[System]
tbe

"Pretty is, as pretty does, you feel me?"

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General Information

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Age
Sixteen
Gender
Male
Hometown
Cerulean City, Kanto
Aspiration
Pokémon Coordinator

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Characterization

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Physical Description
Indy is about 176 cm tall with a runner's physique and weight of about 145 lbs. His black hair is thick, coily, and it's kept in a mohawk. His skin is dark, the color of freshly turned soil. His facial expression is usually calm, with dark eyes and somewhat feminine features.
Personality
Indy comes across as stoic and chill. He is lazy, easygoing, sociable, if more on the laconic side. He prefers to listen and comment rather than come up with conversation on his own, just because it's easier, though holding conversation isn't a problem by any means. Despite his lax nature, he speaks honestly, but politely, not usually one to stir up trouble with others. Often, he's not great with confrontation, preferring to push things under the rug and stew over it way too long for his own good. Because that's way easier than confronting someone.

With Indy's relaxed and "everything'll come out in the wash" nature, he tends to severely underestimate how difficult things can be, which can result in trouble that he doesn't want to put effort into. Truth be told, Indy finds it difficult to try because of his fear of failing, because deep down, he knows he's lived a life without effort and he doesn't want to through the pain of actually having to try. Needless to say, this also doesn't make him the most reliable person. Sure, he'll set out with the intent to do something, but eventually end up failing to do whatever he was supposed to do.

In addition to his laziness, Indy is somewhat vain and tends to focus on appearances more than he or anyone should. He judges people based on their style , and pokemon, how they look. While he's more than willing to be friends even with someone cool even if he doesn't find them fashionable, he feels that his eventual pokemon must have a certain aesthetic or charm. Of course, he might have to prepare for when that doesn't happen.

Finally, he's pretty socially apt, having been surrounded by a highly social environment most of his life. He likes comforting people and being there for them, but only if it doesn't take too much effort. Otherwise he'd probably excuse himself with: "Hm, I guess I should go. You probably need to be alone. Call me if you need me." Still, like any human, he can have his moments of altruism and selflessness. He does like helping people, he usually just assumes he can't do it, which is something he'll have to discover and grow from on his journey.

Background
Born in a well-to-do family, Indy had an easy time paving his way through life. Sure, maybe there were hard moments studying for tests in school or maybe getting grounded here and there, but Indy never quite had to work for anything. He never had to get a job, he never had to experience people telling him 'no' often, he never had to clean his room (since there was a maid), and he never had to worry about having a career to sustain himself when he knew that he always had a cushion with his parents.

As such, he developed an indolent approach to almost everything. And even when something went wrong due to his own shiftlessness, the consequences were minor. When he bumped into a shelf and knocked over a delicate, porcelain tea set in a traditional antiques shop, a set that costed around $200, all Indy had to do was swipe Mom and Dad's credit card. Poof, it was like nothing happened. When he failed a class at the private and prestigious Elite Cerulean Institute, and had to retake it over the Summer while also having to pay extra tuition costs, it didn't matter. A week of grounding followed by another credit card swipe was all it needed to remedy the damage.

He got into art and fashion at an early age, and why not? His parents, their friends, his own social circle-- they were all upper class; being cool, chic, and sophisticated was a must for many. Art museums were a regular thing on the weekends and both his parents loved watching pokemon contests. He didn't have a huge interest in pokemon, thinking that it was a waste of time and a pipe dream. Pokemon were cool, and Indy was confident, but not confident enough to think that he actually had what it took to become someone great. Why try..?

Yet as it came closer and closer to him having to start interning at the company and taking on the family business and continue his education, fear started to seep in. Handling all that paper work? Having to wake up at 8 am everyday and work until 5? Put in even more work for university?

He wasn't about to have it. No, the reality was setting in fast.

So, he persuaded his parents to let him go on a pokemon journey. Under the pretense of needing a year or two to really grow and mature, be on his own for awhile, Indy secured the gap year(s) he wanted.

But a little over a month into his 'journey', his parents caught on to the fact that he'd be pretty much just staying around Cinnabar's Beaches. He hadn't even been to the lab to receive his first pokemon, let alone start training or working on earning his first ribbon. Angry at themselves and Indy for letting his bad habits take control of him, they eventually decided to let him keep journeying under a set of conditions. (Only because he wouldn't have been able to handle university, the family business, the actual responsibility anyways.) This was an opportunity to shape up their son.

Indy would have to earn all of his own money, either from betting on battles, winning contests, street performing, whatever. Either way, he was getting a cut to his funds.

And, to gauge their son's progress, he'd have to win one ribbon or one gym badge every six weeks.

And Indy, after panicking and stressing, eventually lapsed into a quiet shrug. I've seen some trainers and peeps around here train. How hard can it be?

current pocket monsters
Hawka the Combusken F - lvl 32
Hero the Mothim M -lvl 19
Mimzy the Buneary F - 30
Kovi the Vivillion M -31
Neon the Magnemite N -30

Items: small pearl -1
Kee Berry ×9
pokeball ×2
Cheri berry x6

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Morado "Mori" Rose

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tbe

"The value of an idea lies in the using of it."

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General Information

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Name
Morado "Mori" Rose
Age
20-21
Gender
Male
Hometown
Cerulean City, Kanto
Aspiration
Pokémon Breeder/ CEO of his parents company

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Characterization

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Physical Description
Topping off at 5'11, Morado bears a resemblance to Indigo with his dark skin, and similar oval shaped facial structure, but the resemblance stops there. His eyes are an inquisitive hazel, his dark ringlets of hair are kept long, typically in a bun or ponytail at the nape of his neck. Keeping some kind of well groomed facial hair is important to Morado as well. Often, he wears a bandana either around his neck or pushing his hair back. Usually, he's got a friendly smile on his face and his attire is usually overalls with some worn boots, plus some kind of tie-dye shirt. Oddly? It's strangely stylish on him.
Personality
Friendly, and amicable, Morado seems like one of those annoyingly happy go lucky people. It's hard to make him upset, and even growing up, all Indigo would hear from his parents was how lovely his older brother was. Morado donates to charity when he can, he's constantly working hard, and he's always cheerful. He's also quite business savvy, and knows how to negotiate, traits that he has honed his whole life by his parents. Still, when he does get mad, his temper and words are fearsome. And for all his kindness, when business isn't working out, Mori can be quite cutthroat. It seems that even Morado, golden child that he is, bottles up things inside and has his bad moments, no matter how much he tries to stuff them away.

Background
The bane of Indigo's existence, Morado Rose is everything his baby brother isn't and more. The apple of his parents eyes, he set out on his journey mid way through his sophmore year in college. Though he plans to take over the family business (a medical company that produces pharmaceuticals and supplies medical technology such as healing machines for pokemon centers), he thought it was important to explore the world of pokemon to get a better handle on the real world and those that the family business would be serving. He climbed through the ranks, occasionally appearing on televised battles before finding a niche in breeding. Currently, he's sponsored by Happy Berry Farms and The Pokemon Association of Breeders (PAB). Though he has more than enough cash to get around without his parents help, he took on the gig of accompanying Jack and Jill on their journey because why not? To add to his own growing prestige and budding reputation, taking care of the region Champion's kids was and still is well worth it.

Pokemon:
Dao the Dragonite- M lvl 60
Sylvie the Sylveon- F lvl 55
Miza the Swampert- F lvl 58
Sion the Scizor- M lvl 59
Eva the Venausaur- F lvl 56
Vo the Volcarona- M lvl 57

[User]
Margo was glad her hounding of Indy came to an end, the boy giving in to her demands for a battle sooner rather than later. Indy released his first pokemon for their battle, Margaret interested in what sort of pokemon he might have up his sleeve. The Torchic that materialized from the pokeball gave Margo a bittersweet feeling. At the Daycare center, her family had raised oodles of the Hoenn starters, and the little orange chick brought up memories of her family. She missed them, an awful lot, but these waves of nostalgia would be dismissed after a few moments when she remembered her resolve for coming to the Septoh region in the first place. Margo grinned as she pulled her backpack around her side, reaching in and retrieving her own starter, tossing the ball and letting the little blue turtle materialize.

Crowne was a feisty little Squirtle, his arms spread out before him and a smug smile placed on his face. At the sight of Hawka, his smile grew, glancing back at Margo and nodding excitedly. She knew Crowne was raring for battles ever since their defeat on Mt. Leeman trail--he loved battles and all he wanted was to be stronger. "Alright, Indy, let's see what you got!"

Margaret and Indy battled--a three on three battle--and it had been close the first two. Hawka versus Crowne and then her Wingull versus his Burmy and finally Poinsettia versus his Buneary. Margo had won once and then Indy had won, and Indy had the last laugh it would seem. His Buneary destroyed her beloved Poinsettia. All of their pokemon had battled until they were completely exhausted and had to be recalled. Margo had kept Poinsettia out, rushing to the Scatterbug and cuddling it to her chest, a lump in her throat forming--she avoided eye contact with Indy after the battle, knowing he would be gloating about his victory.

After all, she basically asked for the beating. She just wanted to train Poinsettia a bit more and make her stronger for next time. She didn't want to hurt Poinsettia again, not like on Mt Leeman Trail. "I'm so sorry.." She murmured to her little Scatterbug, pressing her pokeball to the little bug's forehead to return the pokemon. She promised to go and heal her pokemon as soon as possible.

[Assistant] Zvi laughed softly at Daniel's question as he looked down to the scene below, a pensive look in his eye. "I felt like yelling... So I did..." He then turned back to Daniel and smiled wide. "You should try it. You'll feel better."

[User]
As the Scatterbug flew back from a particularly well placed Tackle, Indigo grinned. Success, he'd finally gotten this annoying trainer off his back and showed her a thing or two! It felt great to finally have a win.

"Well, there's that. Where's your attitude now, huh?" He taunted. "Guess you and your dumb Scatterbug couldn't handle it. Do me a favor and get that thing out of my sight-" he stopped himself. This... This didn't feel that good anymore. It was strange. All he had wanted was a victory against another trainer, but it didn't feel like a victory at all. At least not anymore.

Margo was crying and her Scatterbug seemed quite hurt, not quite physically, but there was a certain melancholy in the way she so carefully curled herself up. They both refused to look at Indigo. But... he was the winner. Shouldn't that have meant that they had to acknowledge him?

