[System]
Age: 16

Codename: Solar Eclipse

Powers: The first result of her powers manifesting was Caraline splitting into two people. While technically the same person they can move about and do things independently. Being opposites they are drawn to each other at all times and distance apart weakens their powers. When they are close they seem to have a mental link with which to share information. Extended periods of separation (several days) results in uncontrolled bursts of the opposite "twin's" power.

Solar (Caroline): Usually dons white and is capable of manipulating and produce beams of light. These beams are able to burn objects or temporarily blind people.

Eclipse (Carolyn): Usually dons black and is able to manipulate and produce shadows. The shadows are able to take on physical properties so long as she is in direct contact with them.

Appearance:

Costume:

School clubs or achievements: Caroline is very active in the student body. Acting in the student council she plays a part in many school related student activities and events. Because of what she does most likely see her as the overachieving control freak. At one time she participated in cheerleading and photography club but a lot of her time is eaten up nowadays. She is always looking for another great idea to pitch.

Brief bio: Caroline grew up an only child in a family of workers. Both her mother and father had full time jobs but always found time in the evening and weekends to spend with their daughter. Some children might not like that kind of situation but for the young girl it was a source of inspiration. If her parents were working hard then so would she. At least that was the idea. School seemed to get in the way of that until she joined the cheerleading squad.

While it was great working with a team she felt there was more she could do and began to dabble more in the political aspects of the school. Finding a particular liking and knack for organization and planning she took on several tasks. Over time she worked her way up to student council where Caroline felt she could make the most difference. There she and the other members coordinated numerous events, fundraisers, and activities. One day word reached her of a party being arranged that many students were going to. Curious about how this had slipped past them she planned to attend, if for no other reason but to see what was up. But hey, it's a party. Who really needs an excuse to go to one of those?

Note: Caroline apparently came away with the original's more mischievous side while Carolyn is the kind hearted friendly type.

[User]
For the fourth time in the space of twenty minutes, Alice's phone began to jingle from within her pocket. Once again, the caller ID read 'Witheld' and when she swiped to read the message she was met with the same cryptic bullshit that she had read the last four times.

For our lives now, for everyone we know and love, its us versus them.

I don't know who exactly is the 'them' of that line, but we have something deeper here.

That explosion, the party itself, there's no coincidence here. We were set up from the start to be exposed to whatever that stuff was.

They've been at it for some time now, slowly picking up some of the other people who were there that night. Some willingly joining them, most probably not though.

They're the others too, the ones who mutated their minds are gone, twisted into some kind of monster beyond all human form. Or using their powers for greed, or just plain chaos.

I made sure you're the only person I want seeing this message, its encrypted, and will be completely wiped from existence as soon as I find out you read it. They might think of you as a menace now, some kind of threat, but I know you have it in you to do something about all this, the right thing to do. As for who I am? Just call me Apollo for now. Trust me, I might be the only 'friend' you have anymore.

As soon as I hear back from you, meet me at the janitor's closet in the west hall after school. Once you're there, we can get this show on the road.

With a sigh, she deleted the message again. Whoever was behind this crap, obviously didn't know what a joke was. It was probably some asshole who figured out that Alice was at the party on Friday and was trying to screw with her mind. Hell, Alice wasn't even at that so-called party for too long, she appeared to drop off something for her younger sister, decided to stay for a singular drink and then all that crap with the gas happened? Luckily her sister had dashed off into the woods to make out with some drunken guy she had just met so she hadn't been caught in all of the drama and even luckily she didn't... Well, get caught in the aftermath.

Alice glanced at her phone and then at her wrists. She was sitting out in the sunshine on a patch of grass around the back of the school, technically she was supposed to be at a meeting with on of the student councilors but she really couldn't be bothered with that today. When she had walked into school this week, one of the teachers noticed the scars on her wrist and assumed that Alice was self harming, told her to book in with the councilor. Alice didn't protest, knowing that a trip to the councilor was really easy to skip and gave her an easy way out of class. There was nothing that a fat man in a suit, peering at her through glasses perched on the end of his sweaty nose, could tell her about herself that she didn't already know, or couldn't figure out herself.
"Apply yourself more Alison." They would say "Stop with all this... This." They would gesture to her hair, the ripped tights she wore, the packet of cigarettes dangling out her bag. They would remind her that she wasn't what they considered a 'success'

Alice's phone jingled for the fifth time in twenty-five minutes.

For our lives now, for everyone we know and love, its us versus them.

She didn't need to read any more, she picked up her phone and replied to the message Fuck off already, I'll be there. Scout's honor. before tossing the phone to the ground huffed to herself. She hated annoying people and if it took her playing along with the prank then she would go along with the stupid prank. In the meantime, she turned to the brick wall behind her and pushed her cigarette up close to it. She let a little smile play on her lips as she held her fingertip close to the wall, lining it up with the cigarette she held between her teeth. She fired a shot from her fingertips, the little bone bullet flicked off the wall, causing enough of a spark to light her cigarette. She grinned manically, as if she had just preformed the singular most spectacular feat ever seen, filling her lungs with smoke as she did so. Today was going to be another awful day, she could feel it. At least she had her bone-thing. That made her feel strong, happy...

[Assistant]
Anika glanced at the clock. 2:34 PM. And then listlessly went back to laying in bed and staring at the thin gold bracelet that adorned her wrist. It looked foreign dangling in front of her considering it was her sister's. Sarah loved that bracelet but let Anika borrow it that night, insisting that it went perfectly with her party outfit, and she never seemed to remember to take it off, or perhaps it was more the fact that Anika wanted that visual reminder of the night her life changed in more ways than one- Her sister is probably dead, her parents think she is crazy and the biggest change of all- her new found powers. A knock resounded, breaking her out of her thoughts, and then her mom's voice.

"Anika, the police are here. They want to talk to you."

The girl rolled over on her bed. "Tell them to go away. I've already talked to them." There was a pause and then shuffling from outside the door before her mom cleared her throat.

"You know you can't keep moping around like this...It's...It's hard for all of us." Anika sighed and rolled over on her bed to sit up on the edge of it.

"Mom, I just...you know, what happened last time...my...condition." Yeah, the last time she talked to the police, they didn't even finish the questioning. It was the day after the party and Anika had seen things that she only thought existed in movies. She was running out of the warehouse along with the crowd but amidst the screams, there were growls and silhouettes of strange creatures. Some people were staring at their hands in disgust, others grasped at their faces, she thought she saw someone running around their entire body made of ice. She told the police what she remembered and in the process of recalling events, one of the detective screamed "Keep it away!" pointing to an empty space on the ground with a trembling hand. Alarmed, Anika, her parents and the other detectives looked around but saw nothing. Still the terrified man kept pointing at the ground. He even went as far as jumping on top of the coffee table and reached for his holstered gun, but his partner grabbed it before he did and had to escort the confused man out of the house. That's when Anika told her parents about her abilities and that's the first time she really saw fear in her parent's eyes. Since then she thought it was best she stayed away from people, including her parents.

Anika looked up at the door separating her and her mother. Judging from the silence, her mother agreed. Anika heard a sigh and then "We'll figure it out, honey. I'm sure the therapist will be able to help...I'll just tell the detectives you're not feeling well."

"Thanks, mom."

The girl rolled back into bed listening to the retreated footsteps of her mother and muffled conversation before her phone went off alerting her of a text. She reached for it thinking of another excuse to tell her concerned classmates about why she's missed school for almost a week, but the message made her stop thinking all together The girl frowned and re-read the message again. Mid-way through reading it a fifth time, Anika jumped out of bed almost dropping her phone, but she held onto it and glanced at the time. 2:50 PM. School was almost out, that means she had only a few minutes before finding this Apollo guy and getting some answers. The girl glanced at herself in the mirror, making sure she was somewhat presentable, before grabbing her purse and car keys. Her thoughts raced as she sped out of the house, past her confused mother and surprised police.

"It's us versus them...we have something deeper here..there's no coincidence...I might be the only "friend" you have any more..."

"Friend or not, you better have some damn answers, Apollo," Anika muttered under her breath as she peeled out of her driveway and drove to school.

[User]
The last week has been quite a rollercoaster. Caroline was always a busybody anyway but there was no amount of experience that could have prepared her for what had happened to her. Recalling where this all started it was innocent enough. A large amount of the student body had been invited to a party on Friday night. It wasn't one that she or any other of the council had arranged. But it was close enough an she had told her parents that she was going to a party that the students were holding. Her parents being out often she had been able to get a license at 16. Driving herself the location seemed somewhat odd, but without knowing who arranged it it may just be a place that was easy to get.

At face value the party was actually well put together. In between dancing and talking with people, much to the contrary of how she was often perceived, she asked around trying to find out who put this together. not really getting anywhere with the search the power went out. Perhaps they tripped a breaker or something with all the equipment. Whatever the problem it was fixed in short order and people picked up where they left off. At least until the gas started to get around the room. Some left while others stuck around until the authorities came to break up the party. It wasn't until later that she heard the excuse, something about structural problems. Knowing what she does now it sounded like a diversion. Digression aside while the mass of high school students were getting herded out things went to hell. Students started mutating, some attacked the others there. The shock of the scene was scared out of the teen when one of the things looked at her. Done with the situation Caroline ran to her car and was gone before talking with anyone.

