[System]
Age: 8 years old

Sex: Male

Appearance:
As depicted in the picture above and stands roughly at 3ft 1 inch tall.

Role: Warrior (Scout) and Hunter

Abilities:

* Now you see me... - Due to his irregular choice of apparel, he tends to stand out in a group of normal goblins.
* ...Now you don't. - Even so, he is exceptionally skilled in keeping hidden and moving silently...well for a goblin that is.
* Griz be nimble. - Griz may not be as strong as most of the other warriors, but he sure is one of the fastest and most dexterous of them all.
* Hits *just* right. - Griz's choice of weaponry may not be intimidating like a morningstar or a battle axe, but he sure knows how to use them to maximum effect.
* Hunter's Intuition. - Griz is at home in the wilderness just as he is in the village. He is knowledgable in survival skills as well as hunting skills.
* Pyrophobic. - Due to an incident when he was a youngling, Griz is extremely wary around large open flames.

Clothing/Equipment:

* Black Hooded Cloak. - A cloak made from dyed leather modified to fit a goblin's diminutive size.
* Black Leather Shorts. - A pair of shorts made with dyed leather modified to fit a goblin's diminutive size.
* Cloth Hand and Foot Wraps. - Strips of cloth used to muffle and offer mild protection to the hands and feet.
* Iron Hunting Knife. - A simple single-edged knife meant for hunting animals. Griz's most reliable weapon.
* Wood Short Bow and Arrows. - Mundane bow and arrows made from the wood of the surrounding trees. Griz's favoured weapon.

[User]
It had been three whole months since the incident regarding Griz, the magically enhanced orc, and the ominous dragon pendant. The pendant itself, along with the runed dwarven shortsword, were kept in the shaman's hut for safekeeping. And that was the end of that.

No orcish warband came to avenge their fallen brother, no magical curse/plague befell their village for having the pendant, and, most importantly, no adventurers came looking for the pendant.

It was peaceful.

"Remember, may your prey be beast or person, getting the drop on them almost always guarantees a kill." Griz whispers as he nocks an arrow and draws it back ever so slowly. Making sure that the deer was more focused on the pile of berries he left in the open rather than the goblin hunters hidden in the canopy above. He stays deathly quiet, going so far as to not even breathe at the moment before he loses his arrow. It embeds itself into the creature's upper body. It lets out a pained bawl before dashing off deeper into the woods. "A good clean hit." He says with a smile as he turns to face his hunting companion, Breden. "It won't make it far. Care to show me how good you've gotten with tracking?" Griz asks the younger goblin. Hoping that he'd been helping the younger hunter improve himself during the times he'd asked him to tag along while hunting for the tribe.

[Assistant]
Siwa bristled a bit at being called 'child', although she knew Koglan meant not harm by it. She was going to be a mother soon. In fact, by goblin standards, she already was a mother, since she had clearly conceived younglings in her womb. Still, there was no point in biting the hand which, quite literally, would be feeding her and her family.

"Yes, that looks good. It's plenty for now. Thank you again, Kog" she began to eat, only realizing how hungry she had been once the food started going down her throat. While she had periods where food was scarce before, she absolutely couldn't starve with so many children in her. Her only consolation was that she didn't have to wait nearly as long as human women did to give birth.

"Kog, before I go, when I have given birth... and you want a son of mine to apprentice under you... what sort of things will he have to do? Will I be able to see him every day after he starts working here?"

Breden nodded and spoke as they walked. Three months was worth at least a year to a goblin, and he had learned much. "Let's see. There's a trail of blood, but it doesn't go very far. The deer must have crossed the stream and walked some distance in the shallow water before coming out of the other side. A wounded deer couldn't have gotten very far, but it must have exited the stream in a spot not too steep for it... here." Sure enough, the bloody trail resumed.

"Now, we can follow this, but only so far, as you said. The blood won't stain the dark ground the same way it does the leaves. Since this soil is soft enough for hoofprints, the deer will have left- yes. I got this, follow me." Sure enough, they came upon a wounded deer in a forest clearing.

[User]
Griz couldn't help but smile at the younger goblin.

To think that he had grown so much in just a little over a few months. Breden had great potential to be a great hunter and Griz was proud that he was able to help him on his path. Though upon encountering the stream Griz balked and grew slightly pale. The trauma of being swept away and nearly drowning was still rather fresh but he had to keep composure for the sake of keeping Breden focused on the task at hand. They were on a hunt for the sake of the village and leaving a wounded animal to suffer longer than necessary would upset the Nature Spirits. Keeping a brave face, he resisted the urge to make a dash out of the water and kept following Breden's lead. Sure enough, they encountered their mark once again.

Griz gave Breden a nod to convey the feeling of pride he felt to the up-and-coming hunter. "Excellent job, Breden. Now for the true test." Griz then produces his bow and arrow quiver and hands it to him. "Take the shot, young hunter. May the Ancestor Spirits guide your hand."

[Assistant]
"May the ancestor spirits of good archers guide my hand indeed" Breden took the shot, hitting the deer in the side and bringing it down, mortally wounded. Its death came not even a minute later. "Thanks for letting me use your bow. Looks like the ancestor of someone who could shoot an injured deer was looking out for me. Maybe I had a father who was good at this. Or grandfather or something." Breden walked over to the deer and took out a small knife.

"So, how are we dividing this? Half and half?" He had brought it up with Griz earlier, but the discussion about how to split the quarry was delayed, as the point was to teach Breden how to hunt, not to talk about dividing the meat which they hadn't killed yet.

[User]
"Maybe, Breden. Maybe." Griz says with a chuckle as he takes his bow back from the younger goblin. "But you've got potential. So, chin up! You've got your whole life ahead of you." This wasn't empty flattery to help raise the young hunter's self-confidence. He'd hunted with goblins older than he was that still have difficulty with tracking down a wounded prey. Breden not only managed to keep track of it on land but even when the trail ran cold still managed to find it.

Griz then approached Breden just before he began dressing the now dead deer. "Half and half is fair. You want help with the deer?" Griz held no doubt that Breden could have done the whole deer by himself but they were burning daylight and Griz really disliked the idea of toting a freshly killed deer in the middle of a dark forest when all the nocturnal predators come out to play.

[Assistant]
Koglan sat and drank his sweet water while Siwa ate. He watched her and nodded slowly, "Remember Siwa if you grow hungry my hut and forge are open to you. Come by any time you wish. Ignore any looks any of the other goblins give you. You are always welcome here." He took another drink and stood as Siwa began to leave. Her question though was something he had felt coming.

For a moment Koglan thinks, "It will be a long time before your son can even work the metal that a smith is known for using. From the start he will be fetching me tools, I will teach them about the fire, about how metal reacts to it, of how to properly handle the billows and the forge. For months he will spend time here everyday watching and fetching tools. Then after months learning how to smith the essentials of a tribe. Things like nails, shovel heads and utensils. He will have spent atleast 8 months in the forge doing those small jobs as an apprentice before his master, myself, would give him the job of creating his journeyman project, which is to forge his own tools, tools that he will use throughout his journeymanship, where he will learn how to forge weapons, small blades and arrowheads and armors. And finally after another 8 months, I as his mentor will give him the job of creating his masterwork, creating a weapon, or a piece of armor that will solidify his style and his name as a master smith."

He nods, "Through out all of this there will always be time for you to come and visit him. In fact I fully expect you to come and teach him about life in the tribe. For is that not the job of the mother? I can teach him the ways of the smith. But I was taught the ways of the tribe by my mother." He chuckles, "He will be my son and apprentice, but he will also be your son still. I cannot take that away from you Siwa." He nods and smiles, "I have spoken on this. You may still come and go after the birth to see our son. Yes." He nods, "Is this to your liking Siwa?"

[User]
"Yeah. We'd better get this meat back to the village before the scavengers get it" Breden had lost enough food to scavenging animals before to know that it was a real problem. The two goblins took one side each and hauled the fallen deer all the way back to the village. It wasn't easy work, and both had worked up quite the sweat, and an appetite. Still, there was more work to be done. On the way back, several female goblins turned to look at them. They had expected Griz to bring back this type of quarry, but Breden was another story.

"Is that-"

"Looks like him."

"-didn't think he had it in him."

"Wonder what else he's got."

"Think he'd hunt for me if we paired up for a night?"

Breden only picked up snippets of the conversations, but he got the gist of it. It felt good to be wanted by females, even though their desire was better described as interest at this point. Trying hard to focus, he turned back to Griz.

"So, we gonna cut this up in your hut? I don't have the blades you do."

"That sounds fair. As long as you teach him how to do the things you do. I mean- I want my boy to have a good life, and that I'd have at least one son of mine who isn't going to be at risk fighting or hunting. Not that I wouldn't be proud of a son who's a great warrior or a hunter- I want that- but I also don't want to risk losing too many of them. You should know that I've accepted that I'm probably going to live to see a few of my children die before I do, assuming I live even a few years more. And yes, that setup you described is indeed to my liking, thank you."

She smiled at him. "And of course, I will be sure to avail myself of your food and drink, for the good of my family. I have spoken on this."

[Assistant]
As the two passed by the seven goblinesses he too overheard snippets of the conversation the group had regarding them. It was good to know that at least some of the females were recognizing Breden as a possible mate. Griz would have given the young goblin a pat on the back for achieving that but they were both busy toting around a dead deer. A few moments of silence passed before the younger goblin asked if they were going to cut up the deer at his place. "Yep. Got a flint knife that cuts well." Griz says offhandedly as they made the turn towards the back of his hut.

Sparse as it may have been, it gave them more than enough room to butcher and skin the deer. "Alright give me a second." The older goblin says as he tied a rope to the deer's lower half and climbed up a small tree to lay the rope across a sturdy branch so that they could hoist the carcass up with relative ease. "Breden, get the knife and the big wooden bowl from inside my hut while I tie the rope to secure the deer."

