[System]
Sex: Male
Age: 18
House: Dark Magician House

Appearance:
Duel Disk: Though he never really did like them, he was required one and because of so, added with his father's status he was given a custom and advanced deck. The duel disk has a tradictional grip that allows him to have a gloved hand, custom fit, and on the inside of his wrist, the deck put in pointing upward, the first card facing away, the back covered. The deck allows him to press a button to add cards to his hand, which lines the inside of his arm. He can push them up out of the top and placed in a completely straight, curved up, and and thin silver colored disk part that has the areas for all the cards that can be placed at a blue hint.

Personality: Lua is a very nice person. He is always worried about other people and wants to help them be the best they can. He has a strange optimism for others and will tell them what they want to hear instead of what they need to hear first. That being said, he is a very clumsy person and he seemed to always be a little bit nervous. He easily becomes frustrated or confused. He is always really down on himself and never really believes he can accomplish anything. He tends to try to dodge or work around combat and forced or serious duels but isn't shy to a nice game or mandatory game. He is quick to accept people, especially as a friend and even quicker to forgive them. Because of so he is easily manipulated and used by others, only added to the easiness by him being a pushover and generally naive.

History: Lua was born a to a privileged family, as the runt of three. He was conceived in an affair and because of so his father always disliked him. His brothers picked on him because he was the youngest sibling. It was only his mother that treated him with true kindness. Eventually, the father of Lua made a deal with KaibaCorp. where they began to manufacture and distribute duel monsters related accessories. Because of this, for their birthdays, each kid was given a deck of cards. Lua had his deck taken, and all of the cards the others didn't want were given to him. They always played the game together, and he asked to join. He did, and he even won, and in anger, the other brothers beat him up. Seeing this as a chance to build his confidence, Lua's mother bought a purposefully terrible deck and began to play with him. Lua had a lot of fun and won often. Eventually, she began to strengthen her deck more and more, allowing him to experience loss and adapt to better play the game. It was when she pulled out a dark magician that he realized she had been adding good cards to his deck. Going all out, he miraculously won the match. They continued to play and he realized that he had a passion for the game. because of this, his mother managed to convince his father to let him go to duel academy, where he has been ever since.

Wish: To prove himself to his family and make his mother proud

Deck:
Monsters: -3 Cyber Jars
-Golden Ladybug
-2 Mages of faith
-Bowgenian
-Morphing Jar
-Morphing jar 2
-3 Obnoxious Celtic Warrior
-Amazon fighter
-2 man eating bugs
-yomi ship
-3 Millenium Sheilds
-Skelangle
-Kuriboh
-jinzo
-Lone savage space warrior*

Spells: -2 Pots of greed
-Snatch steal
-2 Mystical Space typhoon
-Swords of revealing light
-Mist body
-Apple of Discord*
-2 despell

Traps:- 2 Gravity Binds
-2 michizure
-Mask of weakness
-Necromancer's circle*
-2 dice re-roll

Custom cards are marked with * and anime cards are marked with **.

Custom cards:

-NAME OF CARD: Lone savage space warrior
Level 8 ATTRIBUTE EARTH Beast-warrior Normal monster
ATK 2800/1500 DEF
[Monster Effect/Flavor Text] A powerful yet brutal, monstrous, monkey-like alien from far off used to commit mass genocide of other alien races so that their planets may be sold

Apple of discord
Normal Spell Card
Roll a six-sided die and apply the result.
1: Target 1 face-up card you control (except this card) and give control of it to your opponent.
2: Pay 500 Life Points.
3: Your opponent can look at your hand, then send 1 card from your hand to the Graveyard.
4: Your opponent targets 1 face-up card they control and gives control of it to you.
5: Look at your opponent's hand, choose 1 card, and add it to your hand.
6: Shuffle 1 card in your Graveyard back into the deck.

Necromancer's Circle
Normal Trap Card
During your Second Main Phase after this card is activated, target 1 monster in your graveyard: Special Summon it. Its level is halved and it is treated as a DARK Zombie-type monster. When this card leaves the field, destroy that target. When the target leaves the field, destroy this card.

[User]
The harsh voice made Taiyo flinch, turning towards the imposing figure. Another student, albeit much more aggressive, that had challenged him to a duel. With Archfiends.

Normally Taiyo would want to decline, so that he could inspect his opponent's play-style and create a counter strategy. But he knew Archfiends. He knew them well. But he had never heard of this Archfiend Reverse. An archfiend card and a Synchro monster no less.

He wanted it.

But he would not duel for cards so easily. Perhaps his opponent was better than him, he didn't yet know. But there was only one way to find out.

More confidently than usual, Taiyo slot his unchanged deck into his duel disk, holding it high.

"I assume you're challenging me then... I accept Akaza Tsunozuka. Prepare to duel!" Taiyo said without a hint of the normal anxiety he displayed. All of his nervousness washed away at the very thought of dueling someone with the same archetype. He was calm, determined, and even feeling a tinge of competitiveness. He wanted to win. He was going to win.

[Assistant]
A crowd of people gathered around what appeared to be two duelists dueling. Though really, it was obvious by the holographic monsters that were brawling with one another. Several mushroom-like houses sprung up around the area, clearly the effect of a Field Spell.

"Ojama King, attack his life points directly!" a voice called. Shortly following a dramatic explosion, the holograms dissipated. In the middle of the crowd was a young man, obviously a student, shaking hands with an apparently older gentleman. The older man had large, spikey hair- a style that was not uncommon. He had on a black jacket, fully buttoned up, collar done neatly. Underneath the jacket was a black suit. At a glance, it was clear who this person was.

For several years, Manjoume Jun had been a top level professional duelist. However, seven years into his career, he had simply stopped competing. In spite of his young age, he had retired, and when asked for what reason, he simply responded he wanted to focus on his family, though his personal life never came to the forefront. Judging by the ring on his finger, however, it was safe to say he was married to someone.

The man looked to Carnel though really just picking someone out of the crowd. "Hey you" hey called Carnel. In his index finger, he twirled around a blue card- a link monster. "You look pretty strong. If you prove yourself right here, I'll let you have this card."

Level Master
(SW, SE) FIRE Spellcaster-type Link Effect monster
1500 ATK / Link 2
2 "LV" monsters
Once per turn, you can send one level 4 or lower "LV" monster from your deck to the Graveyard: Special Summon 1 monster from your hand or Deck that is listed in the sent monster's text, ignoring its Summoning Conditions. If you control a "LV" monster in this card's Linked Zone(s), this monster cannot be targeted for attacks, except by "LV" monsters.

Tsunozuka's duel disk was black with red stripes. The screen lit up, the word DUEL flashing on it, as the disk proper materialized out of solid light. "Huh." he remarked, as what materialized as his duel disk came out in the default angular shape with the default black fill and white border.

"Whatever. I think I'll let you go first." he offered.

He popped his deck into the disk, the deck shuffled by the disk before dispensing five cards for Tsunozuka to use. He smirked as if he knew how good his hand was.

[User]
Rumi was up early and simply took the classes she thought she needed at the time and did her usual routine of keeping up with her hobby of making food with her own little oven in the middle of baking she got the sudden announcement she at first seemed uninterested but upon hearing the mention of visitors she instinctively asked the screen "When? Where? I need to get my snacks ready!" and shortly declared she was going to make some snacks for the visitors "This is a natural thing to do when you get visitors after all!" Rumi said to herself after putting the cookies she just baked in a bag once again and ran off to find her friends to share her morning bakings.

unfortunately, she couldn't find any of them and promptly looked around for other people instead and as expected tripped over her own feet while running around the campus

[Assistant]
Lua pulled up his small backpack that he had come to find was mostly unneeded in this school. For the most part all he did was take notes. As he struggled to get out of the class as others pushed and shoved their way out, Lua noticed a familiar face. Using his size to bob and weave through the crowd to meet with none other than Matt, Lua was physically expressing his glee based on the way he moved and bounced when he confirmed it was him. Immediately he spoke out of excitement, pointing to his duel disk that already had his deck in it so that he may battle anyone with a link summoning monster.
"Did you see the announcement! We need to go find some people with link summons! I bet my brothers already have some, I might be able to catch up with them now!" He blurted out with eagerness. It was then that he remembered what he had asked last night. Shaking his head he stepped a bit closer.
"Oh yeah! Are we still going to duel?"


[System]
Species: Geth

Age: 376 years since program's creation

Gender: N/A

Appearance:

Weapons/Equipment:
-Geth Pulse Rifle v3
-Geth Plasma SMG v3
-A combat platform with greater capabilities than a standard Geth unit.

Skills and Abilities: Like most Geth, it is a tech expert with strong hacking capabilities. It has tech-based abilities (incinerate, cryo blast, etc) and is equipped with a tactical cloak. Its advanced mobile platform is quite durable. As its body is made from tough alloys with powerful synthetic muscles, it is capable of strength beyond that of an organic of similar size. It also has the accuracy and reaction time one would expect from an advanced machine.