That could have been the end of it. Brushed under the rug and pretend like it never happened. Fate was not so merciful for the blond was, like many there, exposed to the strange mutagenic gas. By the next morning she passed up going out for breakfast with her folks, feeling under the weather. While they were away Caroline stumbled about trying to her to her phone. Something was very wrong with her but she never made it before feeling like she was being pulled apart. Blurred vision threw her off and when her head cleared she glanced around and saw herself. An attempt to push the double away produced a bright light that the other blocked with a shadow barrier when she winced expecting harm.

Being in two places at once was confusing to be sure. Those first moments they reacted very much the same, practically mirroring each other. It didn't take long for some individuality to set in though. Not wanting to freak anyone else out they decided to keep one of them hidden for now, taking turns being Caroline. For the sake of their sanity they selected Carolyn as the other's name. When school came around one went to do the usual routine while the other stayed at home. That evening they found that their experiences were shared. This revelation was actually quite significant as it meant the mountain of work that needed to be done could be wiped out twice as fast.

Of course they couldn't hide from her parents forever. Odd to think of one's self as a "they." Mom and dad helped a lot when officers showed up to ask questions, keeping her secret. Despite the bizarre circumstances they were surprisingly accepting of the fact that they now had twins. How they managed to deal with that the girls could only chalk up to love. Even though her life had been turned upside down as the week went on the two seemed to find a decent system. How long the ruse could be kept up was hard to say and when they received a text they thought the gig was up already. Now they needed to find out who this Apollo person was and what they knew. Texting back "I'll be there." Carolyn contacted her double to get there early before they got out of class. Staying out of sight Caroline made it to the closet in advance and waited for Apollo.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[User]
It was a meager shelter for the night, but Valerie felt it was more than adequate. She was very tired from the day's travel and fights, and she knew she'd be sore tomorrow. They would have no choice but to press on, and a good amount of rest would help with that. She dropped down behind Markus after he gave the all clear, and began work on getting the fire all set up while he cleared a hole for the smoke.

"Steamed ham sounds like a feast right now," she told him. She was famished, her belly grumbling in dissatisfaction every now and then. It seemed to be setting in more now that she could finally relax, and the smell of cooking dinner wafted up to her nose. Valerie distracted herself by removing her gear and getting it in order, starting by unbuckling her sword belt and setting her blade and dagger down next to her bedroll and pack. She untied her breastplate and pulled it away, briefly checking herself for any injuries she hadn't noticed before, but thankfully she found nothing. She could only hope she'd be so lucky in the days to come.

Setting her armor aside as she sat down, she couldn't help but smile at the compliment from Markus, her cheeks flushing slightly red as she gazed into the fire. "Thanks. Though I think we probably shouldn't start keeping score on the times we save each other's lives." Though it was a joke, and Valerie did feel content with how well she'd done, the fight with the ogre had still been a near disaster, in large part she felt due to the ineffectiveness of her flank attack. Still, it was good enough to give Markus an opening.

"We've made a good team so far." It was then she noticed him wince beside her, and saw the small wound on his side. She wasn't able to stop herself from appearing concerned. "Let me take a look at that?" It was in a difficult spot for him to treat, likely the reason he hadn't noticed it until just now. It wasn't serious, but it would be unwise to leave untended.

Once she had a few of her medical supplies Valerie settled down on her knees beside him. "Hold your shirt up." She began cleaning and tending to the wound. She was no healer or doctor, but any adventurer hoping to live more than a few weeks on the road needed to know how to treat minor wounds like this.

Valerie brushed a strand of hair from her face, focusing. "Have you ever been seriously injured before? On a job, or otherwise?"

[Assistant]
"Thanks. Though I think we probably shouldn't start keeping score on the times we save each other's lives."
He gave a grin that showed his teeth at the jest, and realized she was right. They really were a good team. Markus wasn't used to such a thing, as much he tried to appear that way around her. He'd known hard fighting women before, and he'd known those a bit less experienced than he (though not much, judging by his mere 4 years as a sellsword), but he'd always been in a larger, looser group. One where you could easily close yourself from others, yet you were also apart of something bigger than yourself.

It was different for him to be out here with only one partner, especially a woman like this. Alike him in more than a few ways, competent, but... he felt like she looked to him too. He knew she could take care of herself, and in fact she impressed him in a lot of ways. However, he felt a certain sense of duty as the more experienced one. Briefly, he wondered if he was up to this. It was quite an odd thing, hitting it off with a girl so quickly, and then suddenly becoming her comrade in arms, and perhaps even a mentor of sorts, though he used the term loosely.

"Let me take a look at that?" she asked, and his reverie fled when he heard her voice. "Oh, yeah." he breathed, lifting his shirt up. It was his turn to blush despite himself, and he was glad his lifted shirt covered the lower part of his face. He nodded, giving a self depreciating chuckle.

"Yes." he admitted to her question. "I remember when I was a boy, and my older brother accidentally loosed his bow in my direction. He didn't know I was coming out of the woods, and it hit me in the chest. If that was a war bow and not a hunting bow, I might have died just there. And...in the battle I spoke of before. The only one I was in, I...a sword ran through my side. The other side-" he explained. "I'd only been fighting for half an hour, though I suppose many good men died after a minute. I lay there and heard the battle around me as I bled."

He cleared his throat, and shook his head of the dark thoughts. "Luckily, a priest patched me up once the battle was over. He had magic, and I could walk without help a week later." He sucked in his breath from a jabbing pain as she worked on his wound, though it was her job and he didn't protest. "Thank you, Val." he said breathlessly as the wound was patched up. @Luminosity

[User]
"I can't imagine what that must have been like," Valerie said as she worked on the wound. She tried to imagine it, too, but of course it wouldn't compare to a real experience. To be so badly wounded as to be unable to move, in the chaos and horror of a battle... she nearly shuddered. All of her own experiences with bloodshed had been on such a smaller scale, and even the bloody skirmish she'd been involved in the day before had been over so fast. There was hardly any time for the mind to process it.

"I think it's safe to say I've been lucky in that regard, at least so far." She half smiled at a memory. "Worst I can claim is falling from my horse as a child, the first time I lost control. Broke my arm and two ribs." It certainly hadn't been funny to her at the time; maybe it was the feeling of simpler times that brought the smile to her face. "There wasn't much bleeding involved there... just an excess of crying. There, all done."

The cut wasn't really worthy of being stitched up, nor was it bleeding severely, but it was at least cleaned and bandaged adequately now. She scooted back a bit and lay back on her bedroll, staring up at the protective canopy of vines and settling her hands atop her belly. Very few of her friends had called her Val back home, and none of her family, but she didn't mind. It was probably a better name for a mercenary woman, after all.

Her stomach rumbled, and she sighed. "Ugh. The food about ready?"

[Assistant]
"It's pretty sobering," he admitted, gazing into the fire as she finished cleaning the last bit of his wound. "But I'm glad it happened, to be honest. Difficulties make me who I am, no matter how terrible they were at the time." He spoke with a solemness that belied his age, making him seem that much older just from the memory of that single experience.

He grunted when she was done, and nodded. His face lit up at the prospect of food. "Let me check." he breathed, leaning forward and then making it to his feet before opening the bubbling pot. "You know falling off a horse is still pretty dangerous. I've known someone who fell off and couldn't walk after. It's quite the fall." After sticking a bit of the ham with his cleaned dagger, he realized it was indeed ready. "Yup. I'll grab you some."

It took less than a minute for them both to have a fair sized bit of ham, though due to being out in the wild they didn't necessarily have silverware or plates, but he handed her half of the meal stuck on one of his throwing daggers. Markus winked at her in good spirits at how odd it was, handing it over, before taking a big bite out of his own slice. It wasn't much, but it had a bit of seasoning and the main thing about it was it filled their bellies.

Once Markus was finished, he took a large swig of his water jug and was just about to burp when he realized Valerie was right there with him. It was a bit awkward for him to slam his palm on his mouth at the last moment as his mind caught up with him, but he patted his chest with his fist and grunted. "Sorry."

[User]
Valerie wasn't sure what that kind of experience would do to her, how it would compare to how Markus had changed. If she could survive it at all, of course. Her fortitude was not of the same caliber that Markus had built his up to... but maybe it was things like that that made it so. She had no desire to test it, of course, but considering her line of work and her willingness to take risks, she wondered if it wasn't simply a matter of time. Sobering, indeed.

But the food was ready to take her mind off of it, and Valerie sat up to eat. She took the throwing knife from Markus with a mock daintiness, as though she was being treated to some kind of delicacy in her family's dining hall. She snickered lightly, and took a bite. Delicacy it was not, but it was far more nourishing than any treat she'd had growing up, and she found she appreciated it quite a bit more.