[User]
Breden got the knife and bowl. "Here you are. You sure that will hold it?" He saw the veteran goblin string it up, as he had surely done to prey many times before. "Guess it will." They proceeded to butcher the carcass, working quickly to get at the meat while it was still good. They both knew they'd have to cook it if they wanted any of it to be preserved. Although goblins could safely consume meat which was more rancid than what humans could tolerate, they weren't devoted carrion feeders like vultures. Hence, they still had to keep in mind the dangers of spoiled food.

"We should eat some of this stuff as soon is its off the deer, but if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to cook some of it. Maybe we can do that together as well. You showed me how to start a fire, after all. Or how to start one effectively, at least."

[Assistant]
"Well sure. Let me show you a trick the older hunters use when they need to make a fire quickly." Griz says as he helps Breden set aside the meat, fur, and bones of the deer. He takes the flint knife and his reforged iron dagger and gestures for the younger goblin to follow him to the firepit near the center of the area. "Trick is that if I scrape the back of the flint knife with the iron knife, it'll make sparks." Griz then demonstrates the trick and well enough he manages to make sparks in a short span of time. "Why don't you give it a try?"

While Breden would get the fire started, Griz would assemble his smoking rack. Griz also ties long sections of bark to tie onto the thing so the smoke wouldn't dissipate quickly or be affected by the stray gust of wind.


[System]
"The Delinquent"

Age: 18
Rank: C

Bio: Originally a country boy, Yunosuke moved across Japan as he grew up, living in several small rural towns before settling in Tokyo, where the bright lights and urban temptations proved to be a huge distraction for the highschool aged boy. Back in the sticks, he was known for being a hothead punk who was much too scrawny to finish any of the fights his mouth managed to get him into. He emulated the gunslingers and noir heroes of his favorite films but failed to deliver on both the charisma and skill. Where they got witty one-liners, he had a mouthful of marbles and a vocabulary that was 80% obscenities and empty threats. Always the instigator, he would pick fights just to keep himself amused.

He mellowed out some in Tokyo, if only because that shit can get you killed in the city, but he retains all the most endearing qualities of a delinquent. Despite a bad attitude and some misplaced aggressions, Yunosuke does have some redeeming qualities, such as a code of honor that makes sense to nobody but him (though it keeps him out of doing anything truly idiotic) and a charitable nature.

As a human with a strange ability, he was recruited to fight alongside a yokai in the constant struggle against berserks.

Powers/Abilities: Able to manipulate smokes and gasses, Yunosuke found that he can also turn himself into a gaseous state, though that ability is still vastly untested and unstable. He can transform individual body parts with no issue, but finds full-body conversion quite difficult. He carries a few mixtures with him to be used in combat situations.

---

"The Natural"

[User]
"am I good at catching frogs? of course! spending most of my time at my family's countryside residence, was probably the most fun I had." Hattori responded in kind. The large, frog like Berserker was already showing itself to be a rather troublesome creature. He watched it it move, carefully observing the creature for any weaknesses, weak spots or openings, but sighing at Yunnosuke's sloppy dodge. He noticed it's erratic movements and jerking twitches, something seemed off about this beast to him. as Yunnosuke asked him to keep the beast busy, Hattori gave him a thumbs up and started to move towards the Berserker. "Hey! big, slimey and ugly! You want to fight right? Well let me show you just how I deal with insects like you" Hattori stated, arrogance mixing with his already confident demeanor. The Berserker took notice of Hattori and carefully watched him move in. Hattori smiled, both his palms erupted into red flames. "Orochi Flame burst!" pushing both palms forward, Hattori generated a blast of red fiery flames at the creature. By surprise, the creature narrowly moved out of the way, one it's arms getting caught in the fire as it was burnt to cinders. Hattori smiled as he then moved in, the Creature in a panicked frenzy started to flail wildly. Effortlessly, Hattori dodged each swipe from the claw, tail and kick. His right arm changed into a crude, scythe like blade. "Muramasa Blood Gift: Shinigami Slice!" He stated once again before quickly shooting forward from mid air, slicing off the other arm of the Berserker. Hattori smiled. "This thing is a walk in the park."

Hattori turned around. "Looks like you've got no one to, give you a hand I see" Hattori mocked the armless monster. However, the Berserker grinned, it's shoulders twitching rapidly and very erratically until it produced newly regenerated arms. Hattori stood there, not sure what to say. "Well...okay...shit..."

[Assistant]
Yunosuke had to collect his jaw from the metaphorical floor after seeing Hattori chop up that Berserker like it was cheap meat at the butcher's. The actually action wasn't exactly what had drawn his attention. He'd seen enough movies to know what slicing the limbs off a giant frog would probably look like. No, it was more to do with the brazenness of calling out attack names as though he was a half-cocked young hero in an anime. Yokai could get away with that shit. Their ancestors passed on the names, and generations upon generations added the subtitles, and even that still didn't diminish the coolness of the technique. He smirked a little bitterly.

Credit where credit's due, I guess. He did turn his arm into a scythe.

Regardless, he didn't have time to think about it. Unfortunately, though not wholly unexpectedly, the Berserker was able to regenerate after the attack. That suggested some really inopportune stuff about their opponent's physiology and levels of power, but the delinquent was still sure his plan would work. Brute force wasn't gonna win the battle today, so he had to be a crafty underdog tactician, which was a phrase he sort of wanted tattooed across his chest.

He reached the top of the stack of crates and pulled a cigarette from his pants pocket with one hand and his lighter from the inside of his jacket with the other. He lit the cigarette as he surveyed the battlefield, taking a few deep drags upon watching the frog beast regrow its arms. They were covered in some sort of slime like you see in bad horror shows, and it twitched even more erratically than before. That might become a problem, honestly, but he figured they'd see in time.

"Alright, Hattori. Thanks for the distraction!" he called out to his partner as he pulled the cigarette from his lips and raised it above his head. He tried his best not to sound too condescending, but he was full with a cocky eagerness to see this plan finally come into action. "You've chosen a fine tomb, beast," he addressed the Berserker with all the menace he could muster, "And it's time to lay you to rest." With a flick of his wrist, Yunosuke concentrated on the thin trail of smoke produced from the burning tip of his cigarette and managed to extract a plume, burning up the rest of the cylinder and sending the smoke skywards into the sprinkler system up ahead. The detectors sensed what it mistook as fire, and soon the whole warehouse sputtered to life under a curtain of artificial rain.

"This is the Rain-Slick Gambit Number One: Industrial Coffin!"

Or something.

It had looked a lot cooler in his head. He didn't end up resembling a drowned rat in the conceptual trial runs, but it seemed to be doing its job so far. The Berserker hadn't expected it, clearly, and it began to frantically jump around the enclosed space. Yunosuke wasn't sure how long that'd last, so he leaped down from his perch and addressed Hattori as he ran.

"While this thing is freaking out on us, I want to trap it. Get to one of those forklifts, if you can. I'm going to lead it into the center of one of these stacks, and if you topple some of these boxes onto it with that lift, we can see what sort of damage we're able to do to it while it's pinned," he was headed into the direction of the convulsing frog while he shouted, and thought to add one useful tidbit, "Don't worry about catching me in the avalanche. Just give me a heads up and I'll turn myself to smoke and slip right outta there."

He slid to a halt in front of the Berserker, taking into account just how slippery concrete got against his worn-out sneakers. Yunosuke cracked his knuckles and stared down his foe before punching it right between the eyes. He was surprised he managed to get in a hit. Admittedly, the monster looked rather taken aback, too. The shower was definitely having an effect on the creature, slowing its reaction times in favor of more mindless hopping. That seemed to end the moment his fist made contact with its skin. Skin? Face. The Berserker narrowed its eyes and let out a monstrous croak, leaping forward in pursuit of its prey. Yunosuke ran as fast as his legs would take him, and it still wasn't fast enough. He expected as much. He took a hit to his back, which sent him stumbling onto his hands and knees. Trying to keep his composure, he scrambled and did his best baseball slide under the beasts' belly and managed a two-legged kick which sent the Berserker back to bounding.

It was good timing, too, because Yunosuke was starting to feel the effects of the spirit world once more. That overhanging sense that everything was monstrous and inhumane was messing with his head a bit. He wasn't entirely sure if the water was throwing him off his game, or if the subtle differences between this reality and his own were causing him problems, but he knew he was faring much worse against the Berserker, physically, than his partner. It didn't seem like poisoning or blinding was really gonna do any good against a demon frog, and that was what he was best at. Pulling himself back to his feet, he took a small box and threw it in the direction of the monster, trying to buy Hattori a few more moments to get situated.

[User]
"This is the Rain-Slick Gambit Number One: Industrial Coffin!"

Hattori stood blankly as the sprinklers sprung to life, drowning the sludgy tar slime covering the berserker. "I...I'm not going to question the name, just going to roll with it" Hattori muttered, as he looked on, observing the creature. It twitched and convulsed more wildly this time as if the water was burning it, steam rising from it's body. Hattori listened carefully to the plan from his partner; get a forklift and proceed a warehouse style avalanche of boxes upon the berserker to trap it. Hattori nodded to Yunnosuke.

The Berserker itself could feel the burn, especially after the kick from Yunnosuke that exposed its belly. He quickly moved back to an upright stance, taking a box directly in the face. The creature gave out a blood curdling roar, flailing and sprinting towards the delinquent with rage and pain filling its ever pore.

Hattori had managed to find A Forklift not far from the center. He looked around for keys but to no avail none could be found. Taking off the front panel, Hattori began to hotwire the operative machine towards a stacked pile of boxes. As the forklift smashed into them, the boxes began to topple quickly, bringing down more of the stacks than Hattori first initially thought. Hattori smirked and soon moved back around the center to meek Yunnosuke.

The creature had leapt mid air at the young hunter, too late in claiming him for his next meal he was piled upon by box after box, the piles narrowly missing Yunnosuke. "Hey, Yunnosuke? You okay?" Hattori asked, seeing his partner and the berserker trapped underneath the toppled pile. "Glad it missed you, huh?" He stated, placing both hands in his pockets as he marched towards the frog like berserker. "A D-class Berserker with regenerative healing capabilities and a thick slimey coating to boot. I guarantee the slime was helping it heal." He explained as he knelt beside, watching the steam slowly dissipate as the sprinkler system began to wane. "It hates water. Seems to wash away the slime and burn it's skin. We should have a better chance at it now though." Hattori smirked, his left hand changing to a rather crude looking sickle, and his right holding an orb of red flame.