Background: For most of Avatar's existence, it was but a single Geth program, with little more than rudimentary instincts and completely reliant upon the presence of other Geth to attain intelligence. That, however, changed in the midst of the Reaper War. In the aftermath of the battle with the Creator fleet at Rannoch, all Geth were given Reaper upgrades that uplifted them to become true A.I. Avatar was given its name by a group of organics it fought alongside during the Battle of Earth, and decided to keep that name in order to facilitate easier communication with organics.

After the end of the war, Avatar filled many roles. At first most of the Geth's efforts were on rebuilding what was lost at Rannoch and helping the Creators resettle on the homeworld. The efficiency of the Geth's planning coupled with the eagerness of the Quarians to re-establish their home made the process rather quick. Avatar spent a few years inhabiting the suits of Creators, mimicking the effects of viruses to help them to rebuild their immune systems. Over time, cities were erected on the surface of Rannoch, and more and more Creators were able to live without their suits, though most still chose to wear them due to tradition.

Eventually, Avatar's role shifted away from rebuilding and into security. Due to the weakened state of the galaxy in the years after the war, piracy and other forms of crime were becoming increasingly common. All Geth were capable of combat when installed in the correct platform, but Avatar had a desire to help, and through years of fighting, it had developed memory shortcuts in relation to combat that would make it more effective than programs that had not incorporated said shortcuts. Avatar has served ever since as a combat platform, patrolling sectors near the borders of Geth/Quarian space, and sometimes even in the territories of other species, when requested.

Most recently, Avatar has been assigned to accompany a group of Creators who have been tasked with preparing the way for the first Quarian settlements in the Pylos Nebula. Avatar's assigned mission is to discuss Geth habitation of the planet with the locals and make other preparations for the Geth. Any Geth could perform that task, but due to the dangerous nature of the Attican Traverse, they felt it appropriate to send a combat platform for additional protection.

[User]
Once the shuttle diverted towards the planet's surface, it would only be approximately ten minutes before they would be landing at the temporary settlement. The interceptors remained close alongside the shuttle in case they were threatened by enemy fighters. Although, Avatar's scans of the enemy fleet did not indicate that they had been detected. Or, if they had, they were not giving a response to the escaping shuttle. Based on Avatar's scans of the enemy frigates, they were venting heat at a level consistent with what it would expect within ten minutes of the end of heavy usage. As such, it could predict with 73% certainty that the engagement between the two fleets had ended shortly before their departure from the station.

At first, the three ships headed towards the surface at a steep angle in order to get deeper into the atmosphere, which would reduce the ability of the enemy fleet to detect their heat signatures. However, once, they were in the lower stratosphere, they redirected their course to take them straight to the temporary settlement. The areas which they were flying over were not heavily populated, but even so, they remained within the clouds whenever possible in order to reduce their visual signature as well. At the high speeds at which they were traveling, it only took five more minutes before they started to slow to an approach velocity and radioed ahead to the settlement. There was no response from the settlement at first, but once Avatar transmitted the identification code it had been given as a diplomat on the mission, they were cleared for landing.

The settlement itself was small, and consisted entirely of prefabricated structures placed in a cleared section of a temperate forest. According to Avatar's records, it had 127 inhabitants, including security personnel. Most of the settlers had a role in preparing the planet for the larger planned colonization, such as botanists, geologists, surveyors, and the remaining diplomats who had not been in attendance in the meeting aboard the space station. Unfortunately, the settlement was not heavily defended, as it was meant to rely primarily on the fleet for protection at this early stage of colonization.

All of the settlement's landing pads were currently occupied when the three ships arrived, so they were directed to land in a cleared area of the forest a few meters outside the main settlement, along with several other shuttles and other vehicles of various classifications. There were Turian, Human, and Quarian shuttles, some of which were military models, which suggested that at least some other ships had managed to escape from the battle above.

Once they had landed, Avatar transferred itself back into its platform within the shuttle. The Geth seemed to spark back to life suddenly, then lifted itself back to its feet just as the shuttle's ramp was being lowered. Once it was, it revealed four Turian soldiers, all with their rifles trained on the shuttle's passengers. However, it only took seeing the uniforms of the Humans and the Cabal for them to recognize that they were allies.

"They're clear, stand down." One of the Turian's ordered, prompting them all to lower their weapons. Behind the soldiers, Avatar could see a veritable swarm of activity in and around the settlement. Soldiers and settlers alike seemed to be stripping the settlement bare and loading anything they could into both ground and air vehicles.

The Turian stepped forward and looked into the shuttle. "A passenger shuttle; good, we'll need it." He said, more to himself than anyone. "Apologies for the rush, but as you can see, we're evacuating the settlement. Twenty-five minutes until we leave. If you have any spare room in there, we have settlers in need of transport. We're trying to bring as many supplies as we can, so we need all the space we can get. Do you have any wounded aboard? We still have spare medical supplies, for now."

[Assistant]
Voira, slumped against the wall of the shuttle as she was, winced as Raa suddenly buried her head into her shot shoulder. Still, she didn't complain, merely putting an arm around the Quarian and comforting her as best she was able. "Shh Raa, it's okay. Don't look." She murmured, ignoring how everything seemed to hurt and she couldn't breathe quite right. Raa needed her and she wasn't about to let something as simple as physical discomfort get in the way of that. She continued to murmur softly to the Quarian, up until the point where the human walked up. Voira let Raa do the talking. She was too damn tired to put enough effort required into explain all that they would need. Voira waved away the chocolate. "We don't like chocolate." She gave a weary smile as Raa rattled off all the things they would need after checking her.

As she watched the human moved away she turned to look at Raa. "And you thought you'd never be in the position where you were taking care of us. Granted, we'd have preferred it where we were sick, or something similar, rather than shot all to hell. Still, we'll take what we can get." She winked at Raa, before turning to watch the remainder of their group. The stupid Turian was recovering as best he could, given what had happened. RK was suspiciously silent. No sarcastic comments, no little quips, just silence. It made Voira wonder what the bitch of an AI was up too.

Before the Asari could muse any more, the human returned with the supplies and introduced himself. "Pleasure to meet you Donny. We're shot in the shoulder and hand, have a broken rib, a bruised lung, lacerations on our face, shrapnel in our other shoulder, and Goddess knows what else that we haven't noticed. We managed to tourniquet our shoulder and Medi-gel our hand. The rest we were to busy being shot at to fix." She gestured to the blanket wrapped around her shoulder. She smirked at the human preparing to try to patch her up. "Start where ever you please Doctor Donny. We've got nothing but time and Ryncol."

After the shuttle landed, Voira finishing her glass of Ryncol, the Asari reacted instinctively to the sight of more people pointing guns at her. She pulled her own pistol and threw a barrier on Raa once more, waiting for the bullets to fly again. When they all stood down and the Turian began talking, largely to himself, Voira spoke up from her position on the floor. "Where, exactly, are you all evacuating too?"

[User]
"Eh heh, right. I'll get you fixed up ASAP." Of course, Donny could only deal with some of the injuries personally. After helping Voria out of her armor, Donny did his best to remove the shrapnel, set bones, and liberally apply medi-gel to all injured areas. It was rather.... Intimate, as Donny was having some skin-contact with an asari in places very close to sensitive areas. But Donny's own nervousness and the fact that Voria was bloodied and bruised made it far less erotic than rubbing down an asari with medi-gel could have been. When Donny went to treat Voria's shoulder, he learned that her "Tourniquet" is actually his baby blanket, tightly coiled up and covered in asari blood. "Dwha!? This is my blanket!" Donny exclaimed somewhat loudly. He didn't make too big of a deal out of it though, folding it up neatly and putting it aside as he continued to operate on Voria.

Eventually Donny did everything he could using his limited about of first-aid knowledge. Her surface wounds would heal, and assuming she doesn't get hit by a vehicle and shot again her bones should be fine. Or so Donny hopes. The fact that Voria wasn't screaming bloody murder or tried to murder him bloodily for trying at least told the human that what he was doing wasn't hurting her. So after patching her up Donny cleaned himself down as he noticed the ship entering the colony planet. Donny had to buckle in as the ship made it's decent, grabbing his equipment as everyone got ready to hit the ground.

Once the ship landed Donny and his crew got ready to leave. They were greeted by turians and their rifles, but fortunately before any shots were fired they were identified as friendly. From here Donny kept his mouth shut and let Eleanore and Seraph do the talking. Mostly Eleanore since she was the ambassador. "We have a few wounded, yes. But what is the status of this settlement? It appears that everyone is being relocated. Have those terrorist made any moves to make an assault here?" Indeed, seeing the settlers fleeing for their lives was unsettling. They weren't even going to fight for their homes, which either marks them as cowards or they were fleeing from an obviously larger threat. Donny gripped his grandfather's knife, hoping to gleam some determination from the blade.