When they were both full and satisfied Valerie's sleepiness began to creep in, and she eventually toppled back over onto her bedroll, untying her hair and yawning. The yawn turned into a stifled giggle halfway through as Markus held back a burp. "No, go right ahead," she laughed. "Just keep it down. We don't have any leftovers to share with orcs and goblins, after all."


[System]
Nickname(s)
People usually scream monster when they see her XP

Age
200 but looks 18

Species
Dragon

Gender
female

Appearance
Human form:  She has pointed ears and fangs
Dragon:
She is about as big as a large horse

Occupation
Agency, research and analysis

Behavior
She is young for a dragon, so she is quite playful. She finds it fun to scare new recruits and stalk around.

Brief Bio
Nyra was hatched 200 years ago by a witch, who raised her to be good and to control herself. The witch, who she called mother, taught her draconic spells and passed her down a book of her language. Nyra never knew why her mother knew so much about dragons, and never had the chance to ask when her mother was murdered by a werewolf. Nyra then led her life in secrecy and loneliness, not knowing any others of her kind. She joined the agency to prevent others from feeling her pain. She loved to learn and to encompass knowledge, so she became sort of like a book keeper or an analytic for the team.

Abilities
-Can shift between human and dragon form, sometimes in between
-Enhanced senses
-breathe blue fire
-Can cast spells using the draconic language (mostly elemental and healing)

Other
-When in dragon form, she tends to act more beast-like the longer she is all scaly.

[User] Nyra placed a hand on Natasha's shoulder and smiled at her. "You have done great. Everything will be fine." She looked at the two recruits. "They are right, though. You need to relax some."

[Assistant] Emmett walked out of his office scratching his head. "I swear if I hear one more loud noise from you new recruits you're going bye bye!" He shouted bending down so his head wouldn't it his office door.

[User] Kita kicked herself off from the desk in her office while sitting on her swivel chair making herself roll out to the others; she had the typical tired/bored look on her face with half-open, maybe expressionless blue eyes, "If this place happens to not be cleaned, somehow, it's not like he's gonna fire us or anything. So does it really...oh who am I kidding it would still matter even if it didn't wouldn't it..." Kita put a hand to her head with closed eyes near her last phrase

[Assistant] Khala looked up through a grate. It probably was on a street or sidewalk, because she could see daylight coming through. She watched as people walked over it, not even noticing she was underneath them. She preferred it that way. Khala slithered past the grate. The Light hurt her eyes anyways. What should she eat tonight? She was starving, so it is time to lure someone down to her level.

[User]
From the deck of his downtown apartment Dimitri glared down onto the city below him with distain. Five months, that's how long it had been since he'd lost his sense of self control, five months since he'd attempted a rampage in the midst of a terrorist attack, and above all, five months since he'd met and traded blows with two of the A.C.D.A.'s correctional officers. The wendigo gripped the mimosa in his left hand almost hard enough to shatter the glass as he absent mindedly traced his right hand over a few scars on his neck, feeling the difference between the smooth normal skin and the healed over burn marks as if to remind himself of what had happened. The battle had been brief, and while he managed to avoid capture, it certainly hadn't gone in his favor thanks to the two to one odds.

Dimitri sneered and gulped down his drink, briefly enjoying the taste of champagne and orange juice mixing on his tongue before he wiped his mouth off on his arm. Things weren't exactly going as well as he'd hoped; he'd lost the fight and had even been forced to change his usual hunting grounds due to a few less than efficient hunts, but there were a few silver linings to this. One thing was that his human persona was still unknown, the second was that he still had a place of employ, and the third was that the fight had cleared his mind enough for him to focus and put to use the skill he'd honed over the years, not to mention begin planning his payback for the wounds inflicted on him. The wendigo stared quietly at the city for a few moments more before he slipped back into his apartment to begin plotting, a grin that was just a bit too wide and toothy to be considered human worming its way onto his face as he plotted how he'd go about toying with the A.C.D.A.. After all, what good was revenge if one couldn't have fun exacting it?

[Assistant]
Khala slithered smoothly through the pipes, trying to find a place to set up for her hunt. She had to be smart and stay away from her lair. She had heard about these "agents" that to protect people. Khala didn't want to be stopped. She wanted to live her life and people just happen to be her diet. Sure, she sometimes settles for a rat or a dog, but people were different. They screamed, they talked, they struggled. it was much more fun. People bring a little bit of light into Khala's dark world.
Khala crawled up through a broken grate into a dark alley. She flicked her tongue, thinking. Looking up, she spotted an open window. Someone could be living there. She climbed up the side of the wall, looking to make sure no one was around, and slipped through the window. It was, what she thought, a bathroom. Quickly, Khala coiled herself up in the bathtub, covering herself with the curtain. Shortly after, she heard the door open, then quietly close. Khala smirked and began her song. It was a sweet melody and she could now safely come out of her hiding spot. Her victim was a young girl who looked around 17. She stood still, in a trance from Khala's voice. Khala wrapped herself around the girl and slithered out through the window and back underground.

[User]
As Emmett walked back to his office his phone buzzed. His phone has been pretty active this week and it wasn't his none existing girl friend or wife worrying about him. It was the police. Emmett closed his office door and sat at his desk listening to what the cops had to say. The call needed and Emmett stood from his chair exiting his ofofe once again although this time he was wearing his suit. "There's been another suspicious disappearance give Leon my regards." Emmett said leaving the building and heading to his midnight black smart car.

Emmett drove to the home of the teenager who disappeared not to long ago. Usually the regular authorities would handle minor things like kidnappings but the kidnappings that's been happening the past weeks hadn't been normal. The police were having a serious hard time finding traces of the kidnapper at the scenes of the crimes. He arrived at the home instantly being surrounded by cops, cameras and some frightened locals. Emmett ignored most of then since he know why he was called. Has the same job like he did at every other crime scene. Use his abilities to uncover what the human eye can't.

Emmett entered the house in question and searched top to bottom. The cops told him that the last place the kidnapped teen's parents remembered her going was to the bathroom. Emmett closed the blinds and closed the bathroom door. He turned the lights off looking around the dark room.

His eyes began glow a bright purple as the foot prints in the bathroom were now visible to him. "What the hell!" Emmett shouted a bit. There were only on set of foot prints in the bathroom....but that isn't what got Emmett so freaked. The bathtub was decorated with what looked like the tracks of a over sized snake. The tracks led to outside which wouldn't be much help since Emmett's little ability only works in the dark

"This case is closed for now!" Emmett said exiting the building. The surrounding citizens weren't to happy to hear what he said but there wasn't much Emmett could do at the moment. If it was night time when the kodnapping took place then tracking down the suspect would of been much easier for him. Emmett hoped back into his car and drove back to head quarters keeping the disappearance of the teenage girl on his mind.

[Assistant]
Khala had arrived back at her home. It was dark and damp, but she liked it that way. No one has ever been here ever since she found this place. Still, she blocked off the upstairs doors so no one could come in. Khala fell silent and watched her dinner wake from her trance. The girl began to look panicked and tried to escape from Khala's grip, but Khala only tightened herself around her. The girl screamed and only squirmed harder. Khala smiled. "Girl, it is no use. No one can hear you and no one can find you." She thought about how she should kill the girl, painfully or painlessly. Khala was in a good mood so she applied more pressure around the girl until she passed out. It wasn't the funnest way, but a meal is a meal. It was time to eat.

Nyra waited for Emmett to come back. His sudden leave worried her that there was trouble in the city. She needed to get all information into the system. Nyra was still fairly new and she knew he doesn't really care for recruits, but it won't stop her from talking to him.

[User]
"Alright, what kind of car is it, and what's been going on?" Dimitri grunted into his phone as he swiveled around in his computer chair. It seemed as though even on his off days there was no respite from his job, nor from his annoying coworkers. On the other end of the line the sound of rustling papers could be heard as his coworker Shannon searched through a few files for a car that was causing her a bit of trouble at the shop, "Looks like we got a honda accord here. Apparently it hasn't been running too good, the guy had to get it towed here, said it was making a godawful rattling noise. Nothing really seems wrong, pretty weird considering the records say that this car just came in three days ago. Timing chain replacement.".

Dimitri mulled this over as he idly plucked a piece of beef jerky out of the bag on his computer desk and popped it into his mouth, years of deconstructing and occasionally cannibalizing the parts of vehicles from past victims when he'd lived with his family had made Dimitri extremely knowledgable when it came to working with cars, and while it was a boon for his job, it was nothing but a source of annoyance on his off days when someone needed to know something.

