[System]
* Age: 14.
* Gender: Female
* Appearance:Normal
* Personality:

Quiet. Calm. Stoic.

Her face is a mask of calm, her emotions hidden well behind it's perfect stillness. She is taciturn, ill inclined to speak and always deliberate with what words she chooses. Despite this she is never very harsh in her tone. She is soft spoken and though she can be caring it is hard for her not to come off as distant or closed off towards others.

Behind her mask she hides a great deal of pain. Her condition has left her wheelchair bound and with each passing month her body worsens leaving her less and less able. With the knowledge that, as most doctors she's seen have informed her, she is unlikely to live past eighteen her outlook has become rather grim. Despite her severe handicap however she uses her magic powers to help those in need and protect the innocent. She tends to look at the big picture and often considers the greater good but tries not to forget to do right by those close to her. Though selfless in her pursuit in helping mankind with her magic she pays just enough heed to herself to effectively support herself as she is a means to the bigger picture which is the good of all.

She is fairly studious as well, being well read with a particular eye towards the classics. She has a rich English verbiage which frequently bleeds into her day to day dialect. Due to her severe physical handicap her interests are often fairly insular and passive. She dislikes stress and hardship but is realistic enough to understand that unpleasantness sometimes cannot be avoided, only confronted.

Her determination to succeed in this Hex Night is strong as it presents one of the only opportunities she'll have of having her wish made reality. Given how long she's expected to live she doesn't see any realistic alternatives.
* Skills: She's well studied and holds a decent trove of miscellaneous knowledge which leans heavily on history.
* Brief Backstory:

Sophia was a sickly child from birth. As it turned out she possessed a genetic defect where her ribcage is too small for her organs. This is known as Thoracic Insufficiency Syndrome. This defect resulted in her ribcage putting pressure on her heart and lungs, leading to constant chest pains and shortness of breath. The weakness in her heart and breath left her enfeebled. She's been wheelchair bound from an early age and it hasn't improved with time.

A young girl in a wheelchair with an oxygen mask seemed like quite the odd candidate for magic powers indeed. Regardless she accepted her newfound gift and used it to combat the darkness formed from the negative emotions of mankind. She has battled the darkness for some time but with her worsening condition it seemed like she might not have much longer to do battle, her health declining with the steady passage of time. When she got word of this Hex Night taking place she set out from her home in Britain to Japan so she might reach for this grand prize.

At this point there was little for her to lose.

	+ Magical Girl Appearance:Transformed One detail that differs from the image is that her irides are completely black in this form.
	+ Concept: The Macabre.
	+ Archetype: The Raven's Quill.
	+ Abilities:

	Sophia is a rather delicate summoner who's main forms of attack are swarms of shadow based ravens which mob her enemies with their sharp beaks and talons. The ravens are mostly intangible which makes them difficult to damage physically. As they are shadow based light based attacks disperse them the easiest. Other forms of magical attacks vary in their effectiveness against the ravens with physical attacks being the weakest method to use against them. A strong enough melee attack will disperse a raven that's struck but their bodies are fairly fluid, able to reshape quite easily after being struck by physical blows. In addition she can extend her sight through these ravens by closing her eyes and seeing through those of the shadow's own.

	Her other power allows her to blend into the darkness allowing her to hide up a certain amount of mass from sight. The effectiveness of this concealment scales with the size and intensity of the shadow used. Perfect darkness allows for perfect concealment while a dim shadow only allows for partial concealment.

	She does not possess access to her greatest abilities as she is unaware of her Archetype's nature.

[User]
Chise's eyes were shining as she surveyed the array of sweets on display. To be honest, the clear option in the little black-haired girl's mind was simply to ask for as much as possible. There were so many tasty-looking candies and pastries of a wide variety that there was no way she could ever even begin to consider holding back from claiming them all. Some would say that she perhaps ate too many sweets, but Chise rejected that assertion and continued to eat sweets instead.

"Haah..." she let out an excited sigh, "Onee-san... I want everything!"

"Chise-chan, you can't have everything!" admonished Hina, surprisingly seeming to be the reasonable one for a moment. Until... "If you ate everything, then there'd be nothing! And then no-one could ever have any sweets again..."

She allowed such a horrifying prospect to hang in the air for a few moments, as Chise was briefly brought out of her sweets-induced trance to give her friend a rather perplexed look.

@Raineh Daze

---

"Does she know where to find us?" Hikari asked, cocking her head towards Fuyuko. That seemed like it was a pretty important aspect of her joining to help, after all! It'd just be stupid if she wandered aimlessly through the forest, trying to figure out where they even were. That wouldn't be helpful at all.

When her gaze focused forward, however-

A little girl, her blonde hair in a pair of drills, smiling. A parasol resting on her shoulder. When the small brunette tried to focus, to perceive what she had just seen, however, the little girl was already gone.

"Did you see that?!" she said immediately, stepping forward. There was no way that wasn't real...!

[Assistant]
❅❄ Fuyuko Yamazaki ❄❅

---

Fuyuko wanted to smack herself upside the head. Of all details to overlook, it had to be a crucial one. "Well, she'll probably guess we're in the forest, but if she's having trouble finding us..." She glanced down at the path, deep in thought. She could rise up in mist form upon getting notice that her ally had arrived, but what if yesterday's luck didn't hold out? What if she attracted more than just Shining Fist's attention?

She sighed. Inconvenient as it was, it seemed inevitable. It was that or try to give directions by text, possibly getting Shining Fist even more lost in the process. "There is a signal I could give her," she admitted, looking back up, "but..."