But even when he thought back to it, how was it a victory, truly? Her Scatterbug had less experience, that was clear enough. No, it didn't feel like a win anymore. It wasn't anything to be proud of. He'd had Mimzy go all out on an opponent that was much weaker than she was. What did that make him?

A bully.

She was the one who kept bugging me for a battle! So why do I feel bad? It's not my fault she put that stupid, ugly Scatterbug out... But he knew, deep down, this wasn't what he truly wanted. A true victory would have been something he'd earned.

"Hey uh..." He looked away. "I got carried away. I'm... I didn't mean to." He wasn't sure what to do. "I just got mad because you were annoying me. Look, don't get all teary just because you lost. You were the one who took your Scatterbug out." He crossed his arms. "Why did you even take it out?" In the end, he was defensive because he felt terrible. But Indy was trying his hardest to parse through his feelings and guilt.

Hawka the Torchic F- lvl 18+1=19
Hero the Burmy M -lvl 16+1=17
Mimzy the Buneary F- 18+1=19

Items: small pearl ×1
White Herb x1
Kee Berry ×9
pokeball ×3
Cheri berry x6

Actions: battled margo. Heading to the pokemon center


[System]
"Tha call of battle echoes too loud to ignore."
Race / Age

Human

Personality

Reignald is a hard man to decipher, and who he is changes a lot from who you ask. People in his hometown will tell you he is a gentle giant. Constantly helping around the village, always with a smile on his face. He will always have kind words for those who approach him, and will serve as shoulder to cry on when needed. Despite being strong as a bull, he wouldn't hurt a fly. A bit overprotective of his daughter, Alana, but ultimately a kind man. The nickname "The Old" just elevates his status as village grandpa.

On the other hand, the men under his command back in his warring days would tell you he was a beast. Stories still spread around camps of the time he broke a man's arm just for daring sneeze while in formation. Ruthless, merciless, and hard as stone. His battlebrothers thought of calling him "the animal" but only stopped out of fear of him ever finding out. Instead, they settled for Reignald the Omen, for when he stepped on the battlefield, it was a sign the tide of battle was about to change.

Backstory

Reignald was born in a small household in the capital, son of a blacksmith and a tailor. Due to his economical situation, he started helping his father in the shop at a very young age. He grew big and strong through the hard labor of the forge, and by his late teens, he was already the sort of man you would not want to pick a fight with. Although he tried to avoid it as much as he could, other kids on his street would constantly pick fights with him, trying to prove their bravery or strenght. Unaware of his strenght, Reignald would end up sometimes hurting someones child more than he intended, earning him constant scoldings and punishments. Despite his lack of combat training, Reignald knew everything his father had to teach him about weaponry.But his place was not making swords, but wielding them. In the same way a blade is forged first with fire and, Reignald had already forged his body, and just like a sword, it was time for him to be tested in battle. He joined the army at age 20. Although he tried to convince himself he did it to repay some of the resources his family had spent raising him, this was far from the truth. Reginald wanted to experience war. He wanted to taste the bloodshed and the real cruelty this world had to offer.

He fought numerous battles in the name of his nation, and by age 40, he had cemented a reputation as a brutal force in the battlefield. This ensured him a small commanding rank, and a little plot of land to call his own. In the span of a couple of years his unit had become efficient, effective, and most importantly, deadly. It wouldnt be until 4 years later that he decided to retire, without much explanation, leaving the command of his men to a trusted aprentice. He would lead a peaceful life for another 6 years, allowing himself to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of service. But his sword yearned for the embrace of its master, and Reignald knew, deep within, he was born for war.

He tried to re-enlist, but instead, go directed somewhere else. His achivements had not gone unnoticed after all.

"The Virtous Company, eh? Count me in"

Physical Talents
Proficiency with sword, armor and shield.
Military discipline.
Blacksmithing skills.
Above average strenght.

Magical Talents
Low Tier
Rage of the Bull: Years of combat and wounds have taught Reignald to ignore pain, even if temporarily. This comes with the downside of constantly ignoring grave wounds, which, unattended, could cause trouble in the long run.
Battlecry: Half of the battle is in the mind. Reignald has learnt this over the years, and has mastered the art of shouting fear into his enemies. Not supernatural in and on itself one would think, until one heard his battlecry.
Mid Tier
Second Wind: When in the brink of death, animals fight the hardest. After receiving extensive damage, Reignald can push himself into a last desperate fight, often with deathly results.
Omens of battle: Plenty of war experience has payed off in an almost supernatural ability to predict the ways of combat. A constant disconnection in the battlefield usually stops his use of reason when fighting. But on the rare ocasion where Reignald fights with a clear mind, the result is a proficiency in duel that some would confuse of divination. Almost as if he knew what his enemy was about to do.

Equipment
His sword (nicknamed "Lullaby")
Full plate armor.
His shield.
A small satchel bag, attached to his sword's hilt.
Rations for 3 days in bread and cheese.
A horn
An assortment of stimulant herbs
A flask of healing poultice (300ml)
A canteen full of wine (500ml)
Fears
Reignald constantly questions why exactly does he fight. Constantly tries to convince himself that he is a good person, and that he fights for his country and his ideals. Deep inside, he is afraid to akcnowledge that maybe, just maybe, he is as brutal and savage as the kids in his block once thought he was.

Another great fear of his is losing his daughter, Alana. Although Alana is a grown woman, Reignald can get overprotective of her at times. He specially distrusts Alana's husband, Theodore, and only backs off as per his daughter's request.

This ties to a general fear of losing those who look up to him. Despite his time in the army, Reignald never really got used to losing the people around him, and would constantly put himself in unreasonable danger due to his inability to let go.

[User]
Reignald put the letter down on the desk of his small room at the Inn after he was done reading it, a small candle flickering. He had received the ltter from the oldman, via courier, very early in the morning. His ol military customs had not left him, and he was up before sunrise. A habit that since he came home, he had been looking to get rid off, but, at least now turned out of some use.

"Captain, eh?"

He smiled a bit. This was not going to be an easy task. The group was a bit too heterogeneous from a military standpoint. They all had very strong tempers. And Fiers was vice captain. Reignald couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride. Maybe that is what the bard needed. A bit of responsibility, to set him straight. And if not, now that he was officially a commander officer again, he could apply some "disciplinary measures". With a bit of training, he could turn the roudiest man into a soldier, and he hoped to do that on Fiers. Hell, given the time, he hoped to turn the whole squad into the most efficient in the Company.

He stood p from the desk and walked towards his crate at the foot of the bed. If he was to make it to the docks, he had to start getting ready. Piece by piece, he assembled his armor upon his body, a ritual he had done a million times before. The cold steel never failed to wake him up. Was it the chilling touch against his skin? Or perhaps something else? He fastened the hilt of his sword against his waist, and he pulled out "Lullaby" from its sheath. Another military habit, he had been taught to always inspect his sword first before heading into battle. If there were any imperfections, he could catch them before they were allowed to cause problems in the battlefield. Lullaby was in good condition. No chips or dents, just a few scracthes. Reignald lookd at his reflection on its blade. It was getting old, and so was he. He looked away from his reflection. Those eyes. He had never liked those eyes. He sheathed it back and headed out the door with heavy, armored steps.

The saline air and the ocean breeze, the clamoring of sailors as they loaded ship and the cries of seagulls. It had been a while since he had been to port. And years since he had even set foot on a ship. He muttered a quick prayer under his breath. In his youth he had been prone to seasickness, and since age was not doing him any favors… He would go to Elsie for that later.

R'ornn and Fiers were already at the docks. Reignald let out a sigh. Yes, of course Fiers was already there. Who else could be responsible of the panicked lady that just ran past him, begging him to protect her from the pirates. This was going to be a long day.

"Now, where's the person in charge of this venture? So I can go give him a firm boot in the arse for allowing mayhem and chaos to spread through the ranks?"

Reignald put an ironclad hand on the bards shoulder, standing behind him.

"That would be me." He answered in a stern voice.

[Assistant]
"Fuckin piss. Dis is just great, ain't it boozie ol girl?"

Sitting in some dark and murky tavern of ill repute was a grey-green hybrid trying to drink himself into a stupor. He chose this place for cheap grog and he was already on his eight mug and barely tingly. "If dis money wasn't worth a king's ransom I'd tell em to sod off, ain't fuckin gettin on no damn boat to some godforsaken plane of gronch, no siree..." The man drained his cheap grog again, putting another coin on the counter to keep them coming. "Ah but dat's wot ye get fer bettin money on that knifer, rot gubbin not worth the copper dey stuck in em. Twenty thousand debt, thought ya got here to leave dat nonsense behind." Eventually after downing sixteen flagons of cheap sea-side grog, Malkai was nice and buzzed enough that he might be able to ignore the fact he was getting on a boat, but still lucid enough to complain about it.

Malkai would've actually had a hard time finding the dock he was looking for if it weren't for some sort of a commotion causing people to run away. Malkai figured that wherever he was suppose it be, it'll be where everyone is running away from. For he is a member of the Virtuous Company, a gang of sellswords and murderers, and they'll kill and murder anyone if the money is right. And surely whatever is causing all this trouble was in need of a killing, and surely there was someone there willing to pay for it. As people were running or just standing around confused Malkai staggered over to the scene, not seeing any pirates but seeing some other members of the Virtuous Company. Or maybe they were pirates disguised as the Virtuous Company. It could go either way.

"Oi. Who's da pisser and where da pirates? I'm itching fer a scrap. Maybe a couple sacks too." The drunk half-orc let out a burp before leaning up against a pillar dangerously close to the edge of the water. Moving to slightly steadier ground Malkai tried to remember who the others were, but he either never met them or couldn't remember. Either way he seemed to get real friendly as he took out a cigar, snapping his finger to light it up after tearing off the cap. "Ya call me Malkie ya hear? Me name's Malkie. Ya with da Virginal Comp? Please ta meet ya. Wat's yer arm like?"

[User]
Even though she spent countless nights away from the group, Rosha still found herself not being able to sleep the same way she use to, the feeling of regret was still housing it's self within her very being making the pugilist's night restless, sometime within the night she found herself meditating. Even though she was forced away from the others who believed in Void, she still meditated to the unseen entity, maybe out of habit or something more personal. Once her meditation was finished, she found the sun had not yet rose into the sky, years of travelling prepared her for rising early and finding the energy to walk even when tired.

