[System]
"I make the finest steel"

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◾ Name:
Tiras Sky-The bastard blacksmith

◾ Age:
18

◾ Gender:
Male

◾ Sexuality:
Heterosexual

◾ Origins:
Unknown-raised in Mount Promonon

◾ Residence:
Hyland's keep

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◾ Loyal ◾ Outsider ◾Honest◾Short tempered ◾

◾ Personality:
Tiras is passionate about black smithing and an honest man. However, his short temper gives him the reputation of one not to short hand. He is not one to speak loudly unless enraged or, if one were to get close enough, emotional. He is rather average in smartness, but quick enough to survive. He is kind to those that earn his friendship and respect, which is not many. He is often silent, speaking only occasionally...the feeling of being an outsider shaped that quirk.

◾ Role & Career:
Tiras is the royal blacksmith. He does work for lords and ladies along with his own family. If one can get enough money, then he will create a piece for those not of royal blood.

◾ Hobbies & Interests:
-Black smithing
-Reading
-Falconry
-Horseback riding
-Jousting

◾ Likes & Dislikes:
-He enjoys being outdoors around animals and the open air
-He enjoys molding steel and other metals into other things
-He enjoys participating in jousts along with watching. (He has gotten quite good)
-He dislikes being lied to
-He hates cruelty toward animals
-He hates being short handed for his work

◾ Other:
-He owns a falcon who is often seen without a cover. This is odd and can be attributed to him training the bird well
-He is quite tall at 6 foot 1
-He tends to wear all black. Forgoing any colors and usually the attire is somewhere between Royal and blacksmith. He does have a ring with the house symbol on it. This allows him to be treated a bit better in some places.
-When he enters the mind of his fox his eyes change from green to a feral amber.
-His fox is named kit since the fox has a very puppy like personality.
-Kit weighs 30 pounds and is more then capable of using weight to his advantage....and teeth.

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◾ Family Members:
-Edwin Hyland
-Juliana Hyland
-Maria Sky

◾ Biography:
Tiras' beginning is not fully known. He was brought home with his sister by his father from travels and does not know whom his mother is. It is rumored that his mother is a lady of the desert.
He was raised alongside his family, treated not quite like a royal, but not quite like a regular towns person especially since he was living with the royals. He did not have to learn the same exact things the rest of his family did, but sought out books of history, archery, falconry, and black smithing. He particularly found a knack for training animals and black smithing. His unusual ease around animals was perceived as odd, but Tiras and others did not think much of it.
When Tiras was 10 years of age, he found a reddish fox kit. It seemed that it was either abandoned or the mother had died. Tiras took the kit in and raised it with the help of his sister. He felt an odd bond form with it and discovered a few months later that he was having dreams typical of a warg. Not long after that, he figured out that he could enter his fox's mind and control him. He kept his abilities secret, but is never seen apart from the fox. His sister had found out about the ability when they were young, but she has kept the secret.
Many assume the fox is always there due to Tiras not having many friends, so he has the fox and that works just fine for him.
He was trained to blacksmith by the previous Royal blacksmith and since their death has taken over that role.

[User]
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Maria Sky

Interacting With: @BlackPanther Tiras
Location: Corevial Castle then the Tournament Grounds.

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Maria crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Tiras as he like always hid and bottled up his emotions and rolled her eyes slightly towards him. "You know one day I might not be there for ya if you don't vent on whats wrong." Maria said softly as Kit got out of her arms and started trotting behind Tiras, she was starting to get hungry and she was looking forward to getting into the feast. Maria followed behind her brother as she walked back into the grand hall, she chose to sit with her brother. Maria looked over towards Grey for a moment and then over towards her family, though her half sisters and half brothers looked down on them she was content being close to her brother. Maria continued to eat the feast in front of her occasionally making small talk with the guest next to her, then finally the tournament was about to begin and the guests started to head out to the tournament grounds.

Maria walked along with the others and found a front row seat in front of the grounds and proceeded to sit down and watched as the horse and riders started to get ready. Maria would look around as everyone slowly started to gather and take their seats or to get themselves ready for the tournament for the young princess.

[Assistant]
As the feast ended, the tournament began. Trystan, sobering up already from all the ale and wine he drank, asked a stable boy for his horse. When the stable boy brought out his courser, he approached and traced a gentle hand along its mane and side. With one swift move, he mounted his horse and kicked off, trotting into the tournament grounds.

As he arrived, his eyes scanned the stands. He found the royal family and he offered his greetings. Bowing to the king, queen and princess. Then, his eyes carried on. Scanning the stands where his family sat, he found Lyra. He looked squarely at her, holding on to his sword with his weaker left hand and the horse with his stronger right, he kicked the horse up to where it stood on its hind legs and spun in a small circle. To those unbeknownst to the fact that he has feelings for Lyra, they would think he is doing this for his family. A display of prowess, so to speak. Once he was facing the royal family again, he settled his horse and waited for the other lords to arrive.

[User]
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Interacting With: Open
Location: The Tournament

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Isadora had been ill for the past three days, restricted to bed, and her duties as the princess's handmaiden set aside. She had been looking forward to the excitement of today, for weeks. Any feast or tournament was always a welcome brake from the mundane everyday, but today was even more special. It was the princess's thirteenth name day, and her royal highness would most likely be betrothed by the end of the night. Not only was the entertainment going to be spectacular, the hordes of gifts Madeline would be receiving, were also always fun to see. Izza had been the girl's handmaiden for two years now, and was one of five noble girls who accompanied, and attended to her daily. She considered the princess to be a good friend, so she really hoped whoever won the tournament was young, handsome, and kind-hearted.

Lady Scylla Evanthe had sent Isadora a gift for the princess two weeks prior, for her to present during the feast on behalf of house Evanthe. It was an ornate gold jewelry box, encrusted with glamorous diamonds and precious emeralds. The box was stunningly decorated with a delicate filigree pattern, and the inside was lined in dark green velvet. As magnificent as the box was, the intricately carved jade hair comb it contained was somehow even more marvelous. Isadora didn't like her mother, but the woman knew how to give gifts. Along with the presents for the princess, Lady Scylla had sent several yards of lavish silks for the queen, and five barrels of rich Diovire spiced wine for the king to enjoy.

Izza did not have the same allowance as most noble girls, so affording to buy fancy jewels, and luxurious items as a gift for the princess was impossible. Instead she hand made her own gift for her friend Madeline. She had spent quite a few late nights secretly sewing a pair of gloves for the princess. She made them made them with soft suede, and used colorful silk thread to embroider Madeline's favorite flowers along the outer edges of them. The finishing touches were the silvery saltwater pearls stitched along the cuff. Luckily needlework, and embroidery were something Isadora excelled at, so the gloves looked beautifully well made, and fit for a royal lady.

Isadora's fever had broken last night, and she felt completely fine by morning, so she was given permission to participate in today's festivities. Before she and the other handmaidens helped the princess dress in a beautiful frilly yellow gown, Izza had handed Madeline the gloves, and wished her a fun filled day full of celebration. During the feast Isadora had happily mingled among the many guests. Anytime she came across a man who was planing on competing for the princess's hand, she would quietly go back to the princess and point out the many suitors, tell her what she found out about them, and of course add in her own opinions.

She did try her best to stay far away from any of the Hylands, as she didn't really know which one was Lord Emerin. Apparently her biological mother Olinda had written a letter to Lord Emerin a year ago, telling him about the dirty secret of house Evanthe, and that his bastard daughter had not actually died at birth 15 years ago, but was alive and had become the oldset daughter of house Evanthe. Izza had always wondered weather he believed the letter or not.

Two years ago when she had found out the truth herself, she had hardly believed it. Everything Isadora was was basically a lie. Growing up thinking your a noble lady of house Evanthe, and then finding out your actually the product of a drunken night between a servant girl, and the notorious skymaker, Emerin Hyland, sounded more like a joke then reality. But after all was said and done, Izza was just another Hyland bastard. By the time the feast was nearing an end she brought forward the gifts from her mother to the royal family, and then stood with her fellow handmaidens to toast the princess.

---------

She had had a bit to much honey mead during the feast, and was thankful that all she had to do now was sit and watch the tourney. The drinking had made her more light headed and bubbly then her usual self, but only those close to her would be able to tell the difference. She watched as many young ladies went to sit closer to the front row, with favors in hand, ready and waiting for any of the knights to ask. She looked over her shoulder and smiled up at the princess after one of the more handsome gentlemen came strutting out in shiny armor. He had been one of the few she had approved of, and gushed about to Madeline.

[Assistant]
Lyra

The time passed agonizingly slow for Lyra. She was constantly watchful, her eyes darting around and her hands shaking. The moment she spotted Lady Julia Lyra hurried away as fast as she could to hide. She did NOT want to face that woman. She wondered if Lady Hyland would have her drawn and quartered or simply remove her tongue. She prayed that the woman would let her explain that she had done nothing to encourage such attention from her son. In plain truth such attention terrified her to no end. He couldn't be serious, no matter his claims otherwise. She was simply not worth it. For multiple reasons...

Lyra's head jerked up as the sudden roar of the crowd startled her. Trystan Hyland had ridden onto the field. His eyes locked with hers and she gasped, stumbling backwards. Why did he do such things to her?
Overcome with embarrassment, Lyra's face turned red as she fled the stands. If anyone tried to stop her she would say she was going to refreshments for her lord and his family.
Turning a corner by the stables, she sagged against the wall. She covered her mouth with one hand and tried to breathe through her nose. Calm even breaths.

If he kept up this ridiculousness she would have be forced to tell him the thing that she had not spoken off in years. The incident that she desperately tried to erase from her mind, but continued to haunt her in nightmares that had her waking up crying many nights. Please God do not let him force me to say it aloud, she thought.