Her eyes darted from Hikari to another figure, one who hadn't been there a moment ago. A little girl, doll-like with spiralling curls and a parasol. Just as quickly as she'd appeared, the child vanished.

Blinking at the empty space, Fuyuko nodded as Hikari asked if she'd seen the girl. She almost wished she'd asked Noriko to come along after all, her sister having more insight into identities than she did. Fuyuko herself could only glean one hint.

"That's... exactly what the house did," she whispered. Did the little girl have something to do with the mansion, and by extension, the watcher?

[User]
"... That has to be the one who owns the mansion then, right? Or... something..."

Hikari stared at the space that the little blonde girl had so recently occupied. Stepping forward, it was clear that there was nothing discernibly off about the forest where the little girl had been standing. There was no-where she could have gone so quickly. There was nothing at all. It was as if she was a ghost, or something of that nature. Hikari frowned. It was eerie... and ghosts... well, if magical girls existed...

No. No way! She wasn't going to just easily accept the existence of ghosts just because magical girls existed! There had to be more then this, right? Maybe it was a magical girl who could hide herself somehow? Gaah! This was just weird and frustrating.

"If that girl disappeared like the mansion, and them mansion is where the rabbit masked person went, then they're connected, right?" she asked, "Why else would a little girl be out here in the forest and just disappear like that? But... if she was a magical girl... she hasn't attacked yet."

Hikari didn't really know what to expect, still. But... something was going on here. Something strange.

[Assistant]
❅❄ Fuyuko Yamazaki ❄❅

---

Thinking over possibilities, Fuyuko frowned. "It could be some kind of trick," she said, her voice only just audible. She peered around as she ventured further into the forest, but there was no sign of the girl. Nonetheless, she kept her guard up. At every rustle, every movement of a woodland animal, she tensed. That smile... That had been the look of someone toying with her and Hikari, most likely, no matter how innocent it had seemed.

"If she's a magical girl, though, that fits the theory of the house being an archetype," she continued. "Hmm... Maybe her concept is ghosts, and her archetype is a haunted house - an obake yashiki." She thought of the traditional summer attractions, the ghost and yokai animatronics within meant to 'bring on the chills' and counter the heat. The masked watcher, with their mechanical movements, could very well be part of the house if that were the case.

It was just a speculation, and it wouldn't do to cling to it too rigidly. Still, it was something to consider.

[User]
"Obake yashiki..." Hikari paused for a few moments as she thought the possibility over. That wasn't impossible, was it? From what Tokiko had said, Archetypes could be anything that inspired human imagination, regardless of how true they were or not. Therefore, it was entirely possible that a magical girl could possess such an Archetype. But what did that concept have to do with rabbits? Was the mask just because it was creepy, and therefore gave everything more of a horror theme? She'd yet to see the watcher herself, though... not that the idea of the little girl having ghosts as a concept didn't make sense. It would certainly explain why she was able to disappear so quickly, and why the mansion seemed to be able to disappear too based on what Fuyuko had told her. At the moment, it seemed like the best guess they had at the true nature of this strange rabbit-masked figure and the little girl that had disappeared.

"I guess I can't think of anything else that makes more sense," Hikari responded, peering into the forest, "I wish I'd gotten a better look at her. Maybe then I'd have seen if there was any distinguishing marks on her, or something like that. Anything that might make it easier to confirm what her abilities are."

She paused for a moment. It was already obvious someone was here, so...

"Do you think there's any way we might be able to draw her out?"

[Assistant]
Himeko was struggling to suppress her laughter. Really, these girls were an utter delight! Chise wanted absolutely everything in the hop, and wasn't even attempting to hide it. Hina was taking her friend's words so literally, and that cutely serious way of delivering her words of wisdom managed to break even Chise's sweets-induced trance. And little Hanako was browsing for more sweets... oh yeah, was she still under the belief that she needed an offering or something? Well, clearly it would be too embarrassing to clear that up now, so best to leave that as-is.

Still, as generous as Hanako could be, her budget was limited, and being too carefree around Chise seemed disastrous, so with a clap of her hands, the shrine maiden reminded the girls, "Let's try keeping it to a maximum of three snacks each, okay~? Restraint is a sign of power and selflessness, after all~!"@VitaVitaAR@Raineh Daze

[User]
❅❄ Fuyuko Yamazaki ❄❅

---

"The watcher even moved like a robot," Fuyuko replied, keeping watch for any sign of the girl, the house, or the person with the rabbit mask. As things were, this seemed the most likely explanation, although she couldn't shake the fear of leading Hikari the wrong way with her theory. "It's just a possibility, though. We've got to look out for any more hints."

She pondered Hikari's words, trying to recall the child's appearance. Having only glimpsed her for a split second, details eluded her. Sighing, she swept a glance through the dappled shadows once more. Nothing.

It was then that Hikari piped up. At her question, Fuyuko's pensive look returned. Draw out the girl? It would be a great deal easier if they knew the first thing about her. All they could do was work with what they had. "Uh well... She might be more drawn to us if we're in our magical girl forms," she suggested. The watcher certainly had been, she thought with a shudder. At least there probably wouldn't be any other magical girls in the forest, not at this time of day.

With a deep breath and a tentative step forward, she focused. Snow swirled as magic flowed through her body like ice water, turning her hair white, lengthening her school uniform into a kimono. The flurry died down, leaving her in her rather more conspicuous form. Tension tightened its grip, but she kept advancing. As much as she hated drawing attention at the best of times, let alone during the Hex Night, this mission made it a necessity. She just hoped she didn't draw the wrong kind.

