[System]
---
Gender : Female

Age : 20

Appearance :

Rank : Corporal

Class : Lancer

Weapons and Equipment : Theimer M01, Gallian-A1

Personality : Celeste's psychological damage has caused her to act out of place at times, or give her personalities that don't seem to suit how she actually acts. She is normally a caring person, she does speak most of what's on her mind, but keeps nice about it, not wanting anyone to be damaged like she is, which leads her to be insecure about herself and constantly berates herself.

Bio : Celeste was on a smooth road for the early parts of her life until her father was murdered. She was seven when this happened, and her innocence was shattered. But problems didn't stop there, most of her life was surrounded by her mothers attempts to drown out her own sorrow, be it by drinking heavily, disappearing for days with no explanation why when she returned, and even attempted suicides. While this damaged Celeste on the psychological level, it also pushed her forward, with the determination to leave her mother forever, and live on her own with the hopes she'd slowly recover from all the damage. But she always felt unwanted by her mother after the event, which makes her insecure and rather hateful of herself.

It wasn't until she was halfway through her schooling that she found out why her father had been murdered. Which was the last time she was given bad news in her life up to this point. And, at the same time, she got some good news. Some of her aunts and uncles, and even a grandparent, finally sat her mother down in a sort of intervention kind of way, and finally got her mother some help. She was also allowed to stay with another grandparent until she felt capable of living on her own.

RP Sample : (More of less some added bio, you know I can make posts o 3o)

Celeste stretched. A hard day working at her grandmas house. The old woman couldn't do much heavy lifting herself anymore, but was apparently a heavy lifter before she got old, Celeste was even shown some pictures of her grandma a few years before her bones couldn't support the weight anymore. All of this was believable, her grandma was slumped over, walking with a cane, and pictures showed her carrying heavy objects on her back. But she still had the spirit of a younger woman, helping Celeste when she could, and even talking to Celeste as if they young teenage girls near a handsome boy. She was best friends with her though, Celeste had written in her diary a few times that her grandma was the best, best friend she could have ever asked for.

[User]
"Sergeant, while I respect your intentions you and I both know that the Valkyrur didn't do us any favors; Kind of hard for a dead people to help anyone from beyond the grave. And I wouldn't be so quick to completely retire Bons from Lancer duty just yet... never know when you need another rocket firing after all." Andrew began earnestly. He meant no disrespect in the slightest, just stating his stance on the matter. It was amazing how merely making your stance on an issue known could attract fights but it was better to get it over and done with as soon as possible if it was going to happen.

Turning towards Corporal Celeste Stichler as she approached and introduced herself, Andrew offered the corporal a bow of his head in acknowledgement and a warm smile. "Oh, losing that title isn't all bad. Now the snipers have someone else to aim at. It's a pleasure to meet you Corporal Stichler and I look forwards to working with you. I saw/heard about your work during that training mission earlier on and you clearly have good aim... and a loud voice." There was a bit of a smirk at the end, but it was clearly good humored. Andrew couldn't help but hope that she didn't die.

Watching as a new transfer arrived, another Darcsen from the looks of it, Andrew nodded his head as they were all dismissed and given their assignments before they shipped out. As he walked away, Andrew's destination was clearly going to be the nearest stockpile of food he could get to. He had taken to heart the advice of his old corporal Jackrum (Surprisingly still alive, despite losing his left arm and both legs... And this was after losing his left eye in the last war. Apparently he was a quartermaster now somewhere) to 'fill his boots with soup. There are many means of dispatching an enemy without the use of guns or ammunition with enough creative thought and desperation, but an army that is starving can't do a damn thing except decide among themselves who's getting Steve's leg. Don't look at me like that, Steve wasn't using it anymore and it was good eating!'.

Corporal Jackrum was insane, but damn if he didn't give good advice.

[Assistant]
Fina

Fina felt she could die of embarassment, tears swelling in her eyes. Although the paternal smile of the sergeant did manage to settle her mood a bit. She straightened the best she could, and saluted upon receiving the orders, before hurriedly going her assigned bunk, and doing some minor adjustments and combing to her face. The sergeant had told them to clean themselves, but she wasn't that dirty. Sighing audiblely, she then began browsing her knapsack, trying to make mental note of what she would really need in her trip. Being a daughter of a peddler, she wasn't half bad when it came to the inventory and organizing knapsacks. I still have no clue about the whole thing. She ghastly remembered of her lateness. Sure, she had seen the papers, but that didn't match personal briefing.

Well, she would have to improvise. Or she could ask the sergeant? Maybe, without prying eyes, words would come out. Yes, that wasn't a half bad idea, actually. But first, the food. Fina bit her lip. A lot of other recruits would be stockpiling, since an operation was inbound. The dirty looks, the insults, the shoves, they all would be there.

But if she didn't dive in headfirst, she couldn't fight as militia. And she probably wouldn't find her family. She took a deep breath and set her sight straight, a frown forming in her face. She was determined. She was aloof. She flinched upon seeing others staring at her gait.

"Aaaaa..." She let a weak wail before assuming her usual stare into the ground and she began stockpiling food. Hurriedly and trembling, but efficiently. And then, she was gone, before the people could ever actually ask or wonder who she was. The ammunitions were a similar thing, really. She had surprised one or two recruits when she appeared to procure ammo without making a single warning or noise of her presence, other than a muffled Sorry apology.

And then, she headed toward Sergeant's Harald bunkhouse. She stood idlely in the entrance, fighting an internal battle of entering and talking to him, or fleeing and hiding under the blankets of her bunk in embarassment. The fight was decided for her when someone accidentally bumped into her, sending her inside, and face first into the ground of the Sergeant's tent. "Stupid spaced out darkhair." She could hear someone muttering at her back before resuming its walk.

Fina didn't even bother moving from her awkward position. "Umm...sergeant." She said. "I have some quesquesquesquesquestions...sorry." She added, hesitatingly.

---

Sig

"What am I now? A horse?" Sig muttered under his breath as he shifted gears and restarted the march upon Lieutenant Beirmann's kick in the shoulders. Sigismund sighed as he switched gears and moved the steering system, his full attention on the course at hand. He was no fool, a slower and heavier tank did not mean an easy driving, like many novices would think. In fact, driving lighter models was easier as you could always make minor shifts in trajectory to compensate. But for a superheavy tank, it was a different story altogether. He had to minimise the movement, and take in account parameters like the probable movements of the enemy forces, the rough terrain, and not expose the back of the engine, because the precious seconds needed to turn the tank could be exploited by lancers with lethal efficiency.

The old veteran shrugged upon assessing the enemy forces. Poor bastards. This is like a partridge hunting ground. he assessed mentally, feeling a tingue for sympathy towards the ill-prepared Gallians. Still, his past allegiances were in the past. He now had to fight and help the 655 massacre them. Wow, you guys got the short stick. Sig finished positioning the tank, taking care not to expose the weaker parts of the armor to the highest concentrations of enemy firepower, while at the same time allowing his gunner to have an steady aim. He also kept on guard, ready to rev up to continue its movement.Haha, as if. This kind of tank is endure or die. There's no evasive maneuver. Still, I'm confident in its armor. He added bitterly in his mind.

"Sing, baby sing! I want pretty explosions!" He cheered upon the tank's firepower.

[User]
Celeste
"Heh. Guess I could always shout Imps to death, or become a drill sergeant if I become too wounded to fight." She jokingly remarked, trying to hide the fact that her shouting was the result of a mental snap. Celeste looked around, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a few things to take care of." She said as she began walking towards a food stockpile

Celeste found herself thinking about the new Darcsen. She knew what favoritism could do to a high ranking officer, and wondered if the Sergeant would tempt fate in order to show favoritism to her. Celeste would admit that she didn't know the Sergeant enough, but a Darcsen being an officer and having a lower rank Darcsen could only spell bad news to her.

Regardless, she had things to do. First on the list was to grab food for the operation. So she made haste to get that done, grabbing provisions quickly and not really looking at what the food was. For all she knew, she might have picked up some dog food and would have to eat it, she just hoped it tasted good.

Once she was done with that, she went to the Sergeant's bunkhouse. Celeste needed to talk to him briefly, it was mainly an apology for her snap during training, but also wanted to know his take on the operation, and possible plans. "Sergeant" She said, giving him a salute. "I'd like to talk to you." After a brief pause for him to acknowledge "First, I'd like to apologize for my snap during training, it was uncalled for. Second, I'd like to know what the possible plans are for this deployment."

After some time, the new Darcsen wondered in, apologizing for nothing really. All she had were some questions, and she wasn't really interrupting anything important or special. Celeste didn't think so anyway, the Sergeant may.

---

Lynette

The operation had commenced. Lynette stood atop a hill just high enough to overlook the now unfolding battle. She herself had confidence in the tanks performance. Though she was prepared for any technical or mechanical problems it may face. The hill itself was flat enough for a small table, which held a small note pad and a glass of water. Her field glassed hung around her neck, ready to be brought up in time of need. She didn't have her rifle, but did have her pistol, and her normal guard. Lynette also had a radio nearby, ready to contact the tank when ever she felt it necessary. Which she would do soon.

The armored car sat behind the hill, ready to run in the event that position was compromised. He wasn't much, but it did have speed and maneuverability to run around a tank should one appear. Infantry was no problem for the car either.