Or perhaps she wouldn't have to tell him... perhaps she would tell his mother, to get her to see why she had to keep her son from pursuing Lyra. It would likely get her tossed from her position as a servant of the family, if not the keep itself. Mayhap another family would take her in as a servant?
But if Trystan won the tournament then none of it would matter. He would marry the princess and that would be that.

(@anyone who wants to stumble across her)

[User]
Unfourtunatly for Lyra the wall she had thumped against caused for the easily irritable destrier known as the grey devil to react. The grey dapple massive horse gave out a noise that sounded less horse like and more demonic. Next was a series of thumps as the horse's massive hooves kicked at what was holding him in.

As Tiras headed toward the tourney, he heard the sound of his horse. With a sigh, he looked at kit who tilted his head and provided no help what so ever. Tiras made his easy that way and as he approached he paused. Kit had found Lyra and was proceeding to try to cheer her up by licks. Tiras took his chance to head inside and work on calming the horse before a stable boy got wounded.

Kit looked up at Lyra and wagged his bushy tail as he tilted his head. It was clear that of any creature, kit was the friendliest. Tiras made his way back out to Lyra and had a gentle tone as he spoke. "Are you alright? I hope my horse did not startle you." he could tell she wasn't, but he would leave the option up to her if she wanted to talk or not.


[System]
Appearance:

He's doesn't look nearly as muscular looking
Race: Human
Class: Arcane Brawler
Main-Hand Weapon: Unarmed
Off-Hand Weapon: None
Secondary Weapon: Dagger
Armor: Cloth
Powers: Heated Hand: By channeling mana into his hand, Separ can heat his hands up till they are as hot as a small campfire. The effect doesn't last all that long, but it does hurt quite a bit if you get punched with it.
Gut-buster: Separ throws a strong punch towards an opponents gut and sends a small shockwave of energy through them. The shockwave itself doesn't do any damage, but it does have the chance of causing nausea in the opponent. A particularly lucky strike may even have Separ's adversary throw up on the spot. (slight damage increase, may cause nausea)
Flurry of blows (stance): Attacks an enemy rapidly at the cost of accuracy.

Skills: Fighting Unarmed: Separ Kurel is skilled at fighting unarmed. His fists and feet are a deadly weapon.
Immense Focus: Separ Kurel has a large amount of focus, and is not easily distracted during battle or any other task that involves an attention to detail or a large amount of concentration. (See Weaknesses)
Mobility: Separ Kurel has no trouble moving or fighting on uneven/unstable terrain unless the terrain is extremely bad.

Weaknesses: Larger Opponents: Separ has trouble harming any creature that is more than twice his size. Punches and kicks just don't seem to be as effective.
Scared of the undead: Separ is both afraid and repulsed by undead creatures such as (but not limited to) zombies, ghosts, and ghouls. He oftentimes will refuse to go near one of them unless it's a desperate situation. He finds them to be unnatural, and will easily get distracted by them, especially if they're rotting and/or targeting him specifically.

Personality: Separ is an alright guy. He's nice, decently reliable, and likes helping other people out, though at times he can be a bit lazy, opting to relax and do the work later if it's something he considers unimportant. He loves the thrill of a good fight, but doesn't go out of his way to actually start a fight unless he has an actual reason to do so. He loves all kinds of food, and will happily chow down on most dishes. Flirting woman may cause him to become a little flustered, as he does not know how to react to their advances.
Background: Separ Kurel was born to your pretty standard family. He was an only child and lived happily with his parents. They weren't rich, but they weren't poor either and could afford a little luxury now and then. As Separ grew older he decided that he'd like to be an adventurer. Thoughts raced in his head, ones of him fighting dragons and demons, saving peoples lives, and the like. Of course once he was finally old enough, Separ realized he couldn't decide on what path to pursue. The path of weaponry, or the path of magic.

A few weeks had passed without any progress on what would be the best profession to choose. One day Separ witnessed a fight though, one between an unarmed man fighting off one magic user, as well as a swordsman and hammerman. The unarmed man's movements were graceful and fluid as he dodged, weaved, and countered each and every attack. Separ immediately was entranced and thought about becoming a fist fighter for a moment, but quickly realized he could still be easily killed with just plain fist fighting. However at that very moment the magic user charged up a particularly powerful fireball as the unarmed man was distracted punching and kicking the hammerman. He quickly turned around at the sound of the fireball and instead of dodging it his hands seemed to glow a bluish color as he punched the fireball breaking it apart with his magic power. At this the other three men surrendered and the man went on his way back home. Separ could hardly believe his eyes and after a moment of reminiscing about what had just happened moments ago before running after the man and begging him to teach him how to fight. The man agreed to give him a few pointers in exchange for beer money which Separ happily paid. The advice the man gave however, was rather shallow leaving Separ wanting to learn more. The man realized Separ was serious and decided to become his teacher for free (and more beer money)

The training was long, tough and arduous, but it eventually paid off as Separ could now channel mana into his body and limbs and fight decently using only his body. He was now ready for an adventure.

Other: Arcane Brawler spells are sophisticated enough so that they don't burn their own clothes off. (Separ actually lost quite a bit of money replacing his clothes when training.)

[User] Suddenly, guards started running through the streets. Upon first glance, one would assume they would be running after someone and most likely the people who caused trouble at the local tavern. But the guards kept running, and as they drew closer, you could tell they weren't running after, but away. Screams started to fill the streets as kobolds (small dragonfolk with no wings), goblins, men wearing chainmail and black tunics, and even an ettin (two-headed giant) started to swarm the village, destroying and slaughtering everything in sight. The goblins set fire to the stands and the ettin destroyed many houses and even the tavern. A dark silhouette of a man on a horse could be seen amongst the smoke in the distance.

[Assistant]
Furnace furiously pondered the meaning and intent of this group.
He saw them break, tear and burn the stands, carts and houses.
Two huge heads sharing one body came storming past him, massive flail in each hand.
As he crashed trough several stands at once, splinters and raw materials flew trough the air.

Deconstruction

It dawned on Furnace what they were doing. They were harvesting materials for the forge.
He saw creatures armed with swords and clubs run to the creatures from the village and hit them until they stopped screaming.
Was this a fight? Or could they also harvest life?

 "A life is cut short so another can begin. Lives are lost in the forest of life to allow the young to grow."

Was this what the tired girl had predicted?

Either way, Furnace was exited by this development. Much to learn.
And in the spirit of learning new thing Furnace took the wrapped package from his back and let the cloth fall to the ground.
With two hands and significant effort he held aloft an orcish broadsword.
It was about his size and looked right at home between the flails, blades and axes of the newcomers.
With care and calculation he mimicked the lumbering brute's movements as he rand after him, then past him, then into a stand.
With as mighty a swing he could muster he brought the heavy blade down upon the wooden board.
The thin plank snapped instantly, causing copper and tin trinkets to fly everywhere.
As Furnace was showered in shiny but function-less pieces of metal he looked behind him at the two-faced giant, looking for confirmation that he got it right.

[User] The ettin was about to slay the little one when he had suddenly attacked on of the stands, this caused the ettin to think that the little one was one of them and so he nodded and continued his rampage.

[Assistant]
Furnace trembled a little as he regarded the judging eyes of the towering creature.
The ettin nodded approvingly. He did it right. He was learning so much today!
Happily Furnace followed and continued to smash barrels, poles and carts along with the brute and a growing group of other creatures his size.
They did the same. When he jumped, they did. When they struggled to reach up to the thatched rooftops with their torches, he kicked a barrel over to them so they could stand on it. This was going great.

That moment he remembered the barkeep, and how he had displayed so much fun cutting the friend collector, clearly he loved a fight.
As they were near the tavern Furnace ran ahead of the band and smashed the wooden door open.
He pointed inside and yelled at the rampaging group. "In here! There's good fighting and food in here!"

[User]
As Vis walked out of the bakery, sixteen coins lighter and with 8 loaves of bread under his arm, screams echoed out from the other side of the market and people started running away from the direction of the comotion. The owner of the bakery, a woman in her thirties steppes out to see what was going on, Vis turned back to the bakery and ushered as much people inside as possible, he turned to the owner and yelled over the commotion, "Ith there a bathement thoo thith bakery?!"
She thought for a moment and nodded, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him to the kitchen, she pointed to a large slate preparation table, "It's under there!" she yelled as what was going on outside was getting closer. Vis groaned with frustration and pushed all his mass against the table, whincing as it grated across the floor, exposing a dusty trap door. When the table was no longer obstructing it, Vis opened it up and climbed down, it was large and could easily hold everyone in the building. He climbed back out and yelled into the main room for everyone to get into the basement, they did as they were told and when the trapdoor shut and everyone was inside, Vis pushed the table back over the hatch and he heard rough voices from the front room. He drew his rapier and escaped through the back door, he'd be back for the people in the basement.

[Assistant]
Even moments before the attack Alula's soft and comfortable smile suddenly turned into an expression of extreme horror. She took stumbling steps away from Carver. She appeared to double over slightly, frantically pulling down her hat and covering her eyes as if she was trying to block out the horror filled visions.

"Misfortune does not come in drops it comes in storms. I can see the clouds gathering upon the horizon"

This voice was different from her normal, lazy, speech. But it was also far different from the commanding and dominant voice. This one sounded calm, almost wise and knowing. But the voice didn't match Alula's expression of pain and dread. Her entire body seemed to be shaking, a bright glow emitting from her eyes and from a source within her robes.

She spoke in a grim voice, suddenly looking up at Carver with fear. She could see the monsters on the horizon.

"Please ser Paladin you have to go! Something is coming it's not safe here!"

