[System]
Username: rush99999
Race/Species: Gnome

Gender: Male

Age: 112

Career/Class: Artificer

Weapons:
* 1 homemade matchlock rifle
* 3 homemade matchlock pistols
* A seemingly infinite supply of ammunition for aforementioned firearms with various enchantments
* 1 large steel monkey wrench

Physical Description:
Hobnob is shorter than the average gnome. He stands as 3 feet rather than 3 and a half. A small magical mishap during his 1st attempt at merging magic and engineering left Hobnob's full head of hair and somewhat bushy eyebrows turquoise. After many a day of inventing rather than shaving, Hobnob possesses a luxurious beard rather than the goatee a gnome usually has. Aforementioned beard is also turquoise. While his eyes are green, you wouldn't be able to tell because he never takes off his goggles. While he isn't what you'd call muscular, all the manual work he does when making inventions keeps him out of the scrawny zone. There is always a sharp pencil behind at least 1 of Hobnob's ears.

Armor:
* Leather armor with a rune based magic resistance enchantment
* Everything else resistant chain mail (No enchantment here. Is't just very sturdy chain mail.)
* Leather gloves with a rune based electricity resistance enchantment, a glyph based heat resistance enchantment, and blade resistance because it's leather.
* Hobnob's goggles are also surprisingly durable.

Equipment/Other
* 1 gnome made smoking pipe
* A seemingly infinite supply of pipe weed
* 1 large tool kit
* 1 canister of blueprint paper
* 1 gnome fishing rod
* 1 small bag of magic seeds that grow into mushrooms large and sturdy enough to sit on in 60 seconds.
* The lenses on Hobnob's goggles have glyph based enchantments that allow him to see in different types of vision. Each type of vision makes the goggles glow a different colour when in use.
None: Ordinary Vision
Green: Night Vision
Orange: Thermal Vision
Blue: Mana Vision (Allows Hobnob to see the magic in the world and beings around him and tell how highly concentrated it is.)
Black: X-Ray Vision
White: Telescopic Vision

Mental Description/Personality:
Hobnob is incredibly eccentric and fixated on inventing things to the point that the aforementioned fixation over-kills the magic addiction that dabbling in the arcane arts usually brings. Hobnob also enjoys pond fishing while sitting on large mushrooms.

Goals:
Step 1: Find money for crazy inventions.
Step 2: Think of and invent crazy inventions.
Step 3: ???
Step 4: Profit.

Background/History:
* 112 years ago, Hobnob was born in a small town in Cutterstone to an inventor and an enchantress.
* As he grew up, Hobnob took an interest in his parents' work. They were happy to teach, he was quick to learn, and by the time he was 35, Hobnob knew some basic enchantments as well as most of the ins and outs of inventing.
* Soon enough, Hobnob got the idea to combine what he had learned from both of his parents. His invention exploded during the enchanting, but the explosion did nothing worse than turn Hobnob's hair turquoise.
* Many years of studying and research later, Hobnob decided it was time to try again. This time around, he received assistance from 7 other like minded artificers and 2 like minded enchanters.
* Their work bore fruit, and The Obstacle Flattener Mark 1 was born...and exploded 7 days later. Convinced they could get it right the 2nd time around, Hobnob and his crew began work on Mark 2
* At the end of it all, The Obstacle Flattener Mark 2 was fully operational...until it exploded 7 weeks later. Undeterred, Hobnob and his crew began work on Mark 3.
* 7 months went by before the explosion happened. Just as Hobnob and his crew had predicted
* Before work could begin on Mark 4, Hobnob and his crew realised that almost all of their money was almost all gone.
* And so at the age of 111, Hobnob and his crew decided to leave Cutterstone to find odd-jobs and merc-work to fund their inventive endeavours after realising that their work on The Obstacle Flattener had almost emptied their collective coin purses.
* 1 year later their adventures bring them to Starkvale and the beginning of this RP.

[User]
"I'm glad you asked!" Hobnob said in response to Kayden's question. Hobnob pulled out a blueprint and unrolled it on the table. "Say hello to The Obstacle Flattener Mark 4!" Hobnob said "This little beauty is a perfect blend of advanced enchanting techniques and modern technology. It has 1 purpose: Flatten all in its path. And it's previous incarnations have all excelled in doing just that...until they exploded. But I can assure you that The Mark 4 will not explode for a least 7 years, by which time The Mark 5 will be ready for constriction and will - by my calculations - last for at least 7 decades. But I digress. Construction of The Mark 4 began the moment we got settled in, and we've been making excellent headway, especially with Jex providing some high quality Drabarian Fire for all of the metal work. And I believe we could make even better headway if we had the help of some fellow inventors, artificers, and/or enchanters who know what they're doing. Don't consider this too high a priority though. My crew and I are doing just fine on our own. Why even now I imagine Titch, Pint-sized Pat, Small Benjamin, and the rest of my crew are chugging along with Gnomish efficiency as we speak".

---

Meanwhile at Hillcrest...

"CATCH THAT DOG!" Shortstack yelled as he and the rest of Hobnob's crew present at the fort pursued the small white dog that Hobnob had used in his bandit trap the other day. They were chasing him because the dog had stolen an important spanner believing it to be a bone, and was now looking for somewhere to bury it. Needless to say, the Gnomes were none too pleased by this turn of events and sought to retrieve the tool from the fleeing canine.

[Assistant]
Well, he pondered after registering her presence, that's one way to get some questions answered quickly. Though the timing was most unfortunate: regardless of anything else, Nuva felt like Morek would react rather poorly to learning he was part dark elf (if of course he didn't already know), given the history they and the dwarves had with one another. Or maybe he'd accept it and move on, defying expectations. And that was the crux of things: anybody who learned what he was might simply shrug their shoulders, or they might try to murder him on the spot, and whilst he could readily kill anybody who did so, he imagined that wouldn't be taken too kindly by authorities. He couldn't exactly read Morek overly well as it was, so best not to risk it with him.

And on the other hand... 'Secret,' Nuva greeted her, resigned to chatting with her for a moment with Morek gathering their respective food items. 'I wasn't expecting to see you here. I imagined Captain Kayden would have work for you at the guild house?' Realistically, there wasn't much Nuva considered them to have in common, so he figured smalltalk between them might turn somewhat vacuous rather quickly; best to stick to questions relating to aspects of herself, if anything. 'Or, perhaps, he'd have sent you out on another mission for him. I'm not exactly clear on the specifics of your work under him, of course,' he offered with a shrug. He didn't really care either; that wasn't part of his skillset by any means.

[User]
Kayden was about to reply with some questions to Hobnob, like how he could know how long a model that he had not even made yet before the model he had not even made yet would last, but decided against it. He wasn't going to argue with a Gnome on his equations, especially such an eccentric Gnome as this one. "Fascinating." he replied, and it was earnest though tired. He was even more impressed that Jex had agreed to help Hobnob with his flame breath.

Kayden glanced up from the schematics to see a large, burly man waiting patiently at the front of the mealhall. "Ah yes," the Captain called, waving Allard in once the man introduced himself. "Please, come in. If you're looking for work, this is the day to prove yourself. Allow me to introduce both myself, Captain Kayden, and my associate and engineer expert, Hobnob...the Gnome." He must have forgotten if Hobnob had a surname, if the Gnome had ever told him at all.

"Please, sit." he offered Allard, and once the big man had seated, Kayden continued while waving over one of the newly arrived staff off their lunch breaks with whatever drinks the three desired. "Now, why did you seek us out, Allard? And don't swell on ceremony, there's plenty here that I'm glad to be working with, that began with purely selfish reasons. Right Hobnob?"
@Jollan

---

"I am not beholden to him," Secret shrugged, amused. "Though he does provide good work, and I will more than likely travel there within a day or two when he comes crawling back for more information. For now though, why not bask in the spoils of war?" Behind them both, Morek's grumbles were heard as he moved aside large items to get to the food within the vault. "I merely find out things that others are not meant to know. But the real question is, why are you ever so curious on my work?" she mused. Her smile was one a woman often had when she knew far too many secrets for her own good, though, perhaps that was the reason for her name.

Behind her, half a dozen soot and dirt covered Gnomes suddenly scrambled into the great hall, chasing after a small dog that yapped and bounded around with a piece of equipment that was apparently precious to the diminutive folk. Just past them, Haukford entered the room on one of his crutches. His chest had been bandaged up, and if it had not been for a few healing potions within the vault, the DeathKnight's sword would have surely killed the Knight and devoured his body.

"By the Gods, keep the racket down, small fellows!" he bade them, looking quite odd in his coat of plates while still using crutches like an elderly chap. @BCTheEntity@rush99999

[Assistant]
"Well met, and I appreciate your hospitality" Allard started as he introduced himself as he took a seat with the two, "My name is Adelhard Baldewin. I've been living here for a few years making a living off of odd jobs and 'tidying up' a particular tavern I frequent." He raised an eyebrow as one of the working girls passed by with the drinks and made a sheepish grin as he gladly accepted his with a quick thanks.