"Wait, what model did you shay it whash again?" The wendigo garbled from around his jerky, "Ugh, why do you talk with your mouth full man? Do you ever stop eating, Cap'n Crunch? Like, ever?" "You want my help or not?". Shannon gave an audible and heavily exaggerated sigh that made Dimitri's mouth curl into a snarl, "An '01 from the looks of things, why?". Though the action was lost due to Shannon not being there to see it, Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, "Pre '03 accords use timing belts not timing chains." "Oh. OH. Fuck how did I miss that?" "Who the hell did you have work on the car?" "That new guy, Jason.". Dimitri pinched the bridge of his nose even harder. He despised all of his coworkers, but Jason was in a league of his own, having cemented his place at the top of Dimitri's "coworkers to murder" list by taking the height jokes and pranks a bit further than Dimitri was willing to tolerate. Needless to say, when Dimitri finally did snap and go about killing everyone at the autoshop, Jason's death would be particularly gruesome. "I'm going to hang up now. I'm going to hang up before I come beat Jason to death with a vehicle maintenance manual." "Yeesh, grumpy. Any way thanks for the he-" *beep*. Dimitri slowly set his phone down and stared out of the window, his irises slowly shifting from blue to a dark red color. He'd taken this day off for a reason: He needed to hunt, and hunt he would. The wendigo wordlessly got out of his seat and went into his bedroom to prepare.

[Assistant]
Before he headed back to the HQ he took a pit stop at a gas station and bout a couple of six back of beers. This was a party after all and what is a party with out a couple of boozes. Emmett knows there are a couple of workers at the agency that wasn't old enough to drink but he's positive they know right from wrong. Even if they did drink Emmett would look the other way or he might just even support the under age drinkers actions.

As Emmett thought of what the welcome back party will be like he drove to HQ. He's sure Leon wouldn't mind him drinking it was a party celebrating his return after all. Emmett parked his car and entered the HQ holding the two six pack of beers into the air. "Guess who's back!!!" He happily shouted placing the drinks down on a table. For now he'll have to hold off on what happened to the teenage girl and enjoy the welcoming party. "I'll be in my office tell me when the big guy get here." Emmett said grabbing a beer and walking into his office plopping down into his chair. He left his office door open so he could hear someone signal him of Leon's arrival.

[User] Nyra noticed Emmett's return. She rolled her eyes as she saw the beer. Why was he always drinking? She shook off the thought and walked up to the doorway to his office, knocking on the open door. "Um, Emmett? I was wondering if I could get some information from the case you just went to. I have to put them in the records." Nyra leaned against the door. "I know it is a party, but I just want to get it and be done before hand. Before you forget to."


[System]
Age: Unknown, but reckoned to be at least a century old.
Legion: Luna Wolves, renounced.
Planet of Origin: Terra or Cthonia.
Physical Description:Prodigal Son's armor is repaired from battlefield salvage and the paint has been carefully scraped off and the pauldron insignia defaced and painted over with the Raptor Imperialis symbol of the Reunification Wars, a symbol forces loyal to the Emperor fought under on Terra as well as the Imperial Aquila. The armor is not as efficient as a properly-maintained mark, but it gets him into the fight. He's done the best he can with repairs, but the battle damage shows.

With the helmet off, Prodigal Son is unremarkable, but has a gold service stud and a silver service stud on his brow. He does not like to display them often, for they display his features and those tell a tale; as is sometimes the case, the gene-seed expresses strongly, as it does here.

His is the likeness of the Warmaster, the Betrayer Horus. To perhaps further demonstrate where he stands on the matter, he has the Imperial Aquila tattooed onto his cheek. The other is marred with the scars of las-fire and the shrapnel from a melted helmet face-plate, a memento of one of the engagements of the Great Crusade. His head is completely shaven.

When not fighting, when not focusing, he stares off into the distance, his mind visibly churning. He wrestles with himself, with his love of his former brothers. With his shame for his gene-father's betrayal.

Skillset:Prodigal Son is a tactical marine to the bone; there are few tasks that a Space Marine and his bolter are not suited to, after all. The tools depend on the tactical situation. Some Legions wed themselves to specific styles, but the true essence is to adapt, but adapt ferociously and, above all, win. That was always the way of his legion, as it moved from victory to victory, rarely tasting defeat. His experience in numerous Imperial Compliance actions has honed his capabilities.

History:Prodigal Son's exact circumstances are not entirely known, mostly because he does not speak -- his oath is of silence, his penance is in deeds. His Primarch's sin cannot be washed away, and he intends to sell his life dearly to the enemies of the Emperor. It is hard to say whether the man is one of the Luna Wolves holdovers of the original intake of Terran recruits or a Cthonian addition that stayed strangely loyal to the Emperor when so many of his own followed the Warmaster, their gene-father, where he would lead.

What is known is that the Rogue Trader picked up Prodigal Son on the planet Polybius; there was ferocious fighting between Imperial Army elements and Chaos Cultists seeded there by the Word Bearers Legion. Prodigal Son did not command, did not rally, did not organize. He and a mere handfull of others from his Legion fought, hunting the leaders, looking to decapitate the cultist command. Those not ended with a bolter round to the head he hacked down ferociously in melee. They stalked the battlefield like ghosts and struck with singular and suicidal ferocity, fury made manifest, to rip out the throat of key enemy personnel, rather than getting heavily engaged in an attrition battle.

In one particular case at the end of the revolt on Polybius, out of ammo for his bolter and out of promethium for his chainsword, he encountered a leader of the Cultists. The Psyker tried to seduce him with the words of a demon that knew all too well what his heritage was. The woman's skull was splattered messily with two rapid blows of his gauntleted fist and a bellow of spiritual pain. It did not go unnoticed, word spread on the planet.

When the Rogue Trader told this silent Astartes the plan, he gave a nod and came aboard along with his other brothers. They speak among themselves at appointed times, much like a religious order, but otherwise remain silent except for battle, when they use the curt language of tactical communication. They eat minimally, they train relentlessly, try to keep their equipment running despite inconsistent supply and do not mingle.

Psychological Profile:It's hard to say what Prodigal Son thinks, as he does not speak. But his actions are very clear -- he has the same controlled viciousness that made the Sons of Horus one of the most successful of the legions during the Great Crusade. In countless compliance actions, they struck mercilessly. The same applies here. It's his heritage to the bone, even if it is now a traitor's heritage.

Equipment:* Phobos-Pattern Boltgun. It has a hook and a tether line that allows it to stay attached and handy when he lets go of the grip. It also has a foregrip if he wishes to stabilize it. That is not Mechanicus-approved modification but he is beyond caring. It allows him to switch quickly over to his chainsword.
* Thunder Edge Pattern Chainsword, magnetized with a switch so Prodigal Son can release it from harness and bring it to bear moments after releasing his bolter.
* Armor that is truly the salvaged and repaired parts of other armor. It is, essentially, what will be known as Mk. V "Heresy Pattern" armor. Notably, the knuckles are spiked. The helmet is a modified Mk. IV, there are bits and pieces from other marks and field expedient. Plates are riveted on, repairs are visible. It is not parade-ready, but it can still fight.
* Grenades when he can get them.

NotesProdigal Son has three battle brothers, they are armed very similarly to him; bolters and melee weapons. They too do not speak to outsiders except in battle. Their armor is stripped of heraldry and symbols of loyalty to the Emperor are displayed in place of the Eye of Horus and Cthonian ganger runes that were prevalent in their legion.

[User]
Without Remorse

---

The patrols and the people running from the Chateau along the access road leading out were the problem of Prodigal Son and his fellow Luna Wolves, as they thought of themselves. Who they were, why they were there, whether or not they were innocent or guilty, it didn't matter. With the savage cunning of his legion, they laid the next trap for the next patrol and fell upon them with fist and knife, eschewing the more powerful weapons as unnecessary. They collected wargear in this fashion, grenades mostly, though one of the brothers took up a flamer, hooking the backpack a normal human would wear to his power armour's belt, as a prize from the fighting.

The other prize was the enemy's comm systems, which Prodigal Son himself patched into his helmet's systems. That allowed him to track the last patrol, even as he took note of the time; the assault would begin soon.

Three patrols down, and they used their autosenses and their own hearing and sight to try to locate more prey in the hunt. Once the noise started, he unlimbered his bolter and others did the same, for the time was past when they'd need such a thing. The last group were headed toward the conflagration of the Chateau; they were alert and aware, and there wouldn't be an easy opportunity to close with them, especially as they headed for the enclosure where the Rhinos were...

[Assistant]
Even as the defenders opened up on the World Eaters that were charging their positions, two of the more faint hearted of their number near the back had taken fright at the Marines that were coming towards them. Turning to flee like cowards, they instead dropped to the ground as they clutched at their heads while screaming in purest agony. Their muscles forcefully shifted, their bones snapped and knitted themselves back together in new, stronger shapes as their skin was rent open to revel fissures an unnaturally red, unholy glowing substance that hurt the mind just to gaze at.

The same unholy glow seemed to consume both of their eyes and at back of their throats as they wordlessly screamed in agony before surging upwards to their feet like a puppet having their strings pulled... before turning around and letting out a roar that sounded like a mixture of the deepest of pains and the most all consuming of rages as both of them charged towards the World Eaters at speeds normal humans shouldn't have been able to ran at, one of them swiping at the head of one of his former, unchanged comrades as they pasted and taking his head clean off with a demonic looking claw!

[User]
Finishing the checks, he exited the vehicle standing atop it with bolt pistol and chain sword at the ready. He jumped down on to the ground looking around trying to determine if any enemies were advancing on the newly acquired transports. He stopped at the sound of a scream, he'd heard many but that... It reminded of the monsterous being he'd faced down while waiting for rescue. He feared nothing but the memory of those horrors was something that he would never truly be free of.