After the first shot or two rang out, she contacted the commander. "I expect results." Lynette didn't say anything else. If the tank blew up, that was a result. If the tank lived through battle, that was a result. Everything that could possibly happen to the tank was a result of something, and she was ready to list these results as they came.


[System]
Age: 16

Year: 6th

Element: Fire

Parents and backstory: Simon never knew much about his biological parents. From what he understood, his mother was very young, and his father was a deadbeat that left her unable to care for a child. He was brought up in an orphanage, and the closest he had to actual parents was the orphanage staff. He was a reserved child and kept to himself, but he formed a bond with a woman there named Teresa, who taught him to read and always brought him new books to nurture his apparent intelligence. Teresa was a teacher as well as a mother for Simon, and he is one of the few people he actually cares about. He was, unfortunately, never adopted, and so spent all of his childhood in the orphanage until he was summoned by the academy to hone his talents.

Appearence:

Typical dress: Inexpensive clothing. A single-colored T-shirt and some slacks or jeans. Simon doesn't have the money for fashionable outfits.

Favorite weapon: Words. Simon would rather talk his way out of a situation than resort to physical violence. However, he is not beyond verbal lashings. If you do something stupid, he will call you on it. He may call out the futility of your efforts, he may simply insult you. Or, he may decide to use sophisticated rhetoric to convince you to do his bidding. Either way, Simon is more of a speaker than a fighter.

Hometown: London, England
Non-Elemental talent: Studying. Simon has a ton of book smarts. Give him a piece of information, and he is great at memorizing, comprehending, and analyzing it. He knows how to research information as well, and always seems to find what he is looking for.

[User]
Pierre Roux

@Joshua Tamashii@Darkmoon Angel

So that was it then, no great new start to a senior and junior relationship that Pierre had dreamed about. The blonde boy slouched his shoulders, feeling a bit dismayed. This year would have a very disappointing start if he didn't do something else. Sure, the boy couldn't go around using his air, but he was still a second-year! And that came with some form of knowledge that the first years wouldn't have. Pierre peered around at the crowd, searching for a group to situate himself into.

There in a corner seemed to be a group of three first years. Mustering up some more courage, the boy moved towards them. One of them was using water to make letters, some kind of vocal handicap perhaps? The boy of the group was speaking in heavily accented English. Seeing as he may not have come from Europe meant Pierre could ask what it was like overseas! The boy loved asking about different cultures. The other girl looked a bit shy as well, but actually, she didn't look like a first year at all, maybe even a bit older than Pierre was!

Pierre hoped he could still snag the position of a helpful upperclassman, "Hello everyone! My name is Pierre Roux, and I'm a second year. If any of you need any help around these parts, I'll help out in any way I can!" He looked over at the boy, "Hi there Lin! Is this your first time in Italy?" He gave a quick smile to the two girls before turning to face Lin.

[Assistant]
Xiao Lin
Tamashii @Darkmoon Angel @AimeChambers

A boy a bit older than Lin joined the group, and Lin was thankful that he took the time to address everyone unlike Lunaria. Lin nodded when he was asked if this was his first time in Italy. "I never had any reason to leave Shanghai before now." he explained, with a slight shrug. "I'm... how you say... still adjusting." The eleven year old bit his tongue to keep from saying that he was not terribly impressed with Europe so far and would go back to China in a heartbeat. He'd been kind of put in a sour mood after Lunaria's apparent lack of basic manners, but Lin wasn't about to take out his frustration on everyone else. He forced a smile which quickly faded, glancing down at the floor.

[User]
@Joshua Tamashii @AimeChambers

This turning into a nice little group introduction what with Amelia, who seemed to be communicating with water, Lin, who was more than likely not from here judging by his accent, and Pierre, a rather kind second year student, all introducing themselves. Lin explained that he came all the way from Shanghai, he must be having a difficult time adjusting, it also seemed like Lunaria had ticked him off in some way because he seemed to be glaring at her, what did she do? Was she rude in some way to him? Though, they were all sitting at the same table, and Lunaria just decided to acknowledge the first person she saw. Great, first day back and she's already made a bad impression.

"W-well... As I said.. You can just call me Luna... Sorry if I... Came off on the wrong way... I'm just... Ooohh..." Now she was just making things more awkward, she didn't know what to do, all except... "U-uhhh... Please excuse me..." Walk away. She proceeded to get up and leave the table, guess this year wasn't it.

[Assistant]
Xiao Lin
Tamashii @Darkmoon Angel @AimeChambers

Lunaria seemed to be leaving. Lin, who had already built a highly negative impression of the older girl, could hardly care less. Perhaps he was a bit touchy on the subject of being ignored, since after all his only living parent barely had time for him. Or perhaps he was just being needlessly judgmental based on the girl's seeming lack of basic etiquette. Lin remained silent, chewing on his lower lip as he stared down at the floor dejectedly. His feeble attempt to fit in with these kids didn't seem to be going too well.

[User]
Orithius Pethris Wyrmwood

Orithius peered at the others in the room. They seemed to be talking among themselves in a candid and forward manner that made him both uneasy and curious. The conversations seemed to lack direction, coming fast and dispersing just as fast. They would ask pointless questions that made little to no sense, or questions that seemed to have answers so obvious that they barely seemed worth the effort. He tried hard no to frown at them, nodding politely when she introduced him to the others. He took one of the seats she offered him, but made sure to take the one furthest from where the group had been bounding together. Listening absentmindedly, he tapped his fingers on the table- absentmindedly repeating the main movement of the Arabesque over and over, before he realized what he was doing. He placed his hand flat on the table and closed his eyes for a moment. He envisioned his favorite coffee mug at home, currently filled and being kept warm by the coffee machine. The next moment, a small sigil on the cup glowed, before it vanished and reappeared next to his flat palm on the desk. He picked up the steaming cup and peered at the others, keeping quiet as they prattled on. He closed his eyes and smiled slightly as he took a comforting sip.

[Assistant]
Rosalie Von Kruger

Catching up with friends were pretty nice. Everyone was talking about what they had done over summer vacation. It wasn't long until Rosalie gets sucked into the conversation until she notices that Orithius was distant from the group, he had even conjured up a cup of coffee. Before she could say anything the professor began class and so she had no choice but to turn around and pay attention.

"Welcome to Advance Magical Defense blah blah blah I have high expectations from you older students blah blah..." The class was so boring she couldn't focus long enough to get 5 words in.
Next class was supposed to be "controlling your element" but since she got ahead of the class, she and a few others received permission to use the period as a volunteering opportunity to earn extra credit in any other class. (Of course, that extra credit is going towards MD). She chose to be a teacher assistant in the 1-2 year classes, helping out new students with their elements. She looks to Orithius who was focused on the professor and thought "Maybe it will be easier for him to interact with the freshman." She pondered if she would use this opportunity to make some freshman friends for once since most of her friends were in the same grade or older.

[User]
Amelia Averyonnna
@Darkmoon Angel@AimeChambers

Amelia frowned as events played out before her. The boy who introduced himself as Lin was giving off a rather angry aura and this made Amelia rather nervous to interact with him. She had seen what people were capable of when angry and she had no interest in seeing anything like that again. When the boy spoke though, she realized something was different about him, as he didn't sound like anyone she had heard before.

Before she could dwell on this, another boy approached and began talking to them, introducing himself before addressing Lin. This one also sounded weird and it confused her. Maybe it was a guy thing? She honestly didn't know. Turning back to Lin as he responded to the question asked at him, she again couldn't help but feel as though the boy was rather angry at something.

This hostile attitude seemed to have an effect on Lunaria, who quickly got up and began to leave. Wondering why this was, Amelia quickly had her water get in front of Lunaria before shaping it again.
Why are you leaving? Didn't you come to talk? it read. After giving Lunaria a second to read it, Amelia had the water return to her before having it form an arrow that arrow that pointed at the two boys that then turned into an innocent question, though she was careful with her wording so as to avoid upsetting anyone. Why do you two sound different?

[Assistant]
Pierre Roux

@Joshua Tamashii@Darkmoon Angel

So it was his first time in Europe! Luckie~ Pierre was genuinely curious what the first year's home country was like and wanted to ask more about it one-on-one, but right now wasn't exactly the best time for it. "Trouble adjusting, eh? Well! If you need any help with the culture differences, I'm here to help!" He gave the smaller boy a pat on the back before addressing the other two girl students.

Luna, the older girl seemed to be out of her element and started to move away, only to have a hand come down on her shoulder by Pierre, "Oh, don't worry Luna! Everyone is just getting introduced, why don't you stay?" He gently turned the girl back around to face the others before letting her go. Just because he was used to being hands on didn't mean he was that comfortable touching a girl for longer than a second. Plus, she was an upperclassman!

After doing this, Pierre peered at the question in the water, "Hmm, it may be because of puberty! Our voices are in fact growing lower thanks to reaching maturity... Or maybe you are talking about our accents?" Pierre pointed between him and Lin. "We all seem to come from many different places and with that we have different language and customs!" The boy gave a happy smile as he explained.

[User]
Orithius Pethris Wyrmwood

Orithius listened to the lecturer with an almost palpable level of boredom. Clearly they were being lenient with the people who are of a lower level, because it seemed to be just a rehash of previous years of work, and a few tentative explorations as to how these defensive measures might be incorporated in new and innovative manners, so as to coincide and remain relevant in an ever changing modern context. Most of the ideas they provided were impossible, or would result in highly ineffective forms - either the teacher was a moron, or he was testing whether or not someone would call him out on his shittalking. Orithius hoped it was the latter, because if it were not then he was going to have to log a formal complaint.