[Assistant]
The Turian commander motioned quickly to one of his men. "Get a medic over here as soon as possible." He ordered before returning his attention to those in the shuttle. "The enemy hasn't moved on our position yet, but we think it's only a matter of time. Our fleet gave them more trouble than they were probably expecting, but they're regrouping as we speak. I don't know the exact coordinates of where we're going, but the orders came down from General Artus himself, just before we lost contact with his cruiser. Until we know more, we're following that order."

The Turian's gaze shifted towards the two interceptors on either side of the shuttle. "You also have fighters. Those will be useful, just have your..." He began, but interrupted himself when he saw into the cockpits. "...where are your pilots?"

"These interceptor craft were piloted remotely." Avatar answered simply. The commander, finally noticing the Geth among the group in the shuttle, regarded it strangely. "Um, right. Well, we have pilots in need of ships, so we can make use of them. Just stay here in your shuttle; we will get moving shortly." He responded.

The soldiers left quickly, though the medic they had called for was not far behind. As she was properly supplied and trained, she was able to give Voira and the other wounded more comprehensive medical attention. At the very least, their bleeding was stopped completely and they were given an anesthetic to dull most of the pain. They would need time to recover, but they were all stable.

After the medic left, several civilians, and one or two soldiers, from the settlement were directed into their shuttle as well. The vessel had already been crowded, so by the time the pilot was ordered to close the loading ramp and prepare for takeoff, there was standing room only in the shuttle's hold. Those who were not in the best physical condition, such as Raa and Voira, were given priority for seating, but most were not given that luxury.

Because of the crowding most in the shuttle could not see clearly out of the windows, but the sounds of the engines roaring to life around them told them that they were taking off. Presumably, they would be flying over the ground vehicles in a convoy to whatever destination the Turian general had given them. Other than that, however, they had not been told much of the plan. Pretty much everyone who was not sitting was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with someone else. Many of the civilians from the settlement seemed to be only a few steps short of panicking. Some tried to keep it to themselves, some sobbed quietly, while others did what they could to give support to those who needed it. Despite these conditions, this was the first chance that anyone from the station had to actually stop and rest, mentally and physically.

Near to Raa, a young, nervous, blonde-haired Human woman glanced down to the unconscious Quarian nervously. A few minutes passed in silence, but she eventually spoke up shakily. "S-she looks sick. What does she have? Is it...contagious?"


[System]
*Organisation App*
Almost 130 years ago, a great meteorite struck the Earth in the southern lands of Alm'Zar. Across the world, prophets and mystics sensed a disturbance, and the followers of Trazyn claim that the lesser deities shook on their Earthly thrones. For within the falling star was a being, alien to this world, known only as Trazyn. Possessed of great magical power, it reached out into the minds of those nearby, the loyal guard of the Al'Nuk Empire, and asked for their aid. The guards that entered to investigate came out changed people, claiming to have found the only being worthy of their loyalty and unquestioning devotion. They were the First of Trazyn.

The might of the Extraterrestrial God expanded rapidly, as it promised gifts of arcane power and equality to those that would reject their political leaders, and swore fealty to Him alone. And he delivered, mysterious crystals implanted into the body granting magical power to those born without arcane potential. Great armies marched in His name, conquering those who did not come under His rule by their own will through brute force. These were known as the Infinity Crusades, and it was said that the legions of zealots were an unending sea, swarming across the country, twisted by the magic implanted into their souls.

However, the World is a big place. The Elves of Lysandor stood firm, proclaiming that Trazyn and the injection of His mysterious arcane power was an abomination. Great battles ensued, but to dislodge the Elves from their ancient forests was impossible. They allied with the remains of the Al'Nuk, as they pushed back, driving against the maddened armies, battling Eldritch powers, aiming to destroy Trazyn himself once and for all.

What happened in these wars is the work of many legends. The Al'Nuk were completely wiped out, their cities and holds part of the reformed Infinite Empire. Trazyn halted his great Crusades, having formed a peace treaty with the Elves of Lysandor. The tribes that had once dwelled the plains of Alm'Zar were incorporated into the belief, living in the cities or traveling to far off countries as missionaries, aiming to convert more cities to the world's most feared religion. Today, the Blessed of Trazyn, centered in the Infinite Empire, have spread across the globe, their religion seen in many places as being abominable and terrifying. However, they preach the equality of all under Trazyn, from commoner to noble to king, and have demonstrated this in their own empire. In many cases, the lower classes have rebelled in the name of Trazyn, forming their own city-states far from the Infinite Empire, loyal to Trazyn.

Beliefs of the Blessed of Trazyn:
 - Trazyn is the architect of the universe, the very first magical being. It was He who created the very existence of magic, and it is from this magic that all other beings are born.
 - All people are equal, for all intelligent beings are the same. To stand one above the other is blasphemy, and only Trazyn and his Prophets have any rights beyond those of normal men and women. This includes the equal division of magic beyond genetic heritage, granting arcane powers to all who wish to have them.
 - All of nature is owned by the sentient races, and it is theirs to do with as they will, provided they heed the words of Trazyn.
 - All belongings are equal, and all is to be shared among the entire population. There will be no rich, and there will be no poor, for all are equal in the eyes of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Alice Nettlebrush, The Immortal Innocence.

Race: Elf

Gender: Female

Age: 12

Personality: While in many ways Alice acts as a typical 12-year-old, she has certainly been changed by Trazyn. She often knows things she should not have known, and possesses a strange, sly wisdom. She often displays dual personalities, and memories that don't belong to her lifetime. She is generally kind and caring, although she is devoted to Trazyn, seeing her God as part of herself. Due to the crystal implanted into her skull, this might be accurate.

History: Coming from the Nettlebrush family, a small family of elves who became a part of the Infinite Empire, Alice's parents opted to send their youngest daughter to become a Priest of Trazyn. She would learn the ways of Trazyn, and preach his name. They did this because they knew the Priests of Trazyn were well treated, and that it wasn't good for elves in the Infinite Empire to be opposed to the Will of Trazyn in any way. Little did they know what would follow.

Upon being implanted with her 'Gift', a synthetic crystal that implants some of Trzyn's magic into those born without when implanted into the body, Alice had a vision. It is said that she spoke many secrets, already knowing the 42 Names of Trazyn, and the greatest secrets of where and how Trazyn was kept. Alice was offered a choice by Trazyn Himself, and she chose to become His Prophet, to spread His will and to become a vessel for His power. As such, she became one of the 4 current Prophets of Trazyn.

Position: Alice lives in Areopolis, representing Trazyn in this great and powerful city. Here, she leads the Temple of the Infinite, which is both a religious institution, and the embassy for the Infinite Empire. She expresses her Empire and God's wills and stakes in the councils and meetings of the city, and oversees the trade relationships between the Empire and other people. This is an important task, because many are reluctant to deal with the Blessed of Trazyn.

*Character App*
Name: Ja'Lir Arian.

Gender: Male

Age: 47

Race: Human (mostly)

Personality: Stern and determined, Ja'Lir is only truly happy when he's doing the work of his Lord. He's an introvert, with a stern face that reveals nothing about him. He revels in doing what he considers the right thing, and places the importance of the 'greater good' far above his own life, happily sacrificing himself to save others.

History: Born in the Infinite Empire, Ja'Lir chose the life of the military when it became time for him to choose his occupation. He was trained as a warrior, to fight and die for the glory of Tazir. He became a master at what he did, both in his physical skills and his manipulation of the Gift. As such, he rose through the ranks, earning many medals in the field, fighting off those who would attempt to destroy Tazir. Eventually, through his valor and skill, he was chosen to be the personal guard for Alice, and to represent the Arm of Tazir in Areopolis. He accepted this post gladly.

Position: As Alice's Paladin, it is Ja'Lir's duty to ensure her safety, and to kill any who would take her life. He is also responsible for playing his part in the diplomatic relationships between the Infinite Empire and Areopolis, a physical representation of Trazin's armies, a threat through his very existence.

[User] "Mhm i think we should take our leave...i am sure they are looking for me or you..." Zazroia spoke sighing loudly before moving away form the group and the whorehouse back to his group's region,Although he was interested in the dragon he was not equipped to fight a dragon by himself he would need the help of his kin mainly Ultimana and Ruqa who are old but wise and are would probably talk the dragon down although he did not know if even that could work.

[Assistant]
It was like a storm blew through Giulia's. Everything happened all at once. Henna had just excused herself from the brawl downstairs, and had taken the elf with her to her room to enjoy their food there. She'd just finished and was looking for some nice dry clothes for her guest when the door was kicked in by a big thug clad in iron. The trollkins eyes had been darting to and fro for some kind of weapon to use if the man got violent, but he'd just told her to give the elf her glass and then left. As she was staring at him, dumbfounded, someone downstairs began shouting about a dragon.

This city was nuts, sometimes.

Henna turned to her guest.

"Do you have any idea what that man was talking about?" she asked, "Because I don't."