[Assistant]
It was her again. That same girl from yesterday. There and then gone in the blink of an eye.

Who? Who is this mystery party? What are their connections to the Hex Night? These questions would not leave Sophia's head. There was little doubt that these events were tied in some manner. Appearing in a brief phantasmal glimpse was one thing but now it was certain that she was following magical girls specifically.

Following the two she had observed from yesterday had paid off. On top of netting her more knowledge on them both it got her closer to the mystery that laid at the heart of it all. By this point her ravens had for the most part concentrated around the forest, only a couple left around her warehouse to keep an eye on her own position.

But alas her concentration of surveillance in that area meant her work was much more prolific as a result. The trees were thick with them, nary a stretch where several black inky eyes were fixed upon the duo who had ventured so far in. While the physical forms of these shadowy beings were silent in all manners they were nonetheless physical, the rustling of the branches as they flew to a fro being clear evidence of this.

Many, many ravens, all searching for something.


[System]
Appearance:
Height: 5'9, medium lean and muscular build.

Complexion: Fair, evidence - small nicks and scars - of his experience in combat. Dark blonde hair clipped to a French crop. Hazel eyes. Facial hair generally well kept and short.

Attire: Everyday clothes are usually understated, plain linen; a long-sleeve belted tunic, trousers with leg wraps and leather shoes or low cut boot, leather bracers, fit for sparring or riding. Court clothes would include an embroidered quilted tunic (belted) dyed in a deep red or blue over a shirt, and appropriately matching trousers and tall leather boots, a dense fur-trimmed cloak is worn across one shoulder closed together with a heavy silver ouroboros broach, and some articles of jewellery; necklaces and rings.

Age:
21

Bio:
Erick is the middle child of King Henrick, who rules the northern Kingdom of Jörda. The fringes of the country begin at the other side of the river that cuts through Sahas, they have hard borders up against several Gilthan states in the far north and west, meaning the Kingdom has been involved in conflicts for some time to push back Gilthan advance. Fortunately, much of the northern terrain is hilly and mountainous and larger settlements in Jörda are heavily fortified, King Henrick however fears these advantages will not be sufficient to halt enemy advances indefinitely, and has therefore decided that an alliance with Astalia will be necessary in the preservation of the sovereignty of Jörda.

Jörda has fertile land centrally and south towards the river, highly self sufficient in growing crops for textiles and food, it's people, whom are predominantly human, are also skilled boat builders; they make use of the river for freshwater fishing as well as occasional access to the Eastern sea where settlements aren't near the coast. The mountainous regions are rich in ores and some precious metals, consequently, Jörda produces some of the hardest metal weaponry. Jörda traders abroad may be seen with wares such as animal pelts, textiles, and fine crafted weapons and jewellery.

Erick's older brother Andor, whom was the eldest of the three children, was killed some months ago in a bloody battle at the northern front, from which Erick has returned after completing his brother's work. He is a skilled swordsman, equestrian and archer. There has been little time for Erick to pursue other interests outside the scope of warfare, as the country is embroiled in perpetual conflict, and he has been tasked with defending the people of Jörda.

[User]
Finding this 'Court of Flowers' was easier in Vyarin's mind than it was quickly turning out to be. The palace was tall, imposing even on the inside, intricately decorated down to the smallest corner. In his lone eye, the world within seemed stretched upwards uncannily, like cowhide in a tannery. Windows stood the height of two of himself, but barely the width of three-quarters himself, packed closely together in organized regiments one after the other. The effect was exacerbated by the figure of the doorways that line the halls and the various items of furnishing and decoration, all built conversely too small for him. He had to duck down to enter into giant spaces. It was a fever dream to navigate, like something out of the maddest stories his carers would tell to him.

In the end, Vyarin decided the best path forward was tried and true methodology. It was simple, once he thought back on it. He will simply start entering doors and offshoots until he reached the Court of Flowers. There were only so many places a courtyard fit for a party could be; he will doubtless stumble onto it long before it ended. So, alone and armed with his conviction, he began his search . . . and immediately rammed headlong into a particularly thin candle sconce. Rubbing his temple and glowering, he righted the object, looking around for any sign of disturbed castellans, which there fortunately were none. He will keep a hand to the wall at all times.

Path after path, road after road, a few minutes began to stretch to near the majority of an hour. Most of the rooms he came across were as strange themselves as devoid of flowers. Some were bare of all things, blocked off by a simplistic looking door, awaiting a renovation that may take centuries to come. Others were perhaps bedchambers, but so clean that it was most like prepared for some guest that will never arrive, as evidenced by the thin sheen of dust upon the desks and sheets. Good luck was on Vyarin's side, for he did not stumble upon any spaces already occupied, and quite unfriendly to his sudden intrusion. Yet, as his ears picked up the faint sounds of some commotion, he concluded that was not to be for long. Instinctively, he felt relieved at the presence of a resident of some sort. He could ask their guide towards this elusive Court. Then, he stopped short, realizing the fault in that reasoning. It would entail him having to communicate his own desire, as well as understand their response all in Astalian. Holding a hand to his forehead, he rehearsed some crude phrases to himself.

"Excuse . . . where . . . the Chamber of the . . . the Primrose? The Chamber of the Primrose . . . is . . . to be? Excuse, where the Chamber of the Primrose . . . is to be . . ." He nodded, and raised himself to full height, striding purposefully in.