It was strange, she didn't seem to be talking about the monsters destroying the town. She nearly collapsed onto the ground, gripping her staff in an iron fist. "And when it comes they will come."

[User]
Furnace noticed the iron friend and tired girl still standing where he last left them.
They were looking at him. Or they were looking at the large group of creatures working hard on harvesting stone, rock and coal. Or the disagreeing cries of people running and hiding everywhere.
Why did they do that? Was it part of the harvesting ritual?
Furnace waved at Carver and Alula.

[Assistant]
Suki glanced over at Separ, before nodding. "Yes, I was about to go an search for supplies to purchase." A complete lie, but on the other hand, she didn't have to tell the man what she really was planning on doing. However, before she could accept or decline his offer of accompanying her, the destruction occurred.

Quickly turning around to look in the direction of the noise, she noticed the creatures rampaging through the town. Knowing she should run, and just abandon everyone else to their fate, she ended up glancing at Separ. Could she also abandon her newfound companions? They might get in her way, but they might also be of use in dealing with the church.

As she was pondering, she noticed the hazy image of a man on horseback beyond the wall of smoke. Perhaps he was the key to this attack? "I'll be right back." Quickly speaking, she ran down the nearest alleyway, taking many of the winding turns rapidly. she never slowed down, until she had reached her destination. Although looking like the dead end of every alleyway, this one was on she had visited earlier. Quickly reaching into one of the crates, she pulled out her scythe.

[User]
Separ
Carnage, destruction, and panic. The citizens of Ravenwood were fleeing in distress as what looked like a small army began to siege the town. Buildings collapsed, some were set on fire, and screams could be heard in the distance. No doubt was left in Separ's mind that people were getting both killed, tortured, possibly even taken prisoner. Separ clenched his fist tightly, he wanted to help bring this to an end, but in his mind he knew he could not take on that many enemies. He thought about his master and cursed under his breath knowing he had already left to go home. If he was here, then maybe...

Lots of people started to run past Separ, bringing him back into reality. Separ had to do something though, and that's when he remembered the General Shop's store clerk. He quickly turned around and rushed towards the door pushing it open so hard that the door slammed against the wall. The store clerk who was insulated from all the noise started to yell at him but quickly realized something big was going down. "You need to get out of here lady, there's a small army destroying Ravenwood." The store clerk quickly agreed and started to grab a few close supplies before running towards the door and exiting the building. Separ slammed the door shut as both of them left the store. That's something I can do, but that's about it. Staying any longer than I need to will be a bad idea. However as the shop keeper left he heard the cloaked girl say, "I'll be right back." He spun around to find that the girl was already turning into an alleyway. Separ couldn't leave her alone though, they needed to stick together if they wanted to survive. "Hey wait up!" He yelled as he took off after her.

The cloaked girl was fast, and while Separ himself was also fast his injuries from earlier had left him feeling a bit tired. Catching up would have been much easier if he was at his full potential. Separ started panting as he turned down another corner only to find that the girl had disappeared. He had lost sight of her. The sound of a building was heard collapsing not to far from where Separ was standing. This isn't good, if they find me or that girl we'll have to fight our way out. Still Separ persevered and turned down a corner, only to then realize he was completely lost. He was afraid to call out to the girl though, knowing it may attract attention from unwanted people. Just where was that girl?


[System]
Nickname: The Gentleman Mage

Race: Human

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Appearance: Slim and lanky, Dren has short grey hair in an unkempt style, usually hidden by his hat. His hands bear a number of small scars and burns from his alchemical work. His eyes are an emerald green. He also bears a number of small cuts on his chest and stomach from a number of alchemy accidents.

Weight: 180lbs

Height: 6'4

Frame: Slim and tall.

Personality: Sly and smooth, Dren is something of a wordsmith and could talk a man into selling him everything he owns. Something of a manipulator, Dren tends to use another person's words against him. This can make him somewhat obnoxious. He holds himself in high standing and is very prideful, often acting posh or upper class despite the truth being anything but.

Job: Alchemist

Fighting Style: An amateurish boxing style, otherwise just wild scrapping.

Weapons from strongest to weakest:

Trice Majestos Cane: A black walking stick with a gold bottom and rounded orb at the top, emblazoned with three star symbols on the hilt. Whilst normally functioning as a walking stick, the cane also has potential as a magic catalyst and is Dren's primary form of defending himself. He supposedly made the cane himself and no-one has been able to prove him wrong yet. He also named it.

Item stock: Dren keeps a healthy supply of support items from his travels and a few he whipped up himself across the lands and makes use of them in tough situations. He also keeps a light supply of grenades which he particularly enjoys the use of.

Anelace: A slightly long silver dagger with a hand guard that Dren keeps at his belt. He rarely ever uses it, save for the occasional duel with a swordsman. He keeps it hidden under his cloak and his skills with it are lacking.

Armors/Outfits:

Red Hat: A large wide brimmed red hat with a white feather stuck into it. Dren uses it to cover his face and hide it.

Red overcloak: A large red cloak that Dren wears over his other clothes. Once again, it's used to hide Dren's appearance and also acts as a nifty place to store his wares and items. It also looks pretty cool when blowing in the wind.

Ragged robes: Beneath the cloak, Dren's clothes are not particularly special. They're functional and cover his form but they look shabby. He keeps them hidden at all times to keep up his appearance.

White gloves: These cover Dren's hands at all times to avoid showing the few scars and burns he's received from his alchemical work.

Familiar:

Familiar: Royal Rat Vanguard

Familiar Abilities: Grants Poison and Earth defense. Decreases fire resistance.

Movement Type: Ground, walks and runs, can climb structures.

Familiar Size: Tiny, very nimble and agile.

Relic Weapons: Blowpipe styled cane with ivory rat head top.

Relic Armors: Dren's red cloak and hat become battered and brown versions of themselves, seemingly crawling with rats.

Trance: The Red Phantom

Dren's limbs warp and extend outward, turning him wraithlike in appearance. His speed is doubled in this form, which assists in flinging his spells. His mind also becomes set on nothing but attack, losing all his intelligence.

Pros: He wields strong black magic, though he relies on distraction tactics and befuddling his foes to win the day. He also keeps a helpful stock of items on him at all times. He is also highly intelligent, allowing him to think on the spot in tight situations.

Cons: Dren has almost no physical forms of defending himself and in terms of physicality, is quite weak. Not to mention his reliance on items can leave him running out mid battle and his distraction tactics only tend to work against single opponents.

Background: Originally born in Treno in Alexandria, Dren was born into a life of poverty in the slums of the city. He had to work hard to keep his family supported, taking whatever job he could get and working as much as he could. Whilst working, he discovered he had an eye for spotting compatible materials for unique concoctions, beginning his experimentation as an alchemist.

When his parents passed away at the age of 15, Dren began stealing in order to further his new career, selling his concoctions and items wherever he could to make as much coin as he could. Once he finally had enough, he left the city to explore and sell his potentials somewhere else. He achieved moderate success and the recipes he learned helped him in a number of tricky spots.

When he returned to Treno, he was desperate not to slip back into a life of poverty and knew he had to gain favour with the lords. So, he purchased his robe and hat, hid his hands in gloves and began grooming himself into a makeshift lord. He got better and better, hiding his poor appearance and currying favour with powerful individuals slowly but surely. His skills as a mage earned him the nickname "The Gentleman Mage" by his fellows, finally allowing his transformation into a member of the high class to be complete. At least, that's what it looked like.

[User] Dren was intrigued as his ear picked up the pair of voices. Dren was not usually a nosy sort, but something about it just piqued his curiosity. Perhaps because it sounded like shady business? Either way, before he truly thought the idea through, he found himself rising from his seat and approaching the door he heard the voices stem from. He stood with his back facing the wall and leant over slightly, taking a slight glance into the room beyond. He'd only need a peek, then he'd duck back in again and continue listening. Of course, were he spotted, he'd think of some excuse. Surely they'd bow to his noble appearance and assume he was someone of importance.

[Assistant]
Hitori had followed the Guest, it wasn't difficult; all he had to do was smell him out and Lumiyans were uncommon enough that he could track him relatively easily. It was when he found his quarry that he instead noticed he wasn't the only one there and made his form a little less conspicuous. He became one of those small dark fellows with the pointed hats that he found off-putting for the most part. The Disguise was nearly perfect, the only thing was he had large teal fox eyes instead of Gold orbs like the Black Mages typically have. He quietly walked up to the Other person who seemed to be eaves dropping on the Lumiyan.

"What are we Watching." He Whispered to the Other Spy as if he already knew him, casting a subtle beguilement of charm to make this other person less wary of why a random black mage is asking him such a question.

[User]
Dren's head spun to face him as he quickly backed up and cleared his throat. Great, he'd already been seen by someone. He cleared his throat quickly and held his cane tightly as he faced the stranger.

"Nothing whatsoever!" he said quickly. "I simply overheard voices and took a brief glance. I was not watching in the slightest." he scoffed at the black mage, though never questioning why he too was there. Right now he just needed to make sure he was fooled by his appearance.

[Assistant]
Voices were heard from the stranger- He leaned against the door without making a sound.
Some upstanding people I see... Rather than call them out, he merely listened in a bit.

One of the voices sounded familiar- just masked a bit, and this bothered him. He was not one for being stalked or followed.
Hmm... Sounds like two yuppies speaking, except one seems spooked... I bet it was the radio conversation he was listening to... It has to be a "he" based on the voice. I can always rest later... But it would be amusing to unlock the door and sneak out the back window."WHERE DID HE GO!?"  He internally chuckled as he was in thought analyzing the situation.

There was a small click on the door that could be heard by Hitori and Dren. It sounded like someone was about to exit, yet no one came out. To them it could seem like an invention.