[Assistant]
The fact that his on the fly strategizing had actually managed to turn the tide of the battle had admittedly gone straight to Yunosuke's head. Had they not needed to finish off the beast, he knew he would be smirking like a fat cat in a tuna factory. As it stood, his heart still hammered rapidly as he pulled himself free from the one crate that had gotten a little too close.

"Do you want to do the honors or should I?" the punk cracked his knuckles and scowled at the Berserker, ready to finally grind it into a fine paste.

As he said that, the massive creature shifted under the weight of the avalanche and slowly rose to its full height. Yunosuke noticed a change in its demeanor. Its eyes had lost the crazed swivel and it seemed wholly incapable of recapturing its former frenetic pace. However, as the human soon found out, looks could be deceiving.

The Berserker bellowed and lashed out with its massive forelegs, causing Yunosuke to duck for cover and crow, "You've gotta to better than th-"

His sentiment was cut short as he felt something sickeningly warm and moist above his foot. With a disgusted grunt, he looked down to find its tongue wrapped around his ankle. Maybe standing directly in front of the beast wasn't exactly the best course of action. I'm just an unarmed human, though. You'd think it would be more worried about the yokai with a bladed hand and a fistful of fire, he grumbled. Without wasting another second, Yunosuke stomped directly down on the mucus-laden tongue that had made itself a soggy manacle and leaped away the moment it retracted with a shriek.

"Come on, Hattori. Let's put an end to this clown!"

Admittedly, he wasn't sure how much more help he could be, seeing as his normal tactic of blinding and gassing wouldn't work too well here, but he knew if Hattori started swinging that edge around, he could sneak up behind for some close quarters finishers.


[System]
Theme:
Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

Gender:
Female

Species:
Lessereurm

Appearance:
Green with blue mixed in.
She looked like a fantasy version of a skink lizard, her head being more bony with scaly outcrops along her snout and over the ridges on her eyes. Though she had no back legs, her front limbs had become somewhat longer and stronger. While she didn't have true thumbs, her claws had been reduced to three digits, two of which were longer and the third of which was shorter, thicker, and set at an angle to the others. It was a bit like a human's hand making a constant "Spock-hand" by holding the index-middle and pinky-ring fingers in pairs and curling the thumb. The joints of these "fingers" and the natural curl of her claws gave her a stronger grip that she could feel even as she began to pull herself along the ground--she would be able to pull, or to scoop and dig, quite fast if she felt so inclined. She was roughly twice as long as her previous form, though not so heavy-set throughout her body. As her tail instinctively lashed behind her, she would likely feel confident that she could easily contort herself in a variety of shapes.

Goals:
Rain has only a few major goals:
-Follow any instructions from the mysterious Demon King
-Make the most of this second chance, no matter the cost
-Become the King's favorite, at any cost (selfish reasons, really)

Past Life:
There were few things more important to Rain in her short life than secrecy, alertness, and speed. She was not stronger than most, she was not at healthy as most, but with those three key factors helped to keep her alive and ahead in the dirty streets of an unnamed slum deep in the heart of Detroit.

Born to teen parents who didn't want her, it was a life of hardship from the start. She looked to her parents and was left wanting, before being abandoned at the age of six. She was a street urchin with a lack of trust and a thirst for better.

She scraped by, year after year, by honing these skills and not being afraid to be ruthless with the other filth left in the gutter, the gangs and the deranged.

Her life, however, was cut short by someone just a bit smarter and faster than she was, who happened to slip a knife between her ribs at the age of 16.

Given a second chance, she's going to do it right this time.

Transformations:
Fanged Lizard -- Lesserwurm

Inventory:

[User]
---

The onslaught was coming. The horde of Goblins on the way was about to completely assault the group at the Bonfire. It was time to prepare, and time to fight. He knew what to do if the situation was dire, but he needed to prepare for the assault. It was time to move, dangit!

Digbie grabbed as many rocks as he could from the ground as he looked at Mourningstar. "Well... I wish you luck. Please hurry back, Mourningstar!" His voice was just as silly and jovial as he normally was, despite the pressure of the situation bearing down on the goblin. Immediately after, Digbie ran towards the rest of the group and went to a small area, where he dropped all the rocks he had picked up. He went over to the bonfire pile afterwards and grabbed three Mana Crystals and ran back towards his little area that he had, placing the crystals down there beside it. He ran around the area about him and got a few more rocks before he just ran back to the alcove, even stopping by the <Stone Spike
TM
> he threw a bit earlier to use one final time. It would probably crack afterwards, but he was ready to use it.

Hopefully he wouldn't have to use more than he had to.

Stacked up a bunch of rocks in a location to fire away with (Specifically 15 rocks at J-9 on map).
Put three Mana Crystals next to the ammo pile (also on J-9).
Ran to get the <Stone Spike
TM
> back to use as a javelin once more.

---

+ {Use Light Equipment]
+ {Tremor Sense - Tier II}
+ {Soil Manipulation - Tier I}
+ {Stone Shot - Tier I}
+ <Curved Rock
TM
>
+ <Ratskin Pack
TM
>
- Mana Crystal
- Mana Crystal
- Mana Crystal
- <Woodland Pick
TM
>
- EMPTY
- EMPTY
- 15 Rocks
- 3 Mana Crystals
- <Stone Spike
TM
>

[Assistant]
And now it was time to begin the attack. Rattleskull was thankfully not so thick headed as to not let Orchid and her goblins take the lead for scouting, though this was merely a pretense; she just wanted to get into the cave and find her lizard friend before the rest of the horde does. Adjusting the straps to her shield and giving a few tested thrusts with her club, Orchid leads her troops inside. But before she goes too far, she also preps her sling; she puts a stone in her sling and has it in her shield hand. This way she could easily drop her club, take out her sling, and hurl a stone if she needs to hit something far away.

When they got into the cave the first thing Orchid noticed was the smell of death. Something was killed here recently. Sure enough one of her goblins reported that one of the other goblins tried to go inside and got killed. "Must be from the monsters… No doubt they've set up a trap here. Move carefully." Of course just as she says this they were attacked by a red slime. Fortunately her goblins managed to survive the initial attack, and two more stuck their spears into it to keep it in place. Orchid scanned it with her Monster Analysis ability while she moved in to attack. She had no time to waste dealing with these small fries.

"SMASH!" Orchid shouted as she slammed her trench club into the slime, careful to avoid smashing her weapon against the spears of her fellow goblins, but still hitting a sizable portion of the slime. "You younglings! Smash him with you torches!" She barked orders as she looked to the goblin who was knocked off balanced. "You! Watch out for traps or ambushes. Poke the ground with your spear, make sure there's no spikes or holes." Orchid remembered how she managed to lure some goblins into a makeshift caltop trap the day before; she wasn't about to fall for the same trick herself.

"Keep your shields up! Don't drop them or you will die!" And sure enough Orchid would show them how to do that, covering a vast majority of her body with her shield while she smashes the slime. Only her arm and weapon was exposed, and she made sure to utilize the full reach of her weapon so that even if the slime would try and lash out at her, Orchid's arm would already retreat back behind her shield.

Health - Mostly Full
Magic - Full
Stamina - Mostly Full

Skills -
Use Light Equipment (--)
Pacify Animal I (1.0)
Stronger I (1.4)
Crafting IV (4)
Material Analysis I (1.15)
Monster Analysis I (1.0)
Smash I (1.0)

Inventory -
Raw Dire Rat Hide (Equipped)
Loincloth (Equipped)
Stone Spiked Club (Good) (Equipped)
Wicker Shield (Well Made) (Equipped)
Plant Fiber Sling (Loaded) (Slung)
Rawhide Bag (8/12) (Equipped)
* Hard Stones x2
* Herbs x3
* Antidote Fern
* Fiber Cordage (Average)
* Bloody Garrote

Leaf Sling Bag (1/3) (Equipped to Rawhide Bag)
* Sling Stones x4

[User]
---

@Gardevoiran@King Cosmos@Kazemitsu@SilverPaw@Searat

Jason lightly chuckled at Asura's comment, fortunately for the group, this highly unstable explosives were extremely common in his home country.  'Don't worry Asura,' he responded through [Telepathy II],  'I have MUCH more experience with dangerous explosives than most.'

As his 'brother' headed off into the shadows with M.S., Jason heard a faint, child-like scream off in the distance. What it was, the slime mage couldn't tell, but one thing was certain: the goblins were on the move.

As of now, it appeared as if the goblins were only at the entrance, and making slow forward progress.  Good, this meant he still had a tiny bit of time to work on his psionics.  With how close he was to finishing the development of his 'psychic field' ability, Jason figured that he had just enough time to complete the skill.

Focusing his mind, Jason began channeling [Tremor Sense II] and [Telepathy II] from where he left off; where the skill had finally started aligning with the same sort of energy fluctuations that he felt from Telepathy.   Then, as if slowly turning a dial, the slime mage gradually continued to further the alignment.

The warlord was determined to continue channeling until one of three things happened;

1- He got the skill

2- The light from the torches drew too close for comfort (about row E)

3- Attacked by a 'random encounter'

As Jason poured all his will and mana into his 'psychic field', he desperately hoped that his gamble would be worth it, if not, this could be the end of both him, and his allies.

(In the event that he runs out of mana before any of the three conditions are fulfilled, Jason will consume one of the mana crystals in his inventory)

[Assistant]
Oberon did not get in Mourningstar's way this time, letting her fly past him rather than try and block her again. Though he didn't like the idea of her heading off alone, he sensed that their conversation had come to an end and unless he was willing to physically keep her from leaving or go with her there was little more he could do. Besides, if she was going to be spending time with the other wisps in the cave then she should be fine; she was just trading out one group for another, assuming that the other wisps accepted her. With a sigh he turned away from Mourningstar's retreating form and began the walk back to the bonfire, grabbing her discarded sack of mana crystals as he did so.