He sighed and sat back in his chair, looking at the girl - Rosalie - again. She seemed to be not paying much attention. Considering her scores however, he assumed it was less out of informed boredom, and mostly because of disinterest. She wanted to be friends. Informal friends. It still made no sense to him, but he tried to keep an open mind. Perhaps he should invite her over to the house. Would she mind? There was a slim chance that she might be overwhelmed, like other people seemed to be. Kissing his father and mother's asses when they eventually come over. Then again, he is just intending to use her to facilitate his own social needs... if she were to use him to further her own financial or political goals - could he judge her? Probably not.

 "Mr Wyrmwood, the answer please." Orithius looked at the lecturer and then at the board, and noted a few notes on Last-Resort theories to cripple your enemies when your defensive stagnates have failed. Crippling your enemy's to give you a chance to restructure your defense... "Scorched earth policy? If your defenses have been crippled, use force to interrupt the source of the enemy's attack - i.e. cut off their connection to their element, cripple their capacity to use it, etc. While this might seem like a purely offensive stratagem - since we are talking about last-resorts, the resulting time you will get as your opponent tries to rebuild their offensive measures, will aid you in reestablishing a coherent defense or consider retreat. Is that sufficient?" Orithius looked on with a raised eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. The lecturer wrote down a few points before continuing. Orithius sighed and continued to listen a little bit more attentively.

[Assistant]
Tamashii @AimeChambers @Oliver

Lunaria was just about to leave to sit somewhere else when a combination Pierre and Amelia's words told her to come back. This just made her even more nervous, though if they actually were interested in what she had to say then it shouldn't be that bad. Turning back around everyone seemed to have said a bit on where they originally came from, so in turn Lunaria decided to give her story. "Well... I came overseas... All the way from the United States... Its my 4th year here but... I don't know I just feel... Awkward... When I talk to others..." She didn't want to give too much on herself, that would just make things harder for herself, the least she could do is help the matter with Lin.

"L-listen... Lin was it? I don't know if I... Offended you in some way... But If I did... I'm sorry for it..." she bowed her head at the end, she really didn't want her first interactions with people to go bad for her. She had to at least make some acquaintances this year.

[User] While most of the students were spending their time mingling, flirting, or just getting acclimated, Simon avoided the chaos and headed to the place he felt most at home: the library. The thing he hated most about being away from the academy was that he was cut off from the vast stores of knowledge that were at his disposal. In his time away from school, he had already created a reading schedule for himself and already knew the books he wanted for his first week of school. In addition to his assigned readings, of course. Upon exiting the library, he felt like a packhorse. His bags still held all the books he would need for his classes, plus his newly checked-out collection that he didn't have time to drop off at his room. Simon loved his books, but he just wished paper wasn't so damn heavy. "If I were an air elemental, it'd solve so many problems..." he mumbled to himself as he passed a group of students of various ages that were hanging out at a table.


[System]
Age: 18
Appearance:

Years in the Academy: 4

Powers/Abilities: Mark has bonded with a strange sort of cybernetic symbiote. It allows him to manifest a suit of armor over his body, and convert his body parts into different weapons and tools. The trick, however, is that he needs to understand precisely how the augmentation is supposed to look and function, otherwise it contorts his body into rather painful forms. Fortunately, the symbiote seems to have a number of preset forms it has presented to Mark, giving him something to work with while he sorts out working his armor. Current presets include:
Converting his arm into a Pulse Canon
Ejecting "whip swords" from his wrists
Back mounted Jetpack

Bio: Born and raised in a small town in Indiana, Mark Westbrook took a serious interest in engineering at an early age. Wanting to use his talents to help people, he attempted to apply to the Avengers Academy at the age of 12. Unfortunately, his parents didn't think he was cut out for it, and didn't let him send his application. Not one to give up so easily, Mark instead started looking into opportunities to learn more advanced engineering from Stark Industries.

While walking home from school at the age of 14, taking a roundabout route, he encountered a crashed armored truck. Not realizing the truck belonged to S.H.I.E.L.D., Mark ran over to try to help. While attempting to pull out the passengers, he made contact with a strange liquid that began to fuse with his body painfully. He passed out on the road, was found by a passing police officer, and brought home.

Over the course of the week, Mark tried t hide the strange metallic appendages altering his body, but of course was found by a Shield recovery team. He learned from them that the metal liquid was some sort of mechanical symbiote they found in a crashed alien ship. When it was determined that the symbiote had permanently bonded to him, and was offered a choice. He could either be placed under constant supervision by Shield, or be enrolled into Avengers Academy. Mark chose the latter.

After several.... painful incidents with his symbiote, he managed to learn about the presets in the memories of the symbiote. Finally able to make some progress, he quickly rose into the Advanced Training Program.

Family/Relationships?: friends and family, romantic interests, etc. optional!

Personality: Mark has the distinct disadvantage of being particularly shy. He doesn't tend to try to stand out too much, and is very quiet around people he doesn't know well. He only really interacts with people he knows particularly well, and even then doesn't say much. Of course, that's when he isn't talking about engineering. Mark is incredibly passionate about engineering, and can go on for longer then most would listen about it.

However, when Mark manifests his armor, which he has named Euclid, its like he steps into a second personality too. He suddenly becomes more confident, and far less hesitant. He isn't sure if this is part of the symbiote, or if he just feels more comfortable with his powers active.

Other: Mark has begun applying his lessons on engineering to symbiote, and works on thinking of new tools and weapons he can manifest.

[User]
4 Years Ago
Attilan dock

A young green girl sat on the edge of a concrete dock, legs dangling over the abyss of blue as she skimmed stones across the vastness of the sea. In a few hours she'd be on a boat to New York, and from there a plane to Los Angeles. She had never been to either of the places, and both seemed about as strange as mars to her echo chamber of a world view. Whenever she was able to visit the human world it was usually always with a set of royal guards or family members, and if not she was sure to be surrounded by representatives of humanity or dark suited bodyguards taking her around to see all of the boring historical sights. She jumped a bit in her seat as she felt the firm grip of her father clutch her shoulder. It was time to go.

Present Day
Avengers Academy
Brianstorm

Annabelle sat in her room reading an old tatty book she had picked up for less than a dollar at a local bookstore. An almost equally old record player sat on her disc, spinning away as it did almost every day. Currently she was feeling rather punk, and as a result The Sex Pistols blared throughout her room, and subsequently the room of the poor sod who lived next to her. She'd been at the academy a day early due to a mix up at the airport. You'd have thought that the greatest minds in Attilan could have booked a flight properly but it seems all their talents lay in science and philosophy rather than common sense. Her room was rather different from most students, dark and a bit untidy, her father would have gone crazy if he had seen it. Suffice to say she had shed her princess image in her first year, purposely neglecting to mention it now for the sake of hating the stereotypical image of a princess that most people would go on to associate her with if she told them.

She folded the corner of the page and tossed the book onto her desk before rising from her bed and heading into the shower. Half an hour later and she was ready to face the day as it were. She wore an open flannel shirt revealing a T-shirt bearing the logo of 'Theatre of Hate', just to prove to the new students that she was a real hipster. A pair of skinny jeans and converse would do for the lower parts of her clothing and of course as accessories go she was wearing a choker and her hair in it's usual tied-but-long style.

She made her way to the cafeteria, dodging returning students and new ones alike. She didn't like many people at the academy, but she especially disliked those who felt the need to be in such a hurry that they would shove a stranger out of the way. In her four years at the academy she had learned to dodge most students on the first day.

She entered the cafeteria with tired eyes. She stretched quickly before grabbing a tray and joining the queue that was getting ever longer. As per usual the food was sub par. When it was quiet the lunch staff were actually quite good, but having to serve a school of this size was a nightmare, and you could tell that the staff were overworked even at breakfast. She simply grabbed a bowl of cereal, before sitting down at an empty table, browsing her phone and occasionally eating a bit of cereal.

Soon after she dumped her tray and made her way to the hall of heroes, seeing Vix whom she had previously met in a few classes there. She sort of raised her hand in a lazy greeting before standing next to her.
"Hey, Vix, ready for another semester?"

[Assistant]
Will Fleeter

A decrepit, ugly grey station wagon pulled up several yards away from the entrance to the massive campus. As soon as its young passenger climbed out, the driver slammed the door at took off, leaving the small boy abandoned and staring up in awe at his new school. The boy's big brown eyes took in every inch of the gargantuan buildings and strange, futuristic architectural design. It was rather intimidating, actually. He'd never been here before, and had never imagined it would be this large. Were superhuman abilities so common they needed all this space to house the students? Impossible.

 He hesitantly picked up his old leather suitcase that was so ancient it looked like an antique, and walked into the campus. The Israeli boy had a strange way of walking. He sort of glided a bit, as if his shoes had no friction. He walked quickly, stiffly and with apprehension. He entered the main building, hoping someone could direct him to the dorms. A security guard showed him up to his room, a tiny little space that he was certain was a repurposed closet. It was comfortable enough, with its blue bed and carpet, old couch and small television. He put down his suitcase, and locked the door to the room, wanting to do some exploring before he got to unpacking.