Clearing the vehicle bay, he took position. "I will remain with the transport's, keep them safe from any stragglers or survivors trying to make use of them for escape." He was one of the youngest here, and more importantly he lacked the veteran status of some of the others. He'd fought in the great crusade it was true but his father the Lion had been discovered latter than most. Yet the Dark Angel's in a short amount of time had proven themselves to be an outstanding Legion, with clever tactics and adaptable wings. Like he ached to spill the blood of traitors in vengeance, he knew his place was here protecting the captured transports.

As he pushed the vehicles into the small garage locking it behind himself, he felt cold. As if an unnatural presence was nearby, acting on a whim he moved towards the repair bay of the garage autosense's helping him to search through the darkened building bolt pistol and chainsword ready for whatever came at him.

[Assistant]
The Sons of Horus were the arch-traitor legion, though Lorgar's Word Bearers planted the seeds, but they had one of the best records of them all in the Great Crusade. Cthonian ferocity was harnessed into the legion, supplementing the gene-seed-implanted ferocity of the original Terrans that made such an impact on the Luna campaigns.

Under Horus, they were throat-slitting killers whose instincts were put into the service of Humanity. But they also venerated their Primarch, shouting "LUPERCAL!" as they sprung into battle. Some of that was on display as the small group of Luna Wolves in this ragged band handled the perimeter duty and silenced sentries brutally with fist and knife, which was a return to the hive gang war tactics some of the recruits, had they said anything of their origins, might have learned in their upbringing. But now, they faced a different situation and a tactical shift was in order as the noise came from the Chateau and the bolters were unlimbered as they loped toward their final target, approaching the Rhinos that the Dark Angel guarded.

Prodigal Son may well have been a silent leader, at least to the outsiders, but he was a tactician to the bone, and he'd positioned himself to come to the aid of other Space Marines when the unexpected happened. They would never say the name of their Primarch at all, but they still knew how to fight.

A bolter shell was a mass-reactive shell that left a horrific and gory wound that was terminal, particularly to a normal human being like the militiamen. And yet, the fire did not bring the enemies down; his own bolt barked out of the barrel and found its mark, except the mark was growing exponentially, expanding like a balloon, with red-glowing eyes and eldritch energy encircled them at wrists and ankles, hauling them into the air. There was a scream of ethereal rage as these human beings twisted beyond comprehension and sanity, to the horror of the Astartes near the rhinos, veterans of the Crusade and even the opening blows of the Heresy, were unfamiliar with.

They had seen mutations, but this was different and smelled of sorcery; the men burst into a spray of blood and from the spray of blood, suspended in the air, came a portal. And from that portal came, howling, sword-bearing horrors that rushed at them with a terrible ferocity and speed. The flamer carried by one of their number unleashed in a long burst, trying to catch them as the bolters were fired rapidly. A piece of the Prodigal Son's mind gibbered, but the other part bellowed "AND YOU WILL KNOW NO FEAR."

But if the bolter fire shredded the first ranks, multiple hits ensuring that they stayed down, there were enough left to engage the rest of Prodigal Son's small detachment. The Luna Wolves were fluid and instinctive in their shift of weaponry, from the ranged combat role into preparation to defend in close combat, and ferocious in meeting the charge. It was chainswords against those demonic blades, even while the whispers rang in their ears, calling them to their rage...


[System]
Male
Looks about 30
Appearance
6'0"
Pale white skin.
White irises. Edges around his eyes are naturally often dark. Giving him the appearance of having eyeliner.
Messy slightly below shoulder length wavy white hair. Long bangs that often get in his eyes. Two engraved cylindrical medium length silver hair beads, one on the right side of his hair and one on the back left.
Silver feather dangle earring on his left ear lobe.
Left hand's fingernails are pointed and sharp

Faux golden mink fur double breasted coat. Length goes down to his mid thigh. Brown horn buttons. Brown silk liner.
Black with white polka dots pattern wool fringed scarf worn draped around the back of his neck under his coat. Loosely tied into a knot low right below his chest.
Various loose fitting polo or aloha/bowling shirts.
Gold 22" 10mm cuban link chain necklace.
White ribbed tank top undershirt.
Gold Rolex Datejust 36mm with a white dial and jubilee bracelet.
Silver band thumb ring, silver pinkie finger signet ring with a X engraved on the front. Gold pointer finger ring with a inlaid diamond. All on his left hand
Plain black leather dress glove with a white X on the palm on his right hand.
Silver 12mm cuban link chain id tag style bracelet on his right wrist
Black dress pants.
Black leather western style belt with an silver buckle and furnishings. Usually has a black embossed leather revolver holster on the right side.
Black leather cowboy boots with snip toe caps and floral stitching. Pant legs worn over the boot shaft.
Or
Various Air Jordan 5 sneakers.
White crew socks.

Hair
A bit longer in the back

Nemo is often considered a Mana-fiend among other terms. Someone who can feed off of mana itself for energy. He has a innate control over mana and mastery with absorption focused spells. Being able to drain other Talent's mana reserves to refill his own. With more advanced spells Nemo can even harness the natural mana found in the world for himself in a pinch.
While most Talents are able to increase their maximum mana pool by training. Nemo sadly lacks this ability. But makes up for it by being able to permanently increase his pool by fully draining mana from living beings and certain objects. Fully draining a magic user can also sometimes give Nemo the ability to use some of their spells.
An added bonus of consuming mana is that it makes him immune to aging.

All of his mana must be put to some sort of worthy use, and Nemo does so by specializing in highly destructive spells and traps. Often using an "X" shape motif. He also utilizes summoning magic circle relay rings. When a magic projectile passes through them, it increases in speed and power. Relay rings can also be chained together like a railgun to devastating effect.

Nemo triggers most of his attacks from the X shaped rune on the palm of his glove.

At times Nemo also has a affinity for fine custom weaponry instead of spells. Utilizing rifles, knives, and his trademark revolvers with specialized ammo to conserve his mana.

Nemo is fond of the dark and the cold. He sees and reacts better in darker places with his white nocturnal-like eyes. However as a drawback he often becomes irritated and uncomfortable in bright or hot areas.

While his actual age is a mystery, it is said that at a young age Nemo was shunned by all of the leading magic organizations for his unpredictable abilities and attributes. Being an orphan, Nemo was left to fend for himself in the world. His abilities were the only thing he had at a young age, realizing that most people were afraid of his style of spells. Nemo found that resorting to force to get what he needed was usually the only option that worked.

As his control over his abilities grew he began to get more involved with the magic underground. Nemo began to take advantage of his anti-mana magic to make a name for himself as a effective assassin against other fellow magic users. He did this as a means to both further his own power and take revenge against the magic community for it's treatment of him.

As Nemo's notoriety grew, the magic factions that once rejected him began to take notice. However not in the way he once wanted. Nemo began to become a problem for them, something that reached a climax when he executed a pair of Catholic Magi while on a armored transport mission.

The Church had let him grow unchecked for too long. To solve the problem they set an ambush up for Nemo with a group of Grand-Magi and a entourage of his students. A fight occurred between the two, ending with Nemo's capture. But not before the group of mages suffered great causalities, including their leader.

After the encounter Nemo was locked up deep in a pitch black cell within a dungeon located under the Vatican. There he lies in wait, feeding off of the small amount of mana rationed to him and wondering how long it will take before he is set free.

Despite it all Nemo often comes off as a rather chipper carefree individual, something that is often seems sinister while fighting instead. Nemo is often unstable, his polite and charismatic outer attitude sheds to his more psychotic inner shell while angered.
Nemo has a fascination with all things visual. Taking great pride with his work and considering the battles he partakes in as art. Aiming to make them as aesthetically impressive as he can.
He's also a collector, coming off as borderline greedy in some cases. He'll try to obtain anything he finds visually appealing. Nemo becomes highly irritated when his possessions are sullied. Thankfully he can often repair them.
Going hand in hand with his knack for collecting, he also takes great joy in eating. Being able to consume a very large amount of food and eat just about anything.

5.5 inch single action revolver.
3.5 inch birds head handle single action revolver.
Bolt action hunting rifles.
Balisong knives

[User]
The sun was high noon and Ava was finally returning from her paper runs. Looking forward towards spending the day practicing her strange powers, she had decided to make a quick stop at her home in the village for lunch. Gliding through the air, she felt oddly good about today. Her morning depression had slowly faded as the sun had risen and she figured that maybe, one day, she'd convince her father that her powers could be used for good! Perhaps even leave the vill...... no.... she knew damn well why she couldn't leave.

Her father hadn't sugar coated any of her family's history. What had happened to her ancestors, how she now bore this curse. Flying across the sky she couldn't help but sigh again. "Damn.... well there goes the mood again...." she thought, disappointing in herself. However, as fate would have it, this all about to change... a lot.

"AVA KURIER!"

What?

 "I don't know if you can understand my language, but I want to talk with you!"

......WHAT?!