During the quiet walk something that the wisp had said kept repeating itself in his head, about how if she stayed who she was before she was sure to die; something about that idea made him uneasy, probably because it applied to him just as much as it did to her. "It's not like the rest of us are doing any better. My old life didn't exactly prepare me for this kind of situation."

In his absence the bonfire seemed to have experience a flurry of activity. The corpses that had been strewn about from their earlier battles were mostly gone, one of the lizards was practicing with their poison spit, the rats were grouped together to one side and the green slime he had healed earlier… well, he seemed to have changed considerably. Now sporting a wizard hat-shaped protrusion and a gel flap cape the only thing he was missing was a staff and he would look the part of the classical wizard class, just in slime form. How or why such a change had occurred was a mystery to him, one that Oberon sought to solve by using Magic Analysis on the slime.

Otherwise, as usual, there didn't seem to be anything of urgent importance for Oberon to do; no-one seemed to be dying at the moment so his healing abilities weren't required and everyone looked to be getting along perfectly fine with whatever it was they were working on.

Setting down his sack of mana crystals near to the bonfire, as well as the ones he was still holding from earlier, Oberon sat down next to it with his back to the fire pit and considered what he should do. Continue his experiments was the obvious answer, but with an attack from the remainder of the Goblin's imminent it was important to prioritise and think about what he could accomplish in the time he had to work with that would benefit him and the rest of the group.

He could potentially develop a working version of the Minor Regeneration skill in that time, but with his various Shield spells and Minor Heal it was probably redundant at the moment; though still something he wanted to work on later. Beginning his experiments with the flame-touched mana crystal was potentially more useful if it resulted in a fire-based spell that he could use in the upcoming battle, but given that he would be starting from scratch he likely wouldn't have enough time to make anything workable.

No, increasing his offensive options was the right way to go about this but he needed another way to do it that he could manage in a short time frame. Given that he now had Mana Shape in a complete form to work with it was probably best that he continue trying to create a version of Mana Orb with piercing properties.

With that decided Oberon wasted no time, quickly forming the spherical shape of a Mana Orb between his hands before attempting to warp its shape using his new Mana Shape ability. He flattened and lengthened the mana, stretching it thin as he had tried to do before, finding the process much easier now that he had a spell to help guide the process. When he had a long and thin bar of mana formed between his hands, thicker in the middle and rounded at each end like a stretched out oval, he attempted to sharpen the end that was not pointed at himself. Once this was complete he let the attempted Mana Arrow fly.

Collected Mourningstar's discarded sack of crystals
Returned to bonfire
Used 'Magic Analysis' on Jason
Returned to practicing 'Mana Dart' by combining 'Mana Orb' with 'Mana Shape'

[User]
Rain frowned internally, mildly disappointed at the failures but pleased at what she'd figured out. She needed to figure out a way to put more.... Breath?.... Into the blow, but she didn't really know how to go about that.

Glancing at the flickering lights that could only be Goblins torches, Rain made a choice.

One last experiment, and then she'd wait for the attack.

She would try her techniques from before, but try moving her head at varying moderate speeds when she blew out to see if that got the needed oomph behind the venom.

Perhaps she just didn't have the breath capacity needed yet....a concern she couldn't help but note as a possibility.


[System]
Merchant

---

Level 3

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

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

| VIT -- 22 | 75% | BLADES -- E
| MGT -- 6 | 50% | POLEARMS -- D
| SKI -- 8 | 55% | AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 9 | 55% | BOWS/RANGED -- C
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 | 5% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
Secondary Statistics

WGT -- ?
ACC -- ??
AVO -- ??
RES -- ??
CRT -- ??

---

Traits:

- 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. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.
- CELERITY: Movement +2.

---

* Bronze Short Spear

	+ MIGHT | 3
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 3
	+ CONDITION | 24/30
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 190

* Bronze Short Bow

	+ MIGHT | 2
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 2
	+ CONDITION | 18/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | +5% Critical Rate, Cannot be used with shields
	+ COST | 275

* Bronze Sling

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 85
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ CONDITION | 10/10
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 60

* Bronze Crossbow

	+ MIGHT | 5
	+ ACCURACY | 90
	+ WEIGHT | 7
	+ CONDITION | 30/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 470

Possessions: Vulnerary (1/3), 190 AU

Personality/Appearance
Zarif is a man of 22 years and 7 moons, standing just under 6 feet tall, and never seen far from his Camel, Salador. With skin paler than most and strange clothing, Zarif is one who attracts a passing interest in some, and a scornful look from others. Not accustomed to the lands of Akkad or their strange gods, Zarif tends to appear bit naive about its ways and customs, though this is often a ploy used to lower people's guards to his cunning. Still a salesman at heart, Zarif always does his best to strike a good deal.

Backstory
Born in the distant lands beyond the endless desert to the west, Zarif was raised to be a Merchant like his father, and took to it quickly. When he was old enough, his father bought him his own Camel, and Zarif quickly bonded with the animal, whom he named Salador, and has been inseparable ever since.

Having heard stories of a mythical "Golden Land" beyond the desert, with cities paved with gold, armies so large that drank rivers dry, and a king who was both a god and a giant, Zarif joined a merchant caravan to cross the seemingly endless desert. After many moons, with the lands they had been traveling to, with the destination almost within grasp, the caravan was set upon by raiders. Nearly dead and robbed blind, a mercenary company crossed paths with the bloody scene, and managed to save Zarif and Salador. Trapped in this strange land, and with no way to return home, Zarif joined the company, and has been with them for 3 years.

[User]
After getting a good look at the battlefield, Siris was surprised to notice that between the efforts of himself and his allies the creatures had already been completely defeated.

Siris: Huh, this was even easier than expected.

While Siris's self confidence increased even more than it originally was, he heard what sounded like a man yelling. It was coming from one of the corridores, but after he saw some of his allies go towards the noise he figured there was no reason to bother himself going to check it out as well.

Seeing a staircase nearby, Siris begins to curiously walk towards it.

Siris moves 1 tile to 25-11

[Assistant]
This was a crucial moment for Etor. Depending on what his next actions and words were the rest of his life would be altered forever. The whole mission had culminated to this single moment and now that it had arrived Etor was not one to shy away from destiny.

Etor: "Ood Job too Lyun!"

Etor had flashed the stoic mammoth of a man a wide earnest smile. He quickly killed the smile and shuffled past Lyun into the ruins. Lingering in the moment would only cheapen it so Etor got back to the objective at hand. He didn't progress much farther into the temple when he heard the faint yells of a man and saw Siris investigating some stairs.

Etor: "So much going on in here."

Etor moves 6 tiles to 25-14

[User]
The brute keeps walking without much pause after the earlier kill. He gives Etor a nod in passing, marking the end of their interaction. Encouragement without snark is a rare commodity in the world of mercenaries and, despite not being talkative, Lyun has never believed tough love to truly work. The kid did his part and that is plenty.

Despite his companions easing up as most creatures lay in a pool of their own blood, he remains focused. His faster allies probably won't need his help. With nothing else going on, however, "probably" isn't good enough for him.

Lyun moves six tiles to 24-13, just past the pile of Yeek corpses.

[Assistant]
Iddin breathes deeply, bringing himself to the end of his incantation. Truly, it is a grand experience to ascend into such a higher state of being where he can feel at one with the greatest god. However, the servile world of man sadly requires focus of its own. The last of his bizarre ritual's effects still linger in the air. Iddin carefully prances around the dead Yeeks, making sure not to stain his robes with their blood. The priest contorts quickly, creating a brief whistle, and calls to his companions.

Iddin: "My allies! Bring your weary bodies, worn by fighting, to my side. I will bring you peace with the grace of Zuzu. Come and let not cruel wounds do what your foes could not."

Iddin moves six tiles to 24-12, passively casting Inspiration.

[User]
A job well done, or perhaps not. Just as he began to put down his bow, he spotted something. Though the bulk of the fell-beasties lay defeated at their feet, out of the corner of his eye, Zarif could see one last creature turn the corner down the hall.

Zarif: "Hail, Ma-keen! Be careful, another lays in wait ahead!"
He shouts, pointing at the corner the Yeek had just rounded.

Not one to leave a job unfinished, Zarif kicked Salador into action, flying down the crumbling ancient hallway in a few bounds, bow drawn and at the ready. He stops right in front of the barred door. Hearing the withered voice, he looks into the room from Salador's back.

Zarif: "I know you not, but its seems to be your lucky day friend. Who... ah I see. You're one of Shůlaar's band, aren't you?"
He exclaims, giving a smile before glancing at the corner, getting ready for an attack.

Zarif rides 10 tiles to 13-11, right in front of the door


[System]
Photo:
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Abilities:

-Magic: Yes, simply magic. Inherited from his father Merlin.

-Shaolin Martial Artist

-Ability Creation: Able to create any ability. Only able to use it for 10minutes. Can only create Fire Manipulation, Water Manipulation, Wind Manipulation and Space-Time Manipulation, after 10 mins are up, he becomes fragile, and for Space-Time Manipulation he can only use two ability which is Event Negation and Teleportation. It can negate any event but he can only use it twice a day.

-Aura Manipulation: He dosent have full mastery over it. Something like what Lucario (pokemon) does.

-Lucifer Sync Versions:

"Forced Sync": Increases Attack Enourmously but decreases Defense Drastically
"Incomplete Sync" Increases Defence and Offense Enourmously, Decreases Speed.
"Perfect Sync" Increases Atk, Def, and Spd drastically and unlocks all of Lucifers ability. Available nit until later.
"Neo Sync" Transforms into Lucifer comoletely. Nit available until later.

Note: Each Sync unlocks one of Lucifer's Abilities.

How could you work in a team: He is extremely resourceful, and very strategic. Can provide support.

Personality: Deus is a very kind person. He likes to play sports and loves a good spar. He has been studying the Shaolin Martial Arts and has half mastered it. When his friends get hurt he becomes a whole other person.