Even though he wasn't hungry (on the contrary, he felt rather sick to his stomach), he made his way down to the cafeteria. That was where most of the other students were, and where he was probably supposed to be. He looked around shyly, seeing that there were no empty tables. He'd have to ask someone if he could sit with them. Og, crud... he thought, losing his nerve and deciding to skip breakfast and leave the cafeteria. It was around then he realized exactly how long the drive up had been, and that he really needed to find a bathroom. All the more reason to leave now.

[User]
James stepped out of his dorm room nice and clean, wearing a pair of worn jeans, some training shoes, a gray t-shirt with a dark blue canvas jacket, and on his back was his triangular shield given to him by his grandpa Rogers. For six years James has been trying to do the best he possibly could. He loved his family, and loved that he came from a line of heroes, but that isn't why he was here. He wanted to help people, it was in his blood. He could never turn away from a fight, especially if people needed help somewhere. It proved to be challenging at times though, here at school. People either feared or respected him because of who his grandparents were, and who his mom was...

James was quick to anger whenever someone used his family to try and insult him, and that usually ended in the other students going to the Academy's nurse/emergency room. He wasn't perfect, but he like he said, he was trying.

James made it to the cafeteria to see it already packed. Scanning the room he had to smile a bit. His grandparents would tell James about how humans and superhumans never fully got along until recently. There were many kids at this school who had no true powers, but they had a lot give.

He saw familiar faces, he gave smiles and nods to those who called over at him, and he was about to go grab some breakfast until he heard a lard crash and a "LOOK OUT!" James turned to see what seemed to be a little "project-gone-wrong" flying through the cafeteria. Screams and shrieks filled the room as the rocket-like object soared with incredible speed, right at a very young looking kid. James without hesitation ran and vaulted over a table, taking the shield off his back. James stood in front of the kid, shield drawn and as soon as the rocket came at him, he swatted it away with a metallic "Ting!".

"Hey!! Heads up!" James yelled as the rocket flew away from the crowd upwards. He knew someone in this cafeteria had the power to fully stop the thing.

[Assistant]
Mark was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, as well as a plain leather jacket as he waited in line for food. He kept the collar in the back a bit higher then normal to hide the plate that was his inactive symbiote. He didn't like to stand out. Gathering a good helping of eggs and bacon, he made his way to his usual quiet table in the corner. There were a few people he recognized and waved to, but Mark still preferred his solitude. He didn't do to well in social situations. It was one of the reasons why few people knew he was in the Next Avengers program to begin with. Hell, not many people had seen his symbiote in action, honestly.

Mark was about halfway through his breakfast when he heard the crash. Suddenly looking up from his food, he saw an odd rocket looking device come barraling through the cafeteria. He cringed as it looked about to hit one of the younger students, but breathed a sigh of relief when James Rogers came out of no where and batted it out of nowhere. Mark had certainly heard of James Rogers. After all, who hadn't at the academy? Still, it was another thing to actually see him in action. He shook himself from his surprise, noticing that no one had actually solved the rocket problem.

"Dammit. So much for blending in," Mark muttered under his breath. If no one else was stepping in, than he would have to. "Euclid, I need suit, jets, and whips." As he ran forward, the liquid metal from his plate shot around his body like a sort of cocoon, before skin and metal molded together into his suit. Getting to a clear space in the cafeteria, away from the panicking crowds, Mark began to grow two small thrusters from his back, and long, thin metal strands shot out of his wrists. Kicking off the ground, Mark flew above the center of the cafeteria, and threw his whips at the rocket. As they wrapped around, Mark made a movement with his wrists, causing small blades to pop out and latch onto the rocket. Pulling back as hard as he could, he managed to keep the rocket from hitting another group of students near one of the tables. But even though he was holding it in place, this was hardly a permanent solution. "I've got it.....I think," he said loudly over the roar of the rocket. "Some help would be nice though. Please?"


[System]
* Age: 20
* Gender: Female
* Appearance: "Hmph. Just wait and see what this witch can do." A very petite girl, easily mistaken for a child even on close examination. She resents this.
* Abilities: A highly capable witch, from a bloodline of magic users lasting back to the ancient king's times. Fio's catalyst is a sword, with a slender and elegant blade and a blue and gold hilt. She cannot fight reliably with it, but it is an excellent catalyst for casting spells all the same. Her chief method of offense is the conjuration of Phantom Swords, though she can use other forms of magic she favors Phantom Swords for her most direct and powerful method of dealing damage, as the Phantom Swords have considerable armor-piercing capabilities even in their base state when fired as projectiles. Her personal durability is quite low, and thus Fio also has capability in barrier spells in order to protect herself from being harmed. By casting a spell and attaching modifiers to it(such as summoning a number of Phantom Swords then adding commands to repeat the process to add more swords) she can alter it or increase its effects.
Additionally, she possesses three doll familiars. These familiars are intelligent and have their own personalities, feelings, and specialities.
* History: Fio's family has practiced magic for a considerable amount of time. It is said that she is descended from a court mage of the Ancient King, and her sword catalyst was a gift to her ancestor that has been passed down through the generations to her. Living in a secluded place, a small but remarkably cozy home, she swiftly gained a reputation as a witch due to her rather irritable interactions with travelers and her rather obvious usage of magic. Given her unique usage of a sword as her catalyst, she has been called both the Sword Witch. Needless to say, given her family history, it was only obvious that she would come to accompany one claiming to be a reincarnation of the King, if only out of curiosity. Can she really be what she claims to be?
* Anything else: Fio is a rather irritable girl who does not tolerate foolishness. While she hates being mistaken for a child, she has childish mannerisms such as a love of sweet things and a fascination with dolls and small, cute animals. Regardless, she is still a capable practioner of magic and will quickly remind anyone in doubt over her abilities of that fact. Personally, she is not at all certain if Sorcha is what she claims to be. Rather, she desires to find that out for herself, her curiosity being the main reason for her presence to begin with. While her irritable personality can make her rather grating to be around, she does not take alliances lightly and possesses a deep hatred for those who would betray the trust of others.

[User]
Luna fought like a woman possessed. As the fighting continued, she seemed to care less and less for her personal safety as she retaliated from where she was cut and bruised, ending with a lopped off head and sheathing her sword. After the men were all dead, she sheathed her sword. "... Good. Now, come this way, you four." Her concentration on her spell faltered, and the barrier dissipated. That's about what one would expect from her wounds. The stab on her shoulder stung the more she came to realize she had be stabbed at all. A glow appeared at her hand as she went to infuse some healing energies to it... Before the bandits started to run. "Bastards." She muttered as the bandits turned tail and ran. "This wasn't the deal." So the energy in her hand turned into a javelin that she aimed at the nearest bandit that ran.

That is, before the Queen told her to leave them be. A small frown crossed Lady Lightsword's face as she comprehended the order and the javelin disappeared. She turned to her Queen with no attempted to conceal her dissatisfaction with the order, though she made no attempt to show she would disobey. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, if we let them go as such, they'll target small villages or lonesome travelers an--" Luna cut herself off and bit her tongue. She grabbed the unconscious bandit by the collar and drug him behind her. She gave a slight bow to the Queen before she spoke, more politely this time. "Understood, My Queen. I shall report in an hour." With that, she dragged the man to some of the guards that were by the gate before leaning against the wall and healing her wounds a bit. "I always get too riled up in situations like that..."

[Assistant]
Ethelred

That could've gone worse. I suppose, however, it also could've gone better.

The woman retreated upon hearing the horn, leaving Ethelred with a maimed, badly frozen bandit. Any hope of questioning them seemed moot now- the bandit was so deeply frozen that he probably wouldn't recover, and it'd be unlikely he could catch Cecilia even if he chased her on horseback.

According to Lugh, the young Tuatha squire, the battle was over, and the knights were being summoned in the strategy hall. Ethelred would guess that it had to do with the bandit attack, and how they'd be responding.

"Thank you, but, I don't need any help," Ethelred replied, placing his hand over his damaged pauldron, simultaneously relieved to be uninjured and disappointed that the blow wasn't enough to temporarily free a part of him from his crystalline carapace. "I'll be heading back now, but first, I have one other matter to attend," Ethelred stated, looking down at the frostbitten bandit.

"I'm afraid your ice burns are likely too far deep" he grimly told the bandit. "If you are spared, you'd probably suffer quite painfully before passing, so I promise to make it quick." Ethelred readied his lance. "When you're brought before Rifelshka, I wonder if she'll commend you for your loyalty, or punish you for your sins of banditry." With that, he plunged his weapon into the man's heart. Finishing off a downed, defeated foe was a rather unpleasant ordeal for Ethelred, but it was his responsibility to ensure his powers did not cause undue suffering to his foes.

With the bandit dealt with, the knight returned to his horse, which was no worse for wear, which was more than could be said for the bandit lying nearby, with a hoof-shaped mark on his forehead. Ethelred was in a merciful mood, and decided not to check if the fallen man was still breathing. Besides, surely the other knights had managed to take someone alive, right?

His business in the forest concluded, Ethelred rode back to the town. He'd normally offer the small Tuatha squire a ride, but he was still quite cold.

[User]
Od

It was somewhat satisfying to have her blade finally leave a lasting mark upon the beast, severing it's trunk as it pierced through before slicing free through the side with a draw cut. She looked down upon the creature despite their size disparity as it was brought low by the efforts of her comrades. Her icy stare lingered upon the beast before immediately snapping over to the queen as she spoke.

Od's reaction was immediate, dropping to a kneel and bringing an arm across as she listened with her head bowed. This might not of been the standard the queen operated on with others but Od had been raised to act as such with the king she last served. Old habits were hard to break.