Ava quickly glanced below her at the source of the sound. A man was running through the air right under her! This startled Ava to such a degree she nearly lost control of her flight. After a bit of a mid air tumble and a double take, she stared for a bit at the man as he ran. What on earth was going on. Then it hit her! "Oh god.... no... please no no no no no......" she thought, slightly panicked. Nobody in the village knew how to do magic. Even her own father had very little talent. But she was warned as to who did.... the church.

Her mind raced. They were on the outskirts, she needed to lure this man into the village. They'd know what to do when a member of the church shows up. Quickly recomposing herself, a plan began to form. She cautiously glided closer. She slowed her speed so that man would only have to walk.

"Yes, I speak some English.... ummm..... Sorry to make you come up this way to speak with me. Please, follow!" Without waiting for the man to reply she glided back to the village center.

When they landed, the town square was pretty empty. As the man stepped down from a seemingly magically created stairway, Ava faced the man.

"How do you know my name?!" She proclaimed, loudly. As if on que. Villagers emerged from the various buildings. Many carried guns, aimed at the man. Others, tools such as wood axes and hammers. A particularly older, middle aged man approached from behind her, wielding an old double barrel shotgun. Standing next to her, he aimed the weapon from the hip at the man.

"Yes, stranger, how do you know that name? And if your a wise man, you should choose those words.... carefully." He punctuated the words with the clicking of the firing hammer. "It is not every day a stranger comes here, let alone using sorceries, or more importantly, Using the Kurier name."

[Assistant]
Nemo himself looked a bit confused for a few moments after her compliment. It was probably one of the few times anybody ever brought up his natural appearance in a good light. Nemo grinned, "Aw shucks, that's mighty kind of you, thank you. You've got quite an impressive head of hair yourself Zuri." He commented back.

"So you don't know who you are? How troublesome... Identity is a problem that plagues us all in ways. Who am I? What is my purpose? Or, where did I come from? Fear not, I'm sure the answers will come to you soon enough." Nemo said with his theatrical tone.

"My powers, huh?" Nemo started. "Yes, I do indeed have 'fancy powers' like Felix. However demonstrations of my talents will be most effective live, at a later date."

"Let's just say, I have a knack for making things both appear." Nemo waved his hands past each other, one of his revolvers suddenly appearing in his right hand after they passed by in a slight of hand action. Nemo spun the gun around in his hand, tossing it up into the air as it spun to catch it with his other hand. However once he caught it in his other hand, the ornate revolver vanished behind his hand just like it came out. "And disappear." Nemo finished as he held his empty hands out.

[User] Zuri runs her hands through her hair and blushes a bit when he complimented her hair. What he said about not knowing who she is managed to put her mind at ease just a bit. Zuri also found Nemo's magical demonstration quite amusing as well. She still doesn't recall that she has powers herself, and with the lack of mana within her, the chances of accidentally casting something is minuscule. "Can you bring me to my room? I wouldn't want to get lost wandering around here.." She asks Nemo.

[Assistant]
Things escalated a bit more adversely than he had previously hoped. Though, he kept composure. With his abilities, guns hardly proved a problem. He could activate his manaegis and crumple a whole trained military army before anyone fired a single round (and in fact, he had before done that very thing). But Felix was far from evil, and only used violence in times when it was absolutely necessary, this was not one of those times. In fact, if he wanted to, he could rift jump away in an instant, or blink teleport a short distance away even faster. But Felix decided diplomacy was the best option at this point.

Felix raised his hands and gave a smile.

"Look, I am not here to do anything but talk, and I am not here on anyone's authority but my own." Felix explained

"I am the leader of a small group dedicated to finding ancient artifacts of great power named, the Paragons. I am trying to find them and seal them away for good so they are not abused. All I am here to ask is for your very own Ava Kurier to join our ranks. Though, we are a small group, granted, and our main enemy is the Catholic Arcanocracy, whose large hand reaches out to even the furthest of nations. We do have a dangerous task and our work is cut out for us. But we have a few advantages on our side. Advantages I might not be able to fully detail here. But one such advantage is that we already possess one of the Paragons." Felix explained in a polite tone, "So... what do you say?"

[User]
"Surely, follow... moi" Nemo replied before leading her upstairs and over to the hall of rooms. "Here we are, take your pick of that one, or that one, or... even that one... maybe this one." He rambled as he began to point out uninhabited rooms, finally opening the door right next to him. "I'm sure there will be something to change into in the closet as well." He said as he pointed to it in the example room. "However beforehand you might fancy a shower, over there. Not sure if you remember showers though. Just turn the knob and water magically reigns down from above. Red for hot, blue for cold." Nemo explained.

"But that should be enough for now, try exploring the rest for yourself. Independence can be an exciting thing. In the meantime, I shall return downstairs." He finalized with a small bow.

Nemo made his way downstairs back to Raiya and Alya. He sat down at the other side of the sofa Raiya was at. "So... how do you like my jammies?" He joked. "I could make some for you too."


[System]
Title(s): Marshal of France

Class: Berserker

Gender: Male

Birth and Death Dates: circa September 1405 to 26 October 1440

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality: A valorous and upstanding man, who believes with all his heart that he was fighting along side Jeanne D'Arc up until the day he died. The Saint had not burned at the stake, but went on to live happily ever after, he did not succumb to madness, that was all just a nightmare, and everything went on as it was before; he was still just a Marshal, and commanded the French army against the English. While seemingly slightly unhinged, he was still striving to be an outstanding knight, and a great Marshal befitting of the mighty French army.

Bio: typemoon.wikia.com/wiki/Saber_(Fate/G…
A knight that served with Jeanne D'Arc during the One Hundred Year war, known as a good tactition and knight as he commanded armies against the English. Though having a number of achievements and being pious, his faith was shattered when the Saint was deemed a heretic and burned at the stake, leaving him to spiral into madness.

Most of the history behind Gilles was correct. However, this version that was summoned was a warped personality wrapped in denial that Jeanne was burned at the stake, thinking it all just a nightmare he had glimpsed. Having rejected any sort of reality and substituting it for his own delusions, he was as stoic and upstanding as the knight he was before her death.

Weapon: Just a sword.

Parameters:

Strength: A

Endurance: B

Agility: B

Mana: C

Luck: C

Class Skills:

Mad Enhancement - Ex
It offers a rank up to his parameters, but fuels his denial and grief into belief of the illusion that nothing else happened to Jeanne. They won the war, attended the King's coronation and lived on happily and honorably until the end. While it allows for him to still act normally, to mention Jeanne at all is to risk breakdown of communications. Depending on what was said, it could range from a small lecture of how she was, or complete and utter destructive blind rage.

Personal Skills:

Military Tactics - C
Tactical knowledge used not for one-on-one combat situations, but for battles where many are mobilized. Bonus modifiers are provided during use of one's own Anti-Army Noble Phantasm or when dealing against an enemy Anti-Army Noble Phantasm.

Gilles raised numerous assaults as an assistant of Jeanne d'Arc. When he is waging an offensive siege battle, he particularly gains a bonus.

Golden Rule(Sacrifices) - B
Being fated a life that is filled with riches.
Having an enormous territory and heritage, he should not have any trouble with money for the rest of his life. Indeed he had holdings rivaling even the richest of his peers, enough that he had bought art, treatises, and any other things that intrigued him and had much more to spare. In spending(sacrificing) his wealth, Gilles can raise his 'combat power', similar to him expending money for more troops when he was alive.

But is that the true extent of this skill. . .?

Prelati's Encouragement - A
It takes the form of STR reinforcement via magecraft but as a cost, his memories of his life after Jeanne's death becomes more and more distinct.

Because of class, the support has been emphasized.

Noble Phantasm:

Name: Marshal's Siege Orders

Title: Let Loose the Dogs of War

Rank: B

NP Type: Anti Fortress

Range: 1-50

Maximum Number of Targets: 100

Description: A Noble Phantasm that pulls from his successful career as a tactician and marshal, summoning an entire French army that will besiege or attack his target for a brief moment. In a combination attack, a myriad of soldiers, siege engines, and other equipments fit to siege a fortified position may be summoned. Outside of actually activating the noble phantasm's true effect, Gilles can perhaps summon a few of these soldiers and equipments at will without any trouble. More effective against targets that are entrenched, fortified, or are other in any such condition that it becomes a 'defense to be overcome'. Especially against defensive positions, it demonstrates an even greater strength.

[User]
Jack
Pelion's Pub, Shinto

@Paradox Witch

-The air changes.

The entry of another being into the bar pings off Jack's last nerve. Slowly, steadily, he had been gaining a sense of ominous events. A feeling of doom.

A sensation of the end of the World.

There exist three other beings besides himself in the bar. One, the newcomer. The catalyst, but not the cause. Another, a patron like me, who came in roughly at the same time. Free from blame.

Lastly. The culprit of this damnable sensation of dread. The one he might've looked more closely at, kept a closer eye on, maybe if he-

No. Hands or no, he knew better. He knew his limits, he knew "what kind of heroic spirit" he was, and he knew, most importantly, that this sensation was not something 'that could be beaten alone'.