[User] Tex hurried along at the frog man's instruction, seemingly sharing his sentiments entirely. As he rushed alongside him, he spoke in brief spurts of conversation. "As for teaching you magic... it'd take quite a while for you to be as proficient as me, but... I'd be willing to give it a shot. Wish I knew where my staff went, though." He gestured for Zeetah to pause and turned to him. "You didn't happen to see it sitting around the alleyway, did you? It's not 100% necessary, but it does make spellcasting quicker and easier, which means a big deal when you've got a bunch of soldiers several inches away, staring you down with swords in their hands. If they were a little farther away, I could have flung a fireball at them before they got close, no problem."

[Assistant]
Most who were granted the Gift of magic chose to use it flashily. Having lived without magic, they wished to display their new capabilities at their fullest. A popular technique was to light your sword with eldritch flame. They didn't seem to realize that, on the whole, if you had stabbed something, the fire wasn't going to do much extra. Fireballs, beams of eldritch energy, grasping claws conjured from the darkness, or great bursts of burning light. Amusingly enough, the Infinite Empire's army had transformed into some form of terrifyingly lethal light show, with all the fire, lasers, and glowing orbs of wrath.

Few truly recognized the sheer power not of simply applying strength, but applying it where it was needed. To control one's Gift with subtle precision, to only do as much as was needed for the situation.

Alice closed her ink black eyes, focusing. She could feel the humming magic moving through her, a miracle delivered directly from Tazyn, to guide His followers. And as His scheme unfolded before her mind, she simply guided, placing the power where it was needed, with the precision and skill necessary for a Prophet. Even though even she could not yet see the end of this glorious plan, her faith was strong. For her God was with her, guiding her every action, her every thought.

------------------------------

Soaring through the clouds, propelled at seemingly impossible speeds for it's great mass, the wyvern observed the city below it. As a being born from magic, it could feel the magic far below, and even it's primitive animal instincts recognized the danger. There was, of course, far easier prey to hunt, the kind of prey that didn't throw fireballs, and whom's claws were not made of iron. And yet, even as it's great eyes flashed briefly black, it started angling downward. For below, it could suddenly smell the tastiest of prey. It knew that below was a buffet, something it had never tasted before.

With the promise of food on it's tongue, the beast descended on the Tall, townsfolk and soldier alike fleeing from the area, mothers carrying children, children carrying smaller children. Those who could not walk, and were not carried, simply crawled, or cried in terror, as they beheld the beast, the Wyvern.

A majestic beast, it's scales shining golden in the light of the afternoon sun, it's eyes of bright red glaring down, selecting it's prey, and identifying the dangerous ones. It's two wings even now were unfurled, a pair of long hooked claws at the end of each, aiding to hold it in place. It's tail extended fair backwards, growing thin, until it ended into a great barbed point, containing an arcane toxin unique to Wyvern-kind. Great talons crashed through the feeble wooden roof of the slum it had chosen to land on, as it beat it's wings to prevent itself from falling into the water.

The Wyvern threw it's head into the air, stretching it's neck, fanged jaws parting as it unleashed a call, like an abominable mixture between the howl of a wolf and the shriek of a banshee, a hundredfold louder. And yet, even as hundreds fled the area, a single figure came stalking towards the dragon, clad in great armor, and bearing one of the legendary Swords of the North. Turning it's great head, the beast observed the tall humanoid, teeth bared, turning to face this new threat.

-------------

Throughout the city, the word had spread, and with it a wind of terror, partly natural, and partly magical in nature. An enhanced panic, as people fled the area en masse, the Royal Guard retreating to guard the Noble Houses, the Mage Guild forming a great shield, the Priests of Ashyr activating the great metal golems that guarded their gates, massive bronze swords held at the ready. And yet, across the city, the doors to taverns are kicked over, many proceeding to skid over the floor.

Figures of all races, scarred by a hundred battles, stepped out from the darkness. Men with armor forged from the bones of Manticors, Elves whom's bows had received the blessings of forgotten Gods, great mages wielding eldritch fires of pure might. Adventurers, those brave souls who had always been in abundance in a world of such dangers as Wyverns. Problem solvers, monster hunters, dungeon delvers, grave robbers, and thrill seekers, those who had seen the maw of the world, and survived it.

And as each reached for their blades, a wave of dark magic washed through them. Each would wish for the bounty on the dragon's head, and each would wish it for themselves. Greed, pride, wrath..... they burned freely in the eyes of those who only moments before had rallied in the face of danger. And as spells flew, and swords thrust, it was not the dragon that was their target. Yet, it was the most capable warriors of the land, slaying one another in cold blood. Those mages and priests who had felt the magic sweep through the city could only gaze on in abject horror as the bloodshed commenced.

---------------------

Upon the Throne of Stars, sat a small girl, a smile on her face. Soon, the authorities of this city would be toppled, and the prophecies of her master would come to pass. For it took only the smallest push to set the world's end in motion, if only one knew where to press. And Areopolis, the commercial and religious center of most of the civilized world, was the perfect place to begin.


[System]
Character Concept: The straightforward musclehead who believes that anything can be solved with his fists.
Gender: Male

Background: Damien was a delinquent through and through. He often skipped school and picked fights with anyone foolish and/or strong enough to accept them. Surprisingly enough, on the occasions he did actually go to school, his grades were decent, although that was probably mainly to get his nagging parents off his case about his lifestyle. One day, though, as he was playing hooky as usual, he spotted a kid across the street playing with a ball. Thinking about how stupid the kid was, Damien was about to ignore him and go to an arcade he frequented when the kid kicked the ball into the street, and of course the kid would run into the street right into the path of a speeding car. Acting on instinct, Damien immediately rushed over and pushed the kid out of the way, though at the cost of putting himself in the car's path. It's easy to guess what happened next.

Level: 1

Class: Brawler

Race: Demon

Attribute: Focus

Martial Arts:
None

Thaumaturgy:
-Hellfire Salvo: Damien can envelop rocks or other small bits and pieces nearby with a black-and-red flame, then levitate them in the air and/or fire them at his target(s) at high velocity. The maximum amount of projectiles is currently at four.

Gift:
Curse of the Demon: Damien can will his arms and legs to transform from his hand to his elbow and his feet to his knees, forming a red rocky exterior covered with yellow markings, with pointy fingertips and toes as well. These limbs are much tougher than normal human limbs, and certainly much stronger as well. Very handy for both offense and defense when he needs to get somewhere fast and deliver powerful punches and kicks to whatever's in his way.

Equipment: Nothin'. Well, except for the clothes on him.

[User]
Dragon Rayo

 Tossing and turning, he was startled by the loud noises invading his ears. He was dazed and uncertain of the sounds he was hearing. Opening his eyes, he was immediately blinded by a sudden flash. His hands instinctively acted like a visor to adjust to the lighting of his environment. His body shifted slightly and there was confusion regarding the surface he was laying down on.

 Titling his head, he spat onto the floor. He had something weird in his mouth; they popped under his teeth and tasted foul. The sensation was familiar and helped him realize he was on a beach. The grains of sand in his mouth and the lukewarm floor was all too recognizing. The music he kept hearing was becoming more clear.

 Instead of hearing distorted sounds, it was shifting into recognizable beats and bashes. He could tell of the rhythm in the song. Touching his mask, he remembered his request. His wish was granted.

 "Dreams do come true," Dragon Rayo muttered. He took a few moments to bring himself to his feet. The luchador was still getting used to handling a body full of muscle mass. Overall, he felt groggy, but it did not look as if he was alone. He was taken by surprise of a crowd of people dancing sporadically to the music.

 It was a weird sight; men of different sizes and races were strutting along to the high-pitched sounds of techno music. Dragon Rayo stopped and took into account of everything. "Why am I here? Is this my purpose?" The luchador brainstormed questions and tried thinking of possible answers.

 He touched his forehead and was taken back by his mask. "Of course. I am a lucha-" His thought was interrupted by a short man offering an illegal substance of some kind. He watched other people begin consuming unknown chemicals. Rayo was not looking forward to be drunk in this new body. He already felt confused enough.

"No, senor. I can't right now."

Beach:

  Jemma was beginning to go through the process. Her vision was becoming crimson and her senses had been heightened. The techno music increased in volume and the voices of the passerby became increasingly loud. The sun might have shown a little more light. Everything that she was experiencing before hand became too excessive. After a quick moment, her vision went back to normal. The sounds she was hearing and the lightning went back to normal.

 Then her vision flashed into a blue filter. Her vision was a bit hazy and her eyes had cutaway to another view point. By her perspective, she could see herself be grabbed by a beast man. The beast man had said, "This is the place where bad decisions happen, where man, woman and whatever else, give in to their deeper desires and enjoy the life they have!" She could see the individual snatch a few drinks from other party-goers. Focusing on the party-goer who had the misfortune of his drink snatched, his expression turned sour.

"Let the future you worry about the future, this moment belongs to you and me and all of us! Now drink up and shake your stuff!" said the beast man. The other party-goer stepped forward. He was displeased to have his drink taken away and he aggressively pushed the beast folk. "Hey, buddy! You owe me a drink!"

The blue filter ended and Jemma felt a strong urge to throw up.