Memorizing the letter and her orders burned inside of her mind, she knew where to go, a ship not too far from the inn she was told to stay at. Once she had found the ship, the sun finally showed it's self in the sky and illuminated the large boat she had to board, Rosha stared at the water as the sunlight brightly shined off it and had a bit of an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she wasn't sure if it was from seasickness or something different. She held her gut with her wrapped up fingers before silently looking over to others boarding the boat and the sailor that constantly roamed around the wooden vessel.

It wasn't long before the others that Rosha were told about to arrive, one of the few reminded her of a small stuffed toy she once had as a child, but with less talking as it did, it was a small furry creature that knew how to speak as normal humans, he then began laughing and rolling around the deck as he laughed before abruptly stopping awkwardly and staring at the water. From the shade of her corner, Rosha spotted another person who claimed pirates were coming, hearing about the incoming threat, Rosha got to her feet quickly, ready for a group of pirates as the man stated only to find that he was lying, Rosha held back having any anger." You shouldn't do things like that. " She told him.

Then suddenly a heavy musk hit Rosha's nose, it was an Orc, the smell of some kind of heavy drink was on their breath as they spoke, it wasn't really too surprising to her that they had a couple smells coming off them that were heavy, it wasn't exactly a bad musk, but it was very heavy. As the group began growing, Rosha found a secluded spot on the ship where the sailors weren't too active at and shaded to stay cool, she sat on the deck with her legs crossed in the meditation position, but she just looked around silently at the others, she began thinking if the group was going to be like this, then they might be annoying.

[Assistant]
Reignald let go of Fiers' shoulder. He would have to talk to him about his antics later. Besides, he was not in charge of wahtever panic he spread across the sailors. His only interest where the men of the company. Speaking of which...

The old knight diverted his attention towards the new arrival, one "Malkie". He emanated a stench of alcohol, and spoke like he had had his fair share. Or maybe it was an accent. If it was, it was quite a thick one. At least, so he hoped. He had enough with enebriated characters for the day, and it was barely noon.

Reignald had never dealt personally with an ork. Not that it mattered much. As long as he could swing a sword and take care of himself, whether he was human or not didnt bother him. No, what bothered him was the fact that he knew his type. Rowdy, insubordinate, and loudmouthed. He had his hands full with the bard already, and now he had a partner. Reignald did his best to hide the frustration in his face.

"Reignald, pleased to meet you, "Malkie"" He extended a hand to greet the ork. "I assume that you brought your letter?" He asked. Not having met him in the tavern, Reignald wanted to make sure he was with them. Wouldnt want to jeopardize the operation by letting on the wrong man. He diverted his attention for a second when Rosha approached. She was, as always, not talking much, so the soldier decided to just let her be for now. He had been completely obvlivious to the savolin's presence, distracted by the issue with Fiers and the new member of the party.


[System]
Age: 28

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Personality:

Zypha is a woman of the world and very down-to-earth. Having grown up with a very rough childhood Zypha quickly learned what it meant to survive and how to lookout for oneself. She can very a very sarcastic individual and is not afraid of being rude or callus, so she can rub people the wrong way fairly easily. Despite these character flaws, and at times selfish attitude, she will fiercely defend her crewmates with all her ferocity when they are threatened by others.

Zypha also possesses a very strong will and is actually quite clever. She has a strong resolve to keep bettering herself in combat and learning, so she will often try something new if she thinks it would be beneficial to herself or the crew. Zypha is also willing to go to great lengths and take serious chances if she believes the result to be worth it.

Devil Fruit/ Weapon of expertise:

Zypha's choice of weapon is a twin Chain-Scythe. The Scythe blades are black with a dark blue triangle pattern across the edged-side of the blades. The blades are long and curved on their 'business' ends with short spike-like edges on the opposite side making both sides quite dangerous. The handles are made of essentially dark brown ironwood, polished to perfection with some of the traditional 'imperfections' and patterns that wood based pieces have. A dark blue chain connects the twin scythe at the ends of the handles, making the weapon not only a deadly pseudo-projectile but also a potential grappling hook, among other uses.

[User]
Zypha cursed for not being fast enough to take advantage of Yami's moment of pure humanness and Abigail had paid the price. Thankfully she was fast enough to drop the now useless pistol, unwind her scythe, detach one of them to throw the chain at Yami's legs. The chain wrapped around one of his legs just as he catapulted himself at Abigail to smash her. The chain very quickly went taunt, as she used just enough chain to wrap around a few times, and quickly dragged her along from the ride, exactly as she planned.

Using the momentum from the lunge to her advantage she would then land on his back shell with quite a bit of force; of course that all was just to get her in position for the next strike. As soon as she landed on his shell, using her other scythe she planned to swing the blade over the top of the shell and into his neck for a hopefully fatal blow. The curved nature of her scythe would give it the perfect angle for just such a maneuver.

"Just die already, you reptile. I'm not going to let any more crewmembers die today!" If she didn't finish this fight soon, there was a good chance she would be the only one left alive as Abigail was really taking a beating. "Damn it I'm not going to be alone again after a freaken few days!"

[Assistant]
Yami stopped and winced as he felt something land on his back. It was Zypha, of course! That scythe-wielding harlot was fast, loud, and annoying, the worst qualities for a pirate to have! She was almost as bad as that kooky captain Lenwood... Yami turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her scythe in the corner of his eye, and retracting his head into his shelled body a moment before it struck, allowing it only to strike his hair, slicing several locks away like fresh grass. But he wasn't done there, Yami pulled all four of his limbs into his smaller, more agile shell right afterwards, pushing himself into the air just before doing so, in an attempt to propel Zypha off his back. As he did so, his shell started to spin again...

"Kame~Kame Uzo~Shredde~r~r~r~r~r!" He shouted, rolling his tongue.

[User]
Things didn't look good. They didn't look terrible either, but far worst than the Red pirate would've thought they'd be after such a successful attack. It all came down to looking like she was going to have her insides turned into liquid, but from pummeling, not complex chemical reactions like how spiders did it. Then, Zypha interfered, which was good because Abigail honestly didn't know what she was going to do. Yes, there was the electricity, but it hadn't been very effective the first time she gave it a go, and had only managed any damage after she shot it directly into the turtle man's bloodstream. Really, it came down to a hope that man would've hesitated long enough to allow her to think up something else to do.

Not that it got much better after Zypha's re-entrance into the fray. Yami had gone back into his shell and apparently he could do things that might not have been possible in his new form. It could do with a decrease in total mass, but there was no way to tell with any certainty. Not that how it was happening was very important, or why, which was already answered. What she needed was what, as in what would bring the fight to an end.

Her first reaction was to charge in and do whatever damage she could. That's the way her brother had been. It wouldn't do any good now. Since any attack with electricity was bound to end up hitting Zypha too. So she did the last thing she had wanted to She took a second to stand and watch the shell spin around. The leader could move easier than before so that meant the shell was lighter and maybe more flexible. If that was the case maybe it had exchanged its nearly total defense for maneuverability.

"And?" She shrugged. "What bloody good does that do? Even with the sword--" She blinked and turned her attention behind her, back to the blade, embedded into the wall so deeply it was going to be a pain to get it out. Not that she needed to do that right away. Grinning like a desperate lunatic with only a knife for a cannon fight she rushed over and took it by both hands. "Zypha get out of the way!" Without bothering to look back to see if her advice had been taken she Power poured into the blade which made its way into the wall and shot upwards towards the ceiling.

AT first it looked similar to the dendo-dendo earthworm which Abigail used against the girl in the armor, but then she said "Dendo-Dendo Hydra" and the worm split into two. The worms burrowed their way around Zypha and Yami before meeting in the middle. There was a loud grinding sound before a large piece of the roof broke off and came crashing down.

[Assistant]
Zypha clicked her tongue in annoyance as her attack, well failed miserably. That bloody shell just kept getting in the way but there was little should could do about it. Yami retracted his limbs into his shell, thankfully the chain wrapped around his leg popped off, otherwise she would have been in some serious trouble. The Turtle man started his spin while Zypha desperately latched on for dear life.

Around and around they went, the force of movement threatening to wrench her off and smash her into the nearest wall. For good or for ill, Zypha was soon forced to abandon her position when Abigail yelled "Zypha get out of the way!" Not waiting to figure out what was going to happen, Zypha let go and was flung off of the shell at a decent speed just as the devil fruit power made part of the roof collapse.

Now normally such a throw wouldn't be too much trouble but at high speeds with one leg injured, it would be hard to land on the wall safely. Taking her still attached scythe she threw it at the roof section that had collapsed, the blade managed to snag onto the broken roof and slow her momentum. She let the chain wrapped around her unravel to expel the excess kinetic energy, causing her to spin around as she flew.

The chain dug into her ribs which hurt quite a bit but it was better than smashing into the wall. She managed to slow herself down and alight onto the ground, dropping into a roll to better her landing. She then unhooked her scythe and looked to see if Abigail's attack had been successful and prepared her next attack if needed.

[User]
Yami fell back down, pushing his limbs out of his shell again to land, but not revealing his head just yet. Unfortunately for him, his falling momentum made it impossible to dodge the oncoming rain of broken stones that fell from the roof due to Abigail's attack. One after another, stones pelted the back of his shell, leaving him covered in a pile of debris. After the stones finished falling, Yami bursted out of the top with his shell spinning again, before landing between Abigal and Zypha, seemingly unharmed.

"Reh~heh~ha~ha~ha! Useless, your attacks are useless! My Shell is impregnable, you useless, stupid brats!" Yami shouted. He laughed further, 'Reh~heh~hah', spinning around in place on one of his feet in a dance of pure joy. But something was off about the smooth contours of his shell. He didn't notice it himself, but there was a small net of cracks beginning to form around the center. "Kame~Kame~Shedder~r~r~r~r!" He shouted, suddenly leaping towards Abigail and retreating back into his shell. He spun at a high velocity again, but before coming into range of Abigail, pit flew out of his head-hole in an area-wide misty spray, threatening to burn whatever it could cling to.