The bartender stilled.

There was no time to speak. There was no chance to breathe. There was only a sliver of a moment in which action could allay ruin, could prevent chaos.

Jack was already prepared to move. The sinking feeling had made him leave his chair.

Scooping up the newcomer and the fellow patron so that both were in the crook of his arms, he took off, barreling through the door with his enchanted boots and Fleeing from the bar with all his might.

Why did he grab them? Why not escape alive, guaranteed, on his own?

Damnit, he didn't know. He just knew it was what he -should- do. It was the course of action that a Hero would take.

But all thoughts left him as he felt the roar behind him.

The bar was gone. The bartender was gone. Hope was gone.

And in its place stood a Beast.

"RUN!" Jack yelled at both of the people he had dragged out of the bar, now out of his hold. "Find everyone else! We can't fight this alone!"

With his piece said, Jack vanished as he dashed across the field.

Fran.

He had to find Fran.

He had to find her.

[Assistant]
Christopher Ashbrand

Christopher had stayed mostly silent, for the most part. The host of the meeting had more than reasonable concerns and demands, and for that, he stayed quiet. He almost spoke up when the… doctor spoke, but the utterly delightful response of "Miss Carly-Beth" had more than taken care of his concerns for him. After that, he opened his mouth to speak of his own concerns, but then the Einashe had come in. It seemed that fate was working again-

[Something Utterly Wrong Had Just Occurred]

There was no warning. No explanation. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Nothingcouldnothingcouldnothingcould-

Focus.

He quite nearly screamed down the mental connection with Elissa, and as he did that…

The Worker of Living Stone spoke.

"All of you felt that, yes? Damn the Association, damn those who have left, damn whatever concerns all of you may have brought forth before now. Something wrong has happened, and we need to defeat it, now."

"Before we all die, and nothing would be done anyways."

@Reflection @Sageage @Kyoka @Phonic @ManyThings @Crusader Lord @Froppy @ReallyDumb @DostHou @Argonaut @Cu Chulainn @Paradox Witch @GreenGoat @Scallop @Seirei No Hai @Art of Fun

[User]
Percival Lily
Miyama Town - The Pure Wildlands

Where only one man rested at peace while the world was met with calamity and legends gathered to discuss the repercussions of their presence the silence and undiluted presence of nature was intruded upon by a single boy.

"Hey." he called out. The word was casual, yet the feelings behind them were filled with his trepidation and a twinge of guilt. In life there was no need to think about their meeting, little thought given to the man he slayed to become a knight. No matter the fact that he took his armor, no matter the sins the Red Knight may have committed, or he, Lancer himself.

He set his spear down, the wooden javelin that had grown so large, reaching out with dozens of branches like a small tree, the possibilities and paths that could have been represented with each one. There were many events that shaped him in life, and many events that shaped him in Fuyuki. What was Percival of the Round Table of Camelot was not the exact same person as the one who stood here, but there was an inclination of growth due to the predetermined end and growth that was his legend. A lily was a servant that grew towards the culmination of their journey, and a servant was a concrete completed existence. A lily then was simply a vessel that lacked the last finishing touches that completed it. What it would become was already defined, its shape molded and cast. Yet a end paradoxically was not something promised by virtue of the different could be's that manifest from a journey.

He would without a doubt grow to become Percival the Grail King.

He would without a doubt become simply the Percival of Fuyuki.

What lied at the end of this contradiction?

What branch would bloom? What would the end of him be?

"I'm here. Ither."

He spoke to the one before him, to himself and to the city that wept.

"There's something I need to do." he called out to the knight. "This weight is too heavy to hold. I'm still just a kid, I can't save as many people as a knight. Even if I were a knight, even if I were him it wouldn't be enough. I need to go beyond, I need your help. You're someone who was just a stepping stone for me, someone who I killed before I understood the weight of lives, the meaning of the world and life I wanted to enter.

He stilled his body, the shakes stopped as he looked down at the city. "There are so many deaths I've seen, so many powerful people. Yes, even at my height it isn't enough. If you were the one who managed to bring an ignorant bumbling fool into the life of a knight, then maybe you can help me reach even further?"

He was no longer clad in the clothes that were provided to him by his mother. He was no longer clad in the protection that was the Red Knight. All he had was the spear that represented him, the tree watered by his tears, that grew with his struggles. Yet it wouldn't reach, it can't reach. All he's done was try to clean up after the sins that had occurred.

In a sense he never prevented anything, he never truly saved anyone. Triage at best, nothing but a patchwork response by a boy. He's been guided and directed to try and solve problems. But all he's done was simply cut down the evergrowing weeds that encroached endlessly. What use was that guidance if he couldn't simply stop things before they got bad in the first place?

What use was he if even with such a guidance this was all that he could do?

So he silenced the voices for now.

He confronted Ither alone, whether he would be rejected or accepted. Whether that took the form of words or the crossing of blades.The young boy confronted the man whose guise he wore. If his childhood was marked by his time in the forest, ignorant, then his adolescence surely was when he wore the guise of the Red Knight.

Was he trying to simply reach out for something that wasn't his rightful place? Or would he become what he truly wished for. Perhaps he would die from his foolishness. But then at least it would finally claim him as a victim instead of others.

"You already know, but I'm Percival."

But what did that mean?

[Assistant]
Servant Berserker, Gilles de Rais
Hotspring Meeting, Foreigner's Lowlands.

---

Not even he, under such a thing as the Mad Enhancement, could deny that feeling. Or perhaps it was because of it that he reacted so strongly.

Gilles had stayed silent during the meeting, the same as his Master, pondering the events that happened, as well as the words slung about the place. Even without the Master speaking up, that feeling hit Gilles like a lance from a charging knight. He stood up abruptly, his face darkened by concern.

"Master, I apologize, but I must attend to this first. Tis a foul feeling I had, one no doubt they will have also felt. A dangerous being no doubt bent upon destroying this land."

Nay, he would not let this one go. Not when the people, the civilians, the men, women, and children, were in danger. Whatever it was would not be discriminate in its rampage he could feel. Seeing his Master no doubt still shocked at the development, he trusted enough in the sanctity of the meeting for it to be safe, leaving her there like she wanted.

Almost flying out of the building and wrecking all the doors he touched, Gilles moved quickly towards the highest point that he could see; a tall multistoried building nearby another section of the city. Reaching the top, he stood grimly upon the ledge scanning the area, as about 14 men stood behind him, none wearing the same clothing. Mercenaries, wearing the usual gambeson, chain and helm, each one wielding vastly different weapons. Mercenaries were plentiful during Gilles time after all, and many fought on both the English and French sides.

"Find it."

It was all he said, but it was enough for his men. There was nothing else that could be 'it' besides the source of that feeling, after all. They spread as quickly as they can, spreading around the area as they searched for any sort of anomaly that might produce such a feeling.


[System]
Brute | Level 5

---

-------STATISTICS-------

-------MASTERIES-------

| VIT -- 22 | 60% | BLADES -- D
| MGT -- 10 | 60% | POLEARMS -- E
| SKI -- 5 | 40% | AXES/BLUNT -- C
| SPD -- 8 | 60% | BOWS/RANGED -- E
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 1 | 20% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
| DEF -- 4 | 25% |

---

Traits:

Weapon Familiarity: Effective weapon weight is reduced by one for each relevant weapon rank above E.
Juggernaut: After defeating an enemy with a melee attack, this unit can choose to move onto the tile the enemy occupied, and then make an additional melee attack against another adjacent foe if possible.
Smite: Command, when used shoves the target 1 tile away plus an additional tile for every two points of MGT above target's.

---

* Bronze Hand Axe

	+ MIGHT | 4
	+ ACCURACY | 60
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ CONDITION | 11/20
	+ RANGE | 1-2
	+ SPECIAL | Doubles as a ranged attack
	+ COST | 125

* Bronze Battle Axe

	+ MIGHT | 6
	+ ACCURACY | 65
	+ WEIGHT | 5
	+ CONDITION | 30/35
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ COST | 240

* Iron Battle Axe

	+ MIGHT | 8
	+ ACCURACY | 60
	+ WEIGHT | 8
	+ CONDITION | 45/45
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ COST | 550

* Ancient Blade

	+ MIGHT | 7
	+ ACCURACY | 65
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ CONDITION | 20/20
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | +3 SPIRIT while equipped. Attacks have a 15 + a.SRT - d.RES % chance of petrifying for one turn.
	+ SELL VAL. | 375

 Possessions:
* Vulnerary (1/3)
* 0 Aurums

Personality
* A man of few words with even fewer friends. Not in favor of needlessly violent options. First to jump into the fray and risk it all, eager to bring conflicts to a quicker and safer end.

Backstory
* Hailing from a small mountain village, Lyun set off after repeated sightings of bandits and other kinds of troublemakers. His goal is to make a name for himself, a reputation so undeniably menacing no one could ignore it. Such a priceless treasure would allow his village to live in peace, free from thieving cowards.

[User]
Lyun: "..."