He didn't know what to expect from this next room, but that was not it. A lone girl, one of the four daughters in fact, armed with a sword far larger than his own, dancing about and striking at invisible foes. Vyarin could only watch for a few moments, observing the movements closely. They were precise, swift, she is obviously familiar with their use. Was it their way, in this strange land, to arm and train women as one would do for the men?

"Excuse," he finally said, breaking the silence. He pointed to the sword, the one so great it must be wielded in two hands. "Apology. Is . . . interest. Very interest." A heavy silence fell on the room, absent of the clatter of shoes on polished wood.

[Assistant]
At footsteps, Jinayah grumbled very faintly. She had her back turned and was still midswing, thinking it was one of her sisters coming to collect her. "Yes, I'm going to the party in just a moment, let me finish this." Of course she had said that to herself nearly 20 minutes back, and again at 10 minutes. But the voice that spoke out was definitely none of her sisters, neither was it her father or any of the other knights she knew by name.

Ever so slowly, she turned around, finally seeing Prince Vyarin darkening the doorway. "Ah." Carefully, she sheathed the practice blade and stared just a bit at him. What to say? She imagined he had a thousand questions, the first of which was likely why a woman was allowed a blade in the first place.

"He- hello Prince Vyarin." She dipped a low curtsy, the tip of the scabbard at her back nearly brushing the ground. "Er, I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing out here instead of at the party." Was she imagining that shocked gaze? He looked so blank she wasn't sure what to do. "M-my father has permitted me the use of the sword since I was of age to start squire training. If you wish to know what was behind that decision, please feel free to ask him." The sword, despite it not being hers, gave her courage. Her carefully coifed hair was in disarray, and there was dust on the edges of her pink gown. But she was still of the royal family and would command herself as such. "If you wish to know why I wanted to learn anyway, well, look around you. The Empire creeps insidious into our back rooms, taking what they will from our people. I will not sit by and do needlepoint while my world is taken from me. I have no kingdom to inherit, no magic, no spies. By Gods, if all I have is a blade and my body, that will be enough."

"Father may see me as a piece on a board and that's just fine. But I aim to be the Steel Dragoon, if I'm to be a piece at all." In the game of war, the Steel Dragoon was a most sought after piece to get onto the board. It could capture and remove adjacent pieces, sometimes drastically changing the flow of the game in its wake.

"No man, not even you, will keep me from this ambition." Her piece said, she waited with head held high for the outrage. Instead, she just found confusion on the Prince's face. Only then did she remember the translator from earlier.

"Oh no. You didn't understand a word of that, did you?" She smiled in a truly embarrassed way and shook her head, her cheeks burning. What to say now? Slowly, she put the sword back in the rack with its brothers, and took a moment to collect herself.

"Good evening, Prince Vyarin." She said in careful Prodzy. She had practiced these phrases for a solid month, but they were slipping from her mind as she spoke. "It is… an evening of beauty, no? What is your… preference - no, purpose! What is your purpose?"

[User]
The constellation of Aldask hung in the sky above the courtyard, Erick was confident this was a good omen. As one story went, Aldask, the most ancient and powerful of the Gods, often concealed himself as a stag in the realm of the mortal creatures. One day a human happened upon him, he notched an arrow in his hunting bow and let it fly, strong and true it plunged into the chest of the deer-God. As the arrow struck, the figure of the stag shattered into many large, shining shards which slashed deep wounds through the skin of the hunter, miraculously he survived but his sight was taken by the blinding light of Aldask; the human had only a few moments to witness this splendour, as the God's earthly shell shattered. The hunter somehow stumbled home and told the experience to his kinsfolk which quickly spread throughout his fellow countrymen. It was agreed that from that day forth, a prayer must be uttered to Aldask before striking a deer, bow or otherwise, so the God may grant them exception to their mistake. In many areas of Jörda, this story was often interpreted to extend to any and every kind of animal.

The Court of Flowers appeared almost as if timelessness itself may reside here, where the Gods retired to recite their ballads. As the glow of the sun began to wane, the moon cast its cold and mysterious light in the darker places the torches did not reach, mánibjart as this was called, where the lunar luminance gave for a short time divine and unpredictable power to the spaces otherwise enveloped in darkness, and sometimes, provided a gateway through which to glimpse the other worlds. The old magic was ingrained deeply into the people of Jörda, through tales and stories of the old Gods, but the true knowledge of it had been lost through time as the progress of man - of whom very few knew how to wield such power - dominated the natural and previously wild spaces of their land, and so it faded into myth and legend. Fear, reverence and yet acceptance, of this unpredictable magic, that presented a divide the thickness of a single thread between life and death, decay and rebirth - the domain in which Aldask conducted the fates of all within the mortal realm, remained strong however.

There were only four of them who had yet attended the courtyard, The Princesses Sulhana and the eldest, Annalise seemed to watch them approach from the platform with a collection of silent instruments. Erick had caught up to the Prince Gil, who had dipped his head in greeting the Princesses from a short distance, the Jörda prince addressed him in Orcish, "my friend, strength is upon you" he stated, extending his hand as such that may lock their arms in the way of the Orcish warriors, he met the bright blue eyes of the half-orc with his own of deep hazel. Erick was not fluent in the Orcish language, but was familiar with a few words, statements and greetings (although he wasn't sure if the dialect was quite the same) from the warriors amongst the ranks of Jörda's military - how they came to be there however, was a subject of particular tension between the two nations and was a matter of on-going diplomatic effort. Although Erick's greeting may have been received with some distrust, the Afdan prince responded in kind before they turned their attention to the Princess Sulhana who had stepped forward with her sister to welcome them. Erick approached and he bowed to the Princesses in a similar display; yet his eyes did not avert meeting with their own each of them in turn, "Princesses" he stated in acknowledgement. The Princess Annalise was quiet, reserved, and seemed to allow her younger sister to take the lead, the Princess Sulhana was not unlike someone else he knew - bold, forthcoming…challenging? There was an underlying tone in her voice and gestures that seemed to imply that sometimes, oftentimes, her thoughts and words were misaligned, much like his little sister - a formidable foe…or ally perhaps, yet given their gender this usually was expressed in a far more subtle yet no less unsettling manner. Sulhana's green eyes burned into him, examining, scrutinising in fine detail - he'd seen it before, her words were lighthearted however, she laughed and winked alluring them to her playful challenge.