[Assistant]
Abigail frowned at the destruction as well as it's failure to cause any harm to the marine enemy. It was a pretty good trick, and against nearly any other foe would have left a lot more of a mark. As it was the man-turtle didn't look any worst for the wear. If anything, he seemed a great deal happier than he'd been for the whole encounter. It was a bit depressing.

Her hand was still on the blade's handle when the acid spinning top rushed towards her. With a bit of effort it was certain she could get it out, but it was deep enough that there wasn't any way to do it without some elbow grease. "Well damn it!"

She jumped out of the way as the turtle came closer and ran towards the opposite side of the room. "Damn it! Damn it!" She mumbled looking around for whatever it was she was going to do next. "Why can't anything be simple?" She held her hand up and narrowed her eyes. Red sparks of electricity started swarming around her hand.

"Well, maybe this time there'll be more of an effect." She grinned and pointed her open palm at the Yami.

[User]
It appeared that Yami had decided that Zypha was the lesser of the two threats, and he would be right normally considering that Abigail was the Devil Fruit user; however, Zypha was also very astute at finding the next big gamble. Zypha managed to get away almost scott-free from the earlier destruction and now she chased after Yami while having to avoid the spit that spewed over her way.

Acid went everywhere but her atheletism won out despite the pain. Good old guts never failed and at this point the adrenaline was really starting to kick in. As she weaved through the waves her keen eyes saw a discrepency on his shell, it seemed slightly, cracked. So this was it, their chance to push through and end this battle.

Looking up at the ceiling, which now had a bunch of cracks in it, she found her position. Reattaching her scythe she threw one up into the ceiling and climbed up by the chain. Finding cracks she positioned herself as close to over Yami as possible. Narrowing her eyes she looked at the center of his shell and aimed right for the center.

"Girls had persistent guys ya know that!"

Dislodging herself from the ceiling and pushing off with her feet, she positioned her scythe out in front of her, a firm grip on the handles she positioned herself so all her weight would fall on the blades when she struck for maximum force. If the blades managed to penetrate the shell that would be for the best but even if they didn't her next move would be the same, to take her scythe and jump out of the way as soon as possible so she wouldn't be electrified.

[Assistant] Yami stopped shooting forward as Abigail dodged his attack, but didn't stop spinning. Instead, he prepared to follow after her again, but in the last moment, he felt something hard striking against the back of his shell just as he was within a few feet of toppling Abigail over with his Kame~Kame Shredder. The impact stopping his spinning entirely, but he wasn't about to give up despite the cracks in his shell getting longer and wider. Zypha's blade hadn't penetrated his shell just yet! With a loud roar, he pushed his hands out of his shell, and grabbed onto Zypha's scythe in the nick of time, allowing the blades to cut into his hands ever so slightly. He wasn't able to move after that though, which was made obvious when his body hit the ground. He popped his head out at Abigail and smiled wide, desperate to discourage her at that point. "GO AHEAD, BRAT. SHOCK US!"

[User]
Abigail watched Zypha rush to attack the turtle opponent, confident in her friend's ability. So it came as somewhat of a surprise that the end result of the assault was her only crew mate tied up with the last remaining marine enemy on the island. She shouldn't have been surprised. The MArine leader was a step above the rest, but she was, and that pissed her off.

Fist clenched at her side. "Oh god's damn it!" She bit her teeth and power started surging out of her like two fuzzy blankets after a tumble in the dryer. "There's always got to be something in the way hasn't there." Then she smiled. "Well, then we'll play that game." She held up her open palm and started sliding to the left, but she didn't let her hand waver an inch from its target.

"Zypha, keep him there. I'm going to grab my sword and shove it as far into one of that bastard's holes as far as it'll go. Sounds good?" She kept on sliding the shorter way towards her blade. "And then, just to make sure he doesn't survive that I'm going to fry him from the inside. What with his body being as good as an insulator it is, I'm sure no more than a few sparks will make it to you."

[Assistant]
It was annoying but her latest attempt met with failure. Despite all the force and pressure she was unable to get through the shell and now Yami had her scythes in his hands. Yami's grip was too strong on her scythes to pull free, essentially trapping her on top of him, or at least would have if she couldn't unattach the chains at will.

As Abigail yelled out her plan Zypha moved quickly. Discarding her scythes for the moment she quickly wrapped the chain around Yami's hands, tying them together. Next she did a Houdini, shimmying out of the chains wrapped around her body she threw a loop of chain toward his head, planning to wrap it around his neck for good measure while keeping a firm grip on the chain. She was not about to let go until the last possible second to make sure Abigail could get a clean shot at Yami.

"Don't let this guy have his way any longer and finish him alright?" Zypha yelled back while keeping a firm grip on the chain to keep Yami from going anywhere.


[System]
MPD:

Chester Jonas portrayed by @Enalais
Samantha Wiles portrayed by @Tackytaff

Para Protection Society

Robert Winters portrayed by @King Cosmos

Unaligned:

William Locke portrayed by @Sep
Tamara Jankowski portrayed by @Starlance
Adrian Romano as portrayed by @Lord of Evil
Owen Armstrong portrayed by @Heat
White Rabbit portrayed by @GingerBoi123
Holly Farstel portrayed by @Datadogie
Morrigan O'Connor portrayed by @GrizzTheMauler

---

---

IMPORTANT NPCS

---

---

None.

Yay.

[User]
"No!" Taylor firmly interjected, not only verbally, but physically. It moved itself in front of William, blocking the way to the door. "Before, when I was...Human, I was a doctor. And you...are my patient. I gave up my chance of retribution to Lorne. I gave up on burning, destroying their labs once I was out of my cage for you. You were unconscious, you were helpless, so I chose you. To protect you. I dragged you out here myself, protected you, treated you, and I didn't do all that just to let you go out and kill yourself."

Taylor's stance was firm and authoritative in a way it never could have accomplished as a Human. In a way, it was cathartic to finally feel that weight of authority over a patient who was acting against their own self-interest. "You will come to the clinic, you will rest, and you will heal. Once you are well...then you stop being my responsibility."

[Assistant]
As Owen slumped against brick wall, then slid down it into a seated position on the cold, hard floor. The parahuman let out a sigh as police sirens blared in the distance. He ran both of his hands through his hair, then held his head down towards his chest. Frustrated at what he had done, the chaos he had caused and the deaths he'd brought upon the unlucky innocents inside the now malformed diner. The wanted man angrily grasped at his hair, letting out a deep breath as he tried his damnedest to remove the image of the dying bystander from his mind. The silent shock evident within the dying eyes as the poor fellow ceased to breathe.

Suddenly Owen was pulled from his dark thoughts, absorbed out of reality as all outside noise had silenced and faded for an astonishing moment. A familar face appeared before him, giant in its size and scope as the voice hammered into his eardrums. The words were more soothing, addressing him directly. It sent a shiver down the parahuman's spine as the unknown face spoke. He had scrambled to his feet, eyes going wide as they had ever been as he simply stared astonished at the giant face. The symptoms which he had felt at its first appearance did not reoccur, it was as if this figure had displayed itself directly into his mind. It did not manifest itself on every single screen across the city, which led Owen to believe that is what had caused his breakdown.

"P-para Protection Society? Wait!" He exclaimed, stepping forward as the face had fallen apart like shattered glass, leaving no trail behind as reality came back to him.

Owen scratched his neck, looking around to find himself in the same place he had been before the bizarre moment. The sirens were once more ablaze in the distance, as the other sounds of the megacity echoed around him as well. He turned and strolled out of the alleyway, even more unsure of things than he had been minutes before. That being was tracking him, it must have had some unsettling powers to do what it had done on this eventful day. Its words were softly spoken in this most recent encounter, as if it was trying to help him. He briefly debated taking the nearest train and just running as far as he could away, but that would lead nowhere. And in all honesty the constant running was wearing thin. He had nowhere to go except where this mysterious face had advised him to. He just hoped he wasn't walking into some horrific trap.

---

Against his better judgement he returned to the deformed diner scene, albeit with a new change of clothes. He stared at the pure mass of police presence surrounding it, watching it from a safe distance. It was not the first time Owen needed to be just another face in the crowd, as long as he did not do anything to draw attention to himself then he'd seen as just one more random bystander going about their daily business. His eyes shifted to the police drones, pausing briefly as he stared at them. They always used so much technology and machinery, it at least gave Owen multiple routes of escape if he were ever cornered or worse, captured.

That was not on the agenda though, he needed to find the Parahuman Protection Society, though did not have the faintest idea of where to start. He'd heard faint rumbles of their existence, seen graffiti on the sides of buildings and heard the rejects of society preach their noble goals. While also hearing plenty of news headlines of their misdeeds and alleged crimes. In his tumultuous time as a para Owen had realized some of the things in which you had to do in order to get by, so as to not end up locked up in a Lorne facility somewhere, undergoing whatever terrifying things they do to captured parahumans.

As he walked along the sidewalk he rubbed his hands gently together, paying no mind to any ideal chit chat or the people staring at the result of his outburst. Most of them would see it as another example of parahuman terror even if it was truthfully a bizarre incident in which he'd lost control. Then he paused in his stride at an older man walking towards the crime scene. Something click in Owen's mind as he brought an identity to the face. A face which had been plastered on the news or on billboards as a wanted man, like Owen was. Another para, the one with the prosthetic arm.

"Hey, I wouldn't go there if I were you." Owen stated as he moved his fingers gently, enough to seize momentariyl control of the robotic prosthetic and point fingers towards himself. An ignorable gesture to others around them, but a bold one to the other para.

Cosmos

[User]
William scoffed. "Okay, fine but I'm going to grab a drink on the way there at the very least." He started walking towards the door before realising he wasn't entirely sure where they were going. "Is someone going to lead the way?" He stood to the side of the door in order to let someone else go before them. He turned to the floating lady whose brother owned the clinic they were supposedly going too.

"So what's your deal, I understand Taylors reasoning for helping us out, but what are you after?" There was something unsettling about her, something he didn't quite trust. Maybe it was her abilities were an unknown to him, he understood that Taylor somehow absorbed energy which it could then redistribute. Whereas this lady? She could fly and create balls of light, what exactly she could do was an unknown and he didn't like unknowns. Never had, and didn't now. Especially these days when there was a mysterious figure sticking its nose in their lives. He had to be careful so that they knew what was going on.