While she would have pressed the attack it seemed the queen had other plans, talking Luna down to keep her from pursuing her foes no less. While it stung to know that the mammoth rider still drew breath, leaving her words unfulfilled, the queen had offered them the privilege to flee which they had accepted. Od would not dare contravene her queen's wishes, purging the very thought from her mind. With a flourish she sheathed her blade, it's sheath being the only thing the blade welcomed. She did not need to even clean her blade for it abhorred letting anything touch it, cutting away at the world in every sense of the term.

During the queen's congratulations of her knights she seemed to express gladness towards Od being in one piece in particular. This seemed to befuddle her, her head tilting to one side with a quizzical expression as she blinked several times in confusion. Had the queen been particularly concerned regarding the possibility of her dismemberment? Od was hardly even aware of the deep slice in the side of her neck. It hurt, yes, and it made her breathing raspy, her voice hoarse as her vocal cords were still recovering alongside the rest of her neck. None of that really impacted her tremendously. On top of knowing that she'd be good as new as early as five minutes from then such wounds were things she had grown accustomed to living with. The Fomorians were always doing far worse to her before and even after she was freed from their cruel grip she knew nothing but war. Wounds were just a facet of living, a sight no less common than trees in a forest or bodies in a battlefield.

_
After all was said and done the knights seemed to part for the time being, returning to town where they returned to their various concerns. Od's concerns were with the health of the soldiers who guarded the walls. She went over them to confirm that none were harmed during the arrow fire the walls sustained during their battle. Seeing as most if not all the soldiers were fine this led her back to Luna who seemed to have born the brunt of the damage from this battle. Out of all the knights she was the one who seemed to have had received the most lasting wounds, the others either not taking any or simply recovering from them.

Upon approaching Luna she only slightly unsheathed her blade, lightly placing her palm upon the glassy metal which left a long fine yellowish line upon the skin of her hand. She extended this hand towards Luna in a silent offer of healing, sap-like blood oozing from the cut down onto her fingers. She didn't trespass Luna's personal space for this, staying a respectful distance back until her fellow knight consented to her treatment.

No words were exchanged at this time. Od was never much of a talker, the lingua franca of this land still being her second language with her native tongue being fomorian. She can hold her own in a conversation but the intricacies of this language and her own accent often tripped her up. Such was the reason she was so laconic.

_
@Pyromania99

[Assistant]
Luna's wounds were closing and Healing at a steady rate with her own healing power. She stood in thought for a minute, wondering if she'll be punished later for her small outburst. Likely not. She shook her head in attempt to rid her mind of such things before she caught Od out of the corner of her eye. Luna didn't see what had happened after she started her multi-man brawl, but she did remember Od had herself catapulted towards the mammoth at one point.

The Knightess started to speak and ask Od about how her fight had gone, but before she had the chance, Od had cut her hand to release some of her sap-like body fluid with highly regenerative properties. She winced at the sight of it. Did she feel no pain? Luna had scarce talked to the girl and the thought had never crossed her mind.

Lunalel looked between Od's face and sappy wound before giving a small frown. The girl was offering to heal her own wounds by wounding herself. The thought didn't sit too well with Lunalel as her vision landed back on the thick blood that came from Od's palm. "Thank you Od but, I'll be fine. You're not the only one here that can heal you know." Luna said, taking a step toward her companion to show her basically healed wound on her neck, the only real indicator was the remnant blood.

That wasn't the same story for her back. It was a bit more damaged but that would heal with her constant attention. "I'm just thinking while I fix myself up." Luna giggled to herself as she smiled at Od.

[User]
Fio lowered her sword.

"... What a bunch of fools," commented the Sword Witch, a derisive glance directed at what little could still be seen of the fleeing bandits. Even with that beast, a bandit rabble like that assaulting them was doomed from the very start.

Nodding quietly to her queen's words, the girl turned on her heel and quietly stepped off the wall, the wind whipping past her as she fell. Before she hit the ground, a blue platform of light spread beneath her feet, and she lightly bounced in the air for a moment before descending a far more harmless drop, bending her knees only slightly as she landed.

Her hat, however, nearly departed from her head, and had to be held on with her free hand.

She would allow her most well-behaved doll to accompany her to hear the Queen's words. The rest would have to stay home. If all three of them behaved well...

That was categorically unlikely. There'd only be one. But in the off chance they all behaved, she would take all three.


[System]
Age: 25

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:

Unmasked. Fully Armored. Fleuri stands 5'10'' without his armor.

Personality:
The Jodeau family is known for its devotion to Reon, and originally, Fleuri was no exception. Tutored by priestesses and paladins, he was brought up to be honorable, selfless, and devoted. During his time as a tournament competitor, he cast many of these values off, becoming proud, materialistic and glory-seeking, desiring above all else to obtain the fame and wealth that his family no longer possessed. After being humbled by his near-death experience, he has returned to his old ways as a faithful worshiper of the sun goddess, along with a few pangs of guilt of having fallen so far. He still craves the thrill of tournament combat, and would not be above participating to aid the church again, but for now, he has more important duties.

Those who have met him can attest that Fleuri is a man of action. He is hot-blooded and quick to act or speak, but not necessarily foolish or impulsive- his experience fighting in tournaments taught him the importance of quick thinking and decisive action when windows of opportunity appear. When he speaks, he never makes claims he cannot back up and never makes promises that he does not believe he can keep.

Brief Backstory:
The Jodeau family is a once powerful, now minor noble family in northern Thaln. Over a century ago, its head at the time, Armand Jodeau, dedicated himself and his house wholly to Reon. As proof of his devotion, he gave most of his family's then-considerable land to the serfs that worked them, both to prove his lack of materialism and to demonstrate his devotion to the church's opposition to slavery. Armand would go on to serve a Paladin of Reon and later an Iron Rose Knight before embarking on a quest which he never returned from. Ever since then, the Jodeau family has remained close to the Church of Reon, both to honor Armand and because in their impoverished state, they have become reliant on the charity of the church.

Fleuri was the second child of the Jodeau family and was thus groomed to become a knight. His family had little in terms of wealth or holdings, but the church provided that which his family could not. Consequently, Fleuri received an education from Reonite priestesses and was trained in knightly combat by Reonite paladins. While the rebellion raged, Fleuri served as the squire of a paladin of Reon, battling necromancers that sought to capitalize on the bloodshed and death. As noble as it was, he was frustrated by the unsung nature of their behind-the-scenes quest while others were gaining fame and prestige on the battlefield. When he was knighted, shortly after the end of Phoran Cal's rebellion, he set out into the world to serve as a knight-errant, spreading the word of Reon.

During his travels, he began entering the tournaments in the lands he passed through, where, with many of Thaln's knights dead or disgraced as a result of the war, there was a shortage of contenders. Utilizing the training he had received from the Reonite paladins, Fleuri proved himself a capable tournament fighter, and as time went on, he became increasingly successful on the tourney grounds. At the same time however, he began to drift from his original purpose and turned his mind to fame and wealth. He stopped aiding those he passed, and began planning his journeys solely for the purpose of competing in tourneys.

While traveling to one such competition, he fell deathly ill from a fever and sought aid from the Church. As he laid there, tended to by the priestesses, all he could think about was how he had fallen from his path, more concerned with gold and glory than helping others, and now faced the prospect of dying before he could make amends and correct his mistakes. When he recovered, he attributed it to the will of the goddesses. He renewed his vows and vigil at the church, rededicating himself to fighting evil and aiding the innocent. Fleuri may not have died, but he was reborn.

During the next tournament, he fought harder than he ever had before, and when the dust settled, he was the last man standing in the infantry melee. Hailed as a champion, and standing on the precipice of fame and glory, he proved himself a changed man when he donated the prize to the church and soon afterward petitioned to join the Iron Rose Knights, following in his ancestor's footsteps. Since ending his tournament career, Fleuri has served the order faithfully.

Equipment:
Fleuri owns two suits of armor. The first is the suit he started out with and is normally seen wearing. It was originally a tarnished, battered hand-me-down, but he has added onto and improved it until very little of the original armor remains. The second is his tournament attire, a heavier and more protective suit that bears the livery of the Reonite church, rarely used outside of competitions. His primary weapon is a two-handed sword, his preference for which he picked up as a squire, having come to appreciate its effectiveness at dismembering undead. His other possessions include a dagger as a backup weapon and a gray warhorse for transportation and mounted combat.

Skills:
Fleuri has been trained in the use of a variety of knightly weapons, but he is most experienced and proficient in the wielding of greatswords. He employs an aggressive and surprisingly fast-paced fighting style not atypical for devotees of Reon, moving and attacking far more swiftly than his armor and heavy weapon would suggest. He is additionally skilled in horsemanship and in the use of a cavalry lance, owed to frequent travel and the many jousts he has participated in.

[User]
Fanilly considered the proposals for approaching the fort. While getting close with stealth was undoubtedly an ideal approach, it seemed difficult even utilizing the long grass... Though perhaps the naga was more capable of stealth simply due to her nature? But if they delayed longer, then it was possible that there was no way that whatever force currently occupied the fort would be able to prepare...

... But...

... Something was strange. Something didn't make sense. If the fort was being occupied... where was everyone? At this distance, it should have been possible to see someone on the walls, someone somewhere.