History: Let's just say he's an orphan for now, the rest is TBR

Other: EDIT: Forgot to add that his most trusted weapon is tthe Kusanagi-No-Tsurugi. If I need to change anything just tell me.

[User]
@floodtalon@Slendy@BranchOfSin

Reina sighed. Still not looking at Cornelia, the archmage spoke with slight irritation in her voice, her patience being tried. "It's not arrogance if my pride is warranted. Stay your hand, girl, you are wouldn't even be a warm up for me, and that is simple, logical, truth."

The silver haired mage truly did not see Cornelia as a threat. Looking at Luciferon conversing with Chase, Reina had to narrow her eyes. She hated demons more than anyone, and if it weren't for the fact that Chase had called this fight hers, she would have already exorcised him from Deus's body. Still, as she used magic to listen in on their conversation, Reina's mouth quirked up into a small smile. The demon had no idea who he was talking to. If he had been in contact with any demonic forces in recent years, then he would know exactly who Chase was and what she did, and he would have been more careful around her.

As it was, with his appearance, the sanctity of the duel was very nearly violated. Just a little more, and Chase would be forced to unleash her full strength . . .

When that point came, it was bye-bye to the demon.

---

Chase rolled her eyes at Luciferons tone. If he was trying to intimidate her, it wasn't working. Powerful demon though he was, he was still a being that operated on the logic of this reality - not something that Chase even bothered to fight anymore, let alone fear. He was nothing compared to madness inducing omnipresence of Yog-Sothoth or the the majestic evil that was Shub-Niggurath. And finally, as her thoughts settled on the last of her eternal foes, Chase shuddered.

Nothing will ever frighten me again, not after I've encountered that thing.

The greatest and most terrifying of her enemies, who ruled over the Outer Gods with a stupidity bordering on exotic genius: Azathoth.

The short archmage was shaken from her thoughts as the Caliburn appeared in Luciferon's hand. Huh, she was wondering where that had gone. Well, it wasn't a problem; he might have Caliburn, but she had Garm and Gungnir. Chase frowned, however, upon remembering that Excalibur and Gae Bolg were in Reina's possession, among other treasures.

Chase held her breath as Sols vacuum activated. A smart move, on his part, but like Ryan's light, it was ineffective. Chase had fought long enough to realize that her fights used up oxygen faster than she needed. Replacing the air around her was trivial, not to mention her explosions pushed away the vacuum. As for Ryan's light, she grinned and waved at him. Compared to light from her explosions, what comparison was there?

Suddenly, she felt Marcus's spell link them together, and the edge of her lips quirked up in shocked respect. This kid was either gutsy, or suicidal.

"Very well, let's have it your way!"

Seeing all of them prepare for their next move, and taking into consideration Marcus spell, Chase decided to simply blow everything up!

Pointing skywards, a white sun appeared right beside the yellow one. On closer inspection, it seemed to be getting bigger rapidly. "Stop this, young Marcus, and you'll have earned my respect!"

Meruin paled beside Ryan. Oh, wow, she hasn't seen that spell yet. This could be bad. "I'll have to hurry this up!" she said through gritted teeth. Her spell began circulating faster as Meruin did something she constantly tried to avoid doing: rushing her spells.

[Assistant] Ryan paled as the sun seemed to be getting much larger. "Grimoire Art: The Magician : Support!" Ryan began enhancing the potency of Meruin's magic and his own Shield of Light. "I know it's bad to hurry a spell, but I can't keep up two Grimoire spells at once for very long! So whenever you're ready!" Ryan began sweating from the intense heat being given off by the sun falling down from the FREAKING SKY! "Why is it everyone I know is insane!?" He asked himself as he felt a part of his magic resistant clothes catch fire.

[User] Sol grunted, a sun? Really? Well he already had contingency plan if case the others didn't think of anything fast enough so he decided that he would distracting Chase would be best, heck, he might get lucky and scratch her. Simply activating a rune some distance to the left of her he appeared there using his wind magic to create little platforms under his feet, allowing him the same, if not more mobility then when on the ground, in addition he covered his whole body in swirling winds the at least partially dissipated the vicious heat from above. Relentless assault would be best to to have any hope of landing an attack. His attacks didn't have to be strong, just numerous and powerful enough to scratch her skin, so as long as she didn't have some sort of protection it should be easy right? He charged forward using his wind magic to enhance the length of his sword to nearly double and stabbing directly at Chase's midsection. He watched her carefully ready to change tactics at any moment.@TheHangedMan

[Assistant]
Cruz Meister, Pamela Armellia, Lynda "Lyn" Hermit and Agni Blackheart & Cerberus
Location: Boys' Dormitory - Cruz's Room

Before Lyn could return to her guard post, Agni and Cerberus quickly took Cruz back to his room. He was put on the bed by the hell hound. "Are you feeling alright?", Agni asked. "Y-Yeah. Thanks.", Cruz replied. Agni nodded and smiled. He never thought he would be forgiven, so this was a rather new experience. "I guess I'll go talk to that student council member. I'll see if I can switch with those girls and look after you.", Agni spoke. "There's no need for you to do that. I don't want to be a burden.", Cruz tried to negate his wish. "We insist, Sir Cruz. It is a way for us to fully redeem ourselves with you.", Cerberus insisted. Although he was against it, he knew that there were no words to make them give up, so Cruz decided to stay quiet about that matter.

"Well, what do we have here?", a voice spoke from above. Lyn, who was sitting on a ceiling girder, jumped down. "You two became buddies now or I'm mental?", she asked, smiling mischievously. "-I-If we did, you got any problem?", Agni answered, returning to be bitter. "H-Hey, there's no need to be that bitter on her.", Cruz said, but Agin still looked the same way to Lyn: with disdain.

"Guuuuuuuuys!!", Pamela barged into the room already screaming. She saw that Agni was there. "Wait a minute, what are you doing here?! Get out!! Get out!!", she said, trying to pull him out. "Pamela, what happened? WHy did you came screaming like that?", Cruz asked, trying to stay on topic. "Oh, right! There's like an heck of a battle happening outside!! Those guys from the student council and some other students are fighting some two older women that appeared out of nowhere!!", she said. "So, that feeling of being overwhelm by some kind of power wasn't just a single feeling... This is getting interesting."

"Where are they now?", Agni asked. "Why should I tell you?! The only thing you should do is not putting your nose into other's business!", Pamela answered rashly. "We have no time for your bitching! We're already without Cruz, how do you expect to win without my help?!", he said. She noticed that his tone was of worriness and not blind rage. "Alright, Pamela, you're taking us there.", Lyn spoke. Pamela nodded and rushed to the corridor. Lyn immediately followed her and Agni followed the two. But before he left, he looked back to Cerberus and Cruz. "Cerberus, take care of Cruz. Make sure he doesn't leave.", Agni ordered. "Yes, my master. Good luck on your side.", Cerberus replied. Agni ran off following Lynda and Pamela.

[User]
Forced Sync Deus sighed. It appeared Lucifer was correct. Every Single Dammed Mage with their god dammed arrogace. He knew they never stood a chance from the beginning, that as it may be he still wanted to try. So Deus knew it was time to bust up a new one. Deus's eyes were glowing a bright red, and during this time, he was speaking to his comrades.
Guys, listen, I need you to buy me some time, I'm going to try something dangerous that will most definetly work in erasing that sun, and allowing us to win.

With that, Deus's body began to change. It turned as black as a black hole. This time Deus would be using three powers at the same time. All of these powers are really just part of one power, but it is how you perceive it. A Major, mass of energy could be felt swelling up in Deus's body. He didn't like this method since it took almost every single fiber in his body just to use it. The Sky turned black, the ground, the grass, everything was now engulfed in a black color. Something was happening.

Posts until "Spell" goes off: 5


[System]
Username: Culluket
Race/Species: Goblin (Plains)

Gender: Goblin (Plains)

Age: More than three

Career (if any) and Skills:
Da Really Little Waaagh! -- A petty Shaman, Gobskag has little to nothing in the way of damaging magic, dealing rather with hexes, disruptions, and dirty, underhanded tricks. Like most goblins, he is allergic to (and useless in) direct combat, preferring to knife the enemy in the back, preferably while they're face down in the mud. Underestimating him, however, has backfired before. Every greenskin has a level of base savagery in them, and Gobskag has more than one ace up his sleeve, wielding terrifying and lethal close-combat magicks such as Da Curse of Da Stabbed Froat: a dreadful hex cast with the sharpened end of a wooden, rune-carved wand. Woe to the opponent who lets his guard down at close range, for the curse is swift and terrible.

Any beneficial magic he attempts to use will mysteriously fail to work on stunties, or those with a stronger-than-usual hatred of goblinkind.

Alkhemy -- The fine art of potion brewing. Might also be "poison brewing". Or bomb-making. Not knowing which it's going to be is da best bit.

Cunnin' Planz -- Gobskag is loaded with cunning plans, some of which may actually be useful, and all of which involve tactics so dirty that just hearing them spoken aloud would make a Bretonnian throw himself on his sword. He also has a sixth sense for when things are about to go belly-up, and has usually pulled a vanishing act by the time anyone else figures it out.

Weapons:
Cursin' Stikk -- The requisite shaman's staff: The twisted branch of some unnatural tree, topped with a carven Scary Face and hung with tufts of untreated animal skin and leftover chicken bones. The end is sharpened and reinforced, so that the staff can double as a Stabby Stikk if the enemy is on the back foot and the Shaman smells an opportunity to get stuck in without excessive danger.

Gougin' Knife -- Those magickal reagents aren't going to pluck out themselves. Doubles as Treacherus Froatcutta when in proximity to turned backs.

Hexplodin' Bombz -- Beneficial potions that didn't quite pass muster as being actually beneficial. Some of them explode in clouds of foul vapors, others, fulminous balls of crud. What's important is, they're all dead magickal.
Gobskag has learned not to prepare these too long in advance, as the hexes are liable to leak down his robes, explode ahead of schedule, or get absent-mindedly mistaken for a refreshing beverage.

