[System]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human

Weapon: Unlike the majority of Hunters that dwell the broken world of Remnant, Gratia wields two, separate and completely distinct weapons due to her poverty, which has prevented her from obtaining more advanced weaponry. She wields a dull, grey mameluke sabre named Valens, furnished simply with the imprint of her emblem on its hilt. It is utilised alongside her other weapon, an automatic carbine named Valentinian, black and silver and also light enough to be used with one hand.

She also owns an SUV that she acquired from a mafia family after a mission.

Specialty: Capable of dealing with enemies both in close combat and mid-range, Gratia's role on Team VGNB (Vignoble) is to draw the attention of Grimm as she cuts swathes through their ranks in her berserk rage. As such, she is quite the durable warrior, and if time passes, she will only grow stronger as her semblance drains away at the energies of her enemies, making her perfect for her position as the 'tank' of the team.

Semblance: Bibere Vinum - Gratia's lust for battle and power is translated into a semblance that allows her to drain the aura of others in the area in order to strengthen her own physical abilities. In particular, her speed, strength, and endurance. The effects compound over time, and thus while they aren't too noticeable in the first few minutes of combat, the longer one fights her and the closer they are in proximity, the stronger Gratia gets.

Following her conversation with her mother on what it meant to be a Huntress and what she meant to those close to her, Gratia's semblance metamorphosed into a new form, gaining an additional ability based upon her existing powers. Her ability to detect and sometimes recognise other lifeforms in the area has become more powerful, allowing her to inject a tiny portion of her own aura into people upon contact, creating a connection between her and her victim that allows her to track and identify them no matter where they go, and will not be broken unless either of them are dead, or if Gratia wishes it to end. It also provides her basic information on the victim's status, such as their health, mood and general condition.

Personality: At first glance, Gratia appears to be quite a solemn figure, impassive and quiet in the majority of situations. Restraint seems to come easily to her, and there is an aura of professionalism that permeates her every action. It would be obvious, then, to assume that she is a rather serious person, one who devotes her very being to work and believes that everything else is a waste of time. In actuality, this is mostly inaccurate. When she speaks it is generally to insult others, particularly her aggravating teammate Napoli, and her speech is peppered with gratuitous swearing.

She is extremely sarcastic and is quick to point out when a situation does not strike her as favourable. She is also rather arrogant and has a haughty sense of pride that dictates her actions. If someone starts annoying her, her impassive aura is quick to drop and Gratia will instead begin with a spewing out insults. However, she is not entirely horrible, being actually fairly kind to those who she deems as respect worthy and more importantly, not annoying. While she is quiet still, she is more than willing to offer them a helping hand on assignments and other problems.

In addition, Gratia possesses a strong sense of loyalty to her loved ones. If you piss her off or take advantage of her friends she will make your life a living hell. Of course, do what you want to her annoying teammates, especially Napoli, she'll only save them at the last minute when they're about to die. And you're not allowed to kill them. She gets to when they screw up.

When in combat, her normally solemn personality completely disappears, replaced by a crazed bloodlust that seems to consume her entire being (and probably those poor Grimm that she'll murder). In this state, it can be quite surprising to listen to her cackle loudly like a hyena as she terrorises her enemies.

Color: Chartreuse Green (66CD00)

Emblem: Gratia's emblem has a certain religious flair to it, with a solid sabre sitting upon a champagne bottle, which is a chartreuse green to contrast the black and grey of the sabre and background.

Appearance:

Source | NarayanK's Interpretation

Standing at a height of one point seven five metres, Gratia is relatively tall for most girls her age, a trait that is magnified by her rock solid posture. With long, flowing brown-black hair, onyx eyes and a well-defined face (though usually seen bland or scowling), and an athletic build, she can be described as rather attractive (though her compatriot-in-arms would argue the opposite), but few dare comment on her appearance in case she takes offence.

Due to her status as a student from Haven, she dons the snazzy uniform of her "beloved" school when attending class, completely unmodified and always super tidy (it comes at a surprise that to many that she is willing to wear the skirt). When outside of class however, she can always be seen with her signature black turtleneck, brown jeans and her green winter coat, which she is highly possessive of (and possibly willing to murder for, though that's a rumour). As a music aficionado, she frequently wears headphones in order to enjoy her smooth jazz and drown out the incessant chatter of her fellows and her teammates in particular.
Name: Galla Mindaro
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human

Weapon: Steel Construction I-Beam (W18X40)

Specialty: Without needing the use of a semblance, Galla Mindaro possesses a ridiculously immense amount of physical strength, capable of carrying even the heaviest of construction materials with ease. As such, her lightest blows can easily hit as hard as a freight train, sending her targets flying with little effort on her part. Similar to her more infamous older sister, she is incredibly durable, her numerous years of acting as Gratia's training partner having developed her defenses dramatically.

Semblance: Nemo Curat - Galla's apathy and sense of detachment from the world has been translated into a semblance that allows her to essentially detach a part of her own self, preventing it from interacting with the outside world. She can only induce this state in one thing at a time, and if she wishes to stop another part of her self from being observed by reality, she has to first reattach the originally detached part. An example of her semblance in use would be detaching her scent, thereby preventing anybody from smelling her.

Personality: The younger Mindaro sibling possesses a quiet and stoic demeanour, staying impassive in the face of any situation to the extent that one could easily mistake her for a stone statue. Restraint marks her every action, with each lifeless movement utterly lacking in any form of energy or emotion. To Galla, the rest of the world simply isn't important at all, and it is through this lens of utter apathy that she engages with life.

So great is her sense of detachment that absolutely nothing is capable of fazing her. Everything is met with the same bland air, as if there was a distant chasm between her and the rest of the world. She cannot bring herself to care for it, finding little that can stimulate her dulled emotions into responding. At times, it appears as if Galla lacks a presence beyond simply 'existing', seeming more akin to a cardboard cutout than an actual human.

She doesn't see it as a problem in any way.

However, that is not to say that Galla Mindaro is simply an emotionless mannequin that is utterly incapable of being human. The truth is actually the opposite; the younger of the Mindaro sisters is surprisingly empathetic, capable of understanding the feelings, motivations and experiences of other people to a great extent. It does not change her utter lack of interest and care for them, but if the whim were to come to her, she could interact with others with little difficulty.

It is because of this that, despite her eerie detachment, Galla possesses a bond with her family. Although she rarely shows any sign of concern for them, the younger Mindaro acknowledges her parents in their entirety, and it is evident that she respects her older sister in some fashion. She is also not devoid of friends, being able to, even in her bland and uncaring manner, work amicably with a number of her classmates. Whether or not she is a good friend is debatable, especially when she does not exactly care too much for them.

She is also highly observant of her surroundings, whether they be social cues, appearances or the shape of the world. Information is immediately captured and stored in her photographic memory, although much of it fails to affect her in any manner. She holds few opinions on them, but there are times when she does judge, usually through an arbitrary rating system. When taking action, there are also moments where she may seem rather excessive, unaware of whether or not something may be too much.

Galla may or may not have a sense of humour. It's extremely hard to tell.

Color: Chartreuse Yellow (DFFF00)

Emblem: Galla's emblem has traces of religious iconography, with a pitch-black profile of a rooster, one of the holiest animals of the Mistralese Church, imprinted upon a champagne bottle of chartreuse yellow, its brightness a contrast to the colour of the bird.

Appearance:

Source

[User]
Kuhaku Shiro - An unnamed lake, just outside of Beacon

 What was he even worried about in the first place? Normally, Shiro had zero fear of heights. Hell, his first day at Beacon he was launched into a forest filled with Grimm and he handled it no problem. He figured something must've been off, maybe his medication altered his personality more deeply than he thought. The loud roar of the winds whipping him and that dreadful sinking feeling wasn't the most delightful thing in the world, but why was he scared? All these wonders and more were erased from his mind the moment his body dipped into the waters. Though it wasn't cold, the temperature was low enough to immediately send chills up his spine and made him almost want to gasp. That would've been bad of course, swallowing a large volume of water into his lungs. His mission would've ended right then and there, with emergency services been sent out to retrieve him. Thankfully, he had enough willpower to resist the urge and shook it off. Breaching the surface of the lake's waters, it was then that he resumed his normal breathing. Turning his head head left and right, Shiro located the breathing gear Gren gave him and his flashlight. Sliding his goggles over his eyes, he pressed the mask against his face and cinched down the straps to alleviate the bad fitting. Shaking his head to make sure that everything was good to go, a sixth sense alerted him to an incoming presence.