Regardless if he chose to enter, he was already at street level- He had already left.

"Returning to extraction." The male spoke in his communication device.

"Alright. Over and out." A lady responded.

___________________

In the Castle, there were several individuals giving gifts to the Princess, in which case some of them were rather plain dresses to unusual patterns that did not impress- but She no less expressed gratitude.

"It would have been nice if an Oracle arrived." A man in a grey and white garb walked forth- he had unusual metallic boots that were particularly spiky at toes. His hair was slicked back into curls- it could however be inferred his hair was normally spiked at a medium length.

"Sir Daironus, Judge under the Grandanian Throne and councilor of Foreign affairs. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Spoke the queen. She seemed rather surprised to see someone so far from the east to come on such a day as this. The princess however seemed uneasy based on how her eyes could not seem to fix onto him.

"My lady, I've come on behalf of the Throne, the councilmen and women, the good country, and it's people to formally wish a happy evening upon this fine Princess who is worthy of the Baton for this fine kingdom." He smirked as he held a sword, holding it in it's diamond sheathe.

Beatrix walked over casually as The Judge held it out to her, grasping it before taking it over to Princess Garnet.

"Quite a lovely sword..." Garnet mumbled, somewhat uneasy around weapons.
"Do not mistake it for an ornament. It is quite sharp, the general would be able to train you effectively. She who has slain over a hundred of the world's finest men in war." He smirked sharply.

"The legends are not as everyone always exaggerates them to be- Your grace." There was an uneasiness that projected off of Beatrix to this man.

"None the less. You're a powerful women. But I'm not here to just give a sword and a bow to everyone."

"You're here for an Oracle that does not show itself." The Queen interrupted.
"That is true, and quite perceptive. Truly a worthy -"

"Don't sit here and mock me and pretend I can't see through here you slave mongering man! Even if there was an Oracle here on such a day, no one would present one in your presence. You'd just have a crew of slavers waiting for when he or she leaves to take them back to your Lavish country. And I won't have that attitude in my kingdom. Trading materials in fine, but not trading lives." Brahms smile went into a sour expression that emanated a fierce aura.

"I... I see." The Judge seemed to be at a lack of words.

The Queen simply smiled. "Bow and be on your way."
The Judge somewhat rattled as he did just that.

"I'll not have my daughter be exposed to such a toxic society and way of living. No daughter of mine." Brahne exclaimed as he was out of ear shot.

"My lady. Tantalus should be arriving within the hour." Beatrix spoke as her working eye shifted from the doorway to the Queen.

"Hear that Garnet? The tension will be gone soon, and we can laugh and cry at a performance that truly is said to be worthy of praise."

"But mother, remember when critics praised ' Bogarat and the Lonely Man'?"
"We don't speak of that in any circumstance, ever..." The Queen frowned as if her face became a lemon at the thought of such an abhorrent performance. They however were expecting a grand one.

[User]
The Black Mage disguised Hitori shook his head with a Huff, "Well now that you were 'Not Watching' the Lumiyan is escaping." Hitori pushed Dren out of the way and made haste to catch up with the Lumiyan Guest, he had questions that needed answers and wanted to know what happened to the other Lumiyans. He also wanted to know what the hell they were speaking into and getting orders from since they clearly were not working alone.

It was then Hitori Caught a glimpse of the Lumiyan and shot forth one of his Steel Ribbons to pierce his Quarries Shoulder, "Not Getting away this time Moonchild."

[Assistant]
Dren yelped as he was pushed aside and fell down onto his back. He got up with a slight growl, adjusting his crooked hat and watching the Black Mage rush after the individual he'd spied on. It didn't concern him, ultimately, he'd peeked out of mere curiosity. But considering how this fellow was reacting, it'd probably be a good idea to tell someone.

Dren made quick for the nearest town guard and informed him of what had occurred, pointing him toward where the pair had run off to.


[System]
Rowan Childe {29M}

Spiritual ⚝ Vegan ⚝ Perfectionist

Bicurious ⚝ Junior Communication Major ⚝ Veteran

Song: Blackbird - Fat Freddy's Drop

Rowan is an older student and a veteran. He spent 8 years in the Marines before going back to school on his GI bill - unfortunately, average grades in high school meant he was only accepted into BCC. Though he was one of the "lucky ones" who never saw actual combat, his time overseas changed him. After experimenting with psychedelics during his first year at BCC, he had a spiritual awakening and has cut most ties with his old life.

Now a nonviolent vegan, he is still struggling to find his place in the world and figure out what direction to take his life in. He doesn't feel like he's almost thirty, and rarely divulges his age, preferring to blend in among the younger students such as his flatmates. With his trademark dreadlocks and bright blue bicycle, he's a memorable figure around campus even though he rarely attends parties and has few close friends.

Relationships:

* Kalama Guynn: Roommate. Having only lived with Kalama for a few weeks, Rowan isn't quite sure what to make of her. He appreciates her passion for social justice and willingness to try his Vegan cooking, but found her messy breakup very disruptive to the peaceful energy he tries to cultivate around the apartment.
* {Unfilled/NPC} Roommate Beta:
* {Unfilled/NPC} Roommate Alpha:

History:
Rowan is originally from Georgia and still has a hint of the accent, although he tries to hide it. He doesn't talk much about his childhood, but it wasn't the happiest. Although his parents both loved them in their own ways, they were strict and devout people with little tolerance for perceived weakness or failure. He was a sensitive child and his father took it upon himself to make Rowan "man up" with frequent hunting trips, animal butchering, and manly activities like football and JROTC.
Joining the Marines was as much to make his dad proud as to get him out of the house as soon as high school finished. Though he initially excelled and became close friends with the Chaplain, Rowan found it difficult to take leadership roles as he has little stomach for yelling at other people. During his second tour, his Chaplain was assaulted by her commander officer, resulting in her discharge and him being found not guilty at the court martial. This event rocked Rowan to his core and changed his opinion of the military for the worse. By the end of his eight years, he was thoroughly disillusioned with the military life and sought greater meaning.
He initially hoped to find it in education, but ultimately found it in frequent LSD, psilocybin, and peyote trips instead. It was in his first year at BCC that he cut ties with the military, his family, and his religion. Though he has felt more at peace since that decision, he has also been profoundly lonely - a largely self-imposed isolation, as he has very high standards for himself and other people, making him difficult to get along with at times.

Magic:
Knack: Rowan has the ability to sense immediate danger to himself. As a kid, he called it his "Spidey sense". Though this ability won't tell him the source of the danger, any threat capable of killing or seriously injuring him within the next couple minutes will trigger a burst of adrenaline and let him know that something is wrong. This ability has prevented him from getting kicked by riled-up farm animals, stepping out in front of unseen traffic, and swimming in the ocean with a rip tide.

Gift: Rowan has the ability to telepathically communicate in a limited capacity with animals. He can passively sense the intent of any animal within eyesight, and broadcast his intent to any or all animals within approximately one mile. While he cannot read their minds or control their actions, he can communicate basic concepts such as "I won't hurt you" or "this person is a bad person". After testing this on the campus squirrels, he used this ability to call a deer from the nearby woods into the student food court by broadcasting the intentions "I want to give you an apple" and "none of us will hurt you". The price of his Gift isn't too severe, but he is completely unaware of his surroundings while communicating with animals - he could be stabbed while communicating and not be aware of it until he returns to reality. Even once he does return, he is very disoriented once he comes back to reality and it puts a fog over his whole day similar to being hungover.

[User]
Under Construction for Necessary Retcon Warning Read This Post at Your Own Confusion

---

---

 The alarm blared on the beside table almost begging for the person in bed to turn it off. Elysia groggily rolled over slamming the top of the clock. Looking at the time Ely groaned. After lunch, she had come home to rest before her next class but not for this long. Those stupid drawings. She still hasn't been able to get a full night's rest since they started. She got up from her bed to see two drawings laid on her desk one slightly crumpled. The first one she remembered drawing about a week ago. It showed her standing in Poor Yorick's and in front of her there was a table full of textbooks and some completely random objects. There were six dumbbells stacked on each other, a Hot Wheels with fire print on the side, a set of boxing gloves one being extremely worn down with the other looking brand new, a plush spider with dreadlocks, and a rat holding a Phillips head with a black grip. The drawing had one of those turning blocks that indicated dates on the counter but everything other than the day of the week was obscured. She had gone there last Friday but nothing stuck out to her that matched the drawing.

 What was really weird though was that the rat was identical to the one in the new drawing. In the top right was a street sign that she didn't recognize but a simple check of the phone would help with that. The center of the drawing showed her sitting on a park bench and beside her was that rat from the first picture. She looked back to the first wondering if it was more important than she had originally thought. She looked at the second to see if anything indicated when to be there. She saw nothing of the sort and got a little annoyed. Did that mean now? What were these drawings? It was so confusing. Grumbling to herself she gathered her things and left.

 Checking her phone she saw that the road wasn't too far away. She decided to go check it out. Her hope was that if she kept following these pictures she'd eventually figure out what was going on with her. It took a couple of minutes to get to the road. Finding the park bench was a little harder. She eventually saw a bench that seemed in the right position and the surrounding scenery was similar. The only thing different was that a guy was laughing on the ground by the swings. That was definitely odd. Ely didn't see anyone else around. There also wasn't a rat on the bench. Looking towards the guy Elysia's stomach started to churn and her hand began shaking. This park looked like no one had been here in a long time. Who was this guy? He seemed alone. Momentary doubt of going to the bench entered her mind, but the drawings hadn't lead her into bad situations so far. So, ignoring her gut instincts Ely, head down, walked over to the bench and sat down in the exact position designated from the picture. Avoiding looking at the guy she decided to pull out a sketchpad and began drawing the rat which had appeared in her past two drawings. Hopefully, this would help her be able to recognize it whenever it appeared.