[Assistant]
Darkspire let out a sigh. "My deal is that I need to find those who are against Lorne." Her masked face held a spark of anger. "As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. They will be stepping up in their attacks and with my only ally being able to only keep oversight on things, I need more." She drifted over to the doorway and floated past William. "If you must know who I am, the name is Darkspire, sister of one of the best men to have ever graced this city, Thoth." Her face darkened. "Due to the circumstances we were never able to recover his body, as I took off after his killer and it was gone when I returned, Lorne's minions surrounding the area. Their official stance is whatever he had was contagious, even after death."

She led them out of the building, her orbs drawing close to her. She palmed one, observing it ripple in her hand. "See, whatever their actions lead to my brother's death, for trying to help save lives, his dream. And for the that, I'll do whatever it takes to get him back and allow me to keep this life I've built." She looked to the pyrokinetic. "The Tower broke apart my family. Killed my child and brother. There is very little I wouldn't do to make Lorne suffer for what they have done. Then after that, well, I'll finish another doctorate on Spatial Theory. I am one of the brightest in my field. Literally."

[User]
Taylor supposed this would be the best it would get in terms of cooperation from William. At the very least, he did not seem to be so stubborn as to try to fight Taylor over it...not that he would have been able to do much to resist it. He was physically weak at the moment, and his abilities, if he was even in a state to use them, would only serve to strengthen Taylor. It was concerned that he might hurt himself trying to move around on his own, but for now, it was not going to stop him. It would just have to keep a few close eyes on him.

While it was late at night at the moment, Taylor moved cautiously as they followed Darkspire. The two of them might have been able to move inconspicuously down the street, if Darkspire stopped creating orbs of light, but Taylor certainly could not. Taylor was not only an obvious para, but would likely terrify anyone who saw it. They needed a way for Taylor to hide while they moved, but for now, it just hoped they were not seen.

[Assistant]
"Here." The Ratman said suddenly, from a rooftop.
He dropped a sheet onto the creature, Taylor. It was less of a sheet and more of a tarp - a thick rough green affair, not that comfortable but good enough at hiding for now. At the very least, it was better than nothing.

The Ratman jumped down, joining the group as they walked.
"My net hasn't picked up anything going our way just yet, but we don't need to help them find us. He said. "I hope this clinic of yours is... discreet.

[User]
Darkspire extinguished her orbs, each of them coalescing into one then vanishing in a soft puff of air. She turned in Ratman's direction and scowled. "Of course it's discrete. There is no one there. Everyone knows this district was left to rot by the City. They'd rather it simply disappear and ignore it. That's why he came here." She motioned to the buildings around them. They were relatively intact in this area. "I spent a bit of time... Hiding out in there as well. It has everything one would need and then some, our family is quite well off."

She let out a chuckle. "There is a relative quiet among this sector of the district. No crime, no MPD, nothing. The building itself is owned in my name, and completely off most records." She stopped at a building. No one was around to observe the group, so Darkspire told them to wait as she flew up to the roof, getting in and unlocking it from inside, letting them in. She "walked" here, heeled steps never fully touching the ground. A look around showed what appeared to be a pretty normal medical clinic, far more advanced than one would guess for the slums. Darkspire told the group that her family had secured the funds for it's construction, since her brother was gifted a very generous budget after the success of his primary clinic. She closed up after everyone was inside the lobby, her orbs illuminating the surroundings. "You'll find whatever you need in here. I occasionally need the services here so I've kept everything in stock. Keep the lights on level one." She walks to an office and presses a few buttons. "Orwell, are you online?"

A robotic voice chirped in the speakers softly. It had a rather natural tenor tone. "We are. I assume the two biosigns and the... Other one, are with you. Updating security logs. They should have access to whatever they need." A green light shone on the doors as the labs and surgical rooms unlocked. The speaker light dimmed.

"If you have any other needs, Orwell can assist." Darkspire sat in a chair. "I met them through my brother, since he knew them before the Tower. They're beyond trustworthy. They probably already knows who each of us are."

"We know of you, and William." Orwell spoke up. "The other two we would need to see their faces and DNA to see who they are. If you have need of us, we will be signing off shortly. In the security office there are secured pagers. We are working on getting a... Care package of food and supplies. We will most likely need someone... discreet to pick it up from a drop. If you need information on the world outside we are able to provide intel."

[Assistant]
The tarp that the Ratman dropped onto Taylor was only...minorly effective. It might have prevented someone at a far distance who was not paying close attention from taking notice of it, but Taylor still had a distinctly non-human silhouette, and obviously glowing eyes. Nevertheless, Darkspire seemed to know the area well enough to help them navigate away from prying eyes.

Inside the clinic, Taylor found itself rather surprised. At first, it did not seem much out of place, perhaps somewhat nice for the district it was in, but still a clinic. It was only once they were given access to the rest of the clinic that Taylor was surprised. Lab? An operating room? This seemed like more of a small hospital than an actual clinic. Though, if it meant more equipment and supplies that Taylor could use, it certainly would not complain.

"Hmm...thank you. This place...it reminds me..." Taylor began, though its voice soon trailed off. It just stared in silence for a few moments at parts of the clinic with an impossible-to-interpret gaze. Taylor was still not sure of the nature of this "Orwell" person. But, it had chosen to trust Darkspire for now, and she had told them to trust Orwell. Although, at the moment, Taylor was less concerned about the outside and more concerned about the problems right in front of it. Taylor's attention was, once again, fixated onto William. Now that it had a clinic at its disposal, it could more effectively tend to his needs. "William, you need to lie down and rest. I see you are still weak; you were having trouble staying up when you were walking. The burns would not cause this...there is something else wrong with you. What are all the symptoms you are experiencing, William?"

[User]
William looked around the clinic. How this place hadn't been looted and razed yet was beyond him. He supposed it was likely one of the few buildings in the quarter with anything resembling security that gave people pause. He was learning more and more about their mysterious benefactor that was recruiting allies, however. Small victories. He sat down in a nearby chair, letting his head fall back.

"What does it remind you of Taylor?" He was putting off answering the questions, he knew the escape had caused more damage than previously expected, the bullet wound likely hadn't helped nor had the oxygen deprivation or the overuse of powers which none of them truly understood. Taylor cared for him, but what it didn't seem to understand was a simple fact.

He didn't want saving.


[System]
Gender: Male
Birthday: Nonae Maiis ('Nones of May', May 7th), 55 BC
Age: 23
Height & Weight: 179cm, 79kg

Appearance:
Generally carries the same build and fair complexion of Roman youth, although one toughened by his early adult years of service in the Roman Army. Possess a well-trimmed crop of black hair underneath his helmet and his blue-irised eyes are usually focused on either the enemy to his front or the immediate task at hand.

Weaponry
Gladius Hispaniensis (early Roman legion sword)
Scutum (shield)
Two pila (weighted javelins); and
Pugio (dagger)

Armour/Uniform
Lorica Harmatia (chain mail)
Republic-era legionary helmet with cheek-plates and tri-feathered plume
Greaves
Balteus (sword belt)
Caligulae (hobnailed boots)
Short-sleeved woollen tunic
Focale (anti-chafing scarf); and
Subligaria (underpants)

Sarcina (military pack), mounted on a furca and containing the following:

Cloak bag, containing both of the legionary's cloaks (a sagum and a paenela),
Approx. two weeks rations and personal waterskin (usually with enough water for a day's march),
Spare tunic and subligaria,
Cooking equipment (cooking pot, mess dish, cup and basic utensils),
Entrenching tools – dolabra (entrenching tool or mattock), turf-cutter and wicker basket,
Two sudes (wall stakes), for constructing a marching camp's (castra) wall; and
Titus' personal effects, such as letters, personal items, effigies of his patron gods and so on, contained in a small satchel.

Assets: None … at least, for now.

Merits:
Five years of campaigning, garrison duties and the odd clash with the Gauls has hardened Titus into an aspirant Legion officer. Generally calm in the face of the foe and able to act on his own initiative if a tactical opportunity presents itself.

Flaws:
While capable of acting on any orders given to him, the hardest one for Titus to ascede to is for a withdrawal or to give ground to the foe; as a Roman and a legionary, he believes that to retreat in the face of the enemy without due cause is cowardice. As a result, it usually requires either one of his fellow Legionaries or his cohort's Centurion to reiterate an order to fall back for Titus to do so likewise; a trait that has already seen him 'dressed down' by his centurion three years ago and one that Titus finds difficult to suppress.

Additionally, while he recognises his adopted noble heritage, he currently doesn't possess any major drive to become a member of the Senate. He instead prefers to work his way up the Legion ranks and focusing on his merits rather then political connections - this results in him usually shunning political contacts and leverage when it would otherwise be advantageous him.

Tragic Flaw:
None, at least by the time this story begins. Time and the strands of Fate, however, can only tell.

Personality:

As an adopted son of a patrician family, Titus usually does his utmost to uphold personal and military standards to the highest feasibly possible. Conversely, he is no Stoic and will usually avail himself of the odd hard-one reward or luxury gifted to him by his commander for exemplary service - his increased pay as a decanus could be interpreted as a reflection of that.

Generally, Titus has himself "squared away" and will knuckle down to focus on whatever assigned task is ordered of him. Perhaps reflecting his traditionalist upbringing, he had possessed a firm faith in the Senate and its members - confident that they were capable of doing good and holding a fracturing Republic together. Such faith, however, had been badly shaken and, as a result, Titus transplants such devotion to the gods of Rome.

As part of his piousness to the gods and while doing his utmost not to neglect all of them, Titus usually dedicates his prayers and small sacrifices to three of the main Roman pantheon:

Jupiter – God of thunder and head of the Roman Pantheon. Prayed to as patron god of both Rome and the army (though it goes without needing to explain why),

Minerva – Goddess of wisdom, war and strategy. Prayed to for success in battle and as patroness of the XIX Legion; and

Diana– Huntress of the gods and goddess of the woodlands. Prayed to for protection against the beasts (and, it could be argued, barbarians) that prowl the Gaelic woods, as well as for good fortune in his own expeditions. Thus far (save for open clashes against the Gauls), it seems Titus has remained in Diana's good graces.