 Turning back around and looking up from where he had jumped off from, his glowing blue eyes widened as he saw other bodies jumping down after him. They didn't intend on stopping him, did they? Did they think he jumped over to harm himself? Surely, they couldn't be some reactionary rescue diver team. Frowning, Shiro clicked on his flashlight to check if it worked. Thankfully, it did. Not wanting to be snatched up in some other bull, Shiro got right to work. Lunging down into the lake's waters, Shiro got to his search. He figured that since Sapphire's weapons were metallic, the flashlight's beams could possibly gleam and reflect off of it to help him find it faster. His plan was to swim around the lake's perimeter and work his way in at a sort of spiral. Once at the lake's center, the next step was to scale back up to Beacon and see if they landed in some rocky crevice. Looking over his shoulder, he watched anyone tailing him before powering through the lake. His little light flitting to and fro as he scanned, he left behind a trail of bubbles as he swam.

[Assistant]
Abel Fulgurate - Dorm

Once Abel's surprise at Shiro's unexpected entry and removal of clothes had worn off, he maintained a level of confusion about the same as Sapphire. All he could offer in response to her question was a bemused shrug. The thought flashed through his mind: without his usual armor on, shrugging proved to be a much more enjoyable feat. He made the resolve, then and there, to try and do it more often when unencumbered. "Don't know. But I doubt he would. Only two places to swim on campus, Port's probably got another Megaladeus in one and the other's a sheer drop off the airdocks."

The wheels in the guardian's head began to turn. Where and why exactly would a cat faunus go swimming? On the edge of his mind, the semblance of an idea took place, but try as he might he could not recall the details. "Must have lost something before traveling recently," he decided at last. "Don't know what though." A dubious glance shot Sapphire's way. "You goin' to Gren's party thing? Also, I had no idea you were in here. Um..." On the off chance she hadn't noticed, he elected to not mention that he'd released a quiet flatus about a chapter back in his book. Hey, he'd thought he was alone. "Your power, I guess."

[User]
Gratia Mindaro - VGNB Dorms

The ballpoint pen clicked shut with a resounding sense of finality. It paused against the surface of her notebook, almost frozen in the moment. Gratia looked back up, her onyx eyes once again staring at Luke Schwarz' face. She was watching him, studying the twitching of his muscles, her impassive gaze resting upon him for several long seconds.

"That will be the end of this phase of the experiment then," she said, voice still as flat and emotionless as it had been before.

Bringing about positive emotions in other people was far more difficult than its antithesis, and Gratia Mindaro could not care less for expending such effort on such a trivial matter. It was beneath her to bother, and the experiment itself was not so urgent that she would fucking try and cheer or amuse Schwarz just so his hair could do a loop-de-loop that defied common sense. Her results had already lived up to her expectations so far, and any further observations were not necessarily required.

Good science however, would only occur if she followed up on it.

And she refused to do lackluster work.

That meant she would have to continue her observations of Luke Schwarz at a better time, but it wasn't as if the Mistralese girl had anything better to fucking do.


[System]
tbe

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

---

General Information

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

---

Characterization

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Morado "Mori" Rose

---

tbe

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

---

General Information

---

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

---

Characterization

---

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

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

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

[User]
A voice rang out in the darkness, "You idiots! I told you there were three kids in here before we cut the lights. You weren't supposed to attack them. Now, we're out of time. We gotta go!"

On the other side of the room, a door was opened. A flood of light entered the room. After being in complete darkness, the sight was a little disorientating. In the doorway, a man dressed in all black stood, holding the door open for his partners. With one hand, he held a bag of loot over his back. Beside him, on the ground, there was an Octillery, which he promptly retreated back into its Pokeball with his free hand.

His two partners, who were hit with string shot, ran for the door, each one carrying a bag on their back as well. Their movement was slightly impaired, but the more they ran, the more the strings began to relax their grip and the faster they could move.

A long as the kids didn't immediately give chase, they would be able to escape and lock the door behind them. But if the kids did act fast enough, they could possibly make it before the door shut.

[Assistant]
Damn it, Indy's right...for once. Dan thought to himself

Dan caught a vague glance at the Pokémon the man in black had, it was some blob of red tentacles and a lump.
Dan had only just managed to grab one of his Poke balls before the thugs had started to run. He threw the ball and out came Grotle.

"Just who I was hoping for. Grotle! Block their exit. We can't let them rob this place!" Dan screamed as Grotle rushed quickly, closing the gap between him and the thugs.

"It doesn't matter what they have, Grotle won't last two seconds against all their Pokémon at once. C'mon we can't let them escape!" Dan said, Grasping for another Poke ball.

[User]
As the two men ran toward the oncoming Grotle, panic quickly set in. How were they supposed to get passed such a large creature?

Suddenly, as if answering their concerns, a Grotle was hit in the side by an unseen force. The attack wasn't damaging, but it did slide Grotle across the floor a good distance. The room was fairly well lit at this point, so this unseen force was definitely puzzling. At least, it was puzzling to our three heroes.

The thieves realized right away what had just happened. One of them shouted, "Good job Mr. Mime!" Obviously, there was no response, but at least the three teenagers now knew what they were up against.

The two thieves made it out the sun lit doorway, followed immediately by the Mr. Mime that appeared out of a shadowy corner. And then, the door started shutting...

[Assistant]
Time seemed to be going by too fast. Indigo was trying to react, overwhelmed by everything at once. He was worried, frightened, and angry all at once. This had been supposed to be a normal outing to Pewter City. It was all so much. Too much.

But at the same time, he zeroed in on one thing.

They needed to get out. Not even just for the sake of chasing the thieves. Who knew what those men had done to the exhibit? Were there more pokemon hiding in the shadows after they left, pokemon that would deal with them? What if a fire pokemon the men left behind incinerated the place to get rid of incriminating evidence? Indigo shuddered. Sure, they had one water type, but could a Squirtle put out an entire fire by itself?

It was dangerous to stay here. Dangerous to pursue the thieves as well, sure, but as least they wouldn't have been in an enclosed space with tricks or traps left behind.

So then, who had the best shot of helping them get out with the door closing? Indigo broke into the fastest sprint of his life, trying to think up some way for the door to remain open as well.

"Kovi, String Shot! Keep the door open! We need to get out!"

Kovi, being closest to the door, let out a skein of silk from his mouth. He was able to swing it keep it open, now having a pulley to keep the door from shutting. Psybeam would have been nice too, maybe we could have blown it off... Well, maybe it's best to keep property damage to a minimum.

It worked, and Indigo soon found himself outside. Out of the frying pan, but into the fire, readying himself for a sure battle with the criminals.


[System]
Sex: Female
 Age: 19
 Appearance:
 Ethnic: Japanese
 Personality: The name Rin was picked aptly for little was left to chance in the making of the woman that Tsukino Rin is. Cold, dignified, severe, these are the first and most obvious traits of Rin. She was raised to be modern royalty, living in luxury though not pampered by it. Hers was a life full of demands and tests. She cannot bear to have nothing to do, always putting her mind and body to some task or the other. She is quite clever, incredibly intelligent though somewhat emotionally stunted. She acts with full propriety, doing her best and more on all tasks required of her while keeping a quiet air of dignity. However... deep cold within herself lies a font of cold, suppressed rage. She's not naturally a bad person, but life has sharpened her to the point of being ruthless and uncaring for most... as well as a bit of a snob. More than anything she chases perfection... while at the same time fearing and hating the one who made her the way she is.
 Background/History: Tsukino Rin was born as the daughter of the famous entrepreneur Tsukino Satoshi, a rising star in Japanese business with a great deal of popularity for his good looks and physique. However, his popularity hides some connection to criminal elements as well as a ruthless, incredibly controlling personality. Marrying a beautiful heiress to a more traditional fortune, the man became a dictator of his household, inspiring fear and keeping a rigid control over the going ons of the place... however, when he heard his wife, Miyamoto Junko was pregnant his desire for control boiled over into an obsession with his own offspring. Satoshi made sure Rin had everything she needed to grow up healthy and strong... as well as micromanaging near every aspect of her life since the moment she was born. In her she saw his greatest project, his greatest creation... a chance to mold his own blood and kin into perfection. A girl who was born bright and happy was soon burrowed in responsibilities and expectations, strict teachers and instructors and the worst of all... his own father, the ultimate fear and strictest judge of them all. She was kept apart from her mother as she was nourished in mind and body... endless hours of focused study with punishments for disobedience, gruelling practice and training for her body. She was pushed to her limits, while monitored closely to make sure she never broke. A joyless childhood on which Rin developed a deep hatred for the strict figure of her father... just as much hate as she had fear... and worse yet, the more she hated herself for being so moved and yearning of his approval on the rare occasions where he gave them. For even in this, the man was controlling and manipulating her feelings to better push her to excel. One of her few chances to rebel she found on a gentle young man from her piano lessons... a foreign student who despite her cold exterior kept trying to come closer to her. Michael he was called and after a few rough patches, he became her first true friend... and from him she got a view of the world she didn't know. Of warmth, kindness. He was fond of stories and myths and shared with her lots of them... she didn't care for most of them, but just seeing him so passionate grew an interest in her... made it enjoyable to listen. She began sneaking reading about world mythologies for a while... and those days were among the happiest in her life. It all, of course, ended when the jealous Satoshi finally learned of the influence of one in her life. One day, Michael just stopped coming to lessons, his phone wouldn't pick up... and upon digging, she learned his family left the country on some scandal and rumors of crime. That was one of the breaking points for Rin... and her hysteria as she confronted her father was one of the greatest she faced in her life. It was also one of the few times her father hurt her physically as a punishment instead of redoubling the intensity of her training. Two years passed since that moment and Rin kept living her life as her father's puppet all the while resenting the position... what happened with Michael only reinforcing her disgust even as she kept competing for the top scores academically, being signed up for physical competitions. Being made a trophy chasing trophy child... so much that her resentment boiled over into a plea to be made free...
 Goal/Desires: Perfection. Freedom. Power.
 Powers:
 Chaser of Perfection: Rin is one that has been molded with discipline and training her entire life. While she was gifted in smarts and healthy in body, that didn't amount to as much as she had to train herself and make a constant effort to be better. She's intimately familiar with failure, having crashed against it over and over again until she could overcome the obstacles in her path. She admired the heroes of legends, those figures that rose over their peers and the greatest of foes by their innate gifts and training, becoming epitomes of humanity... and in such fantasies, also lie her few happy dreams. She wishes only for a strong body and a strong mind to chase after greater heights.
 Perfection of Body: Rin comes into this new world with a fit and athletic body for a young woman her age... and upon it she cast the wish for it to grow and adapt, to learn what she needs in order to become stronger... to not be bound by physical limits. Upon reaching the new world, Rin's body will be improved in strength, agility and endurance, as well as granting it the ability to grow in power and memorize techniques faster than it would be normal. The ability she notices also comes with a light shapeshifting effect... by concentrating on her appearance for a few minutes she can make small changes upon herself, such as her features, color of eyes, skin and the like, though these are superficial ones.
 Perfection of Mind: Rin was a smart girl before... top of her class, disciplined and clever. Upon coming onto this world, however, she takes it up a notch, gaining a near photographic memory and more importantly, the capacity for heightened learning and understanding, able to by logic learn how things work by observing them. To her surprise, she gains the first inklings of magic understanding merely by being in a world with magic, obtaining the capacity to do some minor magic immediately upon getting there such as telekinesis up to a few pounds, making small lights appear, detection of magic and even flinging a projectile of energy with roughly the strength of a powerful blow.
Equipment/Inventory: The clothes she was wearing, a cellphone and a credit card. Also a pretty silver necklace her father bought but that her mother picked.