Perhaps she'd like to see them try? Disarm them?

Erick knew he'd have to tread carefully, inhibition and.. sense was quite easily lost in this way. "Princess Sulhana, Annalise, please, I would like it that I might drink as the people of Astalia do drink" he pulled a small grin, he would like a drink if nothing less for something simply to hold and channel his nerves should they falter, for he did not have the pommel of his sword to absorb this energy from him, as such he made do with gently gripping a part of his cloak as though it was meant to be gathered, whilst the other palm was folded gently but produced his gestures as he spoke, otherwise he could not help but thumb the heavy rings on his fingers, which he mostly refrained from doing.


[System]
BASIC
Goes By: Maleficent (alter-ego)
Age: 5,739
Gender: Female
Race: Half-Sindarin, Half-Silvan Elf

APPEARANCE

Portrayed By: Angelina Jolie with a slight Russian accent
Hair Color: Dark, Auburn-Brown
Eye Color: Luminous Yellow-Green
Skin Tone: Porcelain Pale
Height: 5' 11"
Weight: 119 lbs
Body Build: Tall and Slender

Wing-Cloak

Natural Elven Attire (with and without wings)

Battle Outfit

PERSONALITY

Likes: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Happiness, Animals, Flying, Her Godsons
Dislikes: Chaos, Greed, Spiders, Darkness, Orcs, Sorrow
Strengths: Fighting, Beauty, Wisdom, Inspiration
Weaknesses: Mentions of Her Past, Loneliness, Anger
Fears: Losing Her Family, Her Past

Overall Personality:
Mysterious | Regal | Soft-Spoken | Larger Than Life | Elegant | Compassionate | Unpredictably Vicious

Everyone believed Saeril to be born a creature of chaos and pure evil, but they just do not know the true story. Rather than a woman who is evil, Saeril was instead a benevolent young woman of purity; she valued the peaceful nature on Middle-Earth, and she had a fierce passion of guarding various realms and its inhabitants. As a fierce protector, Saeril is a desired perfectionist, and a woman of her word; due to the despair and sorrow of even the most vulnerable of races, she focuses on finding the best intentions for them, even if it means to risk her life. As she suffers from a devastating past that involved the Deceiver's corruption upon her mind, Saeril is truly hurt and very lonely inside, interpreted by her amnesiac guilt for her crimes. Her ultimate goal was to redeem herself and dissipate her inner darkness.

However, she never anticipated this goal to be changed when she rekindled herself with her Dwarven godsons, Fili and Kili; she grew to care for them as a motherly figure, forming an adopted-parental bond with them. Despite herself being closest to the youngest, Kili, Saeril was devastated after witnessing Azog kill the eldest brother, causing her to scream in agony and grief. Determined to keep the youngest from falling into the same fate, she became strictly protective of Kili. As his blessed godparent, Saeril would do anything to keep him alive, and as a result, she went with him in many ventures, though she did not always agree with them. Regarding him, her bond with Kili was very strong, therefore her main goal was to keep him safe.

Saeril will not hesitate in giving others her blunt opinion, and she would often guide them when they are upset or need advice. Proud and proper she was, she will never bow to anyone she disagreed with. Evident by her relationship with Thorin Oakenshield, it's complicated when it comes to terms of trust; she betrayed him (as he claimed) by revealing the truth of the quest, and by "stealing" the starlight jewels from his treasure hoard for King Thranduil. Although she was claimed as not "trusting", Saeril openly showed that she cared a great deal for him, saving his life multiple times on different occasions.

BACKGROUND

Date of Birth: YT 1578
Place of Birth: Fangorn Forest, located north of Rohan
Social Ranking: Royalty (formerly)
Family:
- Kili Durin (Godson; alive) (Dwarf)
- Fili Durin (Godson; alive) (Dwarf)
- Dis Durin (Compadre; unknown) (Dwarf)
- Hermia (Mother; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Lysander (Father; deceased) (Silvan Elf)
- Ulla (Aunt; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kinloch (Uncle; deceased) (Sindarin Elf)

Other Relations:
- Gandalf the Grey (Mentor; alive) (Maiar)
- Thorin II Oakenshield (Friend; alive) (Dwarf)
- Aragorn II Elessar (Friend; alive) (Man)
- Azog The Defiler (Enemy; alive) (Orc)
- Meliya Ardorion (Friend; alive) (Silvan Elf)

[User]
"But how on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Kili asked, astounded that the hobbit had managed to escape the tunnels alone.
"How indeed!" Dwalin echoed, wanting to know just as badly.
"Yes, well..." Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly and slipped the ring subtly back into his pocket, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Gandalf however it seemed had noticed, though he didn't say anything and simply shook his head.
"That doesn't matter now, what matters is he is back, and all in one piece!"
"It matters!" Thorin insisted in a growl, stepping forward. "I want to know!" turning to face the hobbit he asked. "Why did you come back?"