 "As for why I'm here I must be honest with you, I was requested by the owner of that tavern to come here and give this a shot. After some though I believed that this may be a prime opportunity to settle a few, uh, debts I presume is a good word for it." After taking a sip of his drink he thought about other cut-throat merc groups he had head of before, as well as some he has got into fights with. There was one thing he had to know before even thinking about joining this group: their ethics, sense of morality, a code of honor of sorts. He wanted to make sure it wasn't just another group of organized brigands looking for the next purse to cut. "There is one question that I must ask of you, however, before we begin anything. If you don't mind me asking, what is the nature of this ensemble of mercenaries? I'll have no part in deeds of the nefarious sort."

[User]
Hobnob smiled and waved at the new arrival when Kayden addressed the Khalahar at the door and nodded in response to Kayden's question as he got down from his stool and moved aside. He remained silent because he didn't want to scare off any potential recruits with his eccentricity. While Kayden and the new arrival spoke, Hobnob glanced at Kayden occasionally. Ever since he 1st read that name in his invitation to join Kayden's company, Hobnob couldn't shake the feeling that he'd heard that name before, but he couldn't remember where from. This bothered Hobnob to no end, he hated not being able to remember things.

---

"Sorry Haukford!" Shortstack replied as he and all but 1 of the other gnomes at Hillcrest followed the dog out of the great hall.
Doctor Diminutive elected to stay behind when he noticed Secret. The eyes looking out of the plague doctor's mask the gnomish physician usually wore regarded the elven rogue with an evaluative gleam before turning to a mix of amusement at the fact that the elf Hobnob was looking for in Starkvale was currently right here in Hillcrest, and a small amount of disappointment that he had no form of justification for applying leaches to her exposed flesh. After a moment, Doctor Diminutive approached Secret and cleared his throat to get her attention. "Am I correct in assuming that you are Kayden's roguish associate?" Doctor Diminutive asked "It would be good if you are, we've been looking all over for you for the last 7 days".


[System]
Age: 25
Appearance:

Bio: Melanie was entered in by her friends into the opportunity to become princess of the country. Why? Well she lost her parents when she was younger and grew up in a coffee house with the owners who knew her parents. Melanie's friends filled out the paperwork and turned it in. Next thing she knew she was being called in for an interview. Completely unfazed by the letter and nearly 100% sure that it was a joke, she went to the place and met with a good amount of people interviewing her. Including but not limited to speaking with the king's adviser and a few bureaucrats. Before heading home. Yeah right… this isn't going to happen… at least that's what she thought until the royal carriage came to retrieve her because she was chosen.

Personality: She spent a lot of time hiding her emotionally feelings towards her parents unexpected death in a bad fire. She never knew much about her parents considering they passed away when she was 10 but she found that her parents were former high ranking bureaucrats. She loves to have fun, goof off and play around. Humor was her biggest weapon to hide her depression and now getting thrown into being a princess and 'princess duties' as she had been informed of, she now had more responsibility and while she wants to take his seriously; she finds herself goofing off much more than she had expected.

[User]
Today was a day just like any other day. Melanie Ashland woke up in the small house she lived in with her grandparents before getting ready for the day. After washing her face the copper hair colored woman stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her friends had mailed in an application to become the new princess. The king, who lost his queen a while back, never had a child; so he placed the chance to the citizens to become the next prince or princess. Despite her ignoring her friends, they entered her into the contest.

The first interview went well --- she guessed. She enjoyed talking to the people because they recognized her name and knew her parents. While it was sad to hear about her parents, she enjoyed the bureaucrats sharing stories of their parents and some even had the time to share adventures they shared with either her mother or her father. The men and women she had the pleasure of talking to where enjoyable conversationalist and she left in a good mood. The following day she had another interview; this time with the king's advisor and soon the king himself joined the interview! Melanie had never felt so nervous in her life then when the king walked in and joined them. However he was very kind and gentle with the way he spoke to her. Now she was at home, staring at her reflection in the mirror wondering what was going to happen today? More coffee and tea orders at the bistro but it was a job and she was earning money.

Sighing she dressed in a simple brown dress with a white lace around her middle and a bow tied in the back, she slipped on a simple pair of shoes, pulled her copper hair back into a pony tail with a ribbon and left the house to meet up with her grandparents.

"I'm here!" She announced as she walked into the little shop and shut the door behind her.

"Oh good morning Melly." Her grandmother called out as she popped up from behind the counter giving the young maiden a fright. Her grandmother laughed lightheartedly at her granddaughter. "You're always so jumpy."

"When you pop out of nowhere it's easy to be jumpy!"

"Hey kiddo." A voice said behind her and Melanie let out a shriek and jumped away from the noise, only to have her grandfather laugh at her as he carried in a bag. "She's right, you are jumpy."

"Excuse me I'm not jumpy you two show up out of nowhere!" Melanie attempted to defend herself only to find herself laughing along. And that's how her day began.

Half the day went by and Melanie was measuring out tea leafs making a new mixture for the store before the bell went off. "Welcome to…" She began before she made eye contact with the man who walked in. "Sir Alfred?" Melanie said in confusion as the King's advisor walked in.

"Hello Miss Melanie, I'm here to escort you to the palace." The well-dressed Victorian man with white hair said with a small bow and gestured towards the door, the king's carriage waiting outside. Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out an envelope and presented it to her grandparents who showed up after hearing Melanie's confusion. "You'll find everything you need in these documents." He said with a polite nod before holding the door open for Melanie.

"Well… if it's from the King." Her grandfather said and took the things Melanie was working on and gestured for her to go.

"Okay…" Melanie's voice was filled with confusion and went out the door, the footman let her into the carriage and as the door shut she looked out the window to see her grandparent's reaction, they looked shocked as they read through the documents and began to ask Sir Alfred questions. "Wait what's going on?" She asked in shock.

"Don't worry about it princess," The footman said as he climbed onto the back of the carriage, "Sir Alfred will meet us at the palace when he's finished explaining things."

"Oh okay." Melanie said settling back against the comfortable seat before everything finally registered. "WAIT WHAT!?" Melanie's face and dark blue eyes were pressed against the glass watching the bistro disappear into the distance and this was the start of her new life.

[Assistant]
The kingdom seemed to glow with an ethereal gold as the sun began to rise over the horizon. It gave the usually rugged terrain a sense of warmth for once. The jagged stone mountain ranges, the endless fields and meadows, even the deep lakes and rivers seemed to absorb what little warmth the sun provided at this early hour of the morning. The birds and bugs were already awake and buzzing with the fast approaching heat of summer as Dalton continued brushing his stallion down in the stables. He had been planning on going for a peaceful trot around the palace grounds before getting an early start on today's training of the troops. The kingdom was enjoying a state of peace after years of war but old wounds took time to heal. As Captain of the Royal Garrison, it was Dalton's duty to keep the troops on their guard. The moment they slackened their wits would be the time their enemies took the upper hand. However, as Dalton was finishing fastening the billet strap on his horse's saddle, one of the castle staff approached him and gave a deep bow. "Pardon the intrusion Sir Dalton, but Your Royal Majesty the King has requested your presence in the Throne Room." Closing his eyes and releasing a frustrated sigh, Dalton nodded and returned his gaze to the steed. "Very well. You may take your leave." The man bowed once more and left, leaving the knight to his thoughts. So much for that ride... He pat the horse on the nose and was answered with a whinny. "Sorry buddy, maybe next time."

The clacking of his leather boots on the marble floor was the only sound in the early morning of the castle as Dalton made his way down the corridor. He pulled his fur-lined collar up a little higher as a cold breeze blew in through the open arched windows. Even during the summer, the kingdom never seemed to lose the chill of winter in the morning. Reaching the tall stone door, Dalton reached up and knocked twice with the golden knocker and waited. Seconds later the door was opened by one of his fellow castle guard and Dalton walked briskly into the room. Giving a quick bow once he stood in front of the royal monarch, the knight stood up straight and addressed the king.

"You summoned me, Your Majesty?"

King Gabriel's deep voice seemed to echo throughout the chamber. "Ah yes, Sir Dalton! I have a request for you! As you may be aware, the Royal Council and I have come to our decision regarding the Chosen Princess from among the citizens. As my most trusted knight and Captain of the Guard, I would like to assign you to be her personal guard and attend her during all her royal duties."

Dalton wasn't too thrilled with the idea of babysitting a girl who wasn't even pure nobility. A knight of his caliber and rank surely had better things to reserve his skill for. However, if she wanted to play princess and the king wished for her well-being, then it was Dalton's duty to ensure her safety. None of this showed on Dalton's features as he remained respectfully silent. The king continued. "She will be arriving within the hour. I have already sent Sir Alfred with a carriage to collect her from town and would like for you to be at the gates to greet her when she arrives. You are to give her a tour of the palace grounds and show her to her bedchambers. She will then be allowed time to relax and acclimate to her new surroundings until the Welcoming Banquet tonight."

"If that is what you wish, then let it be so." He gave one last bow before turning on his heel and leaving whence he came.

Back in his bedroom, Dalton found everything he needed already prepared. He did a quick glance over the paperwork just to make sure he didn't miss anything. If there was one thing he hated, it was not being prepared and always one step ahead. Dalton quickly changed into his formal court uniform and accompanying armor, fastening his sword at his side, and made his way out of the castle.