[User]
@Anderiel

The ground began to shake all around the group of 3. Hana, being so close to one of the 'trees', quickly grabbed onto it for balance. The ground shook more, but Hana didn't fall. The tree began to glow. Hana was completely lost on what was going on. Then came the large roar. That roar was atrociously loud. It hurt to hear it. Then came the wind. The wind was absolutely brutal. It had even ripped out a few of the 'trees' from the roots.

Hana didn't really pay attention to Mabel dropping her dice, but watched as Mabel fell over trying to retrieve the said dice. A slight smile filled her face, but by the time that Mabel got back up, the smile extinguished back to its usual sheepish frown. She looked down as Mabel talked to her. "I don't know," Hana said, her voice slightly louder than before, "but we should find Tsukino and find out what all this is."

[Assistant]
@Anderiel

"Hey you two!" cries off from a distance Rin as she runs towards the two... glad to see they are alright though her face shows fear and concern for the shaking and the glow from before "What was that? I saw a glow from here and suddenly there was the shaking!" continues to yell Rin as she runs towards them... a few seconds later getting to them, supporting herself on another tree to avoid falling.

[User]
Star@kapuchu
Fiona Swanhilde - Within the Forests on Gorlock

"...W-wah!"

Fiona squeaked in panic as a loud noise boomed out nearby, almost jumping out of her skin in fright. Thankfully, when she actually turned to look she found the source of the noise was a rather high-spirited Asian girl wearing... She'd never seen clothes like that. Was she a native? The girl's cheerfulness seemed a little infectious, as Fiona's mouth subtly curved up into a small, nervous smile.

Any attempt to respond was cut short, however, when the man-faced deerosaurus... Sniffed her. As she resumed trembling, it let out a soft cry, and before she could react to this a small swarm of strange animals begin surrounding her, Tamaki and... And she hadn't noticed the other girl until now, but... Well, honestly, "girl" wasn't the right description for her. "Woman" was a bit better, but "amazon" seemed to be more accurate. Fiona couldn't help but feel something mildly unpleasant inside her when she looked at the two others, especially when she looked down to her lap and saw the chair once more.

"...H-hey!" ...And as she did so, one of the creatures lept on. It looked almost like a squirrel, really; a squirrel that looked like it had been caught in an explosion in a paint factory, but still. In its paws it held some kind of nut, maybe the local equivalent of an acorn, which it seemed to be presenting to her. "Um... F-for me? Um... Thank you, eheh." Reaching out a slender hand, she took the nut before gently patting the little rodent on the head, as a wider smile than before spread across her face.

"Um... I'm... Fiona," she mumbled, as the other two introduced themselves. "Fiona Swanhilde, and... I don't know where we are either, Chloe. And, um...
Th-that would be, um, nice, Tamaki, um...
"

[Assistant]
@daltar

"Your plan pissed the world off, and now it wants blood for blood." Mabel stated bluntly to Rin.

The girl then carefully paced towards the larger spire at the forest's center. The dice hummed with power, though a confused Mabel didn't really know what that meant. Finally she reached her destination, the towering structure hummed brightly and winds continued to intensify as the earth came to life.

"Maybe if I climb up here, get my bearings... Hey, do either of you have a compass or something?" Shaking her head at the thought, Mabel began to climb the tough jagged surface. High enough, she began to realize they weren't on a where, they were on a what.

[User]
Filip was glad that they had slightly resolved their issues between themselves when suddenly the large doors that they had been trying to figure out had just swung open. "See, that wasn't so hard." He started when he felt movement in his right hand and saw that the salamander was moving up his arm, to his torso and down his leg before moving as fast as it could go for some safe ground. That was never a good sign and that was when he heard the sound of a large amount of rushing water heading their direction.

He saw that the other two were grabbing on to a bar that had been let down from above the gate and knew that was a better idea than just trying to outrun the water. "This is going to hurt." The dutch man muttered as he grabbed a hold of the bar and drew in a breath just as the water slammed into his chest and it took all his strength to hang onto the bar.

[Assistant]
@kapuchu

Tamaki Asagami - Within the Forests on Gorlock

"Yosh! Friend acquired! Glad to meet your acquaintance, Fiona!" Tamaki pumped her arm even as she and the others were being all but swarmed by friendly woodland creatures- big and small. If anything the girl got even more visibly excited, trembling all over through sheer exhilaration especially after the man faced deer walked on water. Everything was so new and fresh while at the same time not so totally out of whack that she couldn't compare them to her old life. The animals themselves looked like more fantastical versions of beasts found on her world, though much friendlier it seemed. Naturally, she was an easy-going girl and thus simply relaxed herself and enjoyed the Snow White like moment she found herself in. No singing though. She had standards.

"I heard animals respond badly if they're excited so it would be best for you to relax... I don't think they'll really harm us anyways, they have the look of curious children..." Tamaki laxly told Chloe even as she nuzzled into the deer's pelt, enjoying the warm and fluffy softness. "And as for you question, if I had to guess then we've been plucked to an entirely new world for some strange superfluous purpose that we don't know about yet but will no doubt discover in our long journey through the world. I read stories kinda like this." Giving a cheerful shrug as she remembered all those light novels with the same plot line, she wondered if this world operated on said logic. Still, having a template to follow, she wasn't as nervous as the other two. "If not, then I suppose we'll just have to figure it out ourselves. Or ask for help."

Picking up her plastic bag, the now more toned down high schooler rummaged through before pulling out a store bought out a tiered bento box she had bought from the specialty store just prior to being transported, lifting it up to reveal a rather nice looking spread of prepared greens over rice. "Kami-san, might you tell us about our circumstances? We seem to be lost." Giving the great being a cute grin, she pushed the box towards the beast. "An offering for your services if you do." Being Japanese, the girl was used to thinking in a certain way and was rather spiritual, having the belief that gods and spirits existed in nature. Seeing the obvious intelligence shining in the being's eyes, Tamaki tried to test her hypothesis and gather information at the same time.

[User]
Rin frowned at Mabel's words, looking at her straight in the eyes "Hey, nothing happened and no strange light and earthquakes happened when I broke off some branches. What did you girls do?" She asks, standing her ground and clearly perceiving that Mabel had a problem with her.