But there was no-one. For that matter, there was seemingly no sign the walls had been sieged at all. The fort seemed as if it was almost untouched from the outside... Just what was going on? Surely if there had been an attack...

Something didn't add up.

"... Very well, go ahead and take a look. If anyone spots you, signal us immediately."

Once Dame Maritza and Sir Jarde had proceeded ahead, Fanilly found herself sinking deep into thought...

... What if they were too late? What if something had gone terribly wrong? What if everyone in the fort was dead already?

Unfortunately for the scouting team, there was little more that could be discerned on approach and thus nothing to be reported. Without going too close to avoid being seen, it seemed as if the north door was intact and there was absolutely no-one on the walls.

When they signaled to approach...

The knights were able to proceed right up to the north gate without being stopped. On closer inspection it wasn't even shut...

But within...

The first and foremost among these details was what had been done to the south gate. The doors were reinforced, capable of barring entry to anyone but those using siege weaponry or potent magic. They had been destroyed, splinters of wood scattered across the ground, one of the doors even smashed off its reinforced hinges and lying on the ground. And within...

Corpses.

The bodies of the soldiers who had occupied the fort were visible, now. Not all of them, but enough to make it clear what had happened. Bodies lay strewn across the fort's open entryway. They had died through various means, more and more discernible as the knights approached. Some had been stabbed, others riddled with arrows, some burned... and some seemingly hit with extreme force, limbs at odd angles. Whatever the case had been, the fort's soldiers had been absolutely massacred.

And inside, Fanilly could see a man wearing Thaln's colors frantically raising a crossbow. Spurring her horse on, she tried to get to his assistance...

A crimson spear pierced his chest before he could even aim.

"You could have just surrendered, but you had to throw it all away, didn't you?" said a voice, as the spear's wielder came into view. It was a strange tone, somewhat... squeaky in a way that might be endearing if not for the situation. The wielder's appearance was that of an extremely pale, petite girl with dark blue hair in pigtails, her eyes as crimson as her spear. The armor she wore was light, leather, overlapping to provide better protection. "What a wasted life."

Almost immediately, Fanilly drew her sword, cold fury in her eyes. This girl... she was responsible for this...!?

"Drop your weapon immediately, or the Iron Roses will kill you where you stand," she said, her tone cold and piercing. This girl had just slain a soldier of Thaln right before their eyes. If she did not immediately surrender, her execution would be immediate rather then after imprisonment.

"... Ah?" the spear-wielding girl looked up, resting her weapon on her shoulder. "... Ohhh, those Rose knights, huh? Heh, your captain's just as cute as I heard. I wonder if that's why you all follow her so closely?"

In spite of the situation, the leather-clad girl grinned.

"You don't have to be mad," she continued, "These aren't the noble soldiers of Thaln you think they are, or whatever the blazes you were thinking. Just go inside and you'll see what's really going on."

She shrugged.

"I dunno what happened here either, to be honest. Fuckin' bloodbath if I ever saw one."

This was... they weren't Thaln's soldiers? But they were wearing the colors, the armor... what was going on? To Fanilly, it sounded like a trap. She'd just seen her kill a man in Thaln's colors, and yet she was expected to believe that this girl wasn't actually killing a soldier of Thaln?

It didn't make any sense, but if it was a trap... then it also was a rather poor one...

The blue-haired girl sighed, cocking her head. Her pigtails bobbed. "What, are you going to attack me? Fine then. But it's not going to magically make your assumptions right."

She snickered. If they had taken this entire fort, there were surely other fighters somewhere around here...

@TheFake@Crimson Paladin@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@Raineh Daze@ghastlyinc@Krayzikk

[Assistant]
Tyaethe Radistirin

The vampire sat up on her mount, taking in the carnage... and then slouched back down again, apparently having decided that immediate fighting wasn't going to happen for any other reason. Not that her observation of the scene was entirely helpful... albeit accurate, "Captain, this broken gate leads to the capital and has a good view of the road."

Not, in and of itself, necessarily indicative of much--but they had been travelling for most of the day, and the dead messenger must have set out late yesterday. Something, one might expect, that would have forced them to head past this entrance either directly or bypassing it. If it had been under siege by this girl and whoever was with her... well, how did he get all the way to the capital, then?

[User]
Maritza Verenna
 Sliding through the battered gates, the naga unlimbered her rune-lined axe as she took in the carnage. "Whomever the attackers were, I don't think they were ordinary." Maritza commented aloud as she leaned down to inspect one of the more exotically killed soldiers. As she continued inward, the knight serpenta nervously shifted her grip on the axe. Nothing about this made any sense. It was clear enough that they were heading right into a trap, but the unanswered question of why raised the naga's nerves more than anything else.

 When they encountered the spear-wielding girl, Mari rushed forward. "Captain! Wait! This doesn't add up. The battle is over, better to clearly assess the situation than to start another on limited information." She called out before turning her attention to the unknown girl. "And you. Why don't you tell us who you are, what you're doing here, what happened since you arrived... and this may be an odd request, but show us your teeth." Maritza finished coldly as she watched the pale-skinned and red-eyed girl closely.

[Assistant]
The entrance of the fort looked normal enough, but upon entering, Fleuri beheld a gruesome sight. There were corpses all over the place, killed in various ways, and all of them appeared to be Thaln soldiers. It seemed that the fort had provided little defense against whatever had attacked, because the south gate had been destroyed and none of the bodies appeared to be those of the attackers. At least there appeared to be one survivor, perhaps they could get some information out of him.

Anything that can knock down a fort's gate and kill a garrison of soldiers without taking casualties could be a serious threat even to us, Fleuri thought to himself as he followed behind the captain. Any hope of getting some context to this attack from the survivor, however, was dashed as the was skewered from behind before the knights could reach him. Anticipating a fight, Fleuri discarded his lance and drew his greatsword, then waited for Fanilly to give the order.

To Fleuri's surprise, however, the assailant did not attack; in fact, she didn't even ready her bloodied spear. She simply and casually claimed to the captain that these weren't Thaln's soldiers and that the bloodbath had already happened before she got here.

She doesn't look like she's expecting a fight. She's either very confident, or she's set us up for an ambush. Fleuri nervously looked up at the walls, half-expecting expecting hidden foes to emerge and start pelting them with arrows from all sides, but he saw nothing of that sort. Just what was going on here, he wondered.

"I don't see anyone on the walls, Captain," he conveyed his observation to Fanilly. "If this was a trap to lure us in here, I think they'd have sprung it by now."


[System]
Gender: Female

Species: Snow Spirit, previously descended from a halfbeast (cat).

Age: Appears to be in her mid twenties or so. Actual age unknown.

Nationality: A bit of a wanderer, though her current life started high up in the mountains of Isilra

Appearance:

Equipment: She wears a mixture of fur and leather armor, frosted over, lending it to just a bit more impact compensation than typical, although anyone who examines the armor would find that it's clearly not been well maintained for years, though it isn't breaking down either, frozen in moderate wear.
In terms of weaponry, she carries a heavy metal greatsword, and a small steel shield. Though she can wield them with either hand, she tends to prefer to wield the shield in her left hand, and sword in her right.
Greatsword: Once a well maintained and sharpened weapon, it has since been encased in several inches of ice, leading to it losing a bit of its edge. Still just as heavy (heavier, actually) than it was, though the nature of the icy shell encasing it lends to the weapon being more of a heavy club than a sword.
Shield: Nothing really to speak of, like the sword, it has since been encased in ice, which does protect the shield from wearing down over time. Primarily used to deflect blows, given that the small size doesn't lead to absorbing blows particularly well.
She also holds a shattered pendant around her neck, only one large piece of the previous design visible, which holds a strange warmth contrasting the rest of her.

Abilities:
Physical: As a snow spirit, she does have a somewhat otherwordly strength, allowing her to wield her greatsword easily in one hand. She does have resistance to the ill effects of being in cold environments, but she can feel every second of it, leading to a rather miserable existence. Her senses have been dulled, leading to her being nearly unable to taste or smell, while her touch is numb from the constant cold that surrounds her. While her hearing has been dulled, her nature as a Halfbeast still leads to it being slightly sharper than a normal humans. Unique among snow spirits due to strange circumstances surrounding her death, she is able to move freely around the world, though this comes at the cost of being unable to float, and she does require food and water, albeit at a much lower rate than most mortals. Additionally, while her body is resistant to damage from constant exposure to bone-chilling temperatures, she can still be hurt as usual, and nonmagical healing is rather slow, unless she has a source of snow or ice, which can be used to speed the process.
Magical: Though in life she had no skill with magic, nor a large enough Mana Heart to use magecraft, her nature does bring with it...
Isilra's Chill: In a sphere around her, about five feet in radius, there is a constant chill in the air, slowly freezing things that remain around her too closely, leading to objects sometimes being covered in a thin layer of frost when she leaves. This chill is certainly below freezing, approximately 0°F (-18°C), and absolutely constant, remaining that precise temperature whether atop the highest mountaintop, or in the heart of a volcano. This aura does not, however, protect her in the slightest from any fire, only slightly weakening it before it would reach her, and she holds a certain fascination with the warmth of the fire, and its flickering motions.

Backstory: While the events before her death are an unknown to her, the events afterwards are not particularly interesting, mostly wandering aimlessly around Isilra for years, before eventually happening upon a raiding nation of humans, living with them for a few years, never taking on an identity, but learning of how the world has changed, and heading to the south, to explore, and potentially find... why she had lived. Who she had been before. Or perhaps even discover secrets before even her.