[Assistant]
"Look, I know you doubt me. I know...I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books, and my arm chair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, cause...you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you, but I will help you take it back if I can", Bilbo explained calmly to the group, and the fae couldn't help but curl a smile on her lips.

Azog and his warg army show up, seeing the group down the mountainside. "Run them down! Tear them to pieces!", he yelled in Black Speech to which Maleficent understood perfectly. A couple of wargs come running down the mountain, howling.

Maleficent's smile dissappeared when she saw the wargs coming. "Run. Run!", she started small until she raised her voice for them to hear. "Run with them, I'll catch up", she told the twins.

[User]
"But..." Kili began to protest though he couldn't finish his sentence as Fili grabbed his cloak and pulled him after the others who were already running behind Gandalf down the mountain.

However, they were then put in a predicament because they found that it soon ended in a cliff, and they had nowhere left to run to. Thinking quickly, Gandalf shouted to them.
"Climb the trees, quickly!"

[Assistant] As they continued to climb the tree, Fili was helping his brother climb, but the youngest almost lost his grip as the tree began to shake. The wargs were trying to knock the tree down! That wasn't going to help them at this rate, and getting wasn't an option! A warg managed to at least climb a little up the tree, but didn't get far. A female shout of Black Speech came to the creatures, and the fae aggressively collided and toppled one of them off the cliff that was below. Knowing that it wasn't over yet, the female charged back and hit one of the riders head-on.

[User]
Bilbo had been forced to stop, by sheer luck managing to stab the Warg that had chased him through the head, killing it. However, his sword then got stuck in the creature's skull and he had to brace his foot against it to be able to pull it back out. By then all the others were up in the branches of the tree, and the pack was still advancing.
"Oh dear..."

[Assistant] "Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain", Azog taunted as he looked upon Thorin. "It cannot be", the dwarven Prince was softly astonished. "That one is mine. Kill the others!", the wargs continued to jump up to catch the dwarves as they hung off the trees. "Drink their blood!", Maleficent was just in mid-flight to swing back around until she was forced to stop when seeing her godsons dangle on the tree, holding on for dear life.

[User]
Fili, Kili, Dwalin and Bilbo were forced to jump from the tree they had been sitting in into the next one across when the wargs pulled that one up by the roots and it started to collapse. Before long, all thirteen dwarves, plus the wizard and hobbit, were all squashed into the top branches of one tree, which was starting to fall off the edge of the cliff.

As Ori fell backwards out of the tree, Nori lunged to try and grab him, but fell out himself, crying out. "Mr Gandalf!!"
Gandalf quickly stuck out his staff, which the dwarf could grab on to, and kept a hold of it, with Ori hanging tightly onto Nori's boot. They were safe, for now.

[Assistant] Maleficent knew that they won't be able to stay on the tree for long as it dangled over the edge. Instead of her charging at the wargs, she had to support her friends in current distress. In order to prevent more weight, she lightly landed on the dangling tree like a feather, and carefully traced herself towards her godsons, having the urge to comfort them and tell them that the situation was worth dying together for. Minus that part, she just had to help them. The tree continuing to creak, it made another sudden jolt downward as the wood kept itself connected to the stump. She managed to hold her balance as she trailed the bark, but the jolt almost made her lose it.

[User]
It was at that moment that Thorin had stood from where he had been perched near the bottom of the tree, raised Orcrist, and charged down the trunk directly towards Azog.

"Thorin!!" Kili and Fili had shouted after him, they could not reach him to go to his aid, only watch in horror as Azog kicked the warg into a run and hit the dwarf prince with a powerful swing of the mace he held in his hand, sending Thorin crashing to the ground.
"Thorin, no..." Balin breathed softly as he too watched, only praying that Thorin would get up again.

[Assistant] Maleficent couldn't believe that Thorin would do such a thing. An opportunity that could result in death. He shouldn't and couldn't die now. She looked at her godsons and then back to the wounded Thorin. She made an exasperated sigh before standing on the tree. "Azog!", she shouted. "Why kill another of the Durin blood, when I have already killed another?!", she exclaimed at him before hovering above the fire. "Spare him, and let me take the fall", she challenged as she landed on the ground a few yards away from the orc.

[User]
"Foolish fae!" Azog spat at Maleficent. "One is not enough, I want them all dead!" Turning sideways to the orc beside him, he muttered. "Bring me the dwarf's head."

The orc grinned maliciously and advanced towards Thorin, who tried weakly to reach for Orcrist that he had dropped, but he was too weak and instead just lay there, preparing to accept his fate.

With a loud shout, Bilbo charged at the orc, and stabbed it repeatedly until it died, swinging Sting back and forth as he stood between Thorin and Azog. The dwarf prince just managed to stay conscious long enough to see Bilbo come to his rescue, but then passed out...

[Assistant] Maleficent flew to the unconcious Thorin and shielded him. "Thank you, master Baggins", she whispered to the Hobbit before tracing the dwarven prince's face with a finger cuff, moving his Raven black hair out of the way. Looking up at Azog, she didn't pay attention when a warg bit into her feathered wing, making her let out a loud pained screech, before the creature threw her towards the falling tree, landing near the twins.

[User]
Bilbo lunged for the warg to try and defend Maleficent but wasn't quick enough to stop it from throwing her into the tree first. The hobbit gulped and braced himself to be torn to bits as Azog and his white warg began to advance towards him and Thorin.