However, given the movement of the whole place Rin didn't exactly have time to confront the dice bearing girl much longer... instead she gave her cellphone over to her "I'm not sure if the compass on it may work on this place, but give it a shot and tell us what you see"


[System]
Lord of the Tower

Age: Unknown, but appears to be late middle aged for an elf.
Race: Elf
Physical Description: Andrastos is a tall, lean elf with sharp grey eyes that easily make you feel as though he can read your thoughts, much like looking into the face of hawk. His features are always intense and stern, but never harsh enough to display any sort of emotion. His long, brown hair is always kept in a mix of braids and ornate gold bands, with his thick beard done in the same fashion. His clothes usually made of simple, light materials with ornate embroidery along the collar and arms. In the colder months and areas, he dones himself with heavy leather gear that looks more like light armor than clothing and a fur-lined cloak.
Title/Rank: Lord of the Tower
Personality: Serious, intense, and calculating.
Character History: There are very few elves who remember when Lord Adrastos was named Lord of the Tower, and even fewer that remember him as a child. His past is shrouded in mystery to non-elves, for even most elves refuse to mention it if they do know the tales. His rule is well respected by all of Evolin, thus why there was very little complaint about no other Tower Elves being named when the last few passed into the afterlife. In recent history, whispers of Lord Adrastos frequenting the Northern King (their oldest enemy) has caused some stir, and now some guild-masters move to have the council remove Lord Adrastos from his seat of power... for many of them profit from the constant war in the borderlands. (**If you are going to play an elf with more knowledge about Andrastos, please PM me for details**).
Regional History: ***This will be completed when we have elf players. I want to give people a chance to create their own history and weave it into the Regional History.***

---

Sifora Dalgaard
Princess of the North

Age: 17
Race: Human (North)
Physical Description: Sifora has skin as pale as the snow of the North and blue eyes like the glacier lake that gives life to all the North. Like all of her kin before her, Sifora has raven black hair that is straight even when wind-tattered. Standing at an average height, Sifora despite an athletic frame, seems quite frail amongst the northerners, who are a tall, stocky breed of humans.
Title/Rank: Princess of the North (and heir to the crown)
Personality: Confident (almost to a fault), passionate, stubborn, and perceptive.
Character History: First born of King Jassard and Queen Emalia (Princess of the South and aunt to the current King of the South), Sifora disappointed many... except that of her parents. They were proud of their daughter, despite the kingdom wishing for a male heir. Like most royal children, she was well versed in everything from logic, history, to art and music. Throughout her early years, the Queen conceived and lost many pregnancies, some of which nearly took the southern woman's life.... and then, when Sifora was five, the Queen did finally die in the throws of early labor, leaving a small, damaged boy in her place. Shayden, Sifora's brother, was weakly and always two steps from death's door. The kingdom grieved over the loss of the queen, praising her for bringing King Jassard a son into the world even if it cost her her life. Little did that know that the damage would never be undone... for the young lad would never speak... would never comprehend beyond that of a toddler... and would never be able to rule.

As the children grew older, King Jassard worked hard to ensure that no one questioned his daughter as his heir, having her even train with his closest General, Lord Erik Olofsson, a quite man from the furthest reaches of the North where the sunlight hid for a good part of the year. A rather weak fighter, Sifora made up for her shortcomings with her speed and her passion. She would never make it on the battle field, but could defend herself well enough to survive a surprise attack. Taking to the bow rather than the sword, the young Princess filled her time as a young teen studying war and tactics, instead of needle point and dance.

Out of fear that the traditionalists, a group of High Lords who did not like the King naming his daughter heir, Sifora was hidden away from society and surrounded her by only his most trusted men and advisors... and of course, her brother. Closed in the black stone halls of the Castle, Sifora grew protective of her inner circle; her father, her brother, and Lord Erik. Anyone outside of this circle was held at arms length, which grew to be a huge challenge when her father fell ill just after her seventeenth birthday. As her father's health quickly declines, it is apparent that she must leave the walls around her and garner favor of the Council of Lords... before her father's last breath.

Regional History: There is very little history of note for the North. When looking as far back as one can in the historical scrolls, the Northers have been fighting to protect their Ice-Diamond mines from the Elves (who claim they were stolen from them) and trading off weapons and furs to the South. There are rumors that the southern King, King Jassard's nephew, has been plotting against his uncle after he turned down an offer of a marriage between Princess Sifora and himself. Some even say the King had offered his daughter to the elf Lord instead, to further anger the southern King. All are unconfirmed rumors, but have permeated enough of polite gossip that they are stated as if fact. With King Jassard's health is in quick decline and his end inevitable, the Council of the High Lords are starting to show their colors... either by aligning themselves behind the Princess, or by otherwise plotting.

---

NPCs

Erik Olofsson
General of the North

AGE: 58
NOTES: Is of noble birth but does not hold lands (his older brother does). He has no kids and has been at the King's side since a young lad. The two have ridden into battle many... many times. He is stoic... and is built like a bear.

Shaydon Dalgaard
Prince of the North

AGE: 12
NOTES: Has mental deficiencies due to complications at birth. Does not talk and only comprehends like a young toddler. Has a natural connection with animals and is scared of anything loud.

Sybilla Rior
Nomad; White Tent Clan

AGE: Appears to be mid 20s
NOTES: More to come.

[User]
Characters: Various Erikson household NPCs
Location: The North--Erikson Mansion

The half melted snow of summer slowly began to glitter in the twilight on the grounds of the Erikson Mansion. The twilight was too bright for the nocturnal critters to scurry about and the daytime life had still not crawled from their various homes. Only the soft bubbling of the property's stream gave the cool morning any sign of life. Inside those dark stone walls, however, the flow of life hardly ever ceased. Below the main floors in a massive kitchen, a never ending flock of men and women fluttered about day and night. The High Lord and his family, like most of the council Lords, had never known hunger... especially those in which owned Ice Diamond mines.

"-well I don' know how they do et in tha capital, but givin' the poor cook less than a days notice-" Grumbled a rather large, round woman began, her red face glistening in the candle light with the efforts of rolling out the dough. She gave the dough a rather aggressive punch before continuing. "-it just don't seem right..."

A tired looking man with a well trimmed beard and a tunic of leather stood next to the baker's table, a sigh escaping his lips that were pressed into a thin line. "I understand, Tilda... but this is her royal highness, not some common lady calling upon Lord Erikson and his family. This could very well set up the Lord for success...... or failure."

"No need to get dramatic, Valcore." She grunted, flashing a half smile at the Steward. "I will get breakfast going an' then sit down withcha to plan out a few meal options for Lady Erikson to choose...." Tilda's smoky voice trailed off along with her grass green eyes towards where a rather buxom girl covered in flour stood, peering down the main hall expectantly. "POPPY!" The cook barked.

The poor girl spun around. "Ma'am?!"

"If my tarts end up flat because yer daydreaming after that Erikson bastard again, I am going to beat you until your ears bleed!" Tilda roared, holding up the rolling pin, a cloud of flour filling the room from the sudden upward movement.

"Yes, ma'am." Poppy muttered softly, jumping back to her place.

"Come now, Tilda..." Valcore chided, picking up the opened missive from the capital from the table. "What else are bastards good for anyway, if not sending all the scullery maids into girlish fits and lustful daydreams, hmm?" And with that, the man headed to go prepare for his master to awake to the news that the future Queen and her entourage would arrive at the Erikson Mansion in less than a day.

[Assistant]
Viktor was always fond of waking up in the early hours of morning. There was a small sense of superiority in it, something small and meaningless to boost his ego, just the simple knowledge that his lazy brothers and useless sisters couldn't even manage to do that. Anyhow, the feeling didn't last long- he caught a glimpse of his window, and the twilight that struggled to be seen. His room was halfway underground, a compromise reached by his father and the Lady of the House. Viktor sleeping anywhere near her children's chambers would be a grave insult that would not be tolerated, and Viktor sleeping below the manor with the staff was an insult to Lord Erikson's blood. An easy answer was found: a tiny, damp, freezing room between two sets of stairs: halfway below ground, halfway up. He hated it, and smiled at the horrible little window like it was the most beautiful sight in the whole North.

Feet on the cold, stone ground, he got up and dressed himself, in blue and silver. He looked back at the sight on the old mirror that decorated his walls. Appearance would be the only luxury a bastard like him held onto. Thin, and long, and with his limbs too slender and lanky, he would never look like a proper Northern brute, but he could do something even better, he could look expensive, regal. Who would look at someone like him and think him a product of unholiness? He smiled at his own reflection, a smile that everybody hated.

Long legs carrying him down the stairs, Viktor adjusted his gloves as his feet stepped onto the main hall, his long, dark mane of hair slicked back. He liked to start the day by seeing how much he could aggravate the staff. This wasn't entirely malicious, as he preferred them eons better than the brats he shared part of his blood with, but being a nuisance always put him in the right mood. Besides, he was the only member of the family who would step into the kitchen out of his own free will, he must take advantage of that as much as he can.