By the time he reached the front gates, Dalton could see the royal carriage making its way up the cobbled pathway. He stood at attention until it came to a stop in front of him. The footman hopped down from his seat, quickly releasing the hatch on the door and lowering the steps. As the footman reached out his hand to help the Chosen Princess down from the carriage, Dalton stepped forward and bowed deeply. As he stood, he glanced towards the footman and gave a brief nod, dismissing him. "Welcome to the castle, Princess. I am Sir Dalton Longfellow, Captain of the Royal Garrison and your personal guard from this day forward. If you would please follow me, I shall give you a tour of the grounds and castle and show you to your royal bedchambers."

[User]
The carriage continued to roll towards the palace, there was no way this was real. The strawberry brunette slide from side to side in the carriage looking out each window. No way, NO FREAKING WAY! Her dark blue eyes stayed wide as she looked at the people she rolled by. They all seemed as stunned as she was when they rolled along the path towards the palace.

It wasn't until the gates of the palace opened that the reality set it and Melanie fell back into the seat and stared out the window. "Oh my god…" She muttered under her breath as she took in the scenery of the palace grounds, it was extraordinary and beautiful! Her mouth dropped open before at the sight and she felt the urge to run through the gardens and fall into the bed of flowers. That probably wasn't the most 'princess' of thoughts she should be having now that she has this roll but that didn't stop her from thinking it.

Her head turned to look at entrance to the palace. The place was huge! Again her mouth fell open in complete shock. The footman opened the door and she stepped out lacking grace and pose of a princess gazing directly upwards at the large castle. Sure, she's lived in the city her whole life but that never meant that she came to the castle. So, as you can imagine her first time there was surprising. "Whoa…" She muttered through her slack jawed surprise. As her head lowered she saw in front of her was none other than… Sir Dalton Longfellow!

Upon him stepping forward and bowing deeply to her, she stumbled backwards allowing her back to hit the carriage in surprise. If she didn't feel out of place already, having the Captain of the Royal Guard bow to her in her white apron and brown skirt with a yellow shirt really showed her this was reality. "You're… you're…." She fumbled over her words as she stared straight at him in shock as he stood back up. Her breathe caught in her chest as she looked him in the eyes. He was well-known throughout the country and always drew the attention of the people in the town; especially her friends. They would freak out if they knew that she was standing in front of Sir Dalton, not to mention that was saying he'd be her personal guard.

"O---okay…." She spoke in a soft almost squeaking tone.


[System]
Jax, The Grandmaster At Arms

K (Kills)/D (Deaths)/A (Assists)
0/0/0

W (Wins): 0 | L (Losses): 0

Affiliation:None, assumedly Ionia.

Role: Fighter/Assassin

Attributes: Duelist. Melee, Jungler

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 260 lbs

Written Appearance: Jax wears a strange combination of traditional temple garb, gladiatorial armor, and leather straps. All of which totally obscure his visage, save for his large purple three digit hands. He hides his face, muffles his voice, and carries himself strangely. With broad shoulders and very large build in general it is unknown what race Jax could be.

Personality: The face that Jax shows to everyone is that of complete arrogance and confidence. Unmatched skill and ability backs up this arrogant personality. But this is a facade, it hides his true personality. That lies as a mystery to all who meet him. Those who meet Jax are often left with two lines of thought. "What an asshole!" and "What's he hiding?"

Friends:
• Gragas

Rivals:
• Fiora

Special Abilities

Relentless Assault: (Passive)
Jax's consecutive basic attacks continuously increase his attack speed for 1 turn.

Leap Strike: (Active)
Jax leaps toward a unit. If they are an enemy, he strikes them with his weapon. If Jax successfully lands on an enemy champion, then the physical damage (attack damage) and magic damage (ability power) granted by the successful strike will shatter an 1 physical gear (armor) and 1 magic gear (mag res) on the enemy champion. If an enemy champion is lacking armor, then the AP from Jax's attack will severely injure that enemy champion. This is the same situation if the enemy champion was to lack magic resistance.

Leap Strike allows Jax to dodge/evade 1 ability of an enemy champion and to cross over barriers and obstacles.

Cool Down: 1 turn

Empower: (Active)
Jax empowers his next attack, dealing bonus damage based on AD and AP. Stacks with Leap Strike. When Jax uses Empower in combination with Leap Strike, Empower will empower the Leap Strike, and if Jax is successful with his attack, then 1 armor and 1 magic resistance gear will be damaged on an enemy champion, and the enemy champion will be left in a near-death state.

Cool Down: 1 turn

Counter Strike: (Active)
For a period of time, Jax becomes impervious to auto-attack based damage. Jax deals the damage he would have taken in this period of time as physical damage, scaling on his AD. Enemies struck by the return blow's area of effect are stunned.

Invulnerability Duration: 1 turn or until Jax counters with his stun.

Stun Duration: 1 turn

The range of Jax's stun can affect all enemies within 3 meters of him.

Cool Down: 1 turn

Grandmaster's Might:
(Passive)
Every third consecutive strike Jax deals additional Magic Damage, making every third successful strike Jax lays on an enemy to be capable of shattering the enemy's Magic Resistance. If an enemy champion is lacking Magic Resist gear, then the enemy champion will face crippling and be left in a near-death state.

(Active)
Every third consecutive attack deals additional magic damage. Additionally, Jax can activate this ability to strengthen his resolve, increasing his Armor and Magic Resist for 1 turn duration. While Grandmaster's Might is activated, Jax can ignore the armor/magic resist-shattering abilities of other champions.

Cool Down: 3 turns

[User]
Valoran

Valoran is the name of the supercontinent in which the League of Legends takes place. It is a high-fantasy world with city-states supervised by The High Council of Equity. The recognized countries and city states are:

The Countries of Valoran

* Bilgewater Union
* Empire of Noxus
* Empire of Shurima
* Ionia
* Kingdom of Demacia
* Kingdom of Freljord

The City-States

* Bandle City
* Piltover
* Zaun

Unknown/Non-Governed Territories

* Mount Targon
* Shadow Isles
* The Ten Unexplored Seas

Each country, city-state, and tribe have a diplomat known as the Emissary of the League. The emissary is the one who submits the names of randomly selected champions to be summoned to The Fields of Justice. Characters who are summoned will see their name listed in a GM message. In-game, characters will see a portal open before them. That portal will be the door to transport them to a match. Characters won't know who will be on their team. It may be a friend, it may be a rival, or it may be a complete stranger whom they have never served with.

Role Play

When a player is writing in a certain city, then he or she will utilize the tagging system to state their location so that others will know. The tagging system will also be used to let readers know which champions were either directly spoken to/interacted with or mentioned in their post. The tag can be found below:

`[b]Champion:[/b] His or her name.
[b]Affiliation:[/b] City-state.
[b]Role:[/b] If you filled out a CS, then you know what this means.
[b]Attributes:[/b] If you filled out a CS, then you know what this means.
[b]Time/Date:[/b] Mars (March) 4-31 (you can role play any scenes between those dates) 7116 (the year) A.R.W. (After the Rune War)
[b]Location:[/b] Where are you in the world. Be as specific as possible.
[b]Tagging:[/b] Who are you talking immediately to. [b]Mentioned:[/b] What character was mentioned in the post but not directly spoken to?`

NPCs & Establishments

Players can create common NPCs or establishments that characters can use, or they may be people who they will see all the time. The player who created the NPC can opt to control that NPC for all characters who visit the establishment or leave them as an open role to be played whenever necessary. There will be a list of NPCs and establishments for each city in a hider. If a named NPC or establishment is created, I ask that the player(s) who created them send me a PM so that I can keep track and add it to the list.

You will find the NPC list in a hider beneath the list of countries, city-states, and unknown areas above.

More Threads

If we get a ton of people in this game, then I will be giving each major city such as Demacia, Noxus, etc. their own thread and it will be linked here. This will be to help us organize the IC plots that are going on so that we don't over-clutter this one IC.[/font]

Rules

1. Sandbox. This is a sandbox area. Storylines will be either guided by those individual players running them or by the GM.
2. Summoning. If your champion is summoned to the Fields of Justice, you can still resume play as though they had been summoned on another date. However, you must answer the call.
3. Duels. Players may get into duels due to champion rivalry. Champions can choose to duel within the Fields of Justice in a 1 v 1 match or they can choose to duel in their current dimension. Warning: If champions duel and one of them dies in Valoran, then they will die for real. Thus is why the Fields of Justice exist. They are to help keep the peace and they are an alternative form of warfare between nations.
4. Tagging. Use the tag please.
5. No OOC. Keep all OOC comments in the OOC thread. That's why it is there. Also be sure to "@Mention" the person you are talking to out oc courtesy.

Links

A link to the Arena thread will be posted here soon for when the time comes. Also, if we get a ton of people in this game, then you may find links to specific nations such as Demacia, Noxus, etc. For all RP being conducted within the jurisdiction of those nations.

Fields of Justice (Arena)

[Assistant]
Welcome to the Castle of the Gods, Headquarters of the League.