Effects:
Slight Motion Sickness
Able to see Moments into the Future
(All effects are Temporary)

 A blonde man had the misfortune of his drink taken away. He gritted his teeth and walked over to the beast man. Confronting him with a push, he demanded the beast man buy him another.

 The dwarf stepped a bit back. "This party is getting more wild!" The short man began screaming out loud and pumping his fist. "C'mon, muscle-bound. You should take pointers from that beast man!"

Farmhouse:

 The scarecrow stepped a bit back; he was taken back by the laughter. He began having second-thoughts about fighting. There was a slight feeling of danger surging through his body. From what he had heard, these two could be all-powerful. The scarecrow was not sure if he was ready to give up his life.

 He acknowledged one thing. He wasn't going to fight alone. There was no way he could that. "Ezekiel! They're here!" The scarecrow's yell rambled the other's ears. The beetle jumped off his eye socket due to the vibrations of his voice. Crows hidden inside the field had flew away in terror.

The scarecrow looked over to the farmhouse. The sound of wind chimes could be heard during the pause of silence. There was an outside screen door that could be seen on the farmhouse. The particular ones that creak every time they are opened. The particular ones that always slam against the wall from the wind if someone doesn't possible properly close them.

 This particular screen door slammed against the door as a man darted outside and through the fields. His feet moved quickly through the corn. The scarecrow turned over to the three. "...No matter what. I won't back down."

 A man in overalls popped out of the fields. He was your typical southern stereotype; Ezekiel, as the scarecrow called him, had black mutton chops and unruly hair style. His attire was simple stained overalls and a plaid shirt underneath. The farmer's boots were old and torn. In the farmer's hands was a Marlin 60 Rifle. He immediately pointed the firearm at the intruders. "I knew this day would come, damn it. Don't do this! I have kids! I said I'll have everything by next week! I need more time, damn it!"

 The farmer breathed heavily. "I don't want to to do this..."

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

[User]
Aidan Diavol

@Eklispe@Damiann47

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Assistant]
Jemma - The Beach

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Female

Sexual preference: Hetero

Human or werewolf: Werewolf

Pack member or loner: Loner

Pack name: None

Pack position: None, but would be somewhere in the middle if she had one.

Appearance (picture or written description):

(Wolf Form)

Vashti is '5 foot "10, with long brown hair she keeps in a braid, and deep brown eyes. She has a slender yet fit physique and is as strong as any of the males.

Strengths (at least 3): Brave
 Confident
 Strong for a female

Weaknesses (at least 3): Can sometimes be a little too confident
 Has a limp in her left leg when she overworks; from a past injury (See history)
 Whilst protecting someone Vashti can get overly aggressive and attack when it is not needed.

Personality: Vashti is a loyal soul; kind and quick to help her friends when they need her. But, she is just as quick to hate and attack her enemies with severe aggression.
 At times Vashti can be quite the adrenaline junky; tease-challenging other wolves and participating in dangerous activities. She enjoys hanging out with friends, and doesn't handle being alone for long.

History: Vashti was a member of a pack located far away from Odessa; living there comfortably and taking her time to find a mate. She had friends, and loved her home dearly.

 But, when one of the pack's more dominant of males offered to be her mate, Vashti refused. He was a ruthless male with the tendency to kill those that stood in his way; she didn't return his love.
 This angered him and ignited a bloody battle between the two; injuring Vashti's left leg badly. She was able to escape death and flee from the pack's territory; leaving her home behind forever.

 For nearly two months Vashti roamed the wilds; alone and in search of a new place to call home. She still sought her mate, but at that point of time she had her doubts of success. She promised herself this……if she failed in finding him, then she would make sure to live her last days to the fullest; going out with a deafening bang.

 Other: Wears a small golden necklace with an emerald imbedded into the face

[User]
The french toast smelled good, but Markus was in no mood to eat at the moment. Still sipping his coffee he waited for everyone to clear out before going to the door and shutting it. He tossed the meat tenderizer on the floor and slide his pistol out of the back of his pants. Yanking the slide back he let it go forward so it seemed he had put a round in the chamber. Gingerly he set the pistol on his thigh so the barrel was pointed at William. "So… Now we are alone.. Do you know what happened to my pack members?" Markus stands up and walks over to William standing about three feet away and letting out a deep exhale.

"You see…" he rubs his face as he seems to have a hard time coming up with civilized ways of saying things. "I'm tired of dealing with you shits coming around here and killing my kind. We don't hunt humans unless they pose a danger to us. Yet you bastards seem to keep finding your way up my mountain…" He turns around and sets the pistol on a table near William and moves to the door to make sure it's locked. With his back turned he places a hand on the door and growls a bit. "You just keep coming back and spilling blood, then we have to spill blood and clean everything up. Why does this vicious cycle have to continue here? Why can't you just leave us in peace. It's one things to hunt down the beasts who steal your children in the night, but another to seek out a bear's cave simply so you can hang it's head on your wall."

[Assistant]
As North neared the kitchen, it became apparent that many others had already gathered there. She focused on their voices, trying to pick out the woman who'd helped her earlier. It was going to be difficult to find her if she wasn't in the kitchen, as North had just realized that she didn't know her name. She regretted not taking a closer look at the note, as it may have been signed, but then again she probably wouldn't have been able to read it anyway. Just figuring out where to go was difficult enough. "I should probably devote some time to learning the skills of civilization - including walking on two legs." Making it down the stairs had been reasonably easy, but she was pretty sure that any attempt at something more advanced would end up with her falling on her face.

North edged just barely into the kitchen, keeping her back pressed against the wall and trying to blend in."So...many...people." she whimpered nervously.

[User]
"Hungry?" repeated Aldo. "No, no..." He flashed a brief, awkward, fake smile in an attempt to reassure Vashti. "Maybe later. I'm um, I er--I don't have too much of an appetite, y'know, in the morning." He mentally hit himself over the head and sheepishly watched Samantha, and then North, enter the space. "But that just means more for everyone else. I, um... I've gotta go and-" What was a good lie? "-take out some trash," he finished in a half mumble. He made his way toward the kitchen's exit, his heart fluttering at Vashti's previous closeness to him, and turned his head back to her briefly to blurt, "Sorry about all this crazy...stuff," before slinking out and heading outside into the morning snow.

He planned to stay until his head was clear. He'd felt Sam's curious gaze and it had been incredibly successful in intimidating him, although he would never admit that for a million and a half years. He took a seat on the porch and closed his eyes, focusing on the cool mountain breeze that tickled his skin. "Whew," he muttered. Yup, he would definitely be dead in a year.

[Assistant]
Ryan half-sprinted to the bench where the French toast sat. Taking the nearest empty plate, he piled three slices of the deliciously smelling breakfast, deciding that he'd put more on his plate after he finished what he had already, and quickly took a seat. He had been so focused on filling his empty stomach with food, that he had almost missed Valerie's question. "Hmm? Oh, uh, yeah it stopped bleeding last night, so I guess it scabbed over," he responded. Ryan grabbed next to his plate, expecting to find a fork or other utensil in his grip, only to find nothing but air. He looked around the room to see how everyone else was eating their food, only to find them enjoying it with their hands. Well, if everyone else is fine with it, I guess I can too. Picking up one of the slices, he took a bite. "Mmm, this is really good. My compliments to the chef," he complimented before taking another bit.

As Ryan took another bite, a horrible thought crossed his mind. He turned to the pink-haired, blind woman and said, "Y'know, I never cleaned it up or anything last night. The cut, I mean. You don't think it's infected or anything do ya'?" Even with the threat of becoming horribly sick hanging over his head, Ryan continued to enjoy his meal. "Mmm-mmm-mmm, a fine breakfast," he said once finishing the first slice, picking up the next. Then Ace mentioned the dirty dishes and Ryan decided to inspect the kitchen from his seat. It's no that bad. "Oh, hey. What if I help? You gave me a place to sleep, food, and now you're helping me with my head," Ryan took another bite of the delicious breakfast before continuing, "Least I could do is help you with cleaning some plates and what not."

[User]
William eyed the breakfast that had been delivered to him and the Ulfric. It looked like a rather nice meal, but now felt like not the time to eat. The hunter eyed the pistol that Markus set on his thigh, then glancing back up as he began to speak. He listened, placing both his hands on his own thighs and leaning forward slightly. The Ulfric set the pistol on the table beside him, William's eyes following it as well. As the werewolf went to insure that the door was locked, William contemplated grabbing the pistol. He decided against it, feeling that taking action now could jeopardize his own chances of survival.

The hunter straightened up, it being his turn to respond. "I heard that two of your pack members were killed, and that their killer is still unidentified." He replied, responding to the first question. "While I pity their deaths, especially more now that I see you lead your pack much more civilized than other Ulfric's that I have encountered. Their deaths however, were not by my hand, and if they were, i'd reek of their scents would I not? I did hear two gun shots while I was following wolf tracks to this cabin though." The hunter readjusted his hat on his head again. "Hunter's and werewolves have an odd attraction to each other. We simply call it the 'Will of the Hunt.' Perhaps its mere coincidence that we always seem to find eachother, or that we just know where to look."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes, still feeling a bit weary from his interrupted rest. "As for the hunters you've encountered in the past, I have no way of knowing if they belonged to the Hendrick's Order or not. There are quite a few independent hunters, many of whom disagree with the way our group conducts itself. Although, that is mostly politics and drama i'm sure you have no interest in hearing. Returning to the topic at hand, the message I received in regards to a large werewolf pack that was on the move, informed me I was the only near them at the time, and our other hunters were busy with their own tasks. It couldn't have been any of our hunters.."