However, at that moment a great eagle swooped from the sky and picked Bilbo up, dropping him off the edge of the cliff where he landed on the back of another eagle. It then went back to pick up Maleficent since her wing was probably too injured for her to fly straight away. More eagles dove out of the sky, some attacking the wargs and orcs whilst others picked up the dwarves and Gandalf out of the trees to fly them to safety.

[Assistant] All the fae felt was something lifting her up from where she laid. A great eagle picked her and flew among the others as they crossed mountains and plains. She wasnt awake, but she was aware that this was an eagle pulling them to safety. "Thorin!", she heard Fili shout, as he sounded obviously terrified of what condition his uncle was in. Barely awake, she did manage to look at the unconcious Prince, until she let out a relieved sigh before slipping back into unconsciousness.

[User]
The eagles carried them to the Carrock, which overlooked the plains where the skinchanger Beorn made his home, and set them down there, before flying back to their eyrie. They could not carry them any further, the men that lived in these parts were afraid of the giant birds and would shoot at them if they saw them.

"Thorin!" Kili repeated as he started to run towards his uncle, but he was stopped as Gandalf knelt beside the dwarf prince and muttered something elvish under his breath, passing his hand over the dwarf's face. Thorin suddenly gasped and opened his eyes.
"Where's the...hobbit...and the...fae?" he managed to cough out.
"It's alright, Thorin. They're both here, and quite safe." Gandalf reassured him.

[Assistant] Maleficent was set down carefully upon the rock, while laying on her back with her head laid sideways. Her injured wing twitched as some of the feathers were missing from the bite. Finally being able to open her yellow-green eyes, she was semi-conscious, but a little. When she tried to get up, all that was heard from her was a groan of pain from the injury.

[User] "Are you alright?" now that he knew his uncle was okay, Kili left Thorin and raced to Maleficent's side.

[Assistant] "Just...an unexpected bite from a warg. I'm fine", she softly reassured him. Glad that he and his brother were okay, the fae still had faith that what she did, was worth protecting them. Risking her own life to save their own, and the result was getting her wings in proper pain. "You're all safe, that's what matters", she added before moving a strand of Raven black hair from his face with a gentle smile that looked motherly.


[System]
Age: 18 (Totes 18 in Dragon years.)

Height: 5'6 in Human Guise, 8 foot tall and 16 foot long as a Dragon.
Species: Chinese Dragon.

Character Image:

[User]
The Prince of the Fae indeed.

No self-respecting Prince would be caught dead in the attire of paupers and street-beggars, whoever this person was, his commands meant very little to a rugged guard, but inspired something a little more in the victim who was already trying to crawl towards the sea. He took it all back, the wishing to experience life beyond the brine, the desire to meet others that he would perhaps better relate to-- the world that he did not belong to was no less vicious than his own, tide-commanding mother, who was mere meters away. He didn't want whatever a 'Doctor' was, he wanted to crawl into a cavern and wither. At the very least, he required a quiet place to recuperate-- as many animals often did. Every half-effort shuffle was a few inches closer to the water-side, hand-outstretched to her gentle encouragement. What was he thinking, running away like that? He should have just returned... yes, that would have been the smart thing to do.

"I do believe the palace Doctor is a little too high-brow for the likes of a pauper and his little pet spy, eh?"

The clubbed piece of wood swung all the more, this time, at the Prince himself.

"No..." There was no way Sindre could have mustered enough strength to take or dissuade the brunt of another swing, pinkened-reds merely stared through half-opened lids, helpless, pathetic as he had always thought himself to be. Even now, he couldn't protect another. Blood filled his senses, awakened his olfactory senses and even inspired the faint lick of his lips. Blood... and he was so, so very hungry, how unfair was fate when she tempted him with a meal. He had fangs, vaguely translucent and curved, much like a serpent-- and no less so, for his predatory canine's contained potent venom, a paralysing agent, perfect for underwater meal-time.

No, no this was Prince Amanti.

He couldn't.

He wouldn't. He'd promised himself. When had it last been that blood had dripped from those pale lips? Not blood of piscene or natural prey, the blood of a humanoid, a drowning passenger, a stranded sailor, an unfortunate swimmer-- all of them were fair play to a creature who struggled to hunt competitively. Morals be damned when creatures of the deep decided to hunger. A spurt of desperation saw the creature grasp for a guard's leg-- but it was far too fatigued. By now, more had came-- some with winces, for they new that the Prince was indeed as he had proclaimed, royalty.

Whispers carried between royal protectors, someone would have to call the Doctor-- and quickly, less their comrade's mistake dearly cost him. Two of the men-- since none of the Palace's servants seemed to be Dragons at all, given their eyes-- stepped forwards to help take hold of Prince and Mer, gentle, so as to not endanger their jobs or lives. The mer-thing was uneasy on his legs, certainly, they wobbled and struggled to remain upright, for it was a lanky, tall being when not weighed down by the muscular appendage that was his tail. Blood trickled very slowly, pieces of glass that had spiked into him during the escape-- but the wounds were superficial. The hits to his cranium, however, were still to be determined.