The High Council of Equity have called for all members of the kingdoms of Noxus and Demacia, as well as their allies, to participate in a special dinner as a means to cool the flames that burn between the nations and bring them closer to peace through cooperation. The Emissaries ask nothing more from their guests but to eat, drink, socialize and be merry. To enjoy this night as though there were no kingdoms and wars and that everyone was equal and at peace. It may have been asking for much, but they were at least willing to give it a shot!

The Main Ball Room

Champions will find the doors open for them automatically upon approach. The piano fills the hall with a pleasant melody and the air is warm with the pleasant smells of a grand feast spread out upon the long tables that line the left and right side of the room. They are free to partake in the spread, dance, play music themselves, or even sing. This was meant to be a night of drink, laughter, and joy. A night of peace.

Main Method of Arrival to the Ball: Gateway (Teleporter)

Tagging
Use this code at the top of each of your posts to let other writers know, who your character is, where your character is, their kingdom, who they are talking directly to, and who they have mentioned. If you wish to add graphics, colors, etc., then do so. Design it however you like.

`Name: (The name of your champion)
Affiliation: (what kingdom, city, etc. If your champion is from a major kingdom, then write that please.)
Location: (Be specific so everyone knows where your character is currently positioned and not just writing your character wherever THEY think they are standing)
Tagging: (This will be who your character is directly interacting with/talking to. You can use the @Mention here and tag those writers out of courtesy)
Mentioned: (This may be a champion your character is thinking about or indirectly mentioned in your post.`

[User]
`Name: Jax
Affiliation: Ionia, and by proxy Demacia. Though, loosely.
Location: Castle of the Gods.`

That familiar blue aura of teleportation washed across him as he stood atop the dias in the Placidium of Ionia, Jax nodded a silent farewell to the surrounding scholars and spiritualists alike as he vanished into thin air. In a moment he reappeared in a spectacular venue rivaling that of the Placidium itself, though much more decadent and not much in the way of orderly. Despite its exuberance it was merely a locale that served the purpose of looking pretty. Rather than having any particular unique quality about it, it relied on the concept of beauty to give it the appearance of glory. He inhaled through is nostrils and let out a long sigh, adjusting his shoulders to lessen the weight of the length of brass lamppost on his back. After stepping from the elevated platform he was stopped by a man dressed lightly in armor who asked of him to leave his weapon at the door, behind the mask he smiled slightly and gave a short laugh.

Reaching behind himself and grasping the pole with his thumb and forefinger he showed it to the guard. "Hah, this old thing? Haven't you seen a lamp before?" Before the man replied he laughed again and stepped past him, for a moment the guard contemplated stopping him. Even raised his hand towards the strange figure before reconsidering his decision. Of all the people in the world to argue with, Jax was not one that the guard would bother.

It was a laborious task seeking his prize at this locale, the hustle and bustle of the venue was particularly great. Nobles of every nation state were doting about with a sickening sense of importance. Even those nationals that weren't particularly fond of either nation were here, likely forming relations with the higher ups of individual nations to get in good with the most powerful states. Man, if these people really sat down and thought about the important issues. Shurima's rise, the Void's growing influence, the hellscape of the Shadow Isles. If they'd seen what Jax has seen in his long years, they wouldn't bother with the petty squabbles of Demacia and Noxus.

If Jax thought so low of these people, why was he here?

Well, a number of reasons. If a fight breaks out, sweet. The champ's here to add some teeth to the list of teeth he's knocked out. Of course there might be a chance that he might actually find some sort of interesting adventure by following some noble home to their nation-state that would be fine as well. The biggest reason, however, and the reason he's thus far forgotten to replant his lamppost on his back.

Liquor.

Of all the fancy food and decoration that was here, the high standards of the people observing and consuming it? The liquor here must be the single most expensive and highest quality out there. Behind, of course, Gragas' most recent brew. Obviously nothing compared to the best drink that only ever improves, but this was effectively a consolation prize. For not bothering to actually traverse the Freljord in order to seek out his old friend.

It was about this time that he remembered carrying a magically alight lamp in one's hand might be taken as an offense, obviously he didn't want to start a fuss before he hand found his prize. He placed the post back in the leather holster on his back and continued shoving his way through the crowd.

`Name: Sion
Affiliation: Noxus
Location: Far beneath the Castle of the Gods.`

Party? Yes. They had said party. They had said secret.

There was a colossal carriage that had carried several Noxian nobles to the teleporter directly beneath the Castle of the Gods. Beneath the seats that the nobles had ridden was a fake panel, but why? Chained down beneath that panel lied the beastly horror that is Sion, and beneath him was another deeper panel. And in that panel was a catapult, primed and ready to launch the beast towards the castle once the signal was raised.

It was a particularly complex and intentionally show-offish carriage, so despite the inner workings it didn't look too abnormal.

But why?

What purpose did they have for bringing the heathenish creature here?

Sion is an engine of war, designed to be unleashed on the unprepared. If violence broke out inside of the party, a signal would be raised. The goliath would be fired at the castle and unleash absolute hell upon any Demacian noble or soldier that crossed his path.

Battle. . .Yessss.


[System]
The commander is on deck.
Age: 35 years old

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Appearance: Tall at 5' 9", Natalia shows her Germanic heritage in her tightly maintained blonde hair and dazzlingly blue eyes. Her face is set almost constantly in a stern and even gaze, and she keeps her dress spartan and always pristine. Most often she keeps to what could only be an old dress uniform from her military days, a deep navy blue long coat and pants trimmed in white with black boots that reach to just under her knees.

Equipment: At her hip rests a laser pistol, and in her ear sits eternally a comm device. She keeps a personal datapad and a pair of reading glasses. Mention them at your own peril.

Skills: A well-versed marksman and physical combatant, Natalia has kept her skills from her military days sharp.

Personality: Natalia is a straight-laced, rational leader, who has few regrets about the life she's chosen. With a love for a good challenge, be it on the battlefield or off, she comes across as more a force of nature than a woman of 35. She knows her crew isn't like her, and as long as they get the job done, that suits her just fine. In fact, though she'd never soberly admit it, she much prefers being surrounded by such a varied bunch. She loves terrible action vids. She will always insist they are in fact, very good.

Bio: As one might expect from the way she carries herself and runs her ship, Natalia came from a military family and served in a quite successful army in the inner colonies, but was discharged following an incident with a superior officer that she adamantly refuses to speak about. But battle could not keep itself from Natalia Faust and so it was sometime later that she formed her own Mercenary group and has proven herself an effective and fierce leader. A string of jobs gone bad, betrayals, or defaults on payment has left her and her company low on funds.

Weaknesses: Has a tendency to fall into a 'get the job done no matter what' mentality at times, and can be insensitive toward the emotions of others. Can be stubborn and unrelenting on matters.

Mech Name: Miss Direction

Mech Chassis: Gladiator

Mech Class: Heavy

Appearance: Roughly humanoid in form, this mech has been converted from a close brawler typical of its class to a withering direct fire platform, with the original arms being replaced from the elbow down with the immense heavy PPCs. Its boxy torso keeps a hunched appearance with the head sequestered low in the front. Painted a nearly black blue color lined in white, it is an imposing and regal mech. on the left torso are a series of red X marks, each one signifying a mech downed in combat.

Armament-

Center Torso Hardpoint: UAV drone, Medium Laser

Left Torso Hardpoint: Medium Laser, Heavy SRM Rack

Right Torso Hardpoint: Medium Laser, Heavy SRM Rack

Left Arm Hardpoint: Heavy PPC

Right Arm Hardpoint: Heavy PPC

[User]
IC: Skoll

Skoll groaned into the mic, facepalming his helmet. "Ten credits says something happens on this mission that makes Tiger Four get better material for jokes."

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Airstrip.

"I don't have the budget for better jokes." Banjo straightened into an upright position, arms hanging relaxed by its sides, for now. "Maybe if today goes well, that could change."

[User]
IC: Skoll

"Y'know Winters, last I checked, people could get new jokes for free. It's amazing what you can do with free stuff, you should try it sometime." Seeker turned to look at Banjo before turning to the other Tigers. "Tiger Two, Tiger Five, how're you both looking? Systems nominal?"

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - Airstrip.

It took an incredible amount of effort for Juliana to refrain from making a 'free' joke about Skoll's mother. What held her back wasn't really respect for her comrade, but more a lack of knowledge regarding the familial and reproductive habits of his species. She didn't want to bother making a joke like that if it was just going to fall flat or blow up in her face.

That, and she didn't want to piss off the medic.

"Okay, at the risk of sounding like the first person to die in every horror movie ever, I think we should split up." Juliana announced, taking on a more serious tone. "We know the enemy are coming from two directions, and that this airstrip is their intended destination. If they saw us drop, they might try to circle around, and I don't want to lose out on a payday because some convict decided to get clever and sneak around us. We can't wait here and hope that they'll come straight to us. We need to head them off."

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

Another mech impacted the ground, quickly standing upright and pointing its autocannon experimentally. Iral spoke over the comms, sounding clearly more in the zone and focused than before. "Tiger number 1 dropped and operational. Stalker Judge ready for combat."

"They'd be expecting police forces, correct?" He asked, surveying the landscape.