William removed his hat, setting it on the cot beside him. He looked Markus in the eyes, the clear fearlessness of the man showing. "I came here not looking to slay more innocents Ulfric, I came here to hunt beasts. If your word is true, that your pack does not hunt humans, then I shall not hunt them. Blood will still be spilt though, and I can only hope that it is not any of yours or mine."

[Assistant]
The room went silent for a long time as only the music could be heard in the basement. Markus finally turned to look at William and walked over to the table picking up the pistol and pointing it at William. He pulled the trigger and it clicked. "Pass." He turned back towards the door tucking the pistol into his pants and with a quick flick of his wrist the door came open and he stepped up the stairs leaving William to make his own way out of the basement. He was smiling as he went having narrowed down the list of possible killers at least. He believed William was genuine in what he was talking about.

As Markus made his way into the kitchen there was a ton of commotion. The noises from everyone eating or talking was filling the air. He coughs loudly and steps up on a chair. "FAMILY!" He holds his arms up in the air. "I have spoke with our guests, they are welcome here until it is time to take them to town! Later today I will be taking the truck to town. Now normally I would say everyone can come, but being that we are taking these two fellows into town we won't have enough room for everyone. Marrec you are coming with me to watch my back. Sasha I'd like you to take a couple of volunteers and go on a patrol. Now I need two others to come with me and Marrec to town. Whoever would like to is more than welcome. Whoever is left at home I need to go down to the sacred grounds and prepare it for a service later." He steps off of the stool. "Everyone knows how to do this." He grabs a clipboard with a paper on it and sets it on the counter on it was sections for people to write their name down for what they wanted to do. "We leave in three hours."

[User]
Vashti had tilted her head; half saddened by the tone in Aldo's voice. She could sense his pain for the pack's recent trauma of murder, but amongst that she was confused by another, more hidden, tone in his voice.....one she couldn't quite name.

 Listening to him she stood up when he announced he would take care of the trash. Not knowing what to say or think she nodded in silence and let him leave.

 That was when the Ulfric appeared and told everyone there would be an assignment of duties. He had worded his announcement.....strategically.....due to the little ears of blissfully unaware hunters.

 Attention drawn away from her troubling thoughts Vashti's eyes brightened at the mention of a territorial patrol. In her old pack she often volunteered to go out and walk out the perimeter of the pack's land. It had served as an activity to ease her mind, and after resting for the night her leg was surely up to it.

 Moving foreword through the gathered pack members she made way to the clipboard set on the bar counter. Grabbing it she jotted down her name and that she wished to participate in patrol. She really had no desire to go to town......and while helping with the sacred grounds seemed like a good way to repay the pack's kindness, she felt as though she would do better on a patrol.


[System]
Physical Description:
Sarah is a slender girl with bright green eyes and soft, shoulder-length pink hair and pale, almost alabaster skin. She stand at about 5'4" (162.6 cm) and weighs 100 lbs (45.3 kg). She has a curious glint in her eyes, and tends to see everything as though for the first time.

Class: Oracle

Personality:
Sarah is a warm, compassionate soul, always worried about other peoples' welfare and willing to go to any length to protect them. Despite her lack of social experience with the world, she can tell when people are being hurt or abused, and will try and ease their suffering any way she can.

Due to mostly being a blank state, the world around her entices her curiosity, and she will try to learn as much about it as possible. She will try and know more any new sensations or experiences she might encounter, giving her the feeling of a wide-eyed newborn child eagerly gawping at the beautiful world around them.

Her lack of experience with the world means she's also very naïve and clueless about current events or about certain social cues or behaviors that more worldly people would pick up easily. She does have a general sense of social decency and behavior, but the nuances or subtler plays are a bit beyond her experience, and a cunning operator can out-think her until she catches on.

However, despite this, one should not push her too far. She is still an Oracle, and programmed with combat skills and powerful abilities, and can end up fighting back rather tenaciously when she or those she cares about are threatened.

History:
Sarah recalls nothing of her past, practically having been 'born' to the world with the opening of her case.

Abilities:
* Enhanced physical attributes: As an Oracle and genetically engineered being, Sarah possesses a certain amount of enhanced strength, increased agility, and improved durability and stamina, as well as a small measure of enhanced senses. However, the emphasis are on stamina and agility, making her a poor choice for a heavy fighter.
* Healing: Aside from no small skill at normal healing, she possesses the ability to heal injuries and wounds almost instantly. Currently, she's still learning how to use this power, so she can heal mild injuries and cuts.
* Protective 'magic': Sarah can use her 'magic' to protect her allies by casting a small, protective halo to absorb some of the damage that hits them.

Equipment:
Sarah barely has anything beyond the shirt on her back and a few items and supplies given to her by her mysterious caretaker.

RP Notes:
Sarah is basically a blank slate, one with little to no knowledge of the outside world, and must learn more about it to survive and complete her destined mission. Fortunately, she does have a certain amount of combat skills programmed into her, allowing her to fight competently and survive long enough to get stronger.

Sarah's main virtues are compassion and empathy, the ability to feel for those around her, and a strong desire to reduce their suffering and help them find happiness.

Role-wise, Sarah would lean towards a mage-knight with an emphasis on magic and healing. While she is still an Oracle, she prefers to use magic and healing to support her allies in battle and help them out of battle.

[User] He roars in fury, seeing her blade charge up, and lunges for her, but stops and starts spinning his scythe like a shield, a thick black wall of metal. The lightning arches across it, and he howls as his arms are scorched, but he keeps up his defense untill the attack ends, his body vanishing into darkness.

[Assistant]
Srah

As the energy disspiated, Sarah stood there, breathing hard, barely able to stand up. She feels tired, exhausted, but waits to see if the attack got through. All she sees is a dark shadow dissipating.

Did... did she get him? She's afraid to hope, and struggles to hold up her sword. However, it's clear the stranger had disappeared, though he left no corpse. It's... eerie.

For now though, she can finally rest. It had been a long, exhausting, and stressful day, capped with the tragedy of Master Thunderfist's death. She staggers over to his body, and then drops the sword as she collapses to her knees, her body wracked with sobs as tears flowed from her eyes. Pip whimpers as he tries to comfort her.

"I'm s-sorry, M-Master Thunderfist," she sobs. "I c-couldn't help you... I'm sorry..."

Kensu was the first person she'd met when she came out of the capsule, the first person to break the solitude of her existence. He had the keys to finding out who she was and why she was here. And now he's dead, and she feels lost again.

[User]
Kensu's Island
Sarah and Jabberwocky

 The sky was clear, the sun was bright over head and a salty breeze blew in from the sea. For a few moments the only sounds were the cawing of the birds and the soft slapping of the waves as they broke against the beach and the docks. The ground of the beachhead was scorched and ruined, sand and rock were strewn about impact craters telling a violent story of the fight which seemed to come from no where. A young pink-haired girl, tired and weak, had fallen to her knees and was propping herself up with a blacked and smoking sword. A small, blue tinted dog was on his hind legs trying to lick her face, worry etched in his body language.

 Solemnly the people of the village began to pick up rubble and shuffle debris, beginning to form order out of all the chaos. It was not the first time one of Draygon's followers had attacked their village, though usually they were more prepared to fight. The incursion with the spider brood left them weak and open, and it was only bad luck that Jabberwocky, one of the worst of the lot, had been close enough to take advantage of the weakened town, and now they paid for it with the death of their strongest warrior, Kensu Thunderfist. The people mourned quietly, being familiar enough with grief to understand how to cope and begin to heal.

 Eight older members of the village walked to Kensu's body, one of them carrying a canvas sail taken from one of their boats. They lovingly brushed the dust off his face and cleaned what blood they could to help him look presentable in his passing. They wrapped him in the canvas and took him down into the village where he would be prepared for their burial ritual. A young man walked up to Sarah and offered his hand to help her up. He was shirtless and tan, wearing some loose fitting shorts with various belts and straps. His hair was long, black, and curled into ringlets; and his body was covered in various, nautical tattoos.

 "Hello Oracle," he said warmly, "My name is Steven. You've been through much, I'd much rather give you a proper introduction to our village," he smiled as he helped her to her feet. "First let's get you some food, hot water for bathing, and some rest. I'll take you to Kensu's hut, follow me." He felt tired, the effects of the spider venom and the gas, as well as the adrenaline of the attack from the monster was only going to last so long, but he needed to get her to the hut and then take care of his own family. She was first priority though, she was one of the Oracles. Her kinds were worshipped almost like living deities by the people of the village. She had shown that she had great strength, compassion, and goodwill, this confirmed in Steven that their worship had not been misplaced.