[User]
The halfbeast took an occasional sip from the water, swishing it around to keep a layer of ice from forming, though constant frost was covering icing over the outside of the mug. Noting the Anubite, she watched her for a moment, studying the dress, and the Anubite herself, noting the rather irritated expression.

Soon, though, her gaze flicked to the knight following her, blinking at the stiff, rigid movements, tilting their head, an ear twitching atop her head. Perhaps animated armor? That would explain the silence, and rigid motions... plus the power behind that armored fist fit behind a magical construct... Interesting. Rude, though, there were notices underneath that.

Glancing at her fellow patron nearby speaking to her, the halfbeast blinked a few times, tilting her head, before silently nodding, figuring she likely didn't need to speak where simple movements would suffice. Speaking wasn't particularly difficult, but it was more effort than a nod. Standing up, she took her water with her, to slowly drain, letting the cool liquid into her mouth, and slide down her throat smoothly. Her chill aura was more obvious from right next to Victoria, the cold chill settling over her undeniable.

Studying the notice, the halfbeast tilted her head, a frown on her face, shaking her head. She supposed she was a little prone to death... but then again, everyone was. She had just died once before. At least, she thought she had. It was a little fuzzy, but from what she had heard of her 'kind', she had to have died before. Wasn't everyone prone to dying though? In fact, if one was prone to dying, that would mean they'd have to have died commonly... This entire train of thought was irrelevant. The halfbeast quickly shook her head. Right, right. Tangents. Looking to Victoria, the halfbeast was silent for a moment, before nodding, tone quiet and near emotionless. "Perhaps. If they can speak at all, the motions remind me of magical armor..."

She gave a start at that realization, then frowned. How did she know what magical armor was like? Did she recognize the armor...? She hadn't felt any sense of familiarity towards the armor like she had to her current garb, when first she awoke... No, no, she must have just seen animated armor at some point before. Either way, she steps over to the knight herself, sitting at the table next to the knight's, but near enough for her aura to settle over both the other halfbeast, and the knight, waiting for their response.

[Assistant]
The Silver Piglet
Malstom
Republic of Laith, Samare

Spring, Archor 22 - Igni
Early afternoon, clear weather

---

The knight looked on in silence as the trio approached the table he was seated at, making no effort to greet them in the process. It stared quietly at Jack as he asked for details, then turned it's gaze towards Victoria, and finally settling on the snow spirit for a few moments. It then returned it's gaze to Jack, and began to speak in a monotone voice, slightly muffled by his helmet.

"I do not know why my mistress chose to word her request in the way she has, but I was told that I was to answer most questions to the best of my ability, so that is what I will do." It stated.

"My lady has reason, and evidence, to believe that she is in possession of several artifacts that function like maps leading to ancient relics of great value. She herself does not, however, possess the luxury of having the time to pursue them. That is why she seeks to hire people to track said relics down for her. She has in the past hired three other groups to do this job. Two came back with valuable treasure, though both had suffered losses in the process."

The armoured figure fell silent for a moment, likely with the intention of giving the trio around him the time to think about what was just said. Then, it speaks again, interrupting anyone who tried to ask anything. "You would be the fourth expedition, and you would be permitted to choose which of three artifacts you would like to follow. I have been told that one leads North, while two lead West, to the Northwest and Southwest to be exact. The majority of bounty found along the way will be yours to divide among yourselves, but a servant of the mistress will be accompanying you to lay claim to the relics my lady seeks. Any findings they state the lady does not have interest in will be yours."

"If you have any further questions, ask them now, so that I may answer them."

[User]
Jack Thorne

---

"Would you excuse me a second?" Jack asked, standing up and heading out the back. For a while there was just the regular chatter before the sounds of screaming overpowered it. Those who knew dwarven were either blushing or impressed that someone knew so many swears. After thirty seconds, he re-entered the room, adjusting his hat, and returned to the table.

"That's better." Jack said, his face like a contented cat, "Apologies, I've had a few (dozen) bad experiences with ancient treasure maps. Things are buried for a reason." He lamented that he didn't have enough money for another beer, even if this stuff is weak as piss compared to back home.

"I'm not thrilled about it, but needs must. You have yourself a professional historian and artefact retrieval expert on board.

[Assistant]
"Magical armor, huh?" said Victoria, contemplating the validity of the half-beast spirit's words. The thought seemed sound for sure and was possibly true. Although a fun concept to ponder, she kept her focus to the knight and the other half-beast and their inevitable interaction.

Upon joining the other two explorers, the knight finally spoke, although in an unimpressive and somewhat muted monotone voice. The knight explained that their mistress -- the anubite from before? Maybe, but not enough information to be certain -- was in the business of requesting teams of adventurers to locate several relics that could only be pinpointed by artifacts within her possession. However, the knighted continued, stating three groups were sent but only mentioned two of those groups, and the casualties they suffered. No mention of the third group at all. Great. The knight eventually sweetened the deal, advising that the bounty would be theirs to keep as an incentive if found of course.

After getting the gist of this request, Victoria took the moment to evaluate the request before them. The job was certainly dangerous, especially as three teams had encountered losses during those expeditions. Victoria could only begin to imagine what sore of traps and other perils await them, assuming the accepted. But coming from experiences, the greater the danger, the greater the treasure and knowledge that was in store. As she weighed the value of the request, the other half-beast that initiated the discussion excused themselves and abruptly left the room. She didn't think too much of this, that was, however, until the same half-beast, now outside, vocalized a loud varied storm of curses and other offensive verses and choice words. All of which were in a dwarven tongue. Impressive. So much so that it was enough to snap Victoria out of her train of thought. Made her snicker as well.

The half-beast eventually returned from their brief profanity-throwing-meltdown and looking rather chipper, despite going through said outburst one might experience upon discovering their letterbox was mistakenly used as a latrine. Although establishing their unfortunate history with other expeditions, something Victoria's curious mind was already drawing multiple conclusions, the half-beast accepted the quest; without any additional probing questions. She narrowed her eyes, almost as a natural response to catching on to a hidden detail. Suspicion aside, she rallied her thoughts back to the main topic and with that, approaching the knight.

"Consider me on board as well," she announced, though her tone alluded to an armed query, "however, I am curious as to the nature of these relics that your mistress has an interest for. How valuable are they to her and if it exists, what is their purpose?"

[User]
Well, the monotone voice helped add evidence to her theory of the knight being animated armor, although she wasn't sure whether them having a voice was normal or not, she couldn't remember too much about animated armor... or much, really. The artifacts were like maps? Which implies that they weren't actually maps, somehow... The beastgirl studied the knight closely, nodding as the other halfbeast left, not bothering to turn and look at him. Three groups had gone out before, while two had come back with losses... meaning the third hadn't returned at all. A dangerous adventure, then. Hm, perhaps there was something about these artifacts... and what in the hells is that noise?

She looked outside, ears twitching uncomfortably at the loud yelling coming from directly outside in a... vaguely familiar language, though she knew she didn't know it, based on the fact that she didn't understand what he was saying, it could probably be assumed he wasn't the happiest. An assumption that was only confirmed by his prompt dialogue, and she nodded, understanding somehow. Some things were better to be kept buried, but from what she had heard, there was all too much buried in this land anyways, they had to unearth some of it eventually... and better for prepared adventurers to do it than random farmers.

"I suppose you may consider me part of this little group as well. Would your... mistress... be that halfbeast who seems to have disappeared?" The ears were a bit strange, but she seemed like a halfbeast to the cat... She was rather curious about the answer to Victoria's question as well. While she wasn't terribly interested in wealth, these relics were apparently valuable enough for someone to send out 3 adventuring parties, so they must be important somehow...


[System]
Age: 33
Race: Terran
Homeworld: New Terra

---

(Image coming soon)

Adam is roughly 6' tall and weights about 180 lbs. He has dark brown hair and green eyes. He typically keeps his hair short on the sides, a little longer at the top but usually slicked back. He has a lithe, muscular frame thanks to his constant training in swordfighting, parkour and freerunning.

Childhood
Adam's life on New Terra never suited him. Born to a rich family made richer from their numerous investments globally and off-planet, Adam had everything in life handed to him. Being the youngest and most dolted upon, Adam developed a rebellious streak which often landed him in police custody or under house arrest. Finally tired of getting caught, he started training in parkour and freerunning.

By the age of 20, Adam had started his short-lived career thieving. He started off picking his targets carefully, making sure they were wealthy and very well off but on the other side of the planet. Eventually, his overconfidence caught up with him when he tried to steal a precious family heirloom from a counsellor. The counsellor happened to be good friends with his parents and Adam was made instantly. He was arrested and charged with grand larceny. His parents were furious. Adam had used their money to pull off the heists he had done in the past, including this one. They had enough and refused to bail him out.

After Adam was sentenced to 10 year in prison, DefCom intervened at his father's behest. The recruiter gave Adam two choices, either enlist or spend the best years of his life in jail. The decison was a no-brainer.

Military Life
Adam discovered while he wasn't the best marksman in his class, he was one of the best in close quarter combat. He had also taken up swordfighting as an elective and just like CQC, he scored at the top of his class. As he went through OCS, he found his strength laid in tactics and strategy but only did average with command.

After being briefed on the various areas of service, Adam chose to be a pilot. Always hoping that he would get off New Terra someday, he saw this career path as the best--maybe the only opportunity he would get to do so.