"Quite the commotion, at an hour like this." Viktor walked in, smile big and white and irreverent across his face "You mustn't tell me you let the hounds eat Ola's special sweets again." This had, in fact, happened once, and had been entirely his doing.

[User]
Characters: Various Erikson household NPCs
Location: The North--Erikson Mansion

Tilda huffed, her face never lifting from the baker's bench as The Bastard joined the mix. "If ya came ta get beat with tha broom, dearie, then keep on talkin'. Ta-day just may put ol' Tilda in the grave..." She muttered, not her usually jolly self. Normally she would happy swap smart ass remarks with the boy, but this morning she was a woman on a mission. "Go ask yer da 'bout our special-"

"-it's the Princess Sifora!" Poppy blurted from the stove, having nearly wet herself with excitement when Viktor had entered the room.

The fat cook stopped a moment to send a sharp look at the girl. Oh if only looks could kill! Pressing her lips into a thin line, Tilda's face fell back to the bench. "Hand me that sack, boy. If yer gunna be a distraction to the girls in here, yer gunna be of some help." She barked pointing to the cloth sack full of flour that was on the far end of the bench near where Viktor stood. Then, slowly, a grin crossed her face. "An' if ya go an' feed these sweets ta the 'ounds... I will walk ya up by the ear to yer father meself and let ya explain why it is the High Council no longer has a seat for any Erikson...." Her words were playful, but there was a tone of seriousness to them today.

The short, freckled faced Poppy let out a fearful gasp. "OH, please, don' hurt 'im, Tilda... I will take 'is lashes fer 'im!" She began to babble, dropping the wooden spoon into the pot she had been stirring.

"STUPID GIRL!" Tilda roared. "Get back ta yer work or else ya will be gettin' some lashin's of yer own."


[System]
Age: 3423 (assuming the Silver Age of Ovid's Four Ages)

Gender: Female

Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Spider Queen (formally human)

Physical Description:

Talents:Mother of all spiders, expert weaver, informant, and political clout.

History:Arachne, the namesake and origin of all arachnids. In a bygone age her arrogance and haughty attitude brought the wrath of the Greek goddess, Athena. At the attempt to insult and put herself as an equal to the gods she was cursed so that she and her descendants would weave forever. Transformed the woman became the first spider. Under the thumb of those more powerful she remained hidden for thousands of years. But as fate would have it even so called gods had their time. The queens spawn spread across the four corners of the Earth. With no one to stop her Arachne used her children to begin gathering information. Very little escaped her far reaching grasp, spiders having become common place throughout the world. Of course humans were not highly liked by her as they were always crushing her creations. In retaliation she made more deadly variations to fight back.

As the ancient times gave way and humanity advanced the Spider Queen gained quite a reputation among the supernatural world. Everyone had their secrets and she would cling to them as her tiny agents crept and crawled their way into everything. Staying out of most internal politics she also made moves in the mortal world. Offering her services she could steal most anything either through persuasion, intimidation, or execution. Assassination of an individual took little more than a spider bite.

Growing in influence and wealth she changed her public appearance for modern times. Having again assumed a human form she has emerged from the darkness to build an empire among the mortals. For a time she had others hold her place as President of the company but recently has taken the position herself. Of course she still holds an influence in the supernatural, and largely remains "untouchable" for fear of untold secrets being revealed in both realms. Holding a high position in several courts the sudden silence from New Camden did not go unnoticed.

Psychological Profile:She can be cold and values information above most other things. It can be a flaw at times. Having an affinity for neither the human or supernatural sides she treats them both with little regard. Some would say that acting human has made her soft though. Still everything and everyone is another piece to be used. Obviously some must be treated better than others. There is something to be said for respect after all.

Possessions:Athenian Law Group, a law firm that has its hands in many facets of both worlds. A tribute or insult to the former goddess; Spiders, as the original source of all spiders she rules over them. It may not sound like much but varying in size and deadly potential the public only sees the surface.

Yes, and: Acting as a buffer between worlds, Arachne's firm will often intervene on behalf of the courts to keep those who do not belong in the human world off the radar. She both employed Karram and appointed him to handle Claudia's case.

[User]
"I'm sorry," Parry said, finally breaking down when Rikive took his hand. "I keep fucking up. I'm not... I'm impossible. I'm not pulling my weight. Getting in everyone else's way. I'm just-"

'Over a barrel' wasn't the most pleasant phrase, but it was exactly how Parry felt right now. He'd tried some freaky shit in the past 500 years (and an awful lot in the last 500 days) but it was always consensual and fun. Right now he could only wait and hope that whoever had his sword wasn't sure what it could do or how they might use it. Truthfully, the blade was just a blade in any mortal's hands. Dangerous and impossibly sharp for something that looked like it'd been dug up in an archaeological dig. Still deadly.

Any hope of that happening, of someone being completely unaware of what they held ran out the window and into another zip code as he felt that dark touch at his core retract, just like it had when passed between the two dark forces, but quickly exploded outward into his veins, up his muscles, down to the tips of his toes and the length of his hair.

Not an attack spell or a curse.

A probe.

Whoever had his sword was sweeping through him and would know for a fact what he was. Where he was? Probably not. Magic was powerful but it didn't hold a candle to GPS. Still, Parry forced himself to shut his eyes in case whoever was "scanning" him could see through him.

"Riki, I need you to go," he all but yelled. "I need you to leave. I want you to stay- I do- but if you want to be safe, you need to go now!"

Any wards Parry might put on himself were useless so long as Nemsemet had the Dawn Blade. He was over a barrel.

And the enemy had an open door to him.

[Assistant]
Rikive shot up to her feet when Parael curled in on himself as though he was in pain and started yelling at her. Something was happening, damn the heavenly realms! Someone was doing something to Parael's sword. Panic rushed through her, not sure what Parael meant by her needing to leave for her own safety.

"What's wrong?" She asked him, grabbing onto his shoulders. "Nevermind my safety, you're the one under attack! Please, tell me what's happening Parael. What in the Nine worlds are they doing to you?"

Why couldn't she have inherited better magical skills from her mother? If she had better developed magic, maybe she could have battled against whatever was happening to her friend. A human and a Light Elf have a halfling child and that mortal could wield magic and cast spells on par with their supernatural parent. They were some of the most powerful mages to walk the Earth.

Yet she was the offspring of a damned God and a Light Elf and the only magic she could cast was to heal bodily injuries. Even then there was a limit and it could be a drain on her. She had never felt so frustrated with her lack of magic until now, when her friend, someone she thought of as a brother, was clearly suffering in front of her and she couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It brought forth the fresh memory of watching Parael die under her hands. She could almost feel the warm, slick substance of his blood on her hands again.

She caught herself before she tightened her grip on Parael and took in a deep breath. She may not have magic, but she did have her strength. She had Winterthorn. There was magic in that stubborn, dusty old blade, she knew there was. She was going to unlock it if it was the last thing she did.

[User]
It was always an unusual experience when a vampire's prey was left standing. When they died, it was simple. They ceased to be, and all of their life became your own. However, when they lived on, the connection between a vampire and her prey could become...complex. On occasion, downright supernatural. It all depended on the strength of the individual bond. There would often be some sort of emotional connection, or fixation that spawned out of the personal feelings of the vampire herself. A mild attraction to a prey could become full-blown infatuation. Such situations usually ended in destruction.

For Kaori, the ugly mass of feelings she harbored toward the hunter took on a new edge. She now had a keen sense for him. His scent, even more prominent than before, could slice through a room of heated mortals like a beacon. His action spurred her to reaction, stoked the vicious flame of her emotion in an antagonistic way.

So when he condescendingly addressed her as "little lady," it was all she could do not to leap across the room and rip his throat out. These connections, after all, were not typically positive.

"Gray Conover," she repeated. The name rolled across her tongue like an ocean wave, smooth and powerfully possessive, "I've always tried not to name my food." That last line seemed a little too taunting to be delivered in such a pleasing voice. It contrasted in a rather disturbing way. She couldn't help herself. He had recently become the favored mouse to her cat.

"This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with," there was nothing teasing about that statement. It was painfully obvious in her red-wine eyes. She gave a small, weary shake of her head against the wall as her eyes flitted towards the hallway where footsteps sounded ahead of not-so-distant conversation. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you?" she said, referencing to the comment Beth had made about her interrogation to the group in the other room. "Why would I trust you with my name?"

By now, the dank room was full of varying supernatural beings. She shifted uneasily under the weight of so many eyes. She felt trapped, as they had intended her to be. Whatever concoction they had injected her with still lingered in her system with an oppressive grip. Slowly, she was healing, with her strength gradually returning. But for now, she was cornered, bound with her back to the wall. Even if she could break the rope in her weakened state, where would she go from there?

In her scheming, she inhaled the room around her, trying to get an idea of who she was dealing with. Her body instinctually tensed at the scent of lycan, her smooth features wrinkling in distaste, "I didn't realize you kept a house-cat," she dryly remarked. To her, it was akin to the unpleasant smell of wet dog.