[Assistant]
Kyle Hishamie

Interesting Fact about the Salem Witch Trials. There were actually more people accused of being witches in the town of Andover than in the town of Salem. Although most of the accused witches were women, some men were also accused. A majority of the people who claimed to be "afflicted" by witches were girls under the age of 20

Kyle, sitting at attention in class, managed to finish writing down the notes from the lecture right before the end of class. With a small bead of sweat running down the nape of his neck, Kyle realized something about himself he had not known before. It has been years since Kyle sat down in a classroom, and even longer since he felt like he needed to jot down serious notes. It isn't as if the Salem Witch trials were particularly hard to learn about, but the sitting still amongst civilians and learning about something other than his MOS turned out to be slightly more difficult than he remembered. At times he found he needed to force himself to snap back to reality when he caught his attention drifting away from the professors words. In truth, Kyle had not paid too much attention in the beginning of class. Almost as if he had just arrived on the scene. It would be easier to concentrate too if extremely hard to remember details of somehow vivid but easily forgettable dreams had not been the subject of his minds attention span. Get your shit together soldier, Kyle had said to himself with quiet trepidation under his breath and in the middle of class, Think of this as just another battlefield. Except....if you fail you wont die...Ok not a battlefield exactly but still get you're shit together man

 His discipline and mental fortitude could only take him so far though. Kyle kept his mind awake and on point by taking several small and quick gulps of water from his water bottle that he had brought with him and powered on until the end of the lecture. Kyle had not spoken yet to any of his classmates, but at the sound of many people leaving together to go to a study group he stayed in his seat for a few moments after everyone had left. The professor could see Kyle putting his notes together and into the binder he brought and getting ready to leave so the professor paid him no mind. As Kyle gathered his things and stood slowly he began to think to himself. I should...go to that study group thing with the others it was an open invitation after all. I mean, what if I missed something important in the moments my attention was not where it should have been? Kyle began to walk towards the class door, Binder in one hand and water bottle in the other, when he stopped right in front of the door hand outstretched. But...I shouldn't bother others, they don't know me and everyone was.....well no matter. I should at least attempt to exchange lesson information with at least one of them. Kyle left the classroom and walked with a purpose, shoulders broad and head held high even if inside of him he felt the complete opposite. I may not be worth the time it takes to exchange class notes but I missed parts of the lecture, that's on me and I need to take responsibility.

 The dreams he had been having as of late continued to burn in an insatiably curious way in his mind. Kyle could almost make out certain parts but just as he would start to remember the details would vanish from his memory. It was beyond irritating to Kyle but he tried his best to push the thoughts out of his mind. He had fallen behind the other students and did not want to get lost trying to find them. It was mostly a straight shot, or rather the way to the destined location was easy to get to, to Poor Yorick's. Kyle had never been, but learning more about the city he was in by reading maps was something he did every time he moved to a new city or base. It helped put his mind at ease for in the event of an emergency he wouldn't be completely lost at least. Although.......his sense of direction left much to be desired. It took a fair bit of time but pretty soon the group of students he has seen leaving together and more were in view at least. Kyle was wearing a V neck dark blue, long sleeve shirt with black jeans and slip on shoes with black socks. Not the most comfortable thing to run in but as his physique was in excellent condition since he kept up his army training regiment after been released Kyle had been able to catch up without breaking a sweat. It simply took awhile, to the point where they were almost at their predestined location by the time he had caught up.

 Kyle had not seen the rat, the injured man, or anything out of the ordinary besides some minor distress that he had no idea the cause of. When Kyle was within loud voice speaking distance he spoke up hoping at least on person would respond. Howdy, Kyle said in a loud enough tone to be heard but not loud enough to be considered shouting, Im..Kyle..From class. I was hoping I could join ya'll. Kyle rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand. Christ he hated talking to people. He was sure they would tell him to fuck off. He looked so out of place, a young muscular adult who just sorta came from nowhere. He had stayed silent the entire class so did anyone even notice him? Hopefully not.

[User]
Kalama Guynn & Rowan Childe
Sidewalk -> Poor Yorick's

 Forest horse. After all the tension and strangeness of the past few minutes, Valeria's statement was so delightfully incongruous that Kalama couldn't help but giggle. Even Rowan, trying his best not to offend their athletic companion, couldn't hold back a brief chuckle. Everything about the situation was surreal, and each of them was suspicious of it for their own reasons, but he could feel that some tension had subsided within the group. Despite Kal's initial hostility towards Caleb, Rowan could tell her guard had dropped a little after his actions. Of course, he could also tell that was exactly what Caleb had intended - all his time in the military had made Corporal Childe adept at reading group dynamics, and that was a skill that translated well here.

 "Thanks Valeria! I work at Poor Yorick's, so if I make our drinks we can get them half price," Kalama offered, well aware that her barista skills were way ahead of the evening's scheduled crew. And that gave her an opportunity to put a heart in Valeria's foam... not that it was the reason she offered, of course. There was much too much going on to be distracted by beautiful women, no matter how muscular.

 The arrival of another member to their party was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Rowan immediately made space for Kyle to walk beside them and offered him a kind smile. "Sure thing, Kyle. We can never have too many notes at a group study. I'm Rowan. That's Kalama, Caleb, and Valeria," he introduced, hoping the odd events of the past few minutes would quickly be forgotten. Especially the way he had almost tripped over his own feet when Valeria brought up the deer he had summoned. His newfound power felt so surreal he wanted to make sure he wasn't just imagining things, but he hadn't realized how much attention that would draw until he came out of his trance to realize that dozens of other students had just witnessed a deer come up and take an apple out of his hand while he appeared to be meditating. It was on Instagram almost immediately, and even though he didn't have social media he had heard enough whispers around campus to know he had fucked up.

 Luckily there was no time for the group to gossip before they arrived at the coffee house. Kalama lead the way to a more private table in back, leaving her bag and coat and rolling up her sleeves to get to work on the drinks. "So, let me guess. Rowan wants a chai with almond milk. Valeria, I think you look like a whole milk latte kind of girl. Kyle... brewed coffee with cream, no sugar? And Caleb - nonfat caramel latte with cinnamon. Am I close?" She asked, trying to lighten the mood a bit.


[System]
Class: Mercenary (promotes to hero)
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Appearance:
Equipment: Iron sword, two concoctions.
Personality: Travis is a young man that can rarely be seen cracking a smile. He remains mostly stoic at all times and prefers to keep most people at a fair distance. However, those that manage to befriend him can easily obtain his loyalty. Travis is a very diligent worker who can constantly be seen training. Because of this, he tends to put more priority on keeping his body in top shape than improving his book smarts. While he isn't slow-witted by any means, he is considerably less learned than he should be. He can usually be very short-tempered when dealing with carefree people and won't hesitate to chew them out if he catches them fooling around. He tends to be very blunt when he's speaking, never hesitating to speak his mind no matter who he's speaking to. As a result, he often comes off as rude, which, in all honesty, he is. Travis is very aware that he lacks people skills and sometimes tries to remedy this, to mixed results.

Biography: Travis was born the son of a farmer named Hiram. His mother was nowhere to be seen, as she died soon after giving birth. While his father would sometimes show bitterness over this fact, he knew better than to force his anger upon the child.

For a good portion of his life, Travis would spend most of his time helping his father run their small farm in Ylisse. Their lives remained mostly uneventful for some years, that is, until bandits struck. They stole what they pleased, threatening to kill Travis and his father if they interfered. Soon afterwards, they left after taking everything they desired, burning down all of the father and son pair's property. With their only means of surviving clearly gone, both of them had to find new work.

They took what little farm tools they had left and became mercenaries for hire, using the tools as improvised weapons. For obvious reasons, many were reluctant to even consider the duo for work. After only a few days, the two of them became desperate for any sort of job. A new window opened up for them in their time of need. Not to say that it was necessarily a good one.

On their travels, they were offered a job by an up-and-coming group of bandits. While Travis was reluctant to accept, his father quickly convinced him to accept. By this point in time, they were already reduced to begging for both food and work. Promises of proper equipment for the job also sweetened the deal. The job? Raid a nearby village for goods and supplies. Not only would they be able to keep the weapons they got from the bandits, but also whatever items they managed to pillage. Their offer was suspiciously generous, yet they accepted it anyway.

When the time to actually do the job came, Travis was understandably nervous, as was his father. For the most part, they did next to nothing as the bandits stole supplies. Conflict soon came as the villagers fought back. Due to their lack of proper equipment, they were useless against the group. Travis tried avoiding a fight for as long as he could, seriously considering running away altogether. He wasn't given the chance, however. A young villager came charging right at him, giving him no choice but slash at his enemy to survive. Travis nearly had a panic attack as he saw the other boy's head laying on the floor.

Countless corpses surrounded the area after all was said and done. The village was noted by the bandit leader, Trevor, and was scheduled for a revisit in the future. While Travis was still getting over the trauma of having killed a person, Hiram was being paid their fee for the job. He, too, had killed on the mission, yet ignored any feeling of regret with the reasoning that he had to commit such atrocities to even stand a chance at surviving in the world.

Upon hearing of Travis's regret, Hiram comforted him by sharing the same thoughts he used to justify his actions. His words successfully calmed Travis down, only for his son's fright to be replaced by anger when hearing what else his father had to say. Trevor offered the duo a permanent spot on their still growing gang, which Hiram accepted. Initially, Travis was outraged. especially because. He thought something strange was going on from the very beginning. But when Hiram brought up that it was their only shot at a steady job, Travis had no choice but to accept as well.