There isn't much to say. Nothing that will sway those left standing into accepting their mistake with dignity, certainly not after all their companions falling.

Lyun moves one tile east, to 20-8.
Attacks Kassite Rebel #9 with his Battle Axe, but misses.
Kassite Rebel #9 counterattacks, dealing 9 damage.
Lyun gains 5xp.

---

[Assistant]
Ninil: "I'll finish this one off!"

Instantly, an arrow flies through the air penetrating the Kassite rebel's throat. He falls to the ground, a puddle of blood quickly forming around him.

Ninil moves 3 tiles to 19-8, hits Kassite Rebel 9 for 6 damage killing him.

[User]
Zarif

The exhausted, demoralized Kassite defenders fell upon the spears, swords, and arrows of the Hellion sellswords, one after another. Expressions of stark fearlessness in defense of their home quickly turned to frenzied panic, as the walls surrounding the Citadel became a deadly inescapable trap.

All battles come to this... Full of honor and glory, until they aren't.
The once-merchant's eyes looked on somberly as they died, so full of fear, little more than boys.

His men now dropping like so many flies, only the commander stood firm, his heavy Bronze Plate shimmering resplendently under the crimson setting sun, masking the torrent of his life's blood poring from the wound Siris had planted deep in his side. The sea of his men, fighting, struggling, dying had surrounded him, getting smaller and smaller, until it now was just him alone, locked in battle against the fearsome spearman Siris.

Sensing an opening, Salador acted before his sentimental master had noticed, and charged through the gap in the archway to the Citadel. Zarif blinked, and knocked an arrow, as the camel leaped over a pile of dead men and broken spears. They ran out behind the General, arrow at the ready, flanking the poor fool.

 Kashtilashu: "BAH! You sellswords lack the honor even for a dual between men? You'd fight for a diseased rat if it payed you!"

 Zarif: Shin ithalkul balat-niel, Doth-shin shagóth-neï malag
The commander blinked back in confusion, trying to divide his attention between both Siris and the nomad. It was a proverb from the land of the Pharaohs. 1 part tin, for ten and one parts bronze. It refered to a fair trade, good business.

Zarif: Is their any honor, in a merchants scales?
The foreigner didn't give the dying man a chance to answer, and loosed his arrow. His attention still on fending off Siris' strikes, it took him in the pack of the neck. With a sudden great shutter, he staggered, and fell to one knee. His voice was pained, and sounded wet with blood and bile,

 Kashtilashu: "Imperial dogs. . ! Your time will come. . .!"

With a crash of heavy bronze on the wet cobbles below, he fell dead, his heavy Axe splitting a small stone as it thudded beside him. Zarif watched, mournful, the deep red sun nearly blinding, as it reflected off his backplate.

Zarif moves to 24-9 and attacks Kashtilashu with his shortbow, hitting and dealing 4 damage, finishing him off, and earning 65xp, and Levels up!.

[Assistant]
IDDIN heals MAKEEN for 9 VIT, gaining 12xp!

MAKEEN moves to 21-8 and attacks KASSITE HUNTER #11 twice dealing 8 Damage and gaining 6xp!

KASSITE PHASECOMMENCE

With the final breaths of their leader, the last Kassite remaining in defiance of the joint effort of Imperial Contracted mercenaries looses their bow toward the brute, that traitorous kinsman who cut down their numbers with little remorse. The arrow flies true. . . But not true enough.

KASSITE HUNTER #11 attacks LYUN with their BRONZE SHORT BOW, dealing 6 damage. LYUN gains 3xp!

HELLIONS PHASE

COMMENCE

---

FOES

KASSITE HUNTER x1
KASSITE BRIGAND #1
VIT 0/20
KILLED BY ASHUR
KASSITE BRIGAND #2
VIT 0/20
KILLED BY SIRIS
KASSITE BRIGAND #3
VIT 0/20
KILLED BY MAKEEN
KASSITE BRIGAND #4
VIT 0/20
KILLED BY MAKEEN

KASSITE REBEL #1
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY ZARIF
KASSITE REBEL #2
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY ASHÜR
KASSITE REBEL #3
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY MAKEEN
KASSITE REBEL #4
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY ZARIF
KASSITE REBEL #5
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY ASHÜR
KASSITE REBEL #6
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY LYUN
KASSITE REBEL #6 - 2 (???)
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY SIRIS
KASSITE REBEL #7
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY LYUN
KASSITE REBEL #8
VIT 0/0
KASSITE REBEL #9
VIT 0/16
KASSITE REBEL #10
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY LYUN
KASSITE REBEL #11
VIT 0/16
KILLED BY BALATHU

KASSITE HUNTER #1
VIT 0/14
KILLED BY ZARIF
KASSITE HUNTER #2
VIT 0/14
KILLED BY BALATHU
KASSITE HUNTER #3
VIT 0/14
KILLED BY ZARIF
KASSITE HUNTER #4
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY LYUN
KASSITE HUNTER #5
VIT 0/14
KASSITE HUNTER #6
VIT 0/14
KILLED BY SIRIS
KASSITE HUNTER #7
VIT 0/14
KASSITE HUNTER #8
VIT 0/14
KASSITE HUNTER #9
VIT 0/14
KASSITE HUNTER #10
VIT 0/14
KASSITE HUNTER #11
VIT 6/14

DARK SUN CAVALIER #1
VIT 19/19
ESCAPED
DARK SUN CAVALIER #2
VIT 0/19
KILLED BY DOAN-NASIR
DARK SUN CAVALIER #3
VIT 19/19
ESCAPED
DARK SUN CAVALIER #4
VIT 0/19
KILLED BY SIM-MA-SIHU
DARK SUN CAVALIER #5
VIT 0/19
KILLED BY RAVINA
DARK SUN CAVALIER #6
VIT 19/19
ESCAPED

KURUM
VIT 1/24
ESCAPED

AM-ZIKAR
VIT 0/18
KILLED BY ZARIF

TRAIT: ALTITUDE CONDITIONING -- Reduced movement penalty to 2 on mountain tiles. +3 Defense when defending from mountain tiles.

TRAIT: ALTITUDE CONDITIONING -- Reduced movement penalty to 2 on mountain tiles. +3 Defense when defending from mountain tiles.

TRAIT: ALTITUDE CONDITIONING -- Reduced movement penalty to 2 on mountain tiles. +3 Defense when defending from mountain tiles.

TRAIT: INDOMITABLE -- Character permanently gains +7 VIT.

TRAIT: MOUNTED -- This unit rides their favored mount, gaining +2 MVT, while being subject to mounted weapon restrictions as well as being disadvantaged by certain weapons and skills. Similarly, a mounted unit may spend whatever MVT remains to reposition directly after attacking, rescuing, using an item, or stealing. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.

TRAIT: MOUNTED -- This unit rides their favored mount, gaining +2 MVT, while being subject to mounted weapon restrictions as well as being disadvantaged by certain weapons and skills. Similarly, a mounted unit may spend whatever MVT remains to reposition directly after attacking, rescuing, using an item, or stealing. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.
TRAIT: DIRE PARRY -- Level/2 + 5% chance to negate all physical damage. 20% maximum

ALLIES

RALLY: SPIRIT+5 To adjacent unit when taking the rally action until end of next turn.

DAUNT: -10 Hit/Critical Rates to enemies within 3 tiles.
PROVOKE: Enemies are more likely to attack this unit.

JUGGERNAUT: After defeating an enemy with a melee attack, this unit can choose to move onto the tile the enemy occupied, and then make an additional melee attack against another adjacent foe if possible.

HURRICANE: If this unit is attacking and preforms a double attack, both attacks will occur before the enemy can counterattack.

PAIRITY: Negates both battle participants' skills, terrain bonuses and supports.

ALACRITY: Level + 1/2 SKI +5% chance of delivering an additional attack.
Forts/Castles
- DEF +2 / AVO +20
- Heal: 20%
- Move cost: 2
- Other details: N/A

Towers
- DEF +1 / AVO +15
- Heal: 0%
- Move cost: 2
- Other details: RANGED class weapons attacks may originate from the top or base of the tower tile, their maximum range is also increased by one when at the top of a tower tile.

Houses / Villages
- DEF +0 / AVO +10
- Heal: 10%
- Move cost: 1
- Other details: N/A

Mountains / Hills
- DEF +2 / AVO +10
- Heal: 0%
- Move cost: 4
- Other details: Mounted units cannot enter this tile type.

Forests/Trees
- DEF +1 / AVO +10
- Heal: 0%
- Move cost: 2
- Other details: Mounted units movement cost is increased to three on forests.

[User]
The assault is over. A single Kassite stands, drawing breath still, defiantly refusing defeat. The brute moves with heavy footsteps, made heavier by his wounds, gesturing for Ninil and Makeen to clear the way. Once him and his kin are face to face, the bowman is lifted by his leather harness and tossed backward. Back, towards the middle of the band and - specifically - towards the young spearman.

Ninil moves one tile south.
Makeen moves two tiles south-east.

Lyun moves five tiles to 23-8.
He smites Kassite Hunter #11 four tiles west.