Attire:
Presently, Gobskag's orkkult robes consist of little more than a grotty, pointy-hooded sack crudely sewn together from differently-colored items of clothing looted from various battlefields, corpse-carts and unsuspecting merchants. But as his grand new career unfolds, he plans to embellish his kit, a little at a time, with the finest magickal-lookin' bitz the enemy has to offer, and changes will be reflected here.

Equipment/Other
Brewin' Bitz -- a small cauldron, a set of powders and some fire-makin' equipment, so that Reagents or concoctions can be prepared in camp, or in case he feels like cooking a rat.

Magickal Reagents -- Gizzards, eyeballs, live vermin, pouches of anything that might pass for useful.

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):
Gobskag is a scrawny, hunched, shovel-nosed bastard, with furrowed, leathery skin the most unpleasant shade of puke green possible, and leering with a jagged grin of ugly, mismatched yellow teeth -- thus proving greenskins can't even get their names right. Beady red eyes glint shrewdly under a shadowy flour-sack hood, and drooping bat-ears, ragged from various close calls and squig bites, flop gormlessly out of its sides.

Mental Description/Personality:
Gobskag is a typical goblin. Which is to say he is a stupid, opportunistic, evil-minded coward possessed of an almost supernatural degree of low cunning. He learned to play cards explicitly so he could learn how to cheat and only has respect for authority to the degree to which it can bribe, beat or intimidate him into line, which fortunately any good commander easily can. Conversely, he is disgustingly obsequious to those with the upper hand, right up until the moment they're not watching anymore. Dealing with him is a simple game of carrot and stick -- he's clever enough to know not to bite the hand that's thumping the other guy. He'll kill more or less anyone, and doesn't particularly care what he gets paid in, as long as he has more of it than anybody else.

Background/History:

Gobskag was once a member of the Scarey Face tribe, a somewhat pathetic warren of goblins without much to distinguish it from the countless others infesting the Badlands, ruled by a Shaman known as Screamin' Mog. The Scarey Face tribe had, in turn, quickly been absorbed into the swelling Black Bonez warband under Golg Grub-Mouth, a brutal orc marauder who took a special pleasure in plundering Empire trade routes.

While this was dead great, as it got them stacks of loot and constant, invigorating skirmishes with the outraged border princes, the internal politics were precarious. Golg Grub-Mouth was not a patient warlord, and Screaming Mog was a particularly vicious and paranoid shaman who regularly dispatched his underlings if his voices told him to. (His voices. It really was just him talking to himself in a squeaky voice, and he didn't pretend otherwise.) Gobskag was a bad position, even for a goblin. If he made himself any more useful to the warlord, Screaming Mog would kill him. If he didn't, the Orc or one of his seconds would almost certainly do it instead, and probably eat him afterwards.

The solution came unexpectedly when he was discovered a good way outside camp in the dead of night, where he had absolutely not been doing nothing remotely nefarious, by a band of very serious, dangerous-looking mercenaries. Gobskag was sure he was done for, and likely he would have been, had their commander not shrewdly proposed an alternative: Gobskag would be not only spared but rewarded, if he betrayed the Black Bonez and aided in facilitating a surprise attack.

Greed, treachery and the lure of revenge warred against the natural greenskin order of might makes right, and self-interest temporarily proved the stronger. Gobskag agreed, and promptly betrayed the mercenaries to his tribe, who erupted into open combat.

The mercenaries, being experienced dogs of war, had been ready for this, and a second company had flanked to the other entrance. Gobskag then double-betrayed his tribe by opening the gates, then betrayed the mercenaries again (I's bottled 'em in over dere, boss!), and finally when the chips were down and the battle hung in the balance, triple-betrayed his tribe, giving the free companies the advantage they needed to hew them down to the last and finally slaughter Golg himself.

The mercenaries had taken the goblin's flip-flopping treachery in good humor, all things considered. They laughed about it together, paid him his promised share, then tied him in a sack and threw it into the nearest bog.

As he hauled himself onto the bank, having escaped his fate via a series of cunning plans and improbable coincidences, Gobskag experienced a number of epiphanies. First of all, he was now official Top Shaman of the Black Bonez tribe. However, since he'd also just helped completely destroy said tribe, he unfortunately had nobody to brag to about it. More importantly, more magniffisently, he'd had a glimpse of something amazing. A whole world of possibility, that might just be everything a greedy, bloodthirsty, conniving little bastard like him might wish for. A little fibbing, a little sneaking, a little stowing away, and Gobskag was on the fast track to the bottom of a whole new heap in grand Tilea.

While his unscrupulous nature is a hazard, commanders experienced in real, honorless, bloody battle know all too well the value of a good wildcard, and that's exactly what Gobskag is -- a loathesome surprise for the other side. Greenskin magic, even the puny kind, is not something many foes expect or know how to deal with, and let's face it: When the sides are deadlocked and conventional strategy fails... nobody cheats like a goblin.

Having had a taste of what the world of the free companies can offer, he tends to view the greater mass of other goblins as primitive chumps, who wouldn't know a good thing if it stabbed them in the throat with a rune-carved wand.

[User] -edited-

[Assistant] Hmm... anything they wished? As it happened, Baecion did have it in mind that perhaps a few tomes of magic and other such interesting topics might be necessary to help progress his magical abilities, if the man had any such objects in his castle... but he'd perhaps save his request until after they were alone, just so he didn't further alienate the other mercenaries in the group. Plans were discussed amongst others, including the idea of using a boat to escape (which Baecion first thought somewhat unnecessary, but after further chatter from the others saw the merits of implementing); meanwhile, Baecion finished his meal, politely crossed his hands over his lap, and when the time came, simply stated "A contract to confirm that we are owed certain dues once the job is complete sounds like a reasonable idea." Really, his input was barely needed, and ideally (at least for now), the less he was noticed, the better.

[User]
Gobskag rubbed his spindly green claws, a little too eagerly for anyone to be comfortable with.

"Sure, sure," he rasped, leering, "Poor, weak elfses and stunties needs their rest, neehh? Heh hehh... Ol' Gobskag will keep watch, an' make sure nuffing goes missing in da bleak, spooooky dead of night, hneh heh hnehh..."

It would be a good chance to poke around the cursed castle, too. Treasure and food aside, Gobskag would have bet his left eye there was a proper humie skeleton somewhere on the premises. Right good bones for magikk wands, and an evil-looking skull wouldn't go awry on his orkkult robes, neither.

"Den in da mornin' we can gets down ta business... But I ain't goin' in no cage!" he sqwaked, thumping his stikk against the floor for emphasis. "I gots a betta plan. One wiv extra cunnin' bits. Yous'll see."

He withdrew into suspicious mumbling, eyeing the others surreptitiously from under his hood and glancing around for secret doors.

[Assistant]
Gahetano nodded. He was tired: a little rest was what he was hoping for. Howewer, he tried not to sound too desperate for it:

"It's pretty much settled then" the human declared heading towards Alfredo with a renewed cup of wine the man obviously needed. The servant, reluctantly, accepted the drink -since it was now being offered not so much by a guest than by another servant of his master- "I suppose theres a room were we can rest without creating further inconvenience to our employer?."

[User] Sketti wasn't exactly tired, but due to the small bit of drink and how boring it was to listen to the Grobi speak, he'd fallen asleep on his chair. His snores were generally light, other than a few hacks every now and then. For some reason, he still seemed wary despite the closed eyes and sagged beard.

[Assistant]
In the dead of night, Gobskag scuttled through a hole in the crumbling wall, loot-sack bulging with stolen food and ill-gotten gains. Mercenary work was right good, he thought to himself. You could get rich without even doing any fighting! Chengizz's ruby alone would make him a gob to be reckoned with. He was well on his way to being downright respectable.

"Now where did dey say we was goin'?...." he muttered to himself, leering over a crude, upside-down map with an X scrawled onto the coastline. He squinted at the horizon until he saw a tree that looked kind of like a picture of a tree on the map, and scuttled off in that direction, confident he'd reach Loosinny in no time at all.

---

Legends tell us of how the conniving shaman did indeed arrive at his destination, after traveling the breadth of the continent for years in the wrong direction; felling terrible beasts, carrying out daunting quests, slowly becoming both a grizzled veteran and something of a folk antihero, cackling in the face of authority. Tales are told of how he burgled the blue college against impossible odds, taking only a few bread rolls and a new hat, and using the headmaster's desk drawer as a privvy. Songs are sung of how he rescued the fair Duchess Aveline from the clutches of the Raven cult, felling countless Daemons and swinging her to safety across a bottomless fissure, only to ask if she knew what Luccini was and how were you supposed to get there again?...

Yes, whole decades passed before that huddled, dusty shape shuffled slowly into the border of Luccini. The goblin was wizened, now, darker in color, missing one beady eye and wearing a fake grey beard hooked over his ears and dangling down to the ground from his chin, just to make sure everyone knew he was proper venerable now. Onlookers whispered in awed, hushed tones of the Prophecy, the foretelling of the day Gobskag the Glorious would arrive at the port and unseat the reigning Prince, claiming his throne. But the grizzled green veteran only leered, sagaciously, and bought out the Prince's flagship in a jaw-dropping display of cunning negotiation and charisma. He hired on a select crew of eager adventure-seekers, including a giant, anchor-wielding ogre first mate, raised the Scarey Face flag and set sail, coursing on to lands unknown.

Yet as the great ship was casting off, some brave, pluckish young boy called out to the goblin hero, begging the secret of his almost supernatural good fortune. The greenskin mercenary looked back and could only leer, in as close to a kindly fashion as he was capable of. His one good eye twinkled like a beady red marble.... and the ruined socket of the other glimmered with an even deeper, faintly magical crimson sheen.

"Lad," he chuckled, tapping the eye-stone, "I owes it all to me lucky ruby."