[Assistant]
IC: Skoll

"That's correct Tiger One. However, Winters also has a point, and we didn't exactly drop during the dead of night here. For any mechs that won't have me with them; keep low, try to move quick, and shoot first, but above all that, stick together! I can't patch you up if i'm not there." Skoll tapped at a few buttons on his display and an icon for the Argonaut appeared with a green light next to it. "Argonaut Command, this is Tiger Six, are there any remaining police forces that could lend us a hand or are we just on our own here?"

[User]
IC: Taia Sal - Drop

Dials, screens, readouts, ammo counts...Taia made careful note of everything. Of course, she always made sure to do after battle maintenance, but it was always wise to make sure everything was in working order.

Taia double checked to make sure her primary weapon was fully functional. Without it, she was effectively useless...so she always took extra care with it. And as always, the laser was in perfect working condition. She breathed out a sigh of relief. Sure, it hasn't failed her yet...but any mission could be her last.

"This is Tiger Two, reporting in. Shadowrend is ready to tangle."

She adjusted her controls, gripping the bulk of the massive laser in her Mech's free hand. She had to be able to move it at a moments notice, after all. Moving that amount of weight with only one arm on such a light Mech? Ridiculous.

[Assistant]
IC: Iral Vijil

"So what? We split up into small groups and move out? Duos, I suppose?"

[User]
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae huffed and started to wade into the bog, with Praetorian slowing considerably. She stopped on a more stable patch of ground and started to sweep the area, her PPC trailing left and right as she kept watch with Praetorian's sensors.

"Nothing approaching yet. We should start to move, while we have a chance. Get some distance between us and the settlement."

[Assistant]
IC: Skoll

"Unfortunately, Tiger One, that's how we're going to have to do this. Normally, splitting into groups of three would be sufficient, but then that would leave a clear shot straight between us for the prisoners to escape through. You and Tiger Three will take center, Tiger Two and Tiger Five will go right, Tiger Four and I will go left."

@GunmetalGold @VahkiDane @Nato Greavesy @Ardoku

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

"Yare yare, who made you the boss, anyway?" Stalker Judge seemed to shake its "head". "Alright, Three, let's move. Today, preferably."

[Assistant]
IC: Brae Tessen

Brae huffed. "Praetorian wasn't made for this terrain. You keep me covered, I'll buy you a round."

[User]
IC: Taia Sal - To the right, to the right

"Whatever works best. Alright Tiger Five, let's go. You take point, I'll support from afar. My Mech is...more equipped for long-range support, after all."

(@Ardoku)

[Assistant]
IC: Skoll

"If you didn't want me patch you up Iral, all you had to do was say so." Skoll responded in a slightly salty tone. Seeker turned towards Banjo and started walking. "Let's go, Winters. Watch my back, i'll watch yours."

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

The raptor didn't reply with a snarky comment to Brae, speaking in a more cautious tone. "Covering number Three." He said in confirmation.

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"Negative, Tiger Six, the local forces will not be assisting us today. You're on your own out there."

[User]
IC: Juliana Winters - Into the Swamp.

"Say, commander, what are the chances that the prison might've put trackers in their prisoners or mechs?" Juliana started to move Banjo forward, the heavy mech swiftly sinking past its ankles after its first step. "More specifically, what are the chances that they might throw us a bone and share that kind of info with us?"

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"Unlikely on a planet like this. It's nearly impossible to cross the swamps without hovercraft or mechs, which the planetary government keeps armed for infantry and light vehicle combat. They probably don't see a need to, Tiger Four."

[User]
IC: Taia Sal - Rightwards

"Do we have their last known location, at the very least?"

[Assistant]
IC: Juliana Winters - The Swamp.

"I suppose that would've been too easy," she sighed, as Banjo continued to stride slowly into the swamp. She started to angle left, as Skoll had suggested, "Alright, Tigers, you know the drill. Stay in radio contact, and give 'em hell."

[User]
Knox Iliand-ship

 Knox finished the drop-ship's systems check. "Purring like a young feline as the humans say. But I wonder why something so delicious is apart of that saying." he said to himself. He walked up to the command center and checked the comms. He checked the systems of each mech to clarify the mission's progress. "The ships radar is having an issue seeing due to the climate, but it seems ya'll be fine."

[Assistant]
IC: Skoll

"That's a negative Tiger Two, given the track record of responses we've had so far." Seeker stepped off the permacrete air strip and began to trudge through the muck. Already the strained groans can be heard as servos and pistons work just to keep the mech moving. "Stick with the buddy system, people, and keep your heads on a swivel."

[User]
IC: Juliana Winters - The Swamp.

Banjo continued trudging languidly through the marshy undergrowth, its wide-splayed feet leaving deep, dinosaur-esque tracks in its wake. Juliana almost started whistling to herself as her mech walked, but she forced herself to keep quiet.

[Assistant]
IC: Brae Tessen

Praetorian Ruin lumbered slowly through the dense bog, PPC acting as a sentry and looking for a target. Brae tapped at a console and filtered through a few spectrum scans, though nothing turned up.

The Apatagor growled slightly. "Come already. Show yourselves, ronus."

[User]
IC: Iral Vijil

"I didn't think a bunch of degenerates like them were even capable of being so bloody quiet." He muttered, eyes locked on his sensors.

[Assistant]
Natalia Faust

"Thank you, Mr. Iliand, I want you on standby in case we need to hot drop reinforcements."

"Tiger Two, our intel put them 10 klicks away from the dropzone twenty minutes ago, estimates put them about three klicks now."

As if to accentuate her point, contacts would show up on the long range sensors of each mech. Three from the north-west, another three from the south-west.

[User]
IC: Skoll

"I'm going to assume that you're talking about the prisoners there, Tiger One." Seeker did its best to keep pace with Banjo. Skoll looked between the scanners and the heat display.

[Assistant]
IC: Taia Sal - Marching forwards

"Understood."

She raised the laser cannon and trained it forwards. All she needed was line of sight to see the stolen mechs...

[User]
IC: Juliana Winters - The Swamp.

"In hindsight, Skoll, perhaps those of us with the LRMs should've gone up the middle." Juliana mused, "But know that we know where they are, perhaps we should consolidate into groups of three after all."

[Assistant]
Knox-Ship

Knox attempted to calibrate the sensors. After a bit, success. "Boss, I have some unidentifiable contacts on sensors after calibration. They might be the prisoners, but it's a bit scrambled to pick up. How's your view?"

[User] "Fine. To your station, Mr. Iliand, do not make me repeat myself a third time."


[System]
Character concept. If I need to add more details or change something, feel free to point it out.

Character Concept: "Till the end of the world I must stay faithful to my bachelor status."
Gender: Well last time I checked, I was a boy. I hope this also WON'T change.

Background: Oh in my previous life I was called Akira Satoru. I think it was a pretty normal planet except my... less then normal family. Ya see, I come from a strange japanese family where all cultists worshipped some sort of ghosts of fertility, marriage and some odd stuff like this. Never cared. Of course they tried to bring me in and join their madness, but I resisted. If I knew I would be cursed in after-life just because I resisted to get married and get a bunch of annoying brats, I would in the end jump in.

Their annoying yapping man... "Get married son, it's a tradition to build big family with a bunch of children. Plus Japan needs higher birthrate !" F**k them ! In the end I traveled to US once I ended up 18 and found a random job in one of Walmarts. I was so damn happy, but of course I needed to die in car accident 3 years later and ended up in this... dog body. I just wanted to spend the rest of my life alone, enjoying the life of a bachelor and prostitutes if I really needed to get laid. I learned that for refusing to follow my family path I would be cursed with a dog body in after life and would only get back to my normal one if I would find a love of my life and get married. What the heck. I thought they were joking ?! Now how I'm supposed to do it ?! I just hope that those chicks from hentai stories and their bestiali... no, let's just not go into details. This is so awkard...

Class: Audiokinetic

Of course it's mostly for rough template for my potential power. We may always discuss details.

Race: Talking dog. At least pretty cool dog (Labrador Retriever). Talk about idiotic after-death family curse. Those bastards I tell you...
Plus I'm a cat type of guy !

Attribute: Focus

Martial Arts: N/A

Thaumaturgy: Sound Based Magic. With Barking or rattling his muzzle ;).

Equipment: I'm dog, I don't think I can exactly use items. Although some sort of armor around my body would be cool, duh.

Look: My handsome figure.

[User]
Egwene tightened her grip on the man's shoulder as he backed away from the Scarecrow, and said he would leave it alone. That, wasn't her problem. She wasn't in any way bothered how he treated the Scarecrow, but she was bothered by how he treated her. Still, before she could continute her count, the Scarecrow screamed for Ezekiel, and the scream was responded a few seconds later with a guy carrying a rifle.
"Huh, were's your chariot?" She asked, still gripping the other guy's shoulder. "And, I believe you have mistaken us for someone else. We were recently dropped off here from elsewhere by....something, we don't actually know. I think. And I can shoot fire out of my tail! So, we aren't here to do anything to you, your kids, or your scarecrow. And if this one-" She started, gesturing to the man of whom she had still grasped "-tries anything, we get to see what twenty seven thousand degrees of focused heat does to the pneumo-tissue" She finished, grinning broadly and happily even though she had threatened to punch a hole in a guy's lung just a second ago. "So, why don't you start at the start and tell us why a large rifle is your greeting for new people rather than a cup of tea?"