For two years, Travis was forced to help the bandits with their raids. During this time, he noticed some odd changes in Hiram's personality. With each battle, the fury Hiram fought with increased each time. Over time, he had grown very accustomed to fighting with axes and his skill in combat had changed drastically. It seemed as if the man was born to fight, to the point where Trevor had even chosen him as his right-hand man for this fact alone.

Eventually, while attacking another village, the bandits were met with a group of noble warriors who had heard of the bandits' deeds. They went by the "Falcon". Unlike the others they've faced, these people proved to be a significant challenge. Well...to all but Hiram. On the battlefield, the man was an absolute monster. Death befell countless men that day. Travis, who was near the warrior, was still horrified by how much he had truly changed. Shockingly, he even smiled while cutting them down.

A realization dawned upon him as he saw this. That man was no longer his father. Everything he had been told about joining the bandits for self-preservation was a complete lie, Hiram enjoyed having the power to kill. After being weak for so long, the former farmer had been corrupted as soon as he got the strength he so desired. Completely sickened by the man, Travis decided that putting him out of his misery was his only choice.

Travis stabbed him in the back (both literally and figuratively), killing him on the spot. For the rest of the battle, he sat down with his sword right beside him, surrendering himself to the will of the opposing force. His former comrades all died one by one, including Trevor, signifying the end of his commitment to the man. Then, his turn to die seemingly came as the leader of the Falcon, Lionel, approached him. Before he could be struck down, he inquired as to why Travis sat down and did nothing. Travis replied that he knew the error of his ways and expected comeuppance for them.

Instead, he was given the offer of tagging along to the Halidom of Ylisse instead, which was where the band of warriors were formed. While taken aback by the offer, he consented and rode with the Falcon to the Halidom. During their traveling, Travis asked why Lionel allowed him to come with his group despite his actions. To which Lionel replied that it would be a chance to repay the debt he owed.

Travis would soon come to realize what that meant. Lionel personally welcomed him into his family, telling him that he could make up for his misdeeds if he chose to protect Ylisse. Travis accepted and was welcomed into Lionel's family. The great warrior had even chosen to pay for his admittance to a sword fighting academy. The boy was very young, only 15 at this point, but had great potential due to the experience he had as a fighter.

For four years he worked hard to become a powerful warrior for Ylisse, honing his skills. Soon, as the religious crusades began and the Champion of Naga sought people to help him, Travis decided to step up as his first official task as a soldier.

(yes, I have read rule 6)

[User]
In the tavern, on a stool a green-haired boy sat up. He peered around with a purposefully dumb expression on his face. "Waz all tha' ruckus?" Sanctus asked of no one in particular. He caught sight of the three mercenaries confronting a man outside. "Hey, Mercss!" He called out, his accent thick and his s slurred "Don't cha' think, three on wan iss alittle unfair?" He recognized the tactician, but he didn't show it. "And you're makin' so much noise itss hard to drink in peace. He paused as if to think. "And pick on ssomeone your own ssize while you're at it." He watched the man flee. and an idea occurred to him. He lifted his tankard to drink but it was empty, he looked at as if in surprise and asked the bartender for a refill. "I think you've had enough sir." Was his reply. "Really? Darn." He set his tankard down and pretended to stumble out.

 As soon as he left the place behind he ducked into an alley way and followed the mercs and the tactician. He lost them a few times, but he had a good guess of where they where going. He stopped in the crowd close them. But far enough that he was just another face.

[Assistant]
The thieves and archer surrounding the champion of Naga failed to notice two figures not a dozen feet away, sitting outside a small shop in the alley the boy had ducked down. The place was a small, local store that only locals typically frequented or even realized existed, but the older man between the two of them was an experienced wanderer and had come across the place last time he had passed through Yllistol and thought it was a good place to stop for a rest. The younger girl was keeping half an eye on her horse, which was tethered to a nearby post as the two ate their meals in peace. Well, peace until the bounty hunters went and tried to collect. The older man, relatively speaking since he was only really in his mid twenties, but was much older comparitevly to the younger healer woman, sighed as he saw the violence break out. "Ach, we cannae find a days peace without some damn fools going violent in greed after a lad, eh Niya? Reckon we intervene on 'is behalf, savvy?"

The younger woman quietly sipped from the drink before her, far weaker than she was used to but it would certainly suffice. The healer had her staff resting against the table as she listened to the man speak and she shook her head slightly. The young tactician, judging from his garb, was in well over his head and would probably need a hand or two in dispatching the bounty hunters. She stood up, collecting her staff and looking down at the mercenary who stood up with a grunt, sword sheathed at his side as he looked at the healer with a loose grin. The woman spoke briefly, already turning towards her horse, resigned to the fact the man was about to engage the bounty hunters on the young tactician's behalf. She intended to return to her horse and observe, to mend any injuries that might crop up from the upcoming violence. "You cannot leave well enough alone, Jerod. I'll be on the horseback if needed."

Jerod snorted, turning towards the surrounded lad and drew his blade, making a very distinct, clean noise that should be very familiar to the scoundrels ganging up on the lad. Face matched some posters he had seen, some nonesense about heresy and crime against the church, but frankly the mercenary wasn't really concerned with that. These rogues gave Jerod a bad taste in his mouth, figuratively speaking, and he was not fond of that situation. Besides, he and the church never see eye to eye, so he intended to give em a swift kick to the groin. Advancing, he opened combat without a word, attacking the closest thief without wasted time, a powerful cross strike that would leave him in a good defensive stance if he didn't bring the thief down low, forcing everyone in front of the lad and mercenary, speaking harshly now. "Alright, ye damned prancin' ninnies, these odds ain' fair at all. Now they are, but not fer you lot."

Niya untied her horse from the hitch she had left him at, and quickly hauled herself up and onto the saddle, turning the horse without a word. Despite her penchant for cheap shots, no one expected them from a healer, she was not, by definition, a combatant. So she brought the horse around to the rear of the young tactician and Jerod, foolhardy mercenary as he was, and he was indeed determined to intervene on the behalf of the tactician. Who he was was of no real concern to Niya, but she been stuck all but babysitting Jerod most of the time, so she was hardly ready to abandon ship, as it were, and just ride off without the man now. Damn the oath she had sworn some days, this man was getting her into all sorts of trouble it seemed. Thankfully they were not an official envoy of any land, or this could be rather complicated. "Call wounds out, or I can't mend them. I am not psychic and cannot know injuries the moment they happen."

[User]
Unbeknownst to either group, another man would soon come to join the fray.

Travis was on his way to the very same local shop that was in the alleyway. He had already done his daily training and decided to blow off some steam. Rest after training was always important and there was no way he'd be in peak condition to fight if he was constantly exhausted after all. Moreover, rumors that the Champion of Naga would soon return were also very prevalent. Suffice to say, he really wanted to meet the man who would be responsible for ending the church's crusades, which he found very moronic in the first place.

As he arrived just outside of the shop, he noticed a small bit of commotion going on nearby. "Probably just some morons fooling around." He grumbled to himself, pulling out his sword from behind his back. Upon further inspection, however, he seemed to recognize one of the individuals involved. "Lucky me..." The very tactician chosen to end the war was right in front of him. He matched what was shown on his bounty poster exactly, urging Travis even more to fight.

"Well, well, what's going on here?" Travis said, appearing just besides another swordsman who seemed to have everything under control.


[System]
Species:Human
Age:44
Appearance:
Faction:Leader of the Ulmatra Sector Galactic Empire Remnant.
Equipment:Datapad, and a DH-17 Blaster Pistol
Skills:
Tactician:Jacsen spent a good portion of his life in command. First as a officer in the Republics Navy, then as a moff within Palpatine's Empire.
Politics:Time spent as a moff meant that Jacsen was good at the game of politics. He would often spend time with the hutts, but not only that also spend time out maneuvering the other moffs vying for his position.
Charisma:This man has been a great open handed leader. Inspiring such loyalty in his troops that most would rather die than betray him.
Piloting:Jacsen spent a long amount of hours in the cockpit of a fighter, wanting to be the kind of leader who could also lead from the front but also not being much in the way of physicality he instead leads sorties when he feels up to it.
Weaknesses:
Physically Inept:Jacsen barely made it through physical training so in the way of things he isn't much in the way of physical prowess instead letting his subordinates do the fighting.
Bad Shot:Once again barely making it through training, Jacsen isn't much in the way of shooting some say he couldn't hit the broadside of a Star Destroyer with a blaster.
Self-Doubt:The man doubts himself quite a bit. First he wishes to be the kind of a leader who could stand side by side with his troops but lacks the abilities to do so, and also in other decisions.

History:Born to a senator and his wife Jacsen had a rich upbringing with everything he could ever need, the boy never went without what he wanted. Not until his mother died in child birth along with her child, Jacsen was young when this happened so he didn't remember much with the exception of his father throwing himself into his work and leaving him with the twilek maid who took care of him. In his teenage years his father eventually remarried and at this Jacsen lashed out. His step mother won the day however by convincing his father to send him to a academy within the Republic.

It was at this academy where Jacsen begun to pick up his skills as a leader. First by being a squadron leader in drills and simulations, second by his interactions with his fellow students. Noticing this his superiors saw some potential in the child and recommended him for naval command upon graduation. After his life at the academy Jacsen was given the command of his first ship a consular class for escort of senate personnel, it was a cozy albeit boring part of his life but that all changed with the oncoming of the clone wars.

Taken from his cozy position he was put in charge of a Venerator class star destroy it was from the bridge of this ship that he spent most of the war. Going from system to system, battle to battle. Jacsen proved himself eventually at a key battle near Sullust where the republic fleet engaged with the separatists, there he gave a strategy to corner a separatist battle group against a asteroid field to prevent escape. With that in place they managed to take a fair number of ships off the board. It was thanks to this action that Jacsen was rewarded for his bravery and hindsight and promoted to admiral.