After graduating from flight school, he had joined various squadrons. Most of the time his squadron was on stand-by to help escort unexpected visitors, or they're patrolling a trade lane. One day, Adam was given the option to join the combat squadron Wylde Fyre to help investigate the mysterious disappearances at the fringes of League space. Just like 13 years ago, he accepted the transfer without hesitation.

Adam loves to smile, but he can't help himself when he's nervous or in an awkward situation. This tends to cause confusion with his friends and squadmates. Adam avoid explaining it, mostly out of embarrassment.

Adam is quite protective of his friends and squadmates. Some of his squadmates find his over-the-top desire to protect patronizing. Some find it misleading, thinking he protected them out of a deeper interest in them.

While military training and life have taught Adam to be more disciplined, his excitable self tends to show through when he has nothing to do. It's typical to see him with infosec testing simulations or scouring through data, or with engineering as a second set of hands.

Adam is the type that won't be satisified with things given to him. He's had enough of that in his childhood. It's one of the reasons why military life agreed with him better than people had expected.

* Standard issue pilot suit
* M47 tactical sword & M36 tactical knife
* M29 Combat Shotgun
* M8 Kenaz Combat Pistol
* Smoke Grenades

A hand wielding a sword, the blade pointed towards the nose of the fighter. The motif is located below the canopy and on both sides of the fighter.

[User]
Nyx watched Erien introduce the next pilot, Mallory, and then give them their assignment. It didn't sound too exciting, but then there was the mystery element to it. Also, there were the outdated planes. Nyx made a note to see if she could find a way to search for similar situations, because this was both too bizarre and starting to feel like those cheap novels she'd bought after she left Borlix to become more 'cultured'. She made double sure to keep the 'stay in pairs' tucked safely in the back of her mind.

Last time, she'd been a surprise, so it hadn't mattered that she wasn't in formation, but now it mattered a lot. If she wasn't where they needed her, the Claymores could get wiped out, and that would set the mission back considerably. So she switched on her toggle and searched for 'ghost town planets' and brushed up on her formations. When her search hadn't turned up much, Nyx put her Toggle away and headed down to get prepped to go.

Overall, the experience was just about as fun as it had been the first time. the belts were her least favorite part, but at least they ensured that she wasn't as bulky as before. It was just the price to pay for safety, even if she didn't get it half the time. Then again, it was encouraged to go climbing on the walls of wrecks to get good parts. Without climbing gear. It never really ended well for the overly ambitious ones.

Nyx figured she could deal with a bit of safety gear and protocols.

Nyx was a bit fussy with the walk around, but in the end she signed off on it and climbed inside with help. Just as she settled inside, the ship lurched and she felt her stomach go flying. It took a few moments, but she was able to combat off the nausea. She went through the checklist quickly, and was loaded onto the rail.

"Wylde Fyre four, this is control. You are in launch position, stand by for launch order."

"Wylde Fyre Four set to go, control."

"Wylde Fyre lead to all craft. Stand by for launch, we are on the mission timeline, over!"

"Wylde Fyre Four to Lead, I hear you. Is there a way that I don't have to say that alliteration every time? Oh, also all systems green."

A few last second adjustments and just looking around to get a feel for the fighter. She'd been adjusted to fit it, but she wasn't quite used to the idea that this was hers. She was going to fly this into a possibly dangerous situation with a mysterious enemy.

What was that saying about butterflies?

[Assistant]
Elik stayed at the back of the gathered squad and listened to the briefing quietly, sipping from the tea he'd gotten and taking note of the new squadmember, or latecoming member whichever it was, until the briefing had finished. He may have thought to approach Erien before but a growing nervousness ate at his mind and he couldn't bring himself to. The nervous feeling was coming from his inexperience, sure he's flown before and was decent at it but due to the circumstances that led to his current position he'd had little-to-no military training. The feeling ticked at him and he wound up spending much of the time before the mission pacing in his bunkroom, worried and absolutely sure he'd be unable to live with the guilt of a squadmate dying because of him should something go wrong, not to mention the scorn he'd get from Erien and the rest of his squadmates.

Time seemed to get away from him and before he knew it the call to get to their fighters sounded. He stopped for a moment to push the worry from his mind and catch his breath before gearing up and heading down to the hanger. Clasping his helmet on and climbing into his fighter, he went over the pre-flight checklist and signaled that he was good before the canopy sealed and his fighter was loaded onto it's rail.

"Wyld Fire Two, ready and standing by"

He took another deep breath after saying that.

[User]
Asrial was not a morning person on the best of days, a fact that was shown most presently by the Aranok's slow shuffle out of his bunk. Yawning wide enough to pop his jaw, Asrial waited patiently to get his food and fix of caffeine in any form. When he got his turn at the food he loaded up solely on bacon, a couple donuts, and a cup of a sludge that used to be coffee before it was diluted with sugar as well as a couple other caffeinated drinks that were part of the display. Sitting down he grunted a 'good morning' to the rest of the squadron, settling in he began eating what seemed to be a sandwich made from the donuts and bacon he took, accompanied by large gulps of his drink. As the captain began her briefing Asrial turned his near total attention to her, his eating slowing. With the introduction of the new addition, Asrial's response was a simple glance in his direction as he took a slow bite from his amalgam of a breakfast, before returning his attention to the captain.

As they were dismissed, the Aranok placed his dishes in the cleaner and returned to his room to rummage through his bag and pull out a worn and yellowed paperback that had lost it's covers from repeated use. Opening it to a familiar spot as he found a place to put his feet up he passed the time with some measure of a quiet peace.

When the time to gear up he stashed his book and proceeded to get prepped for the launch, going through the motions with a slightly practiced hand, the bulky Aranok variant armor fitting on him like a second skin. As he was on his way to the hanger he also pulled on his helmet, securing it down. Inhaling slowly he tasted the filtered air that ran through the suit, a familiar and welcome taste.

Lowering himself into the cockpit, Asrial belted himself in and began the startup sequence with almost machine like motions. As the canopy hissed, sealing the pilot inside, Asrial gave the thumbs up as all checks came back green. Sighing heavily he tried his best to relax as the fighter was pulled into it's launch tube. As the thunk of the locks resounded across, Asrial's voice rumbled onto the comms

"Received and understood Lead. This is Wyld Fire one, all checks are green and the tires have been kicked, im ready to go."

[Assistant]
"You'd better not make that look bad at least, Lieutenant Mallory". Adam grinned to himself as he stepped out of the cell. Yeah, great start Adam. The guard returned Adam's toggle to him as he passed, following his new CO to the squadron's quarters. His stomach growled the moment he smelled breakfast, not having ate anything more substantial since the shuttle ride to the port. How long has it been since he last ate? Twelve hours? Fourteen? Adam lost count while he was locked up. They didn't have a clock in there, which he suspect was the point.

With a cup of coffee and a plate full of food in his hands, Adam took a seat next to the blue-furred Isorlai. Before he had a chance to make an introduction, Erien started her speech. Adam paid half attention to her as he blitz through his breakfast.

"This is Lieutenant Mallory," Adam put down his utensils and sat up a little straighter, only to consider sinking back into his seat when she went on to describe his foolish decision to take an unconventional tour of the ship. He let out a short, breathless laugh and nodded to everyone. Looks like he's got more work ahead of him, but it's not like Adam to baulk at a challenge. He's certainly not going to start now.

Adam listened intently to the mission briefing, trying to hide his relief that it was more or less a run of the mill escort mission. That should give him some extra time to test out and go over any reconfiguration required for his Saber. Once the briefing was done, he quickly cleaned up after himself and made his way down to the cargo bay. He jogged over to the vent where he stashed his duffle bag, relieved to find it's still there. Maybe security really thought he was a stowaway, didn't think he had much more on him other than his toggle. The rest was a blur. Adam rushed back to the quarters, picked the nearest empty room and stuffed his bag into one of the bottom drawers. After checking his toggle for the location of his flight gear, he ran down to retrieve them. He checked the time and relaxed slightly. Still enough time to go over my Saber.

---

Already suited up, Adam stood in front of his fighter. He can't help but smile at the sight. In some ways it felt like coming home. A Syreen stepped into Adam's view and saluted him, "Lieutenant, my name is Plex and I will be the chief engineer for your Saber's maintanence."

Adam shook Plex's hand, "Nice to meet you."

"Normally, we would have you go through the configuration and full preflight checks and diagnostics with us. But since we're short on time thanks to your...misadventure--" Adam grinned in spite of himself. Plex paused, "Is something funny?"

"I'm never going to live that down now, am I?"

Plex shrugged, "As I was saying, since we're short on time, we'll have to get through the essential configuration now and the preflight checks."

Adam didn't waste time, he climbed up the ladder leading into the cockpit of his fighter and swung himself inside. The seat require very little adjustment, thanks to how closely Adam seem to fit the average fighter pilot DefCom has in service. Once his seat was configured to his liking, he gave a thumbs-up to the engineer and started down the preflight checklist. Fortunately for Adam, the check went by without an issue.

A voice spoke over comms, "Wylde Fyre Six, this is Control. You are go for launch, stand by for launch orders, over."

"This is Wylde Fyre Six, Control. Awaiting orders, over."

"Wylde Fyre lead to all craft. Stand by for launch, we are on the mission timeline, over!"

"Roger, Wylde Fyre Lead. Wylde Fyre Six standing by, over."