the front, not ordering, or hardly speaking, it was a more than a little off-putting.

Sal did not have time for this, checking her watch she grumbled, before wedging her way through the throng of bodies gathered round until she came to Dawn at the counter. "Order or don't, but you need to move outta the fucking doorway." She called back at the others with a less than pleasant tone. Without even looking up at the menu or even at poor Dawn Sal placed her order of an affogato with an additional shot of amaretto.

There was a television playing softly behind the counter and up high for the patrons to view. It was showing the local news marketed as "Breaking", someone in the cafe called for the volume to be turned up and what came next practically shocked those in the vicinity. "Ashton's Retired Sheriff Nick Dalton, Dead, Body Recovered Near Azure Lake...". The room became eerily silent, not even the tinkering of silverware or ceramic was heard. Everyone just kinda stared on in disbelief. Sal knew the guy, he wasn't all that bad. Quite the opposite. Was always stopping by the club for one reason or another, but hey, that was most people in Ashton. He had helped her with some unwanted patrons on more than one occasion and for that she was always grateful. So to see him gone, and murdered no less, it struck a cord in her that made her uneasy.

Why would someone wanna hurt him?

[User]
Nyx realized she was crowding the front of the small cafe, and she tried to get a look at the place. Was it a Starbucks situation? Did you order at your table? Follow up to that, did you seat yourself or did you wait for someone to seat you? She didn't see a sign saying that to wait for someone, and so she stood for a moment, befuddled.

 "Order or don't, but you need to move outta the fucking doorway."

A young-looking woman pushed past Nyx, and she mumbled an apology out of instinct. The woman who walked by was striking, with dark hair and pale skin. She immediately felt her face flush, jealous of how pretty this woman was. 'And so confident. Ugh. Can I grow up to be her?' Nyx thought to herself as she followed the young woman up to the counter to order. At least she knew what she was doing now. It was a Starbucks situation, probably.

Nyx fished her wallet out of her back pocket, fumbling with it as she was still mostly wrapped up in her layers of clothing. The young woman finished ordering when someone turned the tv up. They were talking about the Sheriff again. It seemed this murder was a big deal around here. The cafe grew quiet while everyone listened to the TV report.

"Oh, what a shame. He seemed like a nice man." Nyx mumbled, more to herself than anything else. She didn't like this sudden silence, it made her uncomfortable. Nyx would often fill up blank space by talking or listening to podcasts, or the radio. Anything to drown out the silence. The silence reminded her that her apartment was much larger than what she was used to, and she decided she would need to purchase a white noise machine.