He spent the rest of the war with the republic navy. Watching as they won and lost battles, made new friends and allies, and finally watching as that all went up in flames with the fall of the jedi. With the republic gone, and the jedi on the run. Jacsen made the right choice and joined the empire. He continued to serve the empire with distinction and for his service he earned a shiny new ship in his first imperial class star destroyer, and a shiny new title with his promotion to moff thanks to his fathers influence. This brought a whole new set of skills upon Jacsen. First he was quite good at playing the politician with his fellow moffs and shortly after that the hutts, second he became quite the commander giving orders to his commanders and generals. With their help he managed to keep the Ulmatra sector that was assigned to him secure, and even managed to keep it's nose clean for inspections.

All of that changed with the death of Jabba the hutt, and the emperor. First the criminal section of Ulmatra went haywire causing all sorts of trouble which he needed to put down particularly a drunk dug who managed to give the garrison quite the headache, but after that with the death of Palpatine it threw a wrench into military actions. Orders came sparingly and when they did they were indecisive, but with little choice he listened even offering a spot for any who were fleeing the encroachment of the New Republic. Which firmly established him as a player within the imperial remnant.

Faction Logo:
Faction Name:Imperial Remnant - Ultmara Sector
Faction Classification:Imperial Warlord
Faction Leader:Jacsen Orro
Faction Members(Players):Talina Eriston(Heat) Victor Tarick(Vietmyke)
Important NPCs:

Orro's right hand woman. Not only is she in charge of his intelligence network, but she is quite skilled at combat, and is one of his many body guards as well.

The General leads Orro's ground troops. He favors heavy fire power using AT-AT's and heavy bombardment to subjugate unrest.

Levi is a mercnary in hire to Orro. He keeps the other mercs in check, and is usually Orro's point of reference for dealing with the hutts and the underworld.
Faction Assets: 2 Imperial Class star destroyers ISD-Adamant which is also Orro's flagship, ISD Basilisk, 3 Victory Class Star Destoyers, ISD-Pride of Kuat, ISD-Inferno, ISD-Krayt, 1 Venerator Star Destroyer (Gently Used they promised.), 6 Acclamator class ships, 2 dreadnought heavy cruisers, 4 tartan cruisers, 8 Arquietens class light cruisers, and 2 CR-90 Blockade runners.

Ground Assets: 175,000 Imperial conscripts both alien and human, 20,000 imperial storm troopers, 1,000 scout troopers, 50 spec force troopers, 60,000 other personnel (pilots, AT-AT operators, and tank men.), 2,000 mercenaries and bounty hunters, 32 AT-AT's, multitudes of tanks and other vehicles.

Other Assets:175 million Imperial Credits, and various imperial weaponry.
Faction History:The Ultmara sector when placed under Orro was quite the cesspit, just like another slice of hutt space a moff could make a lot of money skimming from the crime syndicates. But Orro was not a normal moff, he didn't take their bribes of credits he took their information whatever intelligence he could get on the hutts. Which one liked what, which one needed a new harem of slaves, which one wanted a new speeder, how many weapons could mysteriously disappear from his shipment into hutt hands, and many other things. This bought him quite a bit of leeway with the hutts in the system and frankly he was on first name basis with a lot of them.

With the fall of the emperor and the death of Jabba, well things got shaken up his network collapsed and he found he needed to go to other sources as well as try to out maneuver the fledgling new republic who were now trying to encroach on his territory. So he went through the proper channels and sent out a call for any nearby imperial personnel to join him in his fight to keep his little slice of hutt space alive so he could restore the empire.

[User]
Scipio Industries and Finance

There was no Drunk Dug with a gambling problem to be found for torture. This vexed Leonard greatly. As he sat on his luxurious throne in The Gamechanger's bridge, he at least reassured himself that he had a pretty planet to view; the lush and watery world of Dandoran, whose continents and oceans were pristine due to the planet's obscure position. This obscure position rendered it a suitable hiding place for smugging cartels, but now, with his faction's decision to set up a base there, this little planet was going to make its mark on Galactic History.

Already, The Gamechanger had placed itself in geosyncrhonous orbit above an old Rebel Base on the equatorial side of the continent. This Rebel Base, once held by one Saponza, had been abandoned just before Endor, and might - might - be converted into a fortress and palace for Leonard to settle on. Not merely that, but his communications team had been eavesdropping on hyperspace transmissions, seeking out the latest developments in the war.

<Moff Jacsen Orro, this is Moff Aran Mortifus. I am under attack from an unknown force and find myself on the backfoot. I request your aid with the defense of the Tanarus system and in return for it, I will align myself with you and help to convince the other remaining Moffs to do so. Once more, this is Moff Aran Mortifus asking for reinforcements.>

This message replayed itself like music to Leonard's ears. While he did ponder loaning money to the Imperial Remnants, perhaps to Jascen Orro himself, he was honest enough with himself to know that he loved hearing the misfortunes of others. He would then give orders to his crew:

"Wait for ships coming here; ships from the Tanarus system. We will pay them to tell us exactly what happened there so that we can see if there is any profit to be made from it." A smirk. "I have a good feeling about this..."'

@Zarkun

[Assistant]
Elias Joranis|In the aftermath

As Sirka's voice came over the Comms that the Devaronian was down, Elias popped out of cover with both pistols as his second visor fell into position. "Hell, it's about time." The visor's sight mode switched to magnetic before highlighting targets and the gunslinger went to work. Another Devaronian came out from behind his cover to take a shot at the smuggler, only to receive a shot to his chest for his trouble, killing him instantly. Another pirate, this one a Weequay, managed to fire two shots from his rifle at Elias, who ducked and spun under the shots and put two in their owner, one in his head and the other in his chest. Elias quickly became an embodiment of death where he aimed, keeping the pirates behind the giant lizard focused on him.

After a few more minutes, the remaining pirates broke and fled, many of them dropping their weapons first as they did so. The transport that had flown in, eager to steal the package, now left without it's ill-gotten cargo, the crew having apparently watched the firefight below. Elias, as the last Duros disappeared from the hangar helping a wounded human, raised his antenna mounted visor and sighed. "Well, that was a mess."

[User]
Orro hadn't even been able to leave his shuttle, before someone approached him. "Sir you have a transmission from Moff Aran Mortifus." One of the troopers said, with that said he showed Orro the message. "Moff Jacsen Orro, this is Moff Aran Mortifus. I am under attack from an unknown force and find myself on the backfoot. I request your aid with the defense of the Tanarus system and in return for it, I will align myself with you and help to convince the other remaining Moffs to do so. Once more, this is Moff Aran Mortifus asking for reinforcements. Orro looked at the message and chuckled. Apparently his fellow Moff's were noticing him, he had put all of his pieces in the right place. "Take the shuttle out of the hangar, and send a transmission to Zera to have two star destroyers meet us in the adjacent system so we can board." He said.
"Yes sir." The trooper replied, he left and went to carry out the Moff's orders. Soon enough once again they were underway, everything had called him away so much that the moff hadn't really had time for sleep. So his head fell back against the chair he was sitting in and, he was out.

What awakened him was the sound of troopers preparing to disembark, so he stood. And followed them off the shuttle into the hangar of The Adamant. It felt nice to be back on board, the star destroyer had been with him for sometime. So it felt like more of a home than any planet, or ship. That Orro had been on, when he made it to the bridge he was surprised to see that Zera already put them in hyperspace to get into the system. "M'lord." Zera said, nodding her head. She stood up from the command chair, and handed it back to Moff Orro who took his seat, when the ship exited in Tanarus the first thing that became apparent was, the buoy so they collected it and replayed the message.

When the message of the buoy spoke of Moff Aran not being the last he chuckled, but as it got to the end of the message. And spoke of a galactic republic. His first thought was of the New Republic, but Koren had mentioned they weren't in the system in any significant numbers yet, they also called themselves the New Republic, not the Galactic Republic. So he sent out 3 shuttles. Two to head to the planet, one to head to the outpost. The shuttles landed without much incident, but the local milita seemed cautious of the Imperials. "What happened here?" Orro asked, the milita trooper shook his head. "Got attacked Moff Aran was killed, so you're here for no reason."
"Can I pass?" He asked.
"No sir." The trooper shook his head.
"How bout some of these?" Orro asked, and he pulled his second best tool next to bombarding this planet. Credits switched hands, and the trooper smiled. "Of course sir, welcome to Tanarus." He stepped aside, and they went exploring the town. Bodies had been pulled from their places to be buried, but what was among them caught the Moff's eye. He pulled one of the corpses from the pile and took off it's helmet, he grabbed another body and did the same thing. He felt the rage build up inside him, the Galactic Republic was a new breed of clones from Kamino, the face looking back up at him was a new breed of clone from a different mandolorian.

The rage was building quickly now, but he kept himself calm. "Take every clone body aboard the ship, start running tests see if we can find this new Galactic Republic was just another thorn in his side, he rubbed his temples, and stood. Some of his troopers had returned with the clones made from the Jango template, two children, and the body of Moff Aran. "Get them all on the ship, I've seen enough." Orro said, they remounted the ship and returned to the star destroyer, the outpost theme spoke of the same thing. No imperial survivors, but the captain of the outpost was not among the dead, along with non combatant personnel, which also included a few of Orro's own agents. Gone, taken. The rage began to show on Orro's face, he debated about going after them. But months of carefully laid plans, would go to waste. They would have to come to him, and they would, or he would make them.


[System]
Gender: Male

Appearance: The young man stands at around the average height at 5'9" and is fairly well built, though he tends to hide it with baggy band shirts and hoodies most of the time. He has light brown hair, which is straight and falls just below his ears. He often wears it with a fringe swept over his right eye. His eyes are a dark blue, though are rarely seen behind his hair.