[Assistant]
Aidan Diavol

@Eklispe@Damiann47

---

Aidan retracted the shinai (bamboo sword) and rested it over his shoulder while his second one dangled in his grip.

"You're finally awake," he greeted the feline girl.

I didn't expect to see anything else honestly…well do you have any idea where we're going? (Sonia)

Removing the sword from his shoulder, Aidan pointed with it at the blue-haired three-eyed person's back as he was walking away.

"We're following that guy and we're hoping he's taking us to a village," he explained to her before turning to follow him and Orion. "Come on. No cat left behind."

The swordsman caught up to Orion in time to hear him self-proclaim himself indirectly the leader of their little group. Whatever. Aiden didn't really care for his main concern was figuring out this foreign land and his new life.

"My name is…" Aidan Diavol. "Aidan…Diavol…"

It felt strange saying it as though it hadn't been his true name, but it had been the first name to enter his mind. "I'm a…swordsman and a mage…I think."

It was hard to sound certain when one could barely grasp the environment, but he knew he would have to learn to do so quick in order to survive.

[User]
Jemma - The Beach

---

The young woman hardly noticed the massive figure who blocked her path. There were so many people jostling her about, and besides, most were probably far too intoxicated to pay her any mind. But when a sturdy hand cupped her backside, she gave a squeal, and realized that he was focused entirely on her. This was not another drunken fool who paused only to shove a cup in her face, though she did smell the heavy stink of alcohol on his breath. This man had taken interest in her, and under the blinding sun, with the music throbbing in her head, she struggled to figure out why.

Well, if man was the appropriate tone at all. Jemma's lips parted in awe, and she nearly lost the candy she sucked on as she gazed up at him. It. Whatever. There was so much hair, and the horns that protruded from his head could not possibly be fake. If this person was also dead, and had followed the same process that she had, he had been far more creative in selecting his appearance.

As his other arm snaked around her small body to drag her closer, her hands went up in protest. Balled fists met the hard muscle of his midsection, and her heart leapt to her throat. He was saying something, but it sounded far away, and all she could manage was a soft, confused "mhmm." What in the world is going on?

Suddenly, her sense of sight felt off. Everything appeared brighter, but perhaps it was the strange blue filter that was to blame. Time seemed to speed up a bit, and she witnessed a man having his drink taken. But as quickly as the vision had come, it died away, and the blonde turned her head as she gagged. The candy was gone, and the sweet taste of strawberries had been replaced by something far more vile.

But what she found far more upsetting was the scene that played before her only seconds later. That same blonde man from before, raving about his cup being taken. "What the?" she murmured, before retching again.

[Assistant]
Damien was beginning to get a little less intimidated and a little more annoyed when the fox girl continued to get on his case. "What's your problem?!" Damien asked. "Spit it out." The mood was then cut short as the scarecrow began yelling for someone, making Damien cover an ear and take another step back from the loud noise. At first, there was nothing but silence as nothing happened. Then, the door to the farmhouse opened, and a man holding some sort of rifle emerged. That alone set off a number of alarms in his head. He could handle baseball bats and metal pipes, even knifes if he was careful enough, but a gun? That wasn't something he was willing to fight against.

Fortunately, it seemed like the fox girl was attempting to defuse the situation, although he was slightly irked and glared at her when she was still threatening him. Still, he didn't exactly have much else to add to the conversation, and decided to let it go its course for now. If things went south, though, he wouldn't hesitate to make a break for it.

[User]
TARUM

---

The woman struggled in vain to escape from his 'embrace', her failed attempts did noting but fill Tarum with delight. His grin was accompanied by a cackle, oh this all felt strange yet so, so amazing. When it became clear that the blonde was not going to accept the drink he 'kindly' offered, Tarum shrugged "Your loss. More for me." He mumbled and was about to take a sip when he felt a shove from the side. It came more as a surprise rather than anything else, startling him enough to release the woman from his grasp and slightly stumble on his hooved feet. The one who had the gall to push him appeared to be a young man with the same blonde coloration of his hair like the woman. He was talking directly to Tarum, even pointing at him with his index finger to accentuate his words. In spite of his efforts, the words fell on quite literal deaf ears, the effect of the pill still present on Tarum, making it look almost comical how the man moved his mouth with no sound.

Judging by the aggravated expression on his face, he was clearly angry at Tarum for one reason or another. Hah, maybe he was this woman's boyfriend and didn't take kindly to someone groping her out of the blue. Or it could be something else, yet it all was the same for the Chaos-Weaver. 'Alright then..' Tarum thought as his ever-present grin only turned more wicked. He released the grasp he had on the glass, its contents spilling on the floor next to him followed by the glass itself, shattering as it touched the surface. This only seemed to make the blonde man in front of him angrier, good, it is going to make it more easier. Tarum nonchalantly took a few steps until he was right in the man's face, they were approximately the same height. He chuckled as he saw the man continuing to talk, only to be silence in the very next moment when Tarum head-butted him without so much as a warning of any kind.

Oh, the advantages of having not one but two pairs of horns. Tarum felt pretty much nothing yet the poor bloke fell on his ass with blood gushing from his nose, the surprise of the strike contributing to the force behind it, accentuated by the pill's effects. "Shut up." Tarum said mockingly and then proceeded to place his hoof on the man's chest, preventing him from getting up. He applied a bit of pressure, yet again, the pill's effects probably accentuated the force behind it more than Tarum assumed. The man struggled for a bit but stopped as he saw the Chaos-Weaver lean down, his burning orange eyes affixed to his face, smudged with blood from his nose. "Piss. Off." Were the only two words Tarum said to him before giving a final push from his hoof and then stepping back, releasing him. Another crazed laugh escaped him as he turned his attention back to the blonde woman, who appeared to be retching. He sighed and waited for her to be done before once again pulling her closer to him "Oh, you poor, fragile little thing." He said sarcastically, "How about some rest and relaxation somewhere more... private from prying eyes? Hmmmm?' He asked, indicating with his free hand towards the wooden path that lead away from the party. The slight ringing in his ears was an indication that maybe, just maybe, the pill's effects would pass and he could hear again. If that was the case, he had a few questions to ask this lovely little blonde and was curious to hear her answers.

[Assistant]
Hikaru - The Forest

Hikaru woke up in the forest. It was strange how quickly his death pushed him somewhere else. No Limbo, no darkness, no heaven (or hell, although Hikaru doesn't think he did anything exactly wrong, Hikaru led perfectly normal life). It just happened... instantly. he didn't even have a chance to think about what happened. It just did. Ahh yeah, car accident, how cliche. Hikaru read some stories about people being reincarnaited, but this was ridiculous ! Fucked up family full of cultists and baby making human machines... what the hell was wrong with them ?! And they said he needed to get married and get a bunch of kids because it's a tradition... F**k them all ! They mentioned some sort of curse... Heh... sad thing is that once Hikaru escaped their madness he barely lived 3 years. Yep, this sucked, horribly. All he wanted is to end up as a bachelor, live a happy life of a single and if needed visit prostitutes to get laid ! Simple, effective, no needed drama which is part of normal relationship. No responsibilities. But of course some fag driving shitty truck needed to hit him head on. Gah...

Well... at least he's still alive ! Although Hikaru couldn't help but look around confused. If he reincarnated wasn't he supposed to be reborn as a baby, screaming and wailing in clear shock. Well it certainly was something that Hikaru didn't expect. Well it was time to check himself, huh. Wait... why Hikaru walked in such a strange way, so close to the ground... He noticed small pond nearby and moved in to check out his reflection. Hikaru trembled in shock and howled (?!).

No no no no NO F*****IG hell no ! Now he remembered that sh**ty curse promise ! And in the end it turned out true ?! That after death Hikaru would end up as a dog and the only way to revert it was by getting into serious relationship and getting married after. SERIOUSLY !? What the sack full of bulls**t ! He always prided himself in being a single, bachelor ! Hikaru growled in anger clearly not happy with situation, not only he doubted he could just go and pay for sex as a FU***NG DOG, but even get it in first place ! Oh well, maybe those hentai legends about girls liking besti... no no no. Don't move into the subject, too much. What surprised him is that once he released another bark, he felt like information moved back to him. It was like...

Echolocation...

Once clearly pissed, suddenly stopped and thought about it. Hikaru just proved that he wasn't exactly normal dog, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. He repeated the bark and received new sort of information. Wind, Trees, Sounds of Crickets, Random Guy Throwing Axes On Nearby Trees... wait, what ! Hikaru wanted to move away and have nothing to do with some stranger, but he needed information. Of any kind. And in nearby vicinity there was no one else. So calm and yet so scary and spooky. Well, he could try the middle ground and walked to him. Sit in place, and barked 'Woof' three times to get his attention and whined after. Maybe he will help him out ? Labrador retriever dogs are pretty cool after all, huh ?


[System]
Brute | Level 5

---

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

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

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

---

Traits:

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

---

* Bronze Hand Axe

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

* Bronze Battle Axe

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

* Iron Battle Axe

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

* Ancient Blade

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

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

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

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

[User]
Surprisingly, none of the foul creatures went forth to attack Zarif, despite him wielding only his bow. Clearly, these creatures were not as bright as Zarif had given them credit. Still, it was all for the better, and though his strange words, that evoker of dark rituals had healed his leg to boot. Zarif let out a long sigh, now that most of the Yeeks outside had been routed, the rest ran hiding behind their crumbling walls.