Culture and Country:
Latin
Tusculum (original family), Etruscan-Roman (by adoption)

Languages: Latin

Public Record:
Currently not a lot is known in the wider public record regarding Titus. However, according to legion records, Legatus Gaius Varus promoted the legionary to Decanus in 33BC. The general cited Titus' improvised command of his contubernium during a reconnaissance assignment in Gaul, which resulted in the legion able to prematurely ambush and wipe out a major Gaulish force while they were encamped.

It later emerged that this barbarian army had been the fighting force of one of the last Gaulish holdouts in Amorica (modern day Brittany); said community would be subsequently 'flattened' by the 19th and the nearby 15th Legions after a second battle two days later. On viewing the burning remains of the town, Titus boasted to his centurion, "Caesar would have been proud: all Gaul is now Rome's!"

Private Information:
As he had been part of the Roman Army since adulthood, not much regarding Titus' private life (outside of the legion's camp duty and the extremely rare temporary rotation back to Italia) seems worthy of note. While his adopted father had encouraged him to pursue an office in the Senate, the presently-toxic environment and the constant duties away from home have actively discouraged him from pursuing a political career so far.

Loyalty:
II Contubernium, V Centuria, IX Cohort, XIX Legion 'Scions of Minerva' - an Octavian-affiliated Roman Legion

While he personally opts for a stable form of Pompeian-minded government compared to the present upheaval, the 19th Legion has declared itself for Octavian and Titus cannot renege on his enlistment. As a result, he is swept up in the Civil War between the Triumverate nominally on Octavian's side.

Political Rank: -
Military Rank: Legionary Decanus (II Contubernium, V Centuria)

Skills:

WARRIOR

Infantry
Light Weapon (Gladius Hispaniensis) (Trained)
Light Weapon (Pugio) (Knowledgeable)
Shield (Scutum) (Trained)
Armour (Lorica Harmata) (Knowledgeable)

Skirmisher
Throwing Weapon (Pilum) (Trained)

OFFICER

Tactical
Personal Initiative (Knowledgeable) (only applicable to II Contubernium at this time)

???:

Fate:

Miracle:

Legion Number: XIX Legion ('Scions of Minerva')
Legion Founded: 19th March, 108 BC

Legion's Founding Region: Roma, Italia
Current Posting: Amorica, Gaul
Patron God: Minerva
Legion Emblem: A depiction of the Owl of Minerva surmounted on two crossed pila, with the Legion's number (in Latin numerals) underneath.

Legion Legatus: Legatus Gaius Cominius Varus (former), Decimus Aelius (current)
Style of Leadership: The former legatus in command of the XIX did not stand out from many of his contemporaries; like other legates, he's a stern disciplinarian, a drilled tactician and strategist and no slouch when it came to wielding the spatha from his mount. He had recognised the usefulness of the recently-formed 11th Cohort and generally allowed their commander a bit more battlefield independence.

Of course, there's always a metaphorical rod at the ready to reign this ticking battlefield time-bomb back in; as a result, 11th Cohort members are entrusted with the same expected discipline as the rest of the army. They are not driven into the ground as slaves, but they are expected to face the same penalties as the other cohorts - even if it should mean the rare (but bloody) decimation.

Previous Actions:

- Participated in the latter stages of the Cimbrian War (then known as XXII Legio) from 107 BC - 101 BC. Was on the Roman Order of Battle at the Battles of Aquae Sextiae (102 BC) and Vercellae (101 BC).

- Revived in Rome during the Social War. Fought in the Third Servile War at the disastrous Battle of the Colline Gate against Sulla - predictably, they and the defending Roma-Italians lost. XXII Legio subsequently disbanded.

- Legion resurrected and renamed as the XIX Legion 'Scions of Minerva', at the outset of Julius Caesar's campaign in Gaul in 60 BC. Legion fought alongside Caesar throughout Gaul until the campaign's end in 50 BC; remained in the region to preserve the Pax Romania and to put down any rebellion attempts or resisting communities the Romans had overlooked.

11th Cohort Composition: Drawn from both Italia and (when possible) from Gaulish levies within the occupied provinces. Similar to a "line" legionary cohort, though with their own methods of fighting and own command structure at centuria level. Typically armed and armoured like the main-line soldiers, though they are allowed a limited increase in scope of uniform dress - it is their ability and disclipline that, at the end of the day, will count the most.

11th Cohorts Primus Prior: Centurion Primus Tiberius Marcius Corvus (Legion liaison), as-of-yet unidentified Centurion Priestess (de facto)

[User]
Silence is Golden

Aelia smiled, it seemed like they would go with her plan, for now at least. Getting to the mansion would be the easy part, getting in was questionable. Provided they got in, though, it would be an easy task to complete their mission from there.

Aelia responded to Sanngridr, "Yes, I know how to reach his home. Come, provided we can talk our way in, this should be an easy affair."

With that, Aelia took the lead, heading toward Flavius' mansion.

[Assistant]
Preservation of Democracy

Athens, patron city to the goddess of wisdom herself. Only fitting that it be a bastion of philosophical, scientific, and political progress within the Republic, with stores of knowledge second only to those of Alexandria. The city's market place was alive with the bustling of commerce and trade. Livestock, salesmen, and disgruntle customers contributing to a great roar that seemed to be alive in its own right. Philosophers and their students gathered upon the steps of great monuments or within fine gardens, discussing their views on life, the universe, and everything in it. Politicians argue with one another in their great courthouse, the process of democracy pushing ever onward!

Departed from their vessel, Pompey's agents have taken a carriage to the market place, now let loose into the city-state to bring the people to their cause. Pompey has obviously put his trust in their competence and ability, whether it is misplaced is yet to be seen.

[User]
Road To Knowledge:

Losing her pets was heartbreaking, but she was sure they'd get their spot in Valhalla. They might not take the form as the common man, but they were greater warriors than many, as shown by the majority of the ship's inhabitants. Godelvia would make sure that these oarsmen, as well as these hired street rats would never go to Valhalla. They were undeserving on that paradise.

" Thanks for the concern. I know they will be welcomed, and they will show skills far greater than many warriors who are already there. "

Godelvia was going to walk over and wrap the corpses of her animals up, but Kára seemed like she wanted to talk a bit. It wasn't like Godelvia really got people, but walking towards someone slowly, especially with a smile on your face, seemed like something an animal might do. If an animal could smile of course.

Well, it would be rude not to talk with the girl who fought alongside you. It would be like not petting and feeding your animals when they were done fighting.

" Thank you Kára for handling the other ship, along with Amelia. I have to ask something though, what is it like when you're in that. . . form? You didn't really seem like, well, yourself. "

Interacting with Kára became a bit more easy know that Godelvia knew she could turn into an animal, if you could consider that thing an animal.

[Assistant]
A Wild Goose Chase

"Hmm, it was," Titus replied to Agripena, removing his helmet to smooth his shock of hair. "Mind, I heard that the centurion had been fairly notorious in the Legion's for his overly stern discipline. Some legionaries even nicknamed him 'Bring-Me-Another' due to his habit of-"

A shout suddenly arose from one of the crewmen, causing a flurry of activity to begin on deck. Collecting his gear, Titus strode forward until he was near the prow; he shaded his eyes and peered on the sight that loomed before the ships: the coastline of Britannia.

"Thanks be to Neptune; we made it." he thanked said god of the sea, relieved that their crossing hadn't met undue disaster. Turning to Ari, he muttered an apology. "My apologies, priestess, but I can't speak any further for now - I must report to my Centurion and ready my contubernium for landing. Perhaps once we are ashore and on the march, we could speak later?"

He started towards the steps towards the lower deck when a thought struck him - he hadn't asked or given his name. Turning back to her, he quickly added, "Oh, you may call me Titus; Titus Licinius Nerva Flavianus, if you prefer the full name."


[System]
Alias: Orbit
Age: 16
Gender: Neither?
Skills: Lockpicking, pickpocketing, vault cracking, stealth movement, reading blueprints, motorcycle riding, advanced knowledge of high level math and physics, mechanical, engineering and computer talent (She makes a great deal of her own equipment), incredibly skilled aim (aided by the use of rapid mental math)
Powers: Telekinesis
-Jin can lift about 300 pounds while she's on the ground. She has difficulty with more delicate movements.
-While hovering/flying, her weight limit drops by about half.
-She can use her kinesis to 'fly'. It isn't full flight. She basically pushes herself from object to object, using the momentum to give herself speed and height. If she was in a flat field, she could only achieve a height of maybe five feet off the ground, but could still move incredibly fast.
-Jin's favorite use of her power is to enhance her fighting strength. She uses it to give her punches and kicks more force, and can easily keep up this fighting style while flying.
Equipment: Super Suit - black with purple trim
Lockpicks
Scanner goggles
Her "orbs"- metal spheres that can be controlled via signal through the technology in her gloves.
Street motorcycle
Personality: Jin is smart mouthed, usually. She enjoys cracking jokes and being humorous. She is not very adept at close relationships, however, and tends to keep people at arm's length. If people try to get too close, she will lash out, and try to force them away.

History: Jin lost her parents at a young age. She lived on the streets for a significant part of her childhood, learning to steal for money in order to eat. When she was about ten, she was adopted by a man who turned out to be a professional thief. He taught her everything she needed to know, and when she was old enough, he sent her to HIVE. While he could easily teach her to be a master thief, he knows there are certain things that only a school like that could teach his kid. Jin really didn't want to go, and they haven't spoken since he enrolled her.

(Hive Five!)

Appearance:
5'0'', dark skin, dark eyes, short black hair, petite and androgynous build, wears loose shirts and jeans

Other:
-I refer to Jin as 'she' because she is biologically female. If asked directly about her gender, she would probably say something sarcastic, like 'can't you tell?' and walk away. In truth, she doesn't feel quite right saying that she is female or male.

[User]
Dimitri listened idly to the others discussing who they were and what their abilities are, only chiming in once one student seemed to address everyone as a whole. "Nope,'fraid i'm at a loss here when it comes to familiarity. Name's Dimitri, Dimitri Lockhart, though the last set of hobos I shacked up with before coming here called me Decibel. You guys are free to call me whichever one you want.". Dimitri would've taken the opportunity to explain how he'd received his nickname, however the booming voice of the co-headmaster stopped him before he could even get the chance. Dimitri's head slumped as Mammoth shot down any hopes of avoiding being in trouble for his lateness, however he still managed a lopsided grin. "Alright, I suppose I brought that one on myself. Guess i'd better get my arm fixed up now before I end up late twice in a row." He said with a hint of mirth. With that, Dimitri spun on his heel and made his way for the exit, already unzipping the small repair kit attached to his belt.