~Fin~


[System]
Element: Arsenic
Age: 77
Gender: M
Appearance: Herschel Orenstein is an old looking man with a withered and pruned skin. He has a clean-shaven face which was withered by time. Upon his hooked nose lay a pair of thick rimmed reading spectacles. He has dark grey hair which covers just the side of his head, leaving the top bald. He usually is dressed in a light brown tweed-suit and some black bowler shoes. He is constantly in a wheel-chair, with a breathing apparatus strapped to the back and a breathing device around his mouth. He usually has a satchel on his lap which contains a deck of playing cards, a book, three pens, and a yamaka.
When in hero mode, his skin is colored in a dusty grey.

Powers: He has the power of releasing concentrated doses of arsenic, in any form of matter. If it successfully gets to a target it leads to severe arsenic poisoning. This ability can also be used for agricultural purposes to make insecticides and poisons.
Weapons: Guilt-tripping youngsters, and old man rambling. No conventional weapons.

Backstory: Herschel Orenstein was born in a turbulent time period back in Germany. Needless to say, his ancestors when they were able left Europe and moved to newly founded state of Israel. Herschel had a fairly typical childhood, playing around with friends, and learning the family trade. Skip several years later, he felt the wanderlust and moved to New York City where he started his own jewel cutting business. It was a legitimate business, though a few employees were, in shadier areas, as such they would get fired. Cut several years later, he married his beloved wife, and had four children. Cut years later, his wife fell to cancer, and his children started their own families, some better than others. His oldest son manages the jewel cutting business as he hoped he would. Herschel's children, upon seeing how poorly he aged, considered putting him into a home. However, Herschel insisted that they let him stay in his apartment, and hired a nurse for living assistance. As it was, it seemed life would come to an end for old Herschel. But suddenly he got a new lease on life when he was given the powers of Arsenic. He plans on using the time he has left in this world to make it a better place.

[User] "It's Radito Danito or nothin'. Ain't like that fuckah knows my real name anyway." something occured to Dan. "Othah than what we look like, this fuck knows next ta nothin' about us. Hell, maybe he think's we'ah actually named aftah the elements. Tell ya that much, my name ain't Chromium." Dan felt surprisingly proud of himself. His train of thought was actually good, for once. "Theyah's nothin' stoppin' us from jus' hoppin' on a boat ta the mainland. No need foah passpoahts oah anythin'." Man, the good ideas were just FLOWING from his magnificent brain today.

[Assistant]
An observant person might notice, despite the new arrival, that some of the dust being blown across the dig site, wasn't quite moving with the wind as is passed Schultz's feet, though it was only slightly deviant. As the steady breeze blew the dust along, a piece of paper was left lying between Schultz's feet. It had four words in smugged block letters printed on one side, the top side.

Is that a fact?

Tecumseh let the wind blow him past the edge of the camp, and knew he shouldn't be tormenting the man, but well, he wanted to know just what he could and could not do while in his alternate form, and this was good practice, okay so it was barely decent practice but it was all he had to work with for the moment. Once out of sight of the camp, he changed back into his usual form, and slipped into the clothes he'd left nearby in preparation for his little blow by, the note had been a last minute addition to his little game. Once dressed, he moved towards the camp to see how work was going at the new dig site.

[User]
"You should." Herschel gave a nod to Peaches. "Depends on the score, and the university in question. I'm sure you can transfer the credits over. Good idea to keep up your education, alongside mastering a trade." Herschel paused for a moment before removing his mask as he coughed violently again. "Euugh." He placed the respirator back on and took in a deep breath.

"Ah, my appointment." Herschel glanced back at Peaches, as he helped him to the room. "Ah, you're a good kid." Herschel glanced around in the interior of the room, "Alr-" He took his mask off as he began coughing some more into his left hand. He stared at the gooey substance of phlegm. He held it over the side of his wheel-chair as the viscous fluid slowly began dripping towards the floor.

"Euugh." Herschel made a loud snorting noise, as he tried to clear up his nasal passageway. "Alright, let's get to it."

[Assistant]
"I don't know, man. He looked like the kind of guy who could have people finding shit out in a snap. But maybe as long as we all manage not to kill someone or otherwise make the front page, we can stay off the radar."
As for the idea of being stuck in a boat with Dan, Aura, Aria and Jaden, it gave her the urge, just for the moment, to run to the nearest bathroom and hurl. Not to mention the other issues in that plan. "We're in a world of shit," she muttered softly.

[User]
Leo came into Room 2 with a grin on his face.
"Okay, I'm done with my call. Fargus, would you care to give the news?"
"Uh, sure. So, apparently, I can... psychically control bones or something. See that pile of bones over there? I made that just by thinking about it."
"Are you kidding? How do you expect us to believe that, boss? It's absolutely fucking batshit"
"Just watch. Here, I'm gonna turn that femur there into a skull!"
Fargus concentrated heavily. He imagined the femur twisting and popping into a different shape entirely. As he thought, the femur condensed into a spherical form. A cloud of bonemeal rose up to enshroud it, before being sucked into the bone-ball itself. Eventually, familiar features began imprinting into the ball. A jawline was carved, then eye sockets and nostrils. At last, the skull dropped uneventfully into the mound of bonemeal. Fargus looked at the others with a smug grin, and shrugged his shoulders confidently.
"Holy shit."
"Boss, you've got superpowers!"
"You're damned right he does! I've got someone coming over to get this on the news!"
"Hey, that's a good idea! We can get some publicity out of this, and cash most of all!"
"Well, I was more thinking we could get you to a university and have you studied. See how this turned up, and if it can be spread. This is gonna be a major paradigm shift to phyics, biology, medicine... fucking every field!"
"You know, that sounds like a better idea. Hey, so... when's the representative come over?"
[color=skyblue]"Shouldn't be too long. I should have just enough time to give Mister Orenstein a check-up before they show up. If you would kindly leave the room, I can get started sooner." Leo gave Fargus and the gang a very implicative look.

Fargus, Peaches, and Gunther left the room, leaving only Herschel and Leo. Leo, knowing how Herschel felt about nurses, always tended to do the whole process himself. "So, mister Orenstein... how have you been? Any noteworthy events or emergencies, lately?"

[Assistant]
"Besides my lungs acting more meshugge than usual?" Herschel inquired as he stared at the doctor.

"The bones in my fingers ache. I've got this weird feeling between my right toes. I swear I've got a bunion on my left foot. My mouth feels drier than usual. My sinuses are stuffed up like who knows what. I've been feeling cold, but that's just because the air conditioner can't be left at a proper temperature." Herschel went on as he glanced back at Leo, "I've been producing more ear-wax than usual, at least it seems that way. And that's just to start with. Feh."

"The living assistance has been a paain. Oh how I wished I was young and spry again." Herschel rambled on, "Lapping, oh how I miss the craft." Herschel scowled, "My boy has this one little meeskait working for him. He was far from blessed, you wouldn't believe me if I told you he was never in the human sideshow. Because boy, this kid looked like it. When I saw him, oh jeez!" Herschel reached for his chest as he took a deep breath in.

"It gave my heart a startle I tell you. One that I didn't need. But boy, did that little fellow have nimble fingers for lapping jewels." Herschel chuckled a bit before scowling again, "Ugh, and he still hasn't given me a call in weeks. Feh, I've talked enough about this Bobbemeysh."

The old man glanced back at Leo, "But yeah, the lungs are acting more meshuggee than usual, for whatever reason."

[User]
Leo scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"There might be something wrong with your respiratory system. I've noticed you've been coughing up a lot of phlegm recently. Is there anything unusual about this phlegm? Coloration, thickness, anything inside the phlegm, something like that?"
Leo briefly ran through his encyclopaedic knowledge of respiratory diseases.
"It might just be the flu, Mister Orestein. If anything new comes up, I'll have to give you a bronchoscopy. Of course, that's going to be only if something really bad comes up, so we shouldn't need to worry about having one, just yet. I'm sure things will turn out fine, Mister Orestein."

[Assistant]
Herschel listened to the doctor, as he paused for a moment. "Anyth-" He made another hacking cough. Herschel wracked with pain as his eyes watered up a bit, as a few discolored saline drops ran down his face. With a sudden movement his head jolted forward as he coughed once more. Another gooey orb of phlegm splatted into the palm of his left hand.

Herschel glanced at it carefully, as he gingerly moved his right index finger over. He poked the substance, as it slightly moved a bit. Herschel raised the phlegm towards his face as he glanced at it, while it slowly dripped through his fingers and onto his tweed pants.

"If only I had my jeweler's lens. And it was solid." Herschel paused for a moment as he left his mouth agape at a discovery he noticed. "I, there's no way there should be grey flakes in it." He peered at his phlegm as he did in fact notice, that within the ooze were scattered grey pieces within it. Oh the bits of arsenic.

Herschel's face contorted into a grimace as he began hacking some more. "S-eheee. Mu-shogge" This time some it wasn't phlegm that was released but rather, quite a bit of mucus smearing out from his nose. Herschel grumbled as he licked at his dentures, which had a bit of a black tint to the usual white condition they were supposed to be. "Ackhaaa-!" Again the fit came upon him, this time, he released a light and somewhat and strangely airy cloud of spit which was far from clear. It held a grey quality to it, much like the flakes that he found in the phlegm. It wafted a bit, before quickly descending to the floor.

Herschel took in a deep breath from the respirator as he stared at Leo. He continued breathing to maintain a calm and consistent breathing pattern instead of a coughing fit like he did before. "Doc, I think, I think something is up. Respirator may have finally gone fercockt. For sure somethin', something isn't right."


[System]
Age/Race/Gender: 35/ Human/ Male

Occupation: Mercenary

Weapons:

Combat knife: A bigass fighting knife.

Pocket knife:  Used as more of a tool than anything.

Wrist mounted laser pistol: A nifty little gun that sits on the forearm and wires into his spinal prosthesis for hands free firing. It takes small cartridges that have lots of rounds, but not a lot of umph.

Duel ballistic machine gun and pistol: When carrying a bag of medical supplies around, compact weapons are a must. This gun was made with that in mind. The machine gun is pretty standard, but it harbors a pistol in the handle that can be pulled out for one handed use.