Zarif:Looks like we dug you out of your hole, friend. The merchant gave a teasing smile, turned away, and shuttered. He had tried not to think about it before, as he was gearing for what he liked to think of as a daring charge, but now that he had a moment for things to sink in, he felt profoundly unnerved. He glanced over his shoulders at the hooded conjurer, half hidden by the broken stone wall a ways behind him. Too close... that speaker of fell words The traveler thought, shivering.

Both consciously, and subconsciously, Zarif did not like the man who called himself Iddin-ninshubur. Apart from his name being nearly impossible for Zarif's non-native tongue to pronounce, the merchant distrusted his magics and incantations. A shadow seemed to hang over him like some sort of phantom, and the fact that he had cast a spell upon Zarif, something he always tried so hard to avoid, tore at his mind. His homeland had no place for such casters of dark incantations and less for evoking strange gods. Such men were always cast out, for they often brought troubling times in their wake.

The boss always kept him around, always had, so there was nothing to be done but keep his distance. But these Yeeks too had their own evokers, and nobody would stop him from ridding the world of them. Without a second thought, Zarif kicked Salador and they road into the Ziggurat, aiming his arrow between the eyes of the fleeing fiend.

Zarif rides 9 tiles to 25-17, attacks Blue Yeek Ensi #1 with his Bronze Short Bow, then moves 1 tile forward to 25-16

[Assistant]
Ofik:Again!

Etor:But father! I've done this over a hundred times.

Ofik: AND YOU WILL DO 100 MORE.

Etor:Yes father! ...a sword is cooler than a lance though.

Ofik: Etor. Your battle acumen will grow as you do but you have a darkness in you. Darkness that must always be kept at bay. Death and bloodshed could further plunge you into the abyss. The long spear provides that distance. As "cool" as a sword may be you should always attack first then counter when they close the distance. The key to battle is to hit them more than you are hit.

---

Etor: Damn.

The Ensi had gotten away and the group had to rush to save him from being ambushed. The two Hellions who came to back him up made him feel better in their own way. Zarif as a scolding but relieved leader and Siris by laughing off any offense that stood before him. The young spearman pretended to be too busy concentrating on the yeeks to hear the cleanup duty remark that Zarif made. However, the flop sweat that followed most definitely gave him away. The yeek warrior that the confident Siris had struck down would've been the end of Etor.

---

As Zarif rides off in what Etor considers a really cool fashion, he feels a tinge of embarrassment. Etor weakly raises his hand towards the mounted rider.

Etor: My... my long spear.

The short spear that Zarif gave him was lighter and easier to maneuver, it was a better weapon for him to use and yet he had always followed his father's wishes to use the heavier long spear. Had his father been stifling him due to the fear of the darkness within Etor? As Siris boasted further, Etor had felt something stir within him. It wasn't an emotion it was something more, something from within, and from the world unseen. He put his hand on the shoulder of the yeek in front of him, barely alive but too base to reconsider any other course of action. He drove the short spear through the weakened yeek, its limp body slumping onto his breastplate, it's blood smearing onto the fledgling spearman. The yeek's last breathe feed whatever was stirring within him or it soothed it, the young spearman couldn't tell.

Etor:Thanks Siris. I dont know what I would've done without you and zarif.

Etor stays on 21-21 killing yeek #5

[User]
Siris saw two yeeks lunge at him and immediately put his shield up. The first yeek slammed into the shield much harder than Siris anticipated considering it's size, but not strong enough to force the warrior lose his stance. While stopping the yeek with his shield Siris pierces the yeek through the gut, killing it in one blow. Afterwards he immediately pulls the sword out and prepares himself for the second yeek's attack, using his shield to use the yeek's momentum against it so it falls to the ground where Siris quickly finishes it off.

After finishing off the second yeet, out of the corner of his eye he spots another yeet coming towards him

Siris: "Hid yourself behind these other too huh?! Well no matter!"

When Siris got a proper look at the yeek he realized his mistake, although the yeek itself wasn't too close it's weapon was (if one could call it that that is) much closer. With a quick movement of his left arm Siris manages to deflect the Yeek's makeshift spear from stabbing him in the stomach, but not enough to completely avoid the blow which causes a relatively large cut on his right side.

Siris tries to immediately swing at the yeek but the surprise damage and the extra distance caused by the yeeks spear causes him to miss, allowing the yeek to take a couple of steps back and be out of immediate harm

Siris: "UGH!"
"You are not like the others, but you shall quickly fall to me nonetheless foul beast!"

At that moment Zarif passes them both and starts to head inside the ruins. Siris was about to take it as his cue to attack his enemy immediately since he felt like he was being left behind for being slow but stops himself when he hears his companion Etor thank him for his aid.

Siris: "Hahaha!" Siris confidently laughs trying to hide how much he's concentrating on the yeek in front of him to try to think of how to attack it without taking anymore damage
"It's the least someone of my skills can do! If you wish to thank me buy me some alcohol as celebration after we are finished!"

With those last words he rushes the yeek warrior to try to get past the spear's long reach before it can attack. The yeek tries to stab the human warrior in front of it but, with his shield, Siris hits the spear hard to his right. Following that momentum, Siris continues spinning while moving forward enough so that he turns a full circle followed by a fast and sharp cut into the yeek warrior's throat. While not enough to decapitate it, it was enough to cause it to certainly have a painful death despite its failed attempt at trying to hold its throat.

Siris: "In the meantime, let us finish off the rest of these creatures!" he shouts in Etor's direction
"Of course, I could also do it by myself! And that is what will happen if you do not hurry my young friend!! No time to waste!!" turning to face Zarif's direction

Siris moves 4 tiles to 24-22, then attacks yeek warrior 4

[Assistant]
Makeen saw the stains of several slain Yeeks ahead. Rushing to the aid of Etor and Siris, he realized his assistance wasn't needed. As he approached, both his companions slayed their opponents. Causally flipping his knife, Makeen congratulated them on their work. "Good job guys. Guess the only ones left are in there."

Makeen moves six tiles to 21-22.

[User]
One of the creatures on the right chooses him as its last target, but one manages to slip past and attack Ashür. The blue creep is now too close to their employer for Lyun not to pay attention. He circles around the Yeek, moving towards Kastilus' spot and cleaving the creature with a swing of his weapon.

Lyun: "Good... Keep close." His words, aimed at Kastilus, could barely be heard by those nearby. If, by any chance, someone was paying attention to him, they could probably notice him whispering more words than he properly vocalized.

Lyun moves three tiles to 21-27. He then attacks Yeek Warrior #3 with his battleaxe and hits for 18 damage, killing it.


[System]
The Moonkissed Princeling

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P E R S O N A L D E T A I L S
Age - 15
Gender - Male
Heritage - Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II
Magical Affinity - Water

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P E R S O N A L I T Y

Air-Headed
Spoken of charitably, Rossweine lives without a care for material goods, seeing beyond the trappings of greed and pride to get at what truly matters in life. That, however, is perhaps simply the hallmark of a noble, one who from birth was entitled to wealth and material security, for whom no amount of money could sway if only because such wealth would improve little in their life. He floats about in a more transient, fleeting world, taking everything at his own pace with no real inclination towards any particular goal. There is feeling, of course, passions that may shake his heart or draw him towards one experience or another, but emotions are less substantial than desires, and for all his beauty, he fades into the background during social occasions, finding himself more at peace in seclusion or in nature. Unfettered by responsibility, guided only by glimmers of moonlight and the sounds of the fairies' footsteps, Rossweine is a heartless being, distant from the world his flesh inhabits.

Well-Mannered
But certainly, like any noble, Rossweine is a master of manners, using courtesies and niceties to soften and repaint whatever actions his air-headed nature inspires. He stands all, his expressions and gestures as elegant and eloquent as one would expect out of those bearing royal blood. If need be, his eyes could even shine with a confident, stately light, the sort of brilliance that others could point at and use as evidence that there is a natural difference between those born in the rough and those born on high. Like all customs of high society, however, it is a mask, a blade, a shield, hammered into the psyche of those who may bear rings or crowns with more fervor than the arts of the martial path, the instruction of the arcane craft. An aristocrat without a noble bearing is nothing more than a foot soldier, after all. For nobility itself is artifice, built through wealth and delusion, history and mythology.

Thick-Skinned
Guided only by gossamer whimsy and cast within a noble mold, it stands that he cares little for what reputation he carries, what mockeries and infamy are leveled against him. One can exist only in their own mind, after all, filtered through perceptions that wax and wane depending on the humors. How meaningless, then, is it to cling to beliefs of normalcy, to speak of traditions and inheritance as if they were certain things, when even the immutable will of the great heroes have been twisted with time? Just as how weightlessly he treats his own words, Rossweine sees the words of others as just as weightless, nothing more than snowflakes melting away in a span of a second. If a smile and an apology could reduce aggressions, then let it be so. If some coin is enough to buy his peace, then let it be so. And if nothing more than blood could solve a conflict, then he will flee rather than fight. Perhaps that too, is the countenance of a noble. Indeed, all have their own sense of what's normal, a sense that they apply to the world around them. For Rossweine, that normalcy is one where all emotions fade when expended, where long-lasting grudges are merely the stuff of legends. So what does he care for the anger, the envy, the violence of others? It will all fade in time, melting into apatheia.