 Kensu's hut was directly on the water, it hadn't been damaged in the recent fights. Amara, Steven's aunt, had brought some bread, cheese, and salt cured fish and left them on a plate on the table. Moana, Steven's little sister, had already filled the bath with sea water and lit the fire underneath. The people of the village were of one mind, that they needed to take care of their new visitor, their new Savior. Steven led the pink haired girl over to cot opposite to the table with the food. "There's a pull cord with a bell, if you ring it someone will come to attend to you. Please, you are home here." Steven bowed and smiled and backed out of the door, leaving Sarah alone in the quiet, peaceful room that belonged to, or used to belong to, Master Kensu.

a young man led Sarah to Kensu's old room to bathe, eat, and recuperate her strength. The villagers are beginning to clean up and rebuild. SETTING: In Kensu's room there is an old computer that works! The use of the computer should come intuitively to Sarah, it doesn't have any complicated or difficult operating system, and it is touch screen. On the computer are the "Sacred Documents" that Kensu had of the island. The content of these documents we can hash out a little in the Discord so you'll have what background information you need to create your post.

[Assistant] He finishes spinning his blade, deep in a dence patch of trees, and his wings retract into his back. He takes in a deep gasp of air, sinking to one knee, trying to breathe. The old man packed a wallop, and that kid was no joke either. He grins with bloody teeth, and wipes at the split on his lip with his thumb. I wonder if Ruby will grow that powerful one day. He spits on the ground, clearing out his throat of the blood. He then drags his scythe along behind him, digging a groove into the soft earth as he heads for the location of Jub Jub's death.

[User]
Sarah was still sobbing softly when Steven came up to help her. Initially, she's still upset, unresponsive, but the offer to take a bath and something to eat was greatly appreciated, given she was tired, exhausted, and stressed out. As she follows him limping into town, she notices the villagers bringing out their dead from under the rubble. She shivers, feeling sorrow and helplessness at helping them get free from the spiderlings only to die by crushing under heavy rocks.

"Some Oracle I turned out to be," she mutters sadly. "I couldn't protect them - or Master Thunderfist. I'm... I'm sorry about your friends."

When in Kensu's house, she looks around, her curiosity helping her come out of her sadness and shock. It's an interesting place, with some rather odd knick-knacks here and there, making her wonder what kind of man he was, and wished she had known him longer. However, all she could do now is try and honor his death and move on, try to understand her destiny.

Steven draws her attention to something small and boxy, a strange thing he's seen Kensu use before but it left Steven utterly mystified. Sarah barely takes a glance at it before she somehow realizes it's a computer, a data processing machine from ancient times.

It still feels strange when she recognizes something she just saw.

Nonetheless, she begins to get to work on it. She's barely aware of herself typing away, it just comes to her naturally. And in the computer's storage, she finds Master Thunderfist's files. About the Ancients, the tale of Harbinger, and how and why the Oracles were created. The power of biogenic energy, the basis of the Oracle Project, and the use of genetic engineering to create Oracles from scratch because regular humans were inefficient in processing the awesome power of biogenic energy. There are some missing spots, of course; the thousands of years and the intervening calamity meant a lot of information was lost. There is a mention of a Julie Anderson, whose teachings formed the basis of current lore about the Ancients.

However, it still incites a certain amount of sorrow in her. Such a mighty civilization, one brought low and to a ruinous end. So much wasted, such loss of life. What she's certain of, however, is that there are signs that Harbinger is starting up again. And this time, the people are much less prepared to face the coming apocalypse.

The picture Master Thunderfist's files and records drew were incomplete, but a general picture emerged nonetheless. As Oracle, her duty is to find the Swords and their matching artefacts, and find a way to stop Harbinger once and for all. She could get a boat to the mainland; plenty of those in what is essentially a fishing village. The real question, of course, is where should she start? What should she look for?

She decides to dig deeper into Kensu's files, petting Pip with one hand when he manages to get up onto the table, tail wagging.

Then she finds a message... from a Dr. Logan? She opens it, curiosity overtaking her.

Date: >!data missing!<

"Project Prometheus is going smoothly. The genetic recoding process proposed by Dr. Sun is giving its results, and in record time too, I might add. Things are proceeding pretty well, and we'll have our first biogenic resonance test within two to three weeks. Things are promising, and we'll have the first embryo - the Galatea prototype - ready for a series of full tests within a month or two.

"...Mind if I just digress here for a moment? I... I still feel a bit giddy, I can't deny. We're creating a brand new breed of humanity, something almost from scratch. Sure, we've had genetic engineering for the past century or two, but nothing really on the scale of what we're trying to achieve here. A brand new breed of humanity, free of the flaws and shortcomings of old. A new kind that could change the very fabric of reality itself at will, through the splendorous power of biogenic energy. Using it the way it's meant to be used; pure, efficient, powerful...

"...but perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself here. Sometimes I frighten my colleagues with these ideas of ubermenschen created in test tubes, making them sound... inhuman. But that's not the point. If anything they should be even more human, more humane. The epitome of what makes humanity great. Empathy. Wisdom. Compassion. Wonder.

"If anything, these children - and that's what they'll be, rising from the womb of scientific progress - are going to help shape the future of humanity. Above all else, they should treasure Love of their fellow humans and work with them as equals. Build a new path together.

"For now, I should really check on the prototype Galatea. She's showing immense potential, and if the rest follow her footsteps, then they'll be a wonder to behold. For me, though I expect great things from Galatea - or as I like to call her, Sarah. I can't wait to meet her, the person she's destined to be, someday.

"Dr. Logan, signing out."
The mention of her name jolts her. Was this her, or was it another Oracle by the name of Sarah? Could there be more out there? Dr. Logan seemed to have been the mastermind of the biogenic energy research, but a lot of the files and references were missing - either corrupted or lost.

She absently strokes Pip's head as she thinks this over - until her rumbling stomach makes her realize she's overdue for a bath and a meal. She ate some food earlier, but she used up so much energy she's basically running on empty. Maybe some more reading after she's properly freshened up.


[System]
Occupation: Bandit chief/Veteran legionnaire

Race: Nord

Class: Warlord

Gender: Male

Age: 33

Personality: A dour man, with little in the way of a sense of humor, and a determination that could break down walls just as easily as the many siege engines he used and repaired in the civil war. Often in ill humor, he sees life by loss and gain, the age old rule that all power demands sacrifice. Be it your time, the lives of your men, or an entire country, all power demands sacrifice.

Weapons: Steel Broadsword, Steel round shield, Steel Dagger.

General Appearance: (look above~)

Bio: Born into a military family, Brannus knew that he'd find himself in legion armor one day as well, he didn't expect to be wielding a legion sword against his own neighbors though. He spent much of the civil war siegeing and defending fortifications and camps, along the way gaining an appreciation for the bluntness and calculable nature of siege warfare. Brannus quickly found himself being promotoed to a Captain, and in a position of command over a fair number of soldiers, enough to occupy and defend one of the many smaller forts that dotted skyrim's landscape. For a time he and his men were on the front line, archers taking pot shots back and forth at each other from behind and outside of the fortress' walls, him and his men entrenched for months outside of the crumbling stormcloak bastion.

As with any man or mer, time spent breaking the wall could break a man of his spirit, just as easily as defending the wall could. The men grew tired, and little in the way of support or even correspondence was available to him and his men, while the stormcloaks where holed away, doing all they could to try the Captain's patience. Then, like a miracle, or a curse, the siege was broken in almost an instant; not by one of the catapults, a charge through the battered defenses, or any sort of surrender, but by a dragon. Fear ran through the ranks on both sides, but all Brannus could feel was unbridled anger, at his situation, at his superiors, at the enemy, and at the damnable wyrm who had reared its head.

Though small, the dragon was enough to break the defenders, and those who were not burnt to a crisp by its flames, hid within the fort while it toppled ontop of them. Others ran from the fort, scrambling past the imperial troops for safety in the wilds. His own men on the verge of breaking, and the losses mounting past acceptable, Brennus slew the closest man to him, bashing his face in with his armored hand, and as the soldiers, imperial and stormcloak turned to him, awestruck, he roared. "This, is the price of cowardice! That wyrm may rip you apart, swallow you whole, or burn you ash, but that is NOTHING compared to what I will do to you lot, if you do not hold!" His speech echoed like a warsong through the trenches as his men rallied, turning their great siege weapons to the fledgling beast. It was a shot through the neck with a ballista that felled the creature, leaving its lifeless body on the ground. Silence washed over the decimated remains of the two forces, as they watched Brannus Krieg, his broadsword in hand, sever its head.