[Assistant]
With the instatement of Rikive as their for-the-time-being "leader" -- Beth was not exactly fond of the term, she had to steel her tongue just to say it -- the question arose as to who would rule the Court if by some miracle they deposed Nemsemet. On the slim chance they did succeed, opportunities came in abundance for each of them. But Beth, as soon as her mind began to wander, cast the thoughts of such things out, at least until their efforts proved useful.

She stood tense behind the hunter in the interrogation room. She didn't need a body to feel the unease that shifted through the room at Gray's words. Something about him, aside from his occupation, disagreed with her. Whatever it was would have to be dealt with another time; they needed answers. Beth despised feeling empty-handed. Her best work required information, even the slightest tid-bit helped form a plan of action. As of this moment, she faced a blank canvas.

Beth glanced at the doorway when she heard Parael's distant shouts, narrowing her eyes until Flint left and she saw Rikive pass on her way to follow.

Parry wasn't one to cry into his pillow after a few verbal beat downs. Whatever summoned his panic came from somewhere, or something unknown... But that didn't put out the small pyre of guilt burning in the back of Beth's mind, should she have contributing to worsening whatever he was going through.

Flint knew him well, and Rikive might be some sort of best friend to him, they'd deal with it.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Beth stepped up next to the hunter, eyes pinned on the vampire. "Look, kid. We don't want you here any more than you want to be here... as over-used as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealings with Nemsemet?"

[User]
This chick really had it in for him. She was as insulting as they came. Though, how could he really blame her. The place was a regular menagerie and apparently she was the star attraction. The most insulting was what she said after labeling him food. "This city doesn't need a mortal to save it, especially one that doesn't know what he's dealing with." She was dead wrong. Nothing ticked him off more than underestimating the underdog. He held his peace just to let her finish. "Don't you realize your own people don't even trust you? Why would I trust you with my name?" She had a fair point with that last one.

Just as Gray was ready to retort Beth interrupted the scene. You could say she 'stepped' up to them except she didn't make noise and he could swear she never touched the ground. Her voice was airless and hollow. The best you could do without lungs. "Look, kid. We don't want you to be here any more than you want to be here... as overused as that is... and this trigger-happy moron will shoot you full of holes if you don't give us a reason not to. So let's make this simple and quick. What do you know about Rikker's dealing with Nemsemet?"

"I take offense to that." Gray responded quickly. "And I already shot her full of holes! Look where that got us!" Gray stood up from the chair. The desire to make this situation work gently was being dwarfed by the lack of respect he was receiving. "This vamp has the best point I've heard in a while. Why don't I just leave? You monsters'd be able to get by just fine fighting a war with each other! You'd fight to the point where the government figures out what's going on and smears you off the map. Just like EVERY damn time there's a supernatural uprising!" He finally gave pause. This was certainly a moment that he felt very clear on his intention and emotions.

"Yes, I'm mortal. It's my advantage against all you prideful pricks. I get to see the beautiful sunrise. I get to feel the world as God intended. And now I get to fight like David and Goliath every time I hunt. The Goliath in town is Nemsemet. He's dangerous, true. Yet we have the knowledge that he died. That means we can kill him again." Gray finally turns his attention to their bound guest. "If you want to save anything dear that you have left around here then you MUST help us stop him. Despite what most of these cursed individuals think I'm not here to rip things apart."

Damn monsters and their predisposition against hunters. Some of the best hunters out there ARE monsters.

[Assistant] Well this was turning out to be more interesting than anticipated. Looking at the group Autumn wondered how they would take Grey's shot at them. Though he wasn't wrong about what could happen should Nemsemet not be stopped in time. "He's right you know. So far the mummy doesn't seem to care much about exposure. Eventually when he starts coming out into the light then people that the outside will notice missing will be stuck in here with the rest of us. Spook enough humans with the big guns and there is a high chance that none of us will get out of this alive. The window of opportunity is sliding shut every moment we waste." She thought about mentioning that Beth would be alright but she was technically already dead so her words still fit.


[System]
17

- Gender -
Female

- Race -
Faunus (Viper)

- Weapon -
- Tenebrous Bulwark -
An incomplete set of massive plate armor, obviously built to maximize defensive ability. It extends up her left arm, stopping abruptly at her neck and the left half of her chest. The armor is comprised of geometric pieces, each layered over one another. The gauntlet and puldron are bulkier than the rest, providing additional protection. An area of interest is where the armor ends, the metal looking as if it shattered like glass, with a jagged break straight through what would have been the cuirass. The metal is a colored dark, inky black, highlighted with thick geometric patterns of bright magenta. Given her small stature, and the fact that the armor looks to have been used by a giant of a man, Andromeda utilizes her Semblance to hold it around her actual limb, the suit mirroring her movements.

This is her weapon's normal mode, however it has two alternative ones to meet alternate needs. The first of which causes the armor to unfold from around her arm, flattening out to form a durable shield in the vague shape of a stretched hexagon, the armor plates layered over one another. The top left displays the jagged line where the rest of the shield would reside, if it were whole. Even as is, the shield is roughly as tall as she is, and its width is about half of that.

The final mode is far more offensive in nature, where the armor folds inward on itself to construct what can only be described as a cannon. It shares the geometric design of the constitute armor. The hexagonal barrel is split along the middle and the body of the weapon is faceted into symmetric, but otherwise random, planes. The firearm launches cylindrical slugs at high velocity, under the power of her Semblance, whose effect is amplified by the firearm. The projectiles are loaded from a top-loading 7 round clip, and they can be replaced with specialized Dust rounds for various purposes. Like the armor and the shield, the firearm is incomplete, and cuts off abruptly just after where the clip is loaded. Far too large for her to handle by hand, she once again relies on her Semblance to hold and aim the massive weapon, though this results in a difficulty with precise aiming.

- Specialty -
Andromeda's fighting style, broadly described, is a combination of ranged support and close range "punch their lights out". Her weapon favors a more up-close and personal style, while her Semblance generally tends towards a more support or area denial role. More specifically, her hand-to-hand combat closely resembles a mix of a traditional outfighter and tends to be a counter puncher. She forgoes a more acrobatic style for the added striking power that a solid stance provides. Given the mass of her weapon, this style carries over to its use as well. In ranged combat Andromeda focuses on larger area denial and suppression techniques, removing advantages and manipulating the environment to her own advantage. Naturally culminating in a well-placed shot from a cannon.

- Semblance -
- Melody of the Abyss -
Her Semblance allows her to manipulate the darker aspects of the universe. On the most basic level, this allows her to project force in a type of faux telekinesis, generating areas of attraction and repulsion. Given the space-warping nature of this, she cannot individually "pick out" objects to manipulate like true telekinesis, making it far more imprecise. These areas exhibit a noticeable reduction in brightness and noise level, correlating with the strength of the force. Intense usage causes nebulous ribbons of inky darkness to shift in out of focus, and are accompanied by an almost sing-song hum, thus the name given to her ability. With great concentration, she can alter these fields to produce slightly varied effects, focusing on a particular aspect of them. Her ability to accurately control these fields weakens with distance.

- Stygian Song -
This application forgoes the physical impact of the fields in favor of nearly completely absorbing the light in the surrounding area. Rather than just being devoid of light, the fields behave more like a thick, black fog. A fog which seems to actively try to snuff out any sources of light in its reach. As of now, this is the only specific application she has been able to muster.

- Personality -
Coinciding with her choice of wear and looks, Andromeda is unsurprisingly loud and expressive in her mannerisms. She's got a big personality that normally projects itself out in an unapologetic and uncompromising way. She tends towards the eccentric, and is at times almost disturbingly cheery given her admittedly dark Semblance. She has an inability to stay stationary for any respectable stretch of time, though whether this is a conscious decision or not is up in the air.

- Color -
Fuchsia

- Emblem -
A radial shape with sharp spiral blade-like features fixed within a circle.

- Appearance -
Silhouette

Image by NarayanK

Loud. As good a descriptor as any when it comes to her appearance. Andromeda stands not quite tall enough to look most of her peers in the eyes, though it doesn't stop her from attempting to stand out. While not built large by any stretch of the imagination, she still cuts an impressive figure in the particular yes-my-eye-are-indeed-up-here way. Her form is well toned, with the defined musculature and lack of excessive body fat that comes with training as a combatant. Her complexion is a dark russet covered by a veil of freckles that dapple the area just below her almond-shaped eyes and across the bridge of her button nose. Her eyes look as though they can't decide what color they want to display, owing to the fact that they are an iridescent purple shot through with streaks of electric cyan. Their unnatural color is overshadowed by the mess of short, thick hair adorned twin long locks of disproportional length that frame her angled features. The mostly shoulder-length hairstyle is, at this point not unexpectedly, a fiery crimson-orange highlighted and tipped with midnight black. She could theoretically pass as human, though her heritage stands out under closer inspection. A series of small, smooth diamond scales trace her figure, running down her spine and the sides of her limbs. More noticeable are the ones pulling back around her head, starting just behind her eyes, which are angled a tad more than normal. The scales match the tone of her skin, and are harder to spot because of it, though they do shine with an iridescent color similar to her eyes under strong light. Her only other viperine feature of note is a pair of predatory fangs.