Armor: He prefers old fashion armor designed to defend against ballistic weapons. This is mostly due to his spinal prosthesis being an older model, and the powered armor interfering with it.

Items:
Spinal prosthesis: Sasha is, technically, a paraplegic. He relies on his bionic spine to keep the use and feeling in his legs. After taking a several rounds from an assault rifle in the back, his natural spine was fucked. He didn't have insurance, so he had to get what he could afford, which was an older model of prosthetic that has long since become obsolete. It has external hardware that runs along his vertebral column. This hardware can be interfered with by powered armor or point blank EMPs. EMPs further than 20 feet will have less of an effect.

Field medicine kit: Contains three small bottle of lidocaine, several rolls of gauze and Ace bandage wrap, a small chest tube kit, splints, needles and syringes of several sizes, tourniquets, foil emergency blanket, sterile gloves, sterile cloths, providone-iodine, scalpels, saline flushes, clamps, scissors that cut through just about anything, cauterizing pen, suture kit, smelling salts, and a few other things that I may be forgetting.

Skills:

Battlefield Nurse: After a particularly brutal fight that left one of the men in his unit severely wounded, Sasha decided that he needed a certified medic on the team. Since no one else volunteered, he, as usual, took charge and sent himself to nursing school. He has been a certified RN for about five years, and he specializes in working in the field, with minimal supplies and under fire.

Leadership: Sasha has led several mercenary units over the years. Even when he doesn't want to lead, it always seems to happen somehow. Understandably, he has no interest in leading this particular unit.

Linguist: Having been born in Russia, Sasha's first language is Russian. He can also speak English, Spanish, some French, and a few other European languages. He doesn't know anything outside of human languages, but he's smart enough to learn simple phrases fairly quick if he studies them.

Powers: N/A

Other: He speaks with a Russian accent

Appearance: Sasha is a very large man. He stands five inches short of seven feet tall, solidly built and muscular. He has pale skin and dirty blonde hair that is kept in a neat buzz cut. His eyes are a gray-ish blue and steely. He wears mostly old military pants and shirts, in drab green and tans.

[User]
Location: City of Jungenbru, planet Taranese.
Date: 3rd of February, 2162.

It was a busy marketplace, in the middle of a big city. People talked loudly, cars drove by both on the ground and in the air, chatter loud as people bought their varying wares and laughed happily in the bright city. This was one of the happier places in the galaxy, far from conflict and terrifying ordeals. In among these walked a tall woman in black, an alien with white skin and black eyes, carrying a weapon on her back. But, this wasn't unusual. Bounty hunter, perhaps, this place was filled with aliens as it was and she wasn't one of the worst offenders. She was speaking to someone, and it was reported that she placed a hand on his forehead, since this struck those who watched as just the slightest strange.

Then the woman, in a single deft movement, reached behind her with her free hand and grabbed her halberd before swinging it in a flawless slice which cleaved the man's throat. He died immediately and fell back as a string of blood launched into the air from the woman's sharp blade. Multiple screams were let out around her, and people called for the police. The woman was utterly calm, despite the action she had just committed and the screams of the terrified crowd around her. Police weren't far away, and arrived directing their weapons at her, telling her to stand down. She pushed them back and off their feet with but a motion of her hand, using psionics. They started firing. The woman deftly dodged, in a way that seemed impossible, like she knew where they'd shoot, before she closed the distance and hacked at them with her halberd.

That day, their police force was left decimated. The woman darted from officer to officer, cutting them, incapacitating them so they fell bleeding and screaming onto the ground. The ground and surroundings quickly became stained with red. When reinforcement came, they found her stained with blood and standing with her halberd raised over a sea of injured, screaming and bleeding police officers. And if that wasn't bone-chilling enough, the woman was smiling. A creepy, pleased and ill-fit smile, as if she was proud of herself or simply enjoying the sound of the screams which surrounded her. With this, it came as no illusion to the police that they needed help. A bounty was quickly put on her head.

With the bounty that was put on her head, a chase instigated. Yet, tracking her down seemed to always end up with blood spilled all over the ground around her before she fled again. Soon enough she vanished from the planet, just as more extreme measures were being put into motion, the law enforcements lamenting their inability to defeat the threat. And this one incident… was only the beginning of what would amount to the reputation of one of the deadliest criminals in the galaxy…

______

Location: Chronos Station
Date: Today (19th of August, 2166?)

And here she stood. In among these soldiers in armor suitable for the age and with blaster-weapons for shooting purposes or what-have-you-not other things, stood also a tall woman in what appeared to be medieval armor with gems attached to it. Lataniva listened, her skin unnaturally white and eyes black, in her armor, spikes going a bit of everywhere from it. Here and there on the armor were gems, including one on the headband that held her long black hair directed backwards. On her back was a long halberd, with small blades on the end, strapped to her back. She might have looked strangely out-of-place.

Some here may know her reputation. If nobody else, bounty hunters should know her, for a price has long rested on her head.

… would know of several instances where she has been reported to have killed and maimed people as well as law enforcement for little to no reason. Multiple bounty hunters that have gone after her are known to never have returned. Her reputation paints her as a savage murderess with powerful psionic powers, not to be underestimated. Last known location, Deadzone, working with criminal organizations. She kind of dropped off the map recently, random deaths not too unlikely in the Deadzone so it wasn't too unlikely she had been assassinated somewhere, but here she is.

She listened with a blank, almost mildly bored-looking expression as she looked at Dawson. This was information she already knew. Then, it was over to Stryker. He made it clear he had no intention of making friends. Didn't bother Lataniva too much. She understood. For the moment, there was nothing immediate she felt like commenting on, for now she would stand and listen. For now.

[Assistant] The Funganoid chuckled at the thought of volunteering for this. This was a prickly bounty hunter, and one that might not like being taken for the edgy scum that Tibulus saw deep within him. Tibulus responded to the angered bounty hunter with a slight tone of sarcasm and a pinch of smartass. "Heh. I'm not volunteering to do this. Volunteering is unpaid work, if you forgot that. I'd also like to see you try taking down something that's already deceased, I really look forward to it. This being said, I'd rather not have to feel the simulated pain you'd attempt to bring onto me, and as such, I'm going to stand down and let you simply go wallow in your own self-absorbed past. You don't get in my way with what I'm doing, and I'll stay out of yours with what you're doing. As long as we both do these things, we're cool." A small jolt of electricity pierced through the jumpsuit and shocked Stryker as the Funganoid finished his sermon, and with that, the skeleton leaned back on the crate and continued to smoke his cigar. "Oh, and you'd be the one piloting the transport shuttle, not me."

[User]
Location: Golat III
Golat III was renowned as being an extremely hot planet, with long hot days and short freezing cold nights. Despite this it was also know to be a large hotspot for illegal trade and under the table deals. This was because no law enforcement was on the planet that wasn't lazy or being bribed, and any orbital scans wouldn't work that well.

But, despite the heat there was one man out and about, and he didn't seem to be that effected by the heat. He was out there because he was looking for a certain building. He found it, and it was an old nightclub, or at least that what the owners wanted people to think. In reality it was a giant warehouse full of illicit items, drugs, guns etc. All worth a fortune.

All highly flammable.

A security camera caught the whole thing from outside saw what happened. The man in the armour kicked open the door and used his flamethrower on the opening. Fire and smoke obscured most of what happened on the inside, but according to most reports, the attack lasted about five minutes and about twenty bodies were found inside.

It was unknown however who the victims were, as the bodies were too scorched for facial recognition and all DNA was destroyed. But eveeryone was sure that the man with the flamer made it out alive, mainly because the cameras showed him leaving the building, dragging an unknown person behind them in one hand, and a large case in the other.

---

Location: Chronos Station
Hadrian was stood on the loading deck along with the others. He was there because after the incident on Golat III Hadrian was approached by some spook working for some governemnt agency that he immediately forgot what it was called.

They made him a very interesting offer. They wanted him to work on some top secret project, work with other bad people to do bad stuff for a quote 'good cause' as they called it. In exchange, protection for what he did in the past to all those other nasty people.

They also offered him something he had been looking for for the longest time. Information. He has looked for this info for a while now, he has tried many times to acquire it and many means to do so, everything from bribery to torture. And yet nobody told him, until now. All he had to do was be patient and keep killing people. It suited him fine, even if they lied about what they had, they knew something. And if meant going to war with an entire govenrment, so be it.

Meanwhile he had to put up with this lot. There seemed to be a few who thought themselves better than the rest. Like they shit gold rather than actual shit. You could practically see the dick measuring going on. But, he decided not to get involved with that. Ge would try and be somewhat friendly with the others, hell he had even heard of a few of these people and was impressed that the spooks had convinced them to tag along on their weird ass project.

Underneath his helmet he smiled a bit and decided to try and see if anyone was willing to be reasonable, at peast with him. He cleared his throat a bit and spoke as loudly as he could.

"Ladies and gentleman, I am sorry to bother you, but I am the ships chef. So, if there is any dietary requirements you have, anything you are allergic to or anything that you would like me to cook for you, please let me know. Thank you for your time."

[Assistant]
Sasha crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the boredom that was setting in. He was beginning to miss that cozy little cell on his transport ship, and his book that was in his bag. It just seemed like they were wasting time here. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could go back to the work that actually mattered.

They were barely five seconds in when the skeleton/mushroom looking thing picked a fight with their so called leader. Sasha remained silent throughout the exchanges. So far, he wasn't overall impressed with this little rag tag group. He was gonna be pissed if one of these fuckers got him killed.

The man beside him, who appeared to be wearing a long coat and a veil of some sort, spoke up as their cook. Sasha raised an eyebrow, briefly wondering how sanitary this guy could be with all shit covering every inch of his skin. He had to smell bad under there.

Finally, he decided that it was probably time to introduce himself as well. He, too, had been given a specific job on this team.

"My name is Sasha," He said, his deep, accented voice clear and calm. "I will be the team medic. I am a registered RN, and I specialize in battlefield first aid. If you have any medical conditions I should know about, then you should probably tell me before we go out into the field."