Just before he could make it out of the door however, one of the students began shouting for assistance. The cyborg turned his head, then sighed as he saw Jetta's unconscious form, "Goddamn my softness." he muttered as he turned back around and walked towards James and Jetta. "Alright, let's see what we got.", He said as he crouched and lightly tapped Jetta's face, "C'mon, wakey wakey slugger, now's not a good time for a power nap.". When he did not receive a response, Dimitri sighed and held his hand about a foot above Jetta's face and paused to think. "Hrm...just below motor cycle revving loudness should do. Plenty loud, but not enough to deafen her. 'Least so long as I don't do it continuously.", He said to himself as his arm began to vibrate. "Let's try this again, wakey wakey!" He said as a short blast of sound was emitted from the speaker in his palm.

[Assistant] Jinx listens as the students disperse from the training room. She smiles as she walks in to see Mammoth and notices that there are still a few students in the training room. She walks over to him. "How did it go? It looks, productive..." Her eyes scan around the training room. "The team classes are next, correct? Considering the fact that they are very similar, I was thinking about just combining them into one class. Seems easier, doesn't it?"

[User] The unconscious Jin flinched in reflex to the noisy stimuli, but she didn't stir more than that, or wake at all. Her chest simply rose and fell, and there was a faint, silvery light distortion starting to surround her.

[Assistant] Molly looks over to the fallen Jin and the very audible attempts to revive her with a scowl before looking back over at the other students and Co-Headmaster Jinx. "Well call me Madame Smash. Or Smash is cool. Champs is alright too." She ran her fingers through her hair a few times to brush out some of the knots before feeling her abilities returning like a slow ebb of flowing water into her head. Slowly she turned her hands on her wrists with a flourish, and was lifted from the ground ever so slightly with a deep, droning hum. As she ascended to around a foot off the ground, she quickly donned her respirator once more with a giggle.

[User] As they were about to leave the training room. Finally. They were about to get a one hour break before they go back to their other sessions of their training. Now leaving the room, a girl fell on the ground. Ariella looked at James worried as they walked towards the person who blacked out. Ariella preferred to stay back because she didn't want to cause nothing bad to happen. That would be explained later. "James.. is she going to be alright..?

[Assistant]
Dimitri was the first to respond it seemed. This guy was consistent which was a good to know. Unsure what the cyborg was doing he was slightly shocked by the method he employed to wake up Jin. At any rate it didn't work at rousing the girl. Very well, time to think. Turning his hand over he placed his index finger an thumb to his forehead and shut his eyes. He'd fainted once and he tried to recall what the doctor used to snap him out of it. Some small packet thing. Obviously he didn't have one handy but with his powers back he could potentially make what it contained.

"I can't say for sure. I don't know what's wrong." In response to Ariella's question. Reaching down he pulled out his phone. The Internet was such a wonderful thing, most of the time anyway. Smelling salts, that was it. So long as it was a solid, which from the name alone told him it was, he could likely make it. Ammonium carbonate, comprised of four common elements. This would be easy. He placed his hands together and made a first attempt. Glancing at what he made it wasn't quite crystalline so he destroyed it and tried a couple more times. Satisfied that he had it right and that the quantity was low enough he brought his hand up and snapped his finger under his nose to test it. As one would expect he jerked back and coughed slightly. "Oh crap. Yep that's it. Alright let me try." He'd forgotten how strong the stuff was. No wonder they use it in the medical field.

Kneeling down he waited until after Jin exhaled then snapped his fingers again. The action produced a small amount of ammonium carbonate that broke up immediately. It had an extremely potent smell and was not something easy to ignore. Having sampled it himself it was like getting shocked make into consciousness.

[User] Dimitri scowled slightly as Jin failed to react as he'd desired to his attempts at awakening her. The boy's intentions were good enough, however he was severely lacking in the first aid department. Paying no mind to the slight distortion field being produced by Jin, Dimitri flexed his hand a bit and prepared for another blast. "Maybe if I do it a bit louder she'll-", He stopped mid sentence as James decided to try his luck, holding something under her nose. Common sense finally seemed to dawn on Dimitri, and the cyborg got up, brushed off the back of his pants, and backed up, deciding to leave the medical assistance to the ones that were still fully human. That final thought caused Dimitri to wince a bit, however he brushed it to the side and instead, opted to take his leave to tend to his arm, "Well, this was fun and all, but seeing as I don't enjoy the idea of walking around with an arm flopping every which way all day, i'm gonna take my leave. See you folks next class." Dimitri stated before once more making his way to the door and making an exit. As he made his way back to his room, Dimitri looked back to the class he'd come from and smirked, "Interesting people. Looks like this H.I.V.E. business is gonna be pretty fun.".

[Assistant] Jin inhaled, and then started coughing, coming back to consciousness with a flailing of limbs and a long string of very vulgar curses in multiple languages. "Nngh..." She clutched her head and hissed. There was a dull headache above her eyebrows. Finally, she looked up, startled to see that she was in the midst of a crowd. "...." She picked herself up rapidly, trying to ignore the way she wobbled on her feet and nearly fell again. "...Thanks." She mumbled it to her feet, not looking at any of them. Then she pushed her way through the assembled crowd, desperate to get out, to go anywhere but where she was.

[User]
Shane exhaled a sigh of relief, class was finally over. Not that he hated it, in fact this might be his favorite class. What made him grateful for its end was when his powers returned to him. It felt as if a part of him was missing but was returned to him. Upon sensing his powers fully returned he immediately shifted into Rift Form. The shadows in the room were enhanced to the point where ignoring them was impossible. Looking at the world through the eyes of the Riftman was spectacular in a depressing way. Instead of seeing an area shaded in black there was nothing visible, it was as if the area covered in shadow had never existed and in its place was a black tear in the world. Another change was when he was invisible the world around him became ethereal. People were ghostly figures of themselves, and the world lost all color.

Now invisible Shane noticed that one of the students lay unconscious on the floor of the training room. While he could help he knew she'd be fine, the others were already coming to her aid. He had an hour to himself and he was going to use it well. He hovered over to his room and shifted back to normal. Opening his bag he took out Riya and unsheathed her. The blade was black like tar but shined in the light, it was made of obsidian and after the amount of care and maintenance Shane put into this blade it could slice through anything. It seemed that everytime he held this blade, memories of his time with Riya came to mind. This time he was reminded of a job the two of them did. It was their first job together and as one would suspect it didn't go smoothly. Shane was the predator, always looking for a moment to strike from the shadows and take down anyone in the way while Riya was an opportunist, she looked for ways to distract and confuse guards to clear a way to their mark without bloodshed or violence. With their extremely diffferent tactics clashing the two ended up being more of a hindrance to each other than a benefit and were quickly discovered by the guards. However they did manage to get what they came for...after being chased by the guards for a good while.

Shane snapped back to reality once he hearing a group of students walking through the halls. "I gotta work on my combat skills", he said to himself just before he stomach growled "Alright, food then training". Shifting once again he phased through the room door and flew down the halls towards the cafeteria where he was greeted by a wide assortment of...slop. "With all the money put into the tech and facilities I'm not surprised the food here sucks", he said as he grabbed a plate full of the stuff and sat at a table. It was better than what he used to eat at least.

[Assistant] Perfect, there was something to be said knowing a little chemistry. When Jin tried to get up James was about to advise against it but she seemed adamant on leaving. Following, and even stepping in the way he tried to get her to stop. Already she'd nearly fallen over again. "Whoa, hold on a second. You should take a seat for a couple minutes before moving around too much. Seriously."

[User]
Ariella noticed how James started to use his abilities. Which was pretty cool in her book. Her eyes were widened and arms crossed as he did that. As soon as he finished. The girl woke up with the small item that he made for her to inhale. The girl woke up and stood up, now walking away. She stumbled but James managed to get her. Ariella looked down at her knee as she tapped it lightly. It was hurting but not as much as earlier. So James was already busy trying to help the girl, so she would be safe. Thats good. Now what should Ariella do? "Glad she is okay.." she said quietly, turning around and going outside of the training room and into the hallway where she came across a water fountain. So she took a sip from the water, wiping her mouth and now turning around trying to think of a place to go. Somewhere where she could chill for the hour break...

"Mmm...." Ariella decided to head outside for some fresh air. As she sat down on a nearby bench, looking down at her knee. "Well....I tried..." she sighed minding her own business.

[Assistant] Ryan went to the gym and began doing various workouts and exercises as he pushed himself to the limits of his strength. 'I won't let anyone be better than me. I won't let them hurt me.' He thought to himself with an angry expression

[User] Jin was very close to tears, and hurriedly yanked her hood over her head to shield herself. Damn, today was the worst first day she'd ever had, and it wasn't even half over yet. Was it too late to quit? She shot a glare at the guy who was blocking her path. "I'll sit, just not here. I can't stay here, it's claustrophobic."