Her normal attire is only slightly less visually assaulting, normally comprised of a pastel graphic tee or tank top and knee-length shorts. Her right forearm doesn't seem to quite exist, in its place is what looks to be the multicolored result of countless years of collected bracelets fusing together under their own pressure. This is mirrored by the completely practical number of belts around her waist. Of course, a pair of black, military-grade combat boots to complete her look.

[User]
@Kaithas @NarayanK @Write

"C-C-C-Cooties!" Lauren squealed, thrusting her pelvis forward in exaggerated shock as Ben attempted his first grab at her ass. It was a little clumsy, definitely not telegraphed well, but all virgins had to start somewhere. She decided not to press him or tease him about it other than that, though - it would be way more useful to commit it to memory and use it against him in case he ever ran for elected office in one of the Kingdoms.

Poor Costa Negasi, whose lustrous coal-black hair had nowhere near the amount of silver streaks in it that raising Lauren should have imparted, was rolling her eyes from beside Sangue.

"So," she asked politely as her daughter continued chattering with her teammates, "San...gue? You must be the quiet one of this gang, child. I know my daughter can be overbearing when she's trying to coax people into hanging out. Do you have an okay handle on her?"

Meanwhile, Lauren was shrugging off Amy's apology with a flippant wave of her hand.

"Ehh, don't sweat it. Like Cap said, I always keep candy in the dorm!" It was an obvious little lie, compounded by pulling out her Scroll and tapping out a message, but the less Amy knew the less could be used against her in court someday.

`Sender: Roarin' Lauren Negasi
Recipient: Estelle Nuit [STATUS: SCAMMED WEEK 1]
Message:

Ta-da! Found it! It wound up in my lingerie order hahaha ;D I've already put your finder's fee onto the card so no sweat on that end! Give it back to you when I see you???`

"If Pops hasn't eaten it all already, anyway..." she groused, putting her Scroll up and sticking her hands in her pockets as they neared the dorm. There was no one standing outside BASL's doorway, but it seemed that the dorm across from theirs was getting a lot of traffic. They were some Mistralian transfer team, a bunch of bad bitches that Lauren had noticed around school once or twice, but the gang outside their door was positively eclectic; a young man with dark crimson hair in a scruffy sky-blue jacket who looked like he was barely Lauren's age was conversing animatedly with some middle-aged aloha-looking motherfucker to the right of the door, while on the left a glamorous blonde woman was hugging one of the Mistralian students, a purple-haired bombshell who was wearing one of the cutest non-BASL pouts around.

"--just give her some time, Evan," the blonde woman was saying, cheerfully stroking the student's hair. "Viv doesn't know how to handle people that well, even you. Even herself. She'll come around eventually."

"Y'promise?"

"I promise, sweetie. It happened with her father, too, you know. The apple never falls far from the aspie, Evan--"

Lauren tuned out of the conversation after a couple seconds when she realized her father was probably taking advantage of her distraction to ransack some more of her stolen swag, and the boxer took point on opening the team's dorm, barreling right in before the door was even fully open--

--and finding no one.

"Pops, I know you're in here, you old motherfucker!"

[Assistant]
Sangue stared at Lauren thrusting her hips forward.

As she continued to follow her friends around, her silence came to a brief end when Lauren's mother spoke to her. It was apparent that Sangue did not speak as much as the others had in the team, though Costa seemed more interested in what Sangue thought of her daughter.

She softly glanced between Costa and Lauren, her expression remaining idle and her lips sealed as always. A handle was... something that you could take a hold of. Lauren did not seem to be the kind of person who'd hold back, with few people knowing how to moderate her sometimes ambitious courses of action. Lauren was a very exciting and happy person, and it was impossible for Sangue to think about stopping that.

Being as honest as she could, Sangue turned to Lauren's pretty mom as she answered,

"I... do n...ot. Bu...t... I do n...ot... mind..."

Sangue's orange-red eyes traced Costa once more. The more she looked at her, the more she realized the things that made her daughter resemble Costa. It wasn't just their looks, but some of the more personal traits.

Turning to Lauren's direction, she noticed a couple of other people across the BASL dorm.

Her attention to them fell apart when Lauren burst the dormitory door open.

She quietly followed Lauren's lead.

@Kaithas@Plank Sinatra

[User]
Oswald Connoly- Corridor
Oswald nodded and let out a small sigh when Demetra mentioned how exhausted her Semblance made her. "I know exactly how you feel, about being overwhelmed by emotions. I lost a friend to something like that. He...chose not to feel anymore. I just wish there was more I could've done for him. We all saw it coming, but...he just didn't want to keep going." Taking a deep breath, Oswald quickly dragged his finger over his eyes, making sure that he wasn't crying again. "Sorry, I'm just...not fully over it. He was a great guy. One of my teammates, before Beacon." Oswald gave the pair a small smile, trying to keep his spirits high. He knew that he'd need to if he wanted to survive the next week without making his injuries worse.

"As for my Semblance, it is pretty awesome, but it's also physically draining. It takes a chunk of my Aura every time I move, though that's usually preferable to letting somebody else get crushed by an Ursa." He didn't pay much attention to the tone of Demetra's voice, mostly because he felt he understood where she was coming from. She reminded him of Blaine, during that last month. It hurt to be reminded of that, but Oswald knew better than to blame the poor girl for inadvertently bringing up bad memories.

"The firing range, eh? Sure, I'd like to see what he's put together for her. I just hope it's not too ridiculous, the last thing we need is that girl wielding something like what he has..." As the thought of Emerald trying to use Gren's weapon crossed his mind, Oswald smirked and shook his head. "The Academy would be a pile of rubble within a week, tops."

of Seraphs

[Assistant]
Andromeda watched Charon rush off, before glancing over at Ferris with a raised eyebrow, a nonverbal what was that about. She didn't press the issue, if he had something to get done, more power to him. Even so, he seemed... jumpy.

She mentally shrugged, and went back to her breakfast. Partly, the majority of her attention was held by her Scroll, which she had propped up against a glass on the table. She absently flicked through some page with one hand, absently taking a bite in between reading with her other. Parent's day, she had almost forgotten, almost. Making a big event out of it was kinda strange to her, she'd spent enough time wanting to get some breathing room away from her parents. A few months wasn't nearly enough time to make her start longing for home again. Home had been nice; idyllic, even; but more than a little cramped at times, and this was freedom at last. Sure she might've still had to share a room, but she got her own Scroll and enough space to actually store all of her stuff.

The food wasn't too bad either. A little sub-par, but some concessions had to be made. Speaking of, her fork struck the plate with the distinctive sound of metal on ceramic, and came up empty. Slightly startled by the sound, Andromeda looked up at her plate, and pushed it to the side. Giving one last glance at her Scroll, she collapsed the device and tucked it away in a pocket. It was still relatively early, they'd call when they could. Andromeda attempted to convince herself that she wasn't fretting over it. She wasn't all that successful.

"What about you?" Andromeda asked her teammate, electing to take her mind off of it, "Got anything planned for today?"

Raven


[System]
Alias (if any):Gungnir

Age:45

Faction: Normal - War Veteran and Hero

Personality: Al is a somber man, cynical to the extreme. He clearly cares little about mincemeating when speaking his opinion out loud and spares no one of his verbal lashing. His usual gruff demeanour is only a consequence of how war-scarred and emotionally numb he is, having grown a thick shell to protect his sanity over the years. Beneath all that, however, lies the once gentle nature of a man who wanted to do what was right for others, and that he would protect the weak with his own strength. Having said that, kids and generally youngsters are exempt from his cynical demeanour, and he has always time to lecture the young about the ways of the world.

Appearance: Albert is a grizzled middle aged man, with graying sideburns on his otherwise brown hair. Despite the surgence of wrinkles and the scars that pepper his entire face and body, he is still a bit of a rough handsome devil with blue eyes. Of average height and constitution, he usually wears a checkered sweater with a shirt, jeans and boots whenever he's off duty. On duty... well whatever his current chief says he has to wear. He carries a butterfly knife at all times, a gift from a fellow comrade-in-arms.

Background: Albert was born in some small town in North England. For the most part, his childhood was humble, but pretty uneventful.
 Just daily routines and chores, and perhaps the odd troublemaking or two. Born the eldest of three, Albert also learned from an early age the responsibility of protecting and teaching the younger. He mused in his infantile behaviour, that perhaps his calling in life was a teacher. However, when the Starbursts happened, his entire world vanished in a single night. His town was ravaged by monsters when he was on a field trip with many others as a teenager. His entire family perished.