Age: 19

Instrument(s): Guitar (Main), Vocals, Keyboard.

Description: Marcus first comes across as quiet and introverted, and is fairly shy around new people. Once he gets comfortable, however, his true personality shines. He loves talking about his passions, especially music, and could talk for hours once he starts. He likes to feel useful, and is always there for his friends, or almost anyone really. He always tries to be on everyone's good side and is trusting to a fault.
As a lot of creative people are, he is prone to unexpected bouts of near crippling depression that can last anywhere from an hour to a week. This can often leave him bedridden for days on end. He also often puts other people's happiness and well being above his own. There are also short times where he will keep to himself due to thinking that he is just a bother to everyone around him. He often gets over it quickly, but it is always there at the back of his mind. He tries to be calm and collected, but is often quick to overreact and over think most things. Even the tiniest issue can turn into a horrible world altering disaster in his mind if he lets it.
Marcus is very opinionated, and often struggles to find the line between assertive and and aggressive when it comes to arguments, especially when it's something he's passionate about.
Secretly, he is a hopeless romantic. He often keeps it hidden to avoid getting hurt, but it's there, and he can't wait to find someone to finally share that side of him with.

Favourite Genre(s)/Band(s): Emo, Pop-Punk, Alt-Rock, Post-Hardcore.

Brief Backstory: There isn't much to say about Marcus' childhood. The youngest of 3 boys in a family of musicians, he was always supported when it came to music. His parents gave him all the support he needed, though made sure that he knew how hard it is to make it in the music industry, so that he wasn't blindsided if he chose to pursue it. Despite the warnings, Marcus always made it very clear that music was what he wanted to do with his life. He went through school as somewhat of a wallflower, sticking to his own small circle of friends and keeping his head down, and spending most of his free time in the music room.

Miscellaneous Info:
Is never seen without a pair of headphones.
Has a van.
Rides his skateboard most places.
Works in the only KFC in town.
His father works in the one Music store in town.

[User]
Appleford, a small town in northern Washington. It doesn't have a lot going for it, but it's not a terrible place either. Generally just a fairly quiet place where not a lot happens. There's one high school, one McDonald's, and only the one music store. If you've lived here your whole life, the chances are that you know at least half of the relatively small population. Most kids leave after graduating high school, to find bigger better things out in the world. But some stay, preferring to keep to the quiet comfort that Appleford provides. Or maybe they just haven't figured out what they want to do yet. It's not a bad place to try to figure that out.

Marcus leaned against one of the tall bar tables that were scattered around the crowded club. He held a bottle of beer with both hands, idly peeling the label off with the bails of his thumbs. He was alone, looking out at the sea of people from behind the hair that covered most of his face. He recognised a lot of them, of course. It was a small town after all. But he didn't really know any of them. He wasn't close with many people, preferring to keep a small, tight-nit group of friends. Because of that, whenever they were out of town, which they currently were, he was left on his own. He normally wouldn't go out without his friends to act as a buffer between him and the unfamiliar, but his favourite band coming to town was worth fighting the social anxiety. It's a good thing he had two dear friends to help him with that. Alcohol and MDMA. He scanned the crowd of people, to make sure he had no one's attention, before deftly popping a pill in his mouth and washing it down with a mouthful of beer. That'll calm his nerves, for sure.

The reason why the small pub seemed like it had half the town crammed into it, was Arctic Monkeys. In support of their new album, they just started a national tour, and much to everyone's surprise, Appleford was on the list. Gig goers from the small town were used to have to trek down to Seattle to see a band, but it seemed like Arctic Monkeys liked to play small towns. So of course, it got a good turn out, with a good mix of fans, and people who just wanted to see some live music.

Marcus stayed at his table for now, watching the stage as the opening act got ready to play. Some new, up-and-coming band that the Arctic Monkeys took along for the tour. That's the dream. Well, it was Marcus' dream anyway. He was a musician, been playing guitar since he was a kid, and his biggest goal in life was to tour the world with a band, playing his music. But, he needed a band to that. In such a small town, finding like-minded musicians was difficult. Most other musicians he knew were retired friends of his dad's, or had left for college. Still, he hoped. He had put fliers up around town recently, "Guitarist/Vocalist looking for a band." No calls yet, but it'd only been a couple of days. Can't give up yet. Who knows, maybe he'd meet someone at the show.

[Assistant]
"You know, most people wait until after their big break to start mixing drugs and alcohol. Oh, and check your blind spot before you do."

A soft voice came from behind Marcus, in the one spot his cursory scan hadn't turned up. Brandi was barely audible above the ambient noise of the club, her voice seemingly almost intentionally modulated to exactly that level. Her right hand was holding a beer bottle by the top, her left waving away any concern of her being a snitch. Her expression was her usual one--an airy, slight smirk that seemed to totally lack concern for much of anything beyond where she was at the current instant.

Brandi Michaels didn't really know Marcus Ainsworth. Marcus Ainsworth probably didn't really know her either, not more than anyone else. She'd not done music for years at this point, but his ad had caught her eye. Not because she was interested in responding to it, mind, that boat had sailed a long time ago--but because apart from the Arctic Monkeys coming to town, not much was going on for her right now.

She also didn't really know anyone in the bar, and that ad at least gave her an in to conversation. And she was so interminably bored.

Her eyes danced a little as she smiled, leaning back against the same bar table he was. "How's it going, Marcus? You come here often?"

[User]
Marcus damn near jumped out of his skin as he heard the voice speak up from behind him. The immediate thought that went through his head being OH SHIT I'VE BEEN CAUGHT I'M GOING TO JAIL! He calmed down quickly after the voice identified itself as someone he recognised. He didn't know Brandi very well, but he knew her well enough to know that she wasn't a snitch. One of the few things he did know about her, is that she sung in the school talent show back in middle school. He remembered it being pretty good. Maybe she could be someone to jam with?

"You scared the shit outta me..." He mumbled with an uneasy chuckle. He took a few moments to breathe and calm himself, before draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down on the table forcefully. "I'm doing okay. I'll be doing a lot better in about twenty minutes..." He answered with another awkward laugh. "How are you?"

[Assistant]
She looked at him for a second, her green eyes wide with slight curiosity.

"Well, I only meant to startle you a little. Any more than that I apologize for, but maybe you should work on your nerves before becoming a full time substance abuser. I hear that makes 'em worse," she teased, as her slight smirk reasserted itself. A pop and the cap of her beer was gone--she took a sip, almost lazily, then looked around the bar. The bottle clanked on the table as she set it down.

"I'm doin' alright, thanks for asking. Bored, mostly, but that comes with the territory." Brandi gave him a once over. "You look like you've been doing okay since high school. Music dreams panning out yet? I saw the ad."

[User]
Lawson Hill-Porter

---

Lawson was bound to be going to the Arctic Monkeys gig. They were precisely his type of band. He was sitting near one of the tables, half a pint of a whiskey in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. The joint was full of teenagers with fake IDs, 15-year-olds convinced that they looked 36, despite the ance. They were quite pathetic. Unfortunately, they were all avid customers at the music store which he worked in, so he wouldn't let himself laugh as they got thrown out into the street by order of their parents. They were no more 36 than he was.

He remembered when he was their age, unable to get into all the gigs olaying at his local pub. Even tonight he got suspicious looks from bouncers when he asked to be admitted. He downed the rest of his whiskey to stiffle a chuckle at the memories. The pub was starting to fill up, it wasn't every day that the Arctic Monkeys came to play at your small town. It was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity, as most of the people there would probably never leave town. Not Lawson though, he had plans for the future.

He'd seen someone put up a poster at his store looking for people to start a band with him, so he decided that he would put his name down for it. Unfortunately he hadn't phoned the person yet. If they were truly a music fan, they'd be at this gig. He made his way over to the bar to get a refill, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He noticed a guy a little younger than him stealthily popping a pill. How very rock'n'roll. He leaned against the bar, earwiging in on his conversation with some young woman he vaguely recognised. He must have seen them at his store.

He got bored with their conversation, until the woman mentioned an ad being placed, and something about music. Lawson was sure, this must be his man. He straightened his blue paisley bow tie, and sheepishly walked towards him. He quietly coughed to get the young pair's attention, took a drag of his cigarette and introduced himself.

"G'day. You the fella that put up that ad?" His Australian accent was strong, his voice deep. He looked Marcus up and down quickly. "You're only just starting a band, and you look high already. Must be a regular Kurt Cobain. So this girl must be your Courtney Love, eh?" He chuckled quietly, before continuing, realising he hadn't given the boy his name. "Oh, I'm Lawson. Lawson Hill-Porter, I work at the music store. I play guitar, and I wanna join your band." He stuck out his hand, an invitation for a response.

[Assistant]
Marcus couldn't help but smile softly at Brandi's apparent concern. He knew all about the dangers of addiction and substance abuse. His parents told him many stories from their party days that had kept him wary. He felt like he knew how to keep himself in control. "Yeah don't worry, it's not something I do often."

At the mention of his add, Marcus's eyes lit up a bit. So people had been paying attention. "Saw that huh? Yeah, all I've been doing since school is writing music, so now I'm looking for people to play it with." He was about to ask if she'd been doing anything interesting before a rather young looking Australian joined the conversation. He smiled at first, happy to see that more people had seen his add, though his face quickly went red with embarrassment at the next comment. "Oh, uh..." He cleared his throat nervously, not knowing how to respond. Thankfully, the other man was better at continuing a conversation and introduced himself.

Marcus shook his hand and offered a slight shy smile. "Oh, you work at the shop? My dad works there. Jason, one of the managers. I'm Marcus."