It was this battle that drove Brannus, and what remained of his men and the opposing army, nearly thirty men all together, to desert. Why should they fight this war, when the world itself seemed to be crumbling? Dragons, the Thalmor, and the assassination of the Emperor? He and his would have no part of it. Taking what they had with them, their horses, armaments, even the great ballista which ended the wyrm, they traveled, spending the remainder of the civil war moving from encampment to encampment, finally settling in a fort in the south of Falkreath hold. Strangely, the inhabitants, a band of orcs, were all dead,and in the basement, it seemed that someone had taken something precious from a pedestal. Luckily the stockpile of food, wines, and cheeses had yet to spoil, there was enough cheese for everyone. Brannus ordered his men to string the corpses from the walls of the keep, and to perch the ballista atop the small fortress. For the last ten years, Brannus "Wyrm's Bane" Krieg, and those few men who survived, have spent their time, raiding, stealing, ransoming, and fortifying, taking every chance they can to obtain resources, and slay the horrid dovah that now litter the skies of Tamriel.

[User] Tarja turned to the Nord next to her hearing him speak, a pinch of a wolfish gleam in her frosted eyes glancing toward him. He was wolfblood alright, but then so was she a creature of the moon, a newborn child of the Stag Prince. "Trust me. It isn't difficult pinpointing the mighty warriors of Jorrvaskr." Tarja replied with a small chuckle, the young barmaid having brought her another tankard of ale, mainly out of good faith though Tarja paid her a few septims in return. she took a drink, sighing gruffly and setting the iron tankard aside before resuming. "Tarja." She introduced herself with a curt nod. "And like you, I too am far from home, far from the steep hills and stones of The Reach. So Companion, what brings you towards these gods-forsaken lands of snow and peril? The only damnable reason one would travel to Winterhold is just for their esteemed College of mages....or to join those gods-damned Stormcloaks." Just mentioning their name, it left a bitter bite upon her tongue, and not that of the ale she swallowed down her gullet. Yet how strange the woman wasn't much for speaking, yet here she be carrying on a conversation with the brutish Nord beside her. Then again, she did feel at ease sensing the essence of wolf-blood within him.

[Assistant]
Chapter One: The Teeth in the Darkness

He remembered little of that night, some years ago. Just flashing, blurring images that played themselves over and over in his primitive, little brain. A warrior of steel and darkness, ambushing him as he dozed through another winter's night in the frozen north of Skyrim. It was a brief, but fierce battle. He could not remember clearly, how he had howled as the blade cut his flesh, and he could not remember with certainty the taste of his adversary's life blood on his fangs. The only thing he knew with certainty, was that he became afraid, and he fled. He abandoned his home, running like no creature ever should, from a warrior of steel and darkness.

And that memory was a pain that his simplistic mental mechanisms could not understand. Though, a more advanced creature, such as Man, would describe it simply as hurt pride. As it happened, hurt pride was a big issue for such a beast as Skharn.

As the bear reached the the summit of the icy peak, he paused briefly to take a much needed respite. The snow was pouring down in droves, and even his thick mane was a meagre defence against the bone cutting chill. But the cold did not trouble this bear, for primitive thoughts of revenge were means enough to keep him warm.

Skharn was a name given to the bear by the Forsworn, a peoples he had stalked for many days and nights as he continued his search for the warrior of steel and darkness. In their native tongue, it simply meant "Anger" - their only true means of summing up the monster that took more of their number with each passing day. It meant little to the bear, but enough to know the word was a warning of danger.

The name Skharn had spread, as tall tails of a seven headed dragon covered in fur made its way to all four corners of Skyrim. Indeed, famed hunters had pursued the beast, but with little luck. Despite no sightings, the stories never went away, and indeed, countless dozens of deaths on the country's remote roads and city outskirts were often attributed to Skharn.

So when the bear heard he name "Skharn", it knew someone had seen him. Knew someone was afraid. Knew someone was about to try and kill him.

The dim lights of Winterhold's ruined form were of little concern to Skharn. He hadn't travelled to the frozen north, covering three hundred miles in three days, to look upon another human settlement. Nor had he come to take note of the giant man made mountain behind it. No, he was following someone.

An Altmer - the Elderborn - had happened by the bear's temporary dwelling a week previous. Though Skharn lacked the mental capacity to reason well, he understood immediately that the Elf was someone of power. Someone, who if not attacked in the correct manner, could very well kill the bear. So as Skharn, not wanting to bite off more than he could chew, went to resume his slumber, he noticed something else. He didn't know what it was, but it agitated him, spreading unrest into his mind and limbs.

A man may have romantically referred to this as the hands of fate, pulling Skharn to his destiny.

Whatever it was, Skharn felt the urge to follow the Elf. And follow he did.

For days and nights, the bear shadowed the Elf, always keeping out of sight and using his nose to follow his quarry's trail. As the ground turned to ice, the further North they went, the scent became harder to follow, and for a time, Skharn lost his target. It was only the very brief memory of a settlement nearby, and a bear's natural talent for remembering pre-travelled routes, that he was able to find Winterhold.

And now Skharn would wait, watching from the blizzard for an Elf whose importance to him made little sense.

[User]
Brannus chuckled, the Argonian was no novice, nor was she a fool. "I can assure you, miss, everything here is as it should be, I've no use for trinkets and gems, and the wood provides us with more than enough fresh meat and water. Now, as you said, let us not stand here in the cold for too long, the chill must be much worse against your scales, and many beasts are fond of roaming the snow. So, let us talk of payment, what are you prepared to give in exchange for these goods?"

The snow and glacial winds battered against the large nord's armor ice crystals forming over colder steel. Snow began to cake the many pelts and furs Brannus wore draped over his shoulders, and the wyrm skull mounted upon his right shoulder-guard. The smell of the raw meat and decaying flesh were all that could be found amid sterile snow and ice, their decay and rot slowed by the cold, ice holding some of the mutilated bodies together, slowly cracking and shifting as the chill began to fill each and every crevice of necrotic flesh. Wolves could be heard, howling in the distance, as was common of the tundra, they seemed to join the great winds in song, crying out for blood, to take their prey together with claw and frost.

[Assistant]
Asuma overheard the conversation and lifted her head off of the counter, she almost fell asleep again, She leaned in a tiny bit and started listening, hearing something about "werewolfs" and the "champions" She also noticed that now pretty much everyone was Staring at her, even the list of "trustable" ones

She started to doubt she was in the right place again, might as well ask the bartender where she was, with a voice of worry she asked the Reptilian bartender excuse me uh, which city is this?

[User]
"Hmm. You don't seem like the type whose bartering in septims, and the fact that food is involved suggests you aren't looking for necessities. I have access to several armorers and are carrying a good load of steel in the hull, and perhaps you're interested in a more... high grade protection. I have access to materials which technically require Imperial shipping permits, but considering there are at least three separate standards in the places I travel that is not too much of a concern. I don't barter in crewmen or 'favors.' I'd be obliged to hear what you're looking for out of this," Walks-In-Light said with a ponderous tone.
Canis, managing to put aside the brief period of revulsion, sorted through the goods with a deft eye as the captain addressed Brannus, attempting to mentally price the jewels and furs for the purposes of ascertaining how much they could reasonably go for on the open market.

[Assistant]
the bartender replied saying Winterhold and Asuma realized her big mistake. She made a big wrong turn Ughh!, I knew I should've gone west! She gotten a bit angry, but not for long, it didn't matter now she'd found pretty much everyone.

muttering a curse she'd did a facepalm, the bartender left and started serving some other drunken nord customers

just my luck...

[User]
Tarja heard the girl hissing under her breath, having realized a most humorous folly, and snickered to herself standing up and approaching her. A strange weapon she had in her possession, a blade, slightly curved, but not as harsh as the scimitars of Hammerfell, those damn guards going on obsessively over them damn curved swords. No, this appeared more the blade style of Akavir, Tarja only knowing of the mysterious race through many a tale passed about a warm fire and a cold mug of ale.

"Lost are we?" She said. Gods..compared to the youth, she must appear as a giant looming over her, casting a shadow that could eclipse even Masser. And still, she had no recollection at all of where she had seen the girl last but was certain she knew of her. "What's your name lass?"

[Assistant]
A hardy laugh rang from behind the Nord's helmet at the merchant's words. "Oh, I understand, such 'favors' tend not to be worth what I'm giving in the first place. However if you were so inclined, after this transaction I wouldn't be opposed to the two of us exchanging one 'favor' for another." A couple of the other deserters joined their leader in a short laugh, before he spoke again.

"Either way, it sounds like a good trade, Falkreath provides for the men, but not for our forges. I'd also be very gracious to have some of those more... elusive goods that you spoke of. After all the Empire no longer holds this land under their regulation. I'm certain our collective company can handle the exchange and loading, your man there does seem to know a thing or two about the merchants trade. While they take care of that, why don't I buy you something to fend off the chill while you're still in port? We can celebrate the beginning of a hopefully long and beneficial partnership."

The four accompanying Brannus grumbled softly to themselves upon hearing Brannus' order, but a quick, silent glare from their leader silenced them. Once more the tarp was draped over the goods, protecting it from the flurry of snow and ice that assailed the entirety of that desolate Hold. Cargo secure, they lead the hourses back toward the town, and towards Walks-In-Light's ship.