The shock made him reconsider his calling in life, and after he hit the legal adult age after being put under estate care, the young man jumped in the armed forces as a sniper, who were bearing the strain of trying to hold the monsters off all while waiting for the Epics to take them out. Over and over again, he tossed himself in the battlefield with his many comrades, knowing that he could not win, only buy time and act as a human shield for the civilians to be spared of the brunt of the clash of monstrous beings versus the Epics. He never faltered. He never truly surrendered nor despaired. The hellish battlefield, and seeing comrades being replaced by new faces over and over again only made him more resolute. His rank ballooned up, mainly because field promotions were abundant in such a chaotic scenario.

And then, just as he was about to break, he managed to do the impossible. He managed to take out monsters with only his grit, his men,
 and decidedly inferior firepower. The events were rare and isolate enough to be noticed, much less alter the course of the war, but the deed had been done. Sooner than later, Albert was approached by his superiors, and decided to lend him to other places and battlefields in the world, usually where the worst situation was.

It was then when Albert broke. He broke two things. First of all, the preconception of Epics as untouchable, and second of them, the world record on sniping distance, as he put away a maddened Epic with a single headshot far from his reach. For his gruesome deed, the propaganda machine churned out a name for him. Gungnir, spear of Odin. He always found that nickname too pretentious, but he conceded, if only because it would lift up the spirit of his comrades in arms.

However, the victories he had won were phyrric, and in the end, the reality forced the governments to shut down the insane operations that had ordered Albert to do, specially after the show of power by the High Epics in Manhattan, which drove deep the point on how badly outclassed normal people were. Albert was relieved from duty, and with great honors. But the man couldn't stay idle. All those years in the battlefield, and knowing that somehow, the battle still raged on.

It was then when he heard about a certain ECPD department in Manhattan that could use people like him...

[User]
Jeanne - Redemption

Samurai

As she remained steadfastly knelt before the altar, the ascetic paid no heed to the grumblings behind her at first. It seemed at least that the man had decided to come in to house himself from the weather, and she would not hinder him from such. His voice followed her, the harshness of slang upon each syllable causing her to cringe beneath the edge of her hood; but she said nothing concerning it. The two of them were from differing backgrounds; she would not judge him, for that was not under her discretion. That power rested within the vestments of one entity, and she was not Him.

Two things transpired first. First he asked what she was saying, and the second came in a sharply close procession. He inquired who someone was, and his voice was focused away from her. It meant that somehow, not on a Sunday but on a Thursday, there were people inside the church. She slowly stood and turned to face the distant newcomer, and at first she almost reacted violently; however, common sense and her composure caught her first.

The feathers of light had shone brighter for just a moment, but then faded to their usual state.

Before her stood a Devil.

Another rumble of thunder from the heavens overhead snapped her out of the sheer volume of surprise she held, and she finally stepped from her place before the altar. While she traversed the distance with effortless grace, the feathers she stepped over dissipated into nothingness, leaving a haunting, luminescent dust that whisked through the air. The bedeviled man was courteous, and more eloquent than the deliveryman, but she would address Terrell's question first. Since it was rather simple to do so.

Before her form, her hands folded together, and her rosary came wrapped around both sets of fingers in front of her. "Firstly, I apologize for assuming your status in wealth, and what I said was a prayer speaking to God, and what I plan to do in his name." She began with, before finishing such with a definitive satement. "It is a oath to God. Translated to English from Latin it states the following:" Her head bowed, and she clearly gave for the prayer once more, this time in a tongue the two of them would understand. "And a Shepherd I shall be For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, so that my feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So I shall flow a river forth to Thee, And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen."

The Archangel lingered quietly then, with her head bowed pensively before the two. "It is an oath to fight to deliver us, and the city from evil. As long as the Lord sees fit for me to continue doing so."

"Yet, that does not matter. Not now." She expired a silence that hung heavily upon the air after a few moments longer. Her head tilted towards the Devil. "I know Terrell's name, and why he is here. What is your name, and why are you here? Are you in need of hope, or redemption? What can St. Peter and the Saints offer the both of you?"

[Assistant]
Redemption. Oh how that would be nice. How does one redeem himself from being a violent psycho killer? The Angel was slightly off putting. Her religious words and her formal speech just wasn't normal in today's times. This other man sounded normal, even with his slang. Her question was one he had been asking himself since he got here, why was he here? A church of all places could not help him, not really. He was hungry, it always made him go places he wouldn't normally, to try and stave it off, to try and avoid what he needed to do to survive. Normally taking a little at a time worked, kept it at bay, but sometimes he just got hungry, as if the beast within needed more than little nibbles. Didn't help that the angel was attractive, why the hell did that make it worse? So many questions and never any answers. He inclined his head to the both of them,

"I am called Devilstrider." He wondered if they'd recognize the name. He wasn't exactly famous, but criminals in particular seemed to know it. Eat enough people and it tends to get around. He held out a hand to the Angel,

"You are?"

[User]
Jeanne -- Sin

Samurai

Ever suspicious, Jeanne kept her eye upon the man who shortly introduced himself as Devilstrider. A pang of familiarity came then, as she recalled meeting some who had been on the receiving end of his ire. She had been told about how he had beaten them savagely, and it wasn't a sentiment she couldn't entirely disagree with.

"Devilstrider?" She inquired of his name, repeating it back to him. Only to have him ask her name in return. Ever naturally, she would reach across the distance to shake the offered hand. Her touch would be warm, perhaps even soothing to a degree as she gently grasped onto his rough hand with the silk tenderness of her own. "I was given the name Archangel."

By any measure, her name would resound with familiarity for the two in her company. After all, she had been part of the Epic community for several years, and was often at the head of the charge against any who would strike at the city.

Through all such things however, she did not forget that he failed to answer her question. Was he dodging it? If so, why? It only meant that she would indeed press the line of interrogation further.

"You forgot to gift me with an answer, Devil." She began with, ever calmly, and ever resolute. "Why. Are. You. Here?" There was tension in her voice then, as if she was beginning to lose her patience.

[Assistant]
Devilstrider smiled and released her hand, looking around.

"Curious place isn't? People come here looking for who knows what." He wasn't going to answer, after all it wasn't really her business. He was here, but what he was looking for wasn't of course. He sighed. He was hungry. He wanted to feed, to feel energy course through him. He wished it didn't feel so good. He tried to only feed on criminals. These didn't look to be criminals and Archangel definitely didn't fit the bill. Oh if he was hungry enough he would. But he wasn't. He was in control. Something he always told himself.

The church was a bust. There were no answers for his curse here. His tail flicked and he continued smiling at the pair.

"I suppose I should be going," he said.

-Pants

[User]
Albert sat in the stairs outside the central, his sights on the ever passing crowds of people and cars that still persisted this late in the night. He sighed, rubbing his eye. That punch had hurt, more than the shrapnel wounds he had been stitched a while ago. Turns out, mr McKenzie wasn't too thrilled that the Kryptotw*ts had turned his bright and young son into something worth scrapping from a front bumper after a trip to the countryside. Well, to be fair, he wasn't the best person to comfort people about the horrors of dying in the line of duty.

He had seen so many cases of this... he barely cared at all nowadays. Not even when faced with the ones responsible for the demise of his copper mate, he did even blink. Processing had the habit of making everything a chore and boring, even if emotions should've run high. He looked at his wrist, somewhat numb. Ah, a victim of his own success. He hadn't written that much in a long time. It was a good thing the rest of the folks helped.

It was then when he spotted one of the officers. Reagan? Regan? Yes, Regan was her name. Nice broad. She knew a lot of the proceedings, so her help had been very welcome. He couldn't help but steal glances at her furious testing, as he sit there looking at the street. He chuckled slightly, when a couple of taxis bumped into eachother and started a scuffle, right in front of the police force.

"Cabbies..." He just smirked, before turning to eye the officer. "Long day, huh?" Albert joked. Yes, perhaps he needed to reconnect with awfully human and trite situations from time to time. The soldier machine, he didn't need much more of that kind of stuff anyway.

"I so happen to be craving for some roast and puds, you know, lost quite a bit of blood back there. Wanna join? Don't worry about me smoking. I kinda tossed away all my fags long time ago." Albert smirked cockily, as he eyed the officer.

---

Unfortunately, she had been taken for the night. But as soon as her explanation was given, Albert pointed out the need for a wingman. Besides he really was craving for roast.

"Oh, well, I am giving that kind of thing a 6 out of 10, ma'am." Albert said, his civvies being a perfect clash of jumper and boots. "Hope you good folks don't mind one more. You know, a copper never ventures alone in heated situations." The old soldier nodded, his eyes scanning the present.

Lass on Lass relationship uh? Fine by me, I won't have to explain that I'm her coworker that much.