[System]
* Age: 16
* Gender: Female
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Armored, Unarmored. She is 5'1, with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Her armor is silver with gold decorations. Her sword has a golden hilt.
* Personality: Fanilly is one to take her duty seriously. This is both due to a belief in the cause of the Iron Rose Knights, and a severe insecurity and self-consciousness about her position. She is well aware that she is young and comparatively inexperienced. She knows that she is only in the position she is because of her birth, as she was born under a full moon. This only makes her feel worse about it. For Fanilly Danbalion, captain of the Iron Rose Knights, she can't help but feel that they have a point. She's young. And even though the founder was the same age, she was viewed as something miraculous, almost a saint. Should Fanilly truly be leading them? This weighs heavily on her mind, and thus one of her biggest desires is to prove that she is. In spite of her young age, in spite of how this tradition has worn thin for some, Fanilly wants to prove that she is a worthy captain of the Iron Rose Knights above all else. Aside from this desire, the girl is somewhat socially awkard, sometimes unprepared for conversation. However, she is not really shy and can generally deal with attending various functions in the capital, as is expected of the Iron Rose Knights. She is dedicated to the purpose of the order, to defend the innocent and protect the land of Thaln. However, the doubts surrounding her have lead to a lack of confidence in herself. Fanilly has a younger sister and as a result has a somewhat stronger affinity for children and desire to keep the safe, but as someone dedicated to the Iron Rose Knights' cause she wishes to protect all those in need. While she has a lacking in confidence, she retains some pride in her training, as she has proven to be skilled at swordplay in spite of her youth.
* Brief Backstory: Fanilly was a daughter of the Danbalion family, a noble family already. While they had never been knights, her birth on a full moon immediately made her a potential future candidate for the Iron Rose Knights' captain. She was simply needed sooner then many expected. And so she experienced training for several years leading up to her instatement as the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. Initially she was confident in herself, but it quickly became clear that even some within the Knights had grown tired of the tradition of selecting a maiden born on a full moon to be the captain. This wore on her quickly, and has lead to her desperation to prove herself.
* Equipment: Fanilly wears a well-made set of somewhat ornate armor. She wields a fine longsword in her right hand and a dagger with a curved hilt for trapping weapons in her left.
* Skills: Fanilly has experienced extensive training in swordplay, specifically in the use of a longsword in both hands, or paired with a unique parrying dagger.

[User]
Marianne Delacroix

Blinking as a bandit was suddenly killed mere feet away from her by a crossbow bolt, Marianne stopped in her tracks. Turning her head as yet another bandit was killed by an ice spell cast, she looked around for their sources and was pleased to see Sir Ian and Sir Tiral. Graciously being afforded a moment to catch her breath thanks to her allies. A thin sheen of sweat coated her skin, her attire damp and sticking to her body. Panting heavily, she watched as both crossbow bolts and icicles flew about the battlefield dropping bodies like flies. She had to conserve some of her energy, as she tired rather quickly. Especially if she still intended to aid the Captain. Turning to Sir Tiral, she was a little confused as to why he was apologizing. Did comrades not commonly fight side by side? As she thought over Sir Tiral's words, she nodded wordlessly in agreement with his plan. It was a great plan, after all. What better and quicker way than to douse the flames and allow their forces a direct path to regroup with the Captain?

Looking over to Sir Ian, who neared them at a slight clip, her face grew saddened when she realized he was injured. He was nursing his arm and his gait was affected by yet a different wound it seemed. Eyes widening and mouth slightly agape, she noticed Sir Ian's hood had fallen back and saw his ears. Her expression lighting up visibly, despite her environment.

"He's Hundi!?"

She thought to herself, forgetting where she was and the situation she was in.
She had never met a Hundi in person, only having heard stories and reading about them in books.
She took a step forward, wanting to touch those ears as her hand partway lifted.
But she stopped and shook her head as regained her composure.
Clearing her throat, she turned back to Sir Tiral.
Looking around her, she finally offered her response.

"Please, Sir Tiral. You insult me. Just 'miss', is fine. I'm not betrothed yet. I'm still a young woman."

She laughed, smiling. Referring to his usage of the word 'madam'.

"But yes, your idea is sound. The battle here is nearly over and won. I'll command my forces to the base of the fallen tree and we'll provide you with cover as you work. Once the flames are out, I'll begin to cast my own magic and support the Captain from afar. It should be more than enough to strike down that false 'King' Jeremiah."

After referring to the bandit as a 'King', she turned her head and spat at the ground to rid herself of the disgusting aftertaste.
Such a title should only be reserved for the most honorable and noble. For the most respectful leaders of this world, not to be sullied by such filth. To consider the bandit leader Jeremiah as a 'King' would be to insult her own father.
There was a sudden commotion as a few bandits began to lay down their weapons and kneeled with their arms raised, offering their surrender.
Eying a bandit waving a makeshift white flag, Marianne stared at him for a moment before turning back to Sir Tiral and Sir Ian.

"We must act quickly." She said softly to them.

Turning to her men plus their additions, she issued her orders.

"Men! Be mindful of the bandits that lay down their arms to surrender! Do not murder them senselessly and attempt to restrain them, we are not barbarians! Continue to subdue any who dare raise arms at you! Move to the base of the fallen tree, as we are providing support to Sir Tiral and Sir Ian!"

She said, her projecting her voice as loudly as she could so that her words carried far.
Thankfully, they all seemed to hear her clearly as a resounding cheer was their response to her.
Smiling somehow, Marianne slashed at the empty open air to flick excess blood on her blade to the ground as she turned back to her two comrades.

"Let us move. Sir Ian, did you need me to stay close to your side? Or can you still move and fight with your wounds?"

She said as she began to walk forward, towards the tree. Partly to offer her genuine aid to him, partly because she wanted a closer look at those ears of his. Did he a tail, also? She would have to sneak a look when she could.

[Assistant]
With the lines moving forward and the camp being cleared Ian fired one last time before putting the crossbow away. He stayed behind as the troops pressed on with the intent on finding better care for his wounds, or at least staying out of the majority of the fighting until he could, but he was soon approached by Marianne, the knightess showing concern for his wounds.

He smiled "ah please, I could use a hand" he made to lean on her though with his shorter stature he had to put his arm around her waist and lean into her side "I can still shoot if you need me to, if you can find me a spot to shoot from and I may need some help reloading" one of his ears unconsciously flicked against her arm "if not, I may just find a place nearby to rest until I can get this seen to" He let out a slight groan of pain as he shifted his broken arm.

[User]
Sir Garrett
Themerlinhawk

Sir Garrett barely noticed the back up that had made it to the fight with Fanilly and the Giant of a man. As the Knight Slayer threw the captain Sir Garrett flanked him and swung his sword towards the man's left leg aiming at the Achilles tendon. Following the cut he brought the sword in a smooth arc and swung it at the man's clavicle aiming to remove the man's man left arm by cutting through the joint since it lacked any kind of actual armor.

Catching the flash of light off to his left Sir Garrett launched himself to the right moving away from any kind of counter attack and out of the way of burning embers Sult had launched at the Knight slayer.

What a presumptuous name I think it is high time to teach you a lesson.

The thought surged to the front of Garrett's already narrow focus as he prepared to fend off any sort of counter attack that the man launched at him. Regardless of how dangerous the Knight slayer was eventually the other knights would simply overrun him and Tyaetha wasn't going to let Fanilly die. This fight was already over it was only a matter of time really.

[Assistant]
Hot ash scored across Gillian's face as the tree slammed into the battlefield. 'Ah, just what this needed. Even MORE burning timber.' he though, following the offending fir (or was it an oak? Botany was not his strong point) to its point of origin and was surprised to find a giant of a man bearing down on the young captain. "The hell is she doing up-" he begins to say, cut off abruptly as he feels a sharp pain across his ear and the whizzing of a bolt in flight.

Out of reflex he raises his shield and backs up quickly, resisting every urge in his body to paw at the fresh gash. His comrades seems to not share his reaction, screaming forward (in one case quit literally), to aid the captain. Calming his momentary panic, he looks for the origin of the shot. 'Lucky shot?...' he thinks, watching as the offending crossbowmen and his friends where over taken by Tyaethe's forces. 'No. too many. Ambush. Well laid too...", he thinks, looking over the devastation. While few in Fanilly's charge were hurt (it seemed Sir Aethelmund's forces claimed the majority of the honors) they were woefully out of position, cut off from both their captain and the fray. They held their position, slaughtering any bandit still on their side who was too dumb or too desperate to escape the flames to stay away, but were hesitant to do much else, fearing another trap.

Gillian cursed it all, the damage to morale (much less the physical) had crippled their line. The only savings grace was the flaming sanctuary the felled tree provided. The situation called for a charismatic, tactical young knight to step up and take charge! But Gillian didnt see any candidates in the throng of knights(self included), so he'd have to wing it. "..P.." He shouts above the ruckus, barely sure of what he was doing (engagements like this were why he was a mercenary). "PIN THE REMAINING BANDITS BETWEEN US AND THE FIRE, WE'RE GOING TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT FLANK AND GET AROUND IT. THEN PRESS ONWARD TO THE MIDDLE!" He calls out as the company begins to move, though purely from a sense of urgency rather than and regard for rank. "If I live through this Klien, I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life....", he thinks bitterly, hoping he'd not just doomed the very charge he was in (or any of the others).

[User]
Fanilly watched as the hulking man's arm continued to stream blood. How deep had she managed to get him? The injury was more serious then she'd initially suspected.

"You... little bitch!" he snarled, raising his sword to advance on her. Fanilly's heart felt like it would burst out of her chest, but she adjusted her footing, ready to dodge when he started to swing, eyes on the motion of his sword!

Then... a nearly inhuman cry of fury from the right. Jeremiah looked up just in time to block an enormous sword, the sheer force of the blow making him stagger, stumbling back as he did. Tyaethe had made it over the burning tree?! Fanilly could see embers caught in her plate, her scarf smouldering as she slammed her blade into the Man-Slayer's. Even as she watched this spectacle, she suddenly felt arms around her, pulling her up and against... another girl? Fanilly swiftly recognized her protector as Sult... and despite the situation, couldn't help but feel a sensation of embarrassment. Cute? Was this really the time for that sort of thing? It couldn't be.

And... then Sult talked about the hulking man's abs, and how it was unfortunate he was such a terrible man.

For a few moments, Fanilly was pulled from the battle. She could only look up at the older girl, incredulous, at the comment she had made.

"... Wh... what?"

Of course, he attention was once again taken as the burning debris sailed towards the fake Bandit King. He caught site of it just in time to raise his still-bleeding arm into the way... and there was a sizzle of burning flesh. Even if the debris had not met its mark, it had done its damage. Burned and bleeding, one of the huge man's arms was, while not incapable of moving, unusable in a fight. Still, one handed, he managed to deflect the next attack from Garret and stagger back.

He wasn't backing down.

---

The bandits were in bad shape. Less the a hundred of them remained, and most of the survivors were wavering. The shrinking crowd was condensed towards the middle of the camp, and the charge sent several to their knees in surrender. The remaining bandits that were attempting to fight were largely doing so due to the fact that there was no escape for them.

But there were murderers, all of them, and had only brought this upon themselves.