S K I L L S E T

Painting
The gift that the Moon granted Rossweine was that of art, of distorting the world that all saw with paint and brush, pencil and easel. It is his one obsession, the one thing that his mother could feel proud about. Upon the canvas, he hollows himself out, for that sliver of a chance that another could feel a sliver of what he felt. But he is first and foremost a Prince of the Grayle lineage, and he is secondly a knight, tasked with sharpening his steel in order to serve as the kingdom's shield. His gift then, lies only in a distant third, and his crafts remain in his private study, covered in cloth.

Deflecting
How can one without passion strike down another? How can one accustomed to retreat and concession protect others? Rossweine's shield is as fragile as stained glass. Rossweine's sword is as light as a feather. He will not win with a singular strike like a hero of yore, nor will he face his enemies shield-first like a guardian of the people. Rather, in absence of any true commitment to victory or loss, offense or defense, he simply parries. Meeting strikes on slants, guiding blades off their path, measuring distances and maintaining space with steps as gentle as fairies upon dew-touched fields. A defensive style focused on footwork, one that turns a fight into a dance until the aggressor...what? Runs out of strength and gives up? Trips and impales themselves on their own sword? Gets stabbed from behind by one of Rossweine's allies? The noble prince is skillful indeed. He will deflect even the burden of violence from his shoulders.

But for some reason, such a method of fighting makes Rossweine appear as if he's effortlessly toying with his opponent instead, and now everyone expects that's he's a plain and simple Swordmaster, rather than someone escaping responsibility.

Blessing
Pray that it does not come to it.
 | Physical Description
What could be said other than how Rossweine Lupus Grayle, Second Son of the Third Wife of the King of Grayle, His Righteousness Albus II, is without question a youth who looks like a prince? Standing tall at 5'10, with perhaps room to grow even taller, he casts an elegant, slender silhouette, the very picture of a hero-knight. His eyes are possessed by a gentle, turquoise sheen, akin to a forest spring, while his hair, an ashy brown, comes down in soft, silky tufts that beg to be caressed. A perpetual state of peacefulness has kept his skin and mien unmarred, and his face strikes that balance of androgynous handsomeness achievable only by an adolescent.

A well-defined jawline and a slim nose. Soft cheeks and long eyelashes. Hands warm and firm, but slender and well-manicured. Even dressed in simple clothing that befits his disposition more than his station, he looks like a portrait, even what few, subjective flaws upon his person only serving to further accentuate such beauty. In his wake, there is no doubt that he's left a trail of broken hearts, even at his tender age.

But that's simply par for course if one was a royal prince, the object of fantasy and gossip.
Character Conceptualization
They say that he was born on a blue moon, when the clock struck midnight.

They say that he was a stubborn birth, clawing and rioting to stay within his mother's womb.

They say that he was born fragile, lighter than his brothers and sisters, lungs heaving with only a miserly whimper once exposed to the outside world.

And over the years, they've continued to say many things of the Moonkissed Princeling, birthed by the union of Lady Terrenza Welrimelle and King Albus II, yet possessing neither the Lady's acumen nor the King's power. He must have been a child birthed only when the bounty of the fair Lady's womb had dried up, a child of middling intelligence and meager magical talent, an unfanged cub to the wolves who were his older siblings. The firstborn son, the valorous Manegold of the Eclipsing Strike, is the Knight-Commander of the Western House. The secondborn daughter, the honorable Sieglinde, stands as one of the few advisors of the Grand Duke. The thirdborn daughter, the perceptive Walpurga of the Deep Sea, will succeed in the role of Royal Librarian of the Arcane Path once the current one's tenure is up. All this was obtained through talent and the expenditure of political capital and wealth.

All this is simply to be expected if the third wife of His Righteousness is to expect House Welrimelle, mere Earls, to be grafted into the Grayle family as rulers.

And all this left Rossweine as…what? A second son, a prince with no great talents in warfare or leadership. He was only as beautiful as what ought to be expected of royalty, there was not much left in the family coffers to expend upon a fourth child, especially one without great prospects. So what did that make of his childhood?

One full of love, one bereft of great expectations. One that he did not appear to mind.

Time passed. The child grew up in body, yet did not change in mind. His mother worried as mothers would. His father hardly registered his existence, as any king would. The blood of heroes did not give rise to anything spectacular, and still, his magic only aligned with a single, pitiful element. Perhaps this was what allowed his delinquency to go unpunished? Or perhaps the battle for the crown was simply so consuming that his elder siblings and his dearest mother wanted for him something different?

Or perhaps it was the fate ascribed to him by the Wise God, He Who Dwells Within the Lunar Sea?

If a Prince had no place in the world, let him be a Knight, so that he may at least stand guard in a solitary keep, overlooking a seldom-touched plains.

So Prince Rossweine Lupus Grayle joined the many prospective candidates who sought to earn the glory of becoming a Royal Knight. And for all his listless apathy, the results of his first duel had some…undesirable consequences.

"The Knight King's blood must truly run in his veins! Look at how he forced his foe to kneel without once striking back!"
Other Information
He fights in the equipment of a standard knight, with a shield in one hand and a longsword in the other.

He smells of spring and snowmelt, and does not sweat easy. Prefers quick, cold ablutions over warm baths.

He is soft-spoken and restrained, with a preference towards ambiguous, noncommittal phrasing.

He received a noble's education, which includes hunting, pensmanship, and the sixty-four standard ballroom dances that emerge in noble society. In the absence of servants to aid him in doing so, he cannot actually put on any of his clothes, so subsequently prefers buttonless, laceless attire. |

[User]
---

Food!

---

Sure enough, the mess hall was still mostly empty. Long benches sat neatly arranged around a series of long and narrow tables, with a single path between them leading up to the counter, where a few of the other cadets, together with some of the palace servants, seemed to be hard at work preparing the day's breakfast. It seemed they planned on weaning the artistocrats among them slowly from their more delicate tastes, as the meal consisted not only of a variety of freshly baked biscuits, but also real sausages, and gravy made from the same. Granted, by noble standards, it was already a poor man's meal -- but for somebody like Julian who had been living on scraps for the past several weeks, it was a feast fit for a king. And so, lured in by the delicious sights and smells at the counter, she approached without a care for the fact that Kai had already arrived first.

Once alongside him, however, it struck her that she really didn't have the slightest idea what to say to the bluette. Their only conversation had been on the prior night, and hadn't exactly been under the best of circumstances. She was pretty sure she had managed to assuage his concerns about her... but something about him still just put her on edge, and she couldn't quite place why. It wasn't as if he was terribly imposing, or had a particularly scary face -- his expression was vacant and a little sleepy, like the look of a contented sheepdog. She probably even could have called him cute, if it weren't for the way those bronze-red eyes of his seemed to suddenly fixate on things without any warning.

...But now she was the one who was staring, and cute or not, that was still rude. So, she struck up a nervous grin, and, giving a slight chuckle and a wave, greeted her squadmate.

"Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..."

[Assistant]
K A I
Making a Mess, in the Hall

---

"Good morning, sir. You're, uh... pretty energetic this morning, huh? Ehehehe..."

Kai paused in the middle of biting into three sausages at one time, having speared the morsels on a single fork like some kind of tri-shiskebab. He looked at Julian with a tilt of his head, and blinked twice. His braid flipped over one shoulder as if "peeking" at the shorter blonde.

"I am?" He broke into a grin. "That's good, then!" So saying, he resumed tearing into the pile of food on his plate--he at least seemed to know how to use his utensils, although considering the speed they moved at it was hard to tell if he was holding them "properly."

"What about you, Julian?" he asked through chomps and gulps. He tilted his head in the opposite direction as before as those bronze-red eyes fixed on the other cadet. "Are you energetic this morning?"

The others soon filed in as well, and the bluette's gaze shifted momentarily before he refocused on the Baker boy. But, in that moment, he recognized Zenshin, who had called out to him when he was already mid-dash out of the room. That...would probably be considered rude, wouldn't it? That Dot person, on the other hand, gave the impression of not speaking to anyone either if it could be avoided. The way Dot seemed to trail behind others, it made Kai wonder if the dark-cloaked recruit had a habit of observing others like he did. Signar and the Prince were walking together, and the bluette wondered if they had already made friends.

...Had he made any friends yet? He had talked to Nathaniel, the Prince, and now Julian...but were they friends yet? What would that mean? Gramps had always told him he would need to make lots of friends, but there had been so much to learn before he applied to the academy, so until now he hadn't spent much time with anyone else...

[User]
The others had gone on ahead now, leaving Rossweine and Signar alone in the hallway, striding at a more leisurely pace. There was no particular reason to dwell on what words to use, and the Prince had no vested interest in keeping Signar from his breakfast either.

"Do you intend to continue your work as a smith? If so, I will arrange access to a forge for you."

That was all, really. Just confirmation, before any further investment was made.