"Take them to Lei, he'll know what treatment is the best course of action... hopefully we'll keep our jobs after this." Lei, a doctor, and one who excelled in his job-- and perhaps the oldest resident in the Palace. Not often seen, but revered none-the-less. He wasn't as trying as Emperor and Son-- likely because he was no longer apart of ruling the Dragons. Medicine was his truer passion, not politics, and it was back into the marbled Kingdom that the staff intended to schlep Amanti and his latest gift, apologies presented like welcoming mats to the Fae. No wonder, they didn't want to lose their employment or organs once word got out of this. Lei would be able to fix this... hopefully Emperor Yao would take it better from his elder, for what happened upon the beach was nothing if not pure embarrassment to the Kingdom staff, and by default, to Yao. That thought alone was sobering. Dragged across sand and grass, the albino mer, whom had caused this trouble to begin with, attempted to converse with what little sense the bludgeoning had left in his head. "Wassn't... running away... wass... ssomeone... wass calling me.." He had to let Prince Amanti know. He had never intended to flee, but someone upon the beach had caught his interest-- whoever they were, he hardly even saw by the time he'd reached the shore.

[Assistant]
Wood wasn't supposed to hurt him. He knew of the wood fae that lived within the trees of the forest, they respected him enough he would believe, but he must have caused them some form of impeachment. His vision flashed white, then brown as he turned his head up almost in time to receive the blow. His ears rang, deaf to the mocking snub from the guard as he felt the sand cushion his fall. And faintly, he heard the softest chuckle graze his eardrum before the world swam around him. Damn the heart of this world should he lose consciousness though. One blow wouldn't be enough to condemn this planet though.

 Blinking away the muddy sand from his lashes, he shook his head and pressed one palm into the fickle surface and pushed himself back up. White grains of sand clinging to his hair, hidden amongst the golden locks. His eyes blazed even beneath his shut eyelids, the light seeping through like sunlight from a curtained window. Burning to the unfortunate bedridden individual, piercing like high beams through the darkness as he stared down at the sand burying his fingers. The cool air was choked with the grittiness of the grains scraping his throat, but all the same he inhaled and exhaled, slowly and surely as if he had to make sure each breath of air was monitored comprehensively to avoid filling his lungs with too much or not enough.

 The soft rasp from the forgotten creature drew his attention. His shoulders slumping as he toned down the brightness and heat he was emitting, taking in the weedy nature that was a direct product only from the thrashing of the guard. His fingers curled in the sand, what gave anyone the right to reduce another to this state? If not for the soft footfalls trekking over the sand, the single guard stood before them would know just how lucky he was to have avoided what might've been.

 As the rest of the guard came to surround them, he lifted his head, refusing to let a single blow completely dislodge his senses even if the area around his forehead was feeling rather sore and tender at the moment and his vision was still blurred and indecisive. He refused to let a single blow dislodge all of his senses though, lifting his head to stare up at the stranger faces. Their garb no doubt revealed they were of the palace though and should Amanti choose to recognize any of them, they'd be in trouble from the cloth they dawned alone. That was the last thing on his mind now though.

 "Take, Take him to the doctor and see that he is tended to and given adequate meals. Let him eat on his own choice. I do not wish to hear complaints from him that you have mistreated a creature belonging to me."

 His own command was perhaps dampened by him having to be helped to his feet by another, his own foot still askew to a side so as to not to aggravate the raggedly bandaged wound. Refusing the wince as he listened to them prattle on worriedly in how they could possibly cover up such a blunder on their companion's part. Amanti didn't feel like speaking up and soothing their worries, for now he just wanted to be treated to this Dr "Lei" and for the night to end on a sleepless, hungry note. For now though, as long as they feared, they would follow his orders even if his own position held no real standing in this place other than as a 'guest of the Emperor."

 Limping besides the carried creature, his ears pricked at the raspy utterance the creature was trying to form into words, "Hush now, Sindre. You're going to be taken care off now, there isn't anything to worry about." He soothed, gazing at the Mer, eyes drawn to the bruises he had sustained during the brutal clobbering.

 He could no longer see the guard, but rest assured he would be well informed of his mistake.

 Again, Amanti pushed that out of his mind, glad to leave the dark unsure sand of the shore to the comparable warmth of the palace once more, letting himself be led by the guards, hoping that their entrance wouldn't arouse sleeping minds. Then again, who knew what was lurking within the walls?

[User]
"I fear... there iss much to worry about."

It was a solemn regard, spoken by the pale creature of which turned his head akin to an animal, peeking the looming command that was the Dragons Palace. If only such a place lay in ruin, if only it were to crumble into fine particles of forgotten affluence and buried under it's own arrogance. The creatures who ran the show were curiously unforgiving. Judging by the reptilian eyes, they seemed to be the only ones of Dragon descent, the Emperor and his little, bitter-hearted hier. Sindre thought, on any other day, he would be comforted by the promise of care and food on his terms, but this world above the surface wrung any sense of luxury from the proposal.

There. Large, imposing crimson pillars welcomed them with an impressively sized gate. The walk to the palace had been silent on many parties-- no one had anything worth saying another, and Sindre considered himself a little too stunned from his fake escapade to wish the formation of words. His feet slapped against elaborate tile, cold but not discomforting to him, aside from the few pieces of glass gifted to him by karma. Once the Emperor found out, what would become of his outlandish attempt at escaping? Worse yet, if the Prince found out...

They were presented to a rectangular door, a smaller one with less grandiose to it than other parts of the building, not that the merman could discern what made one door fancier than another. It was knocked precisely three times, then opened slowly, with the motion of a guard that the boys were to enter. The room was warm, kept alight and comforted by the crackle of a fire lodged into the wall. Chairs settled around it, long, bleached fabric that had been fixated to legs and cushion-stuffing. A table settled in the middle, topped with books that were dangerously close to toppling from the size of their piles, like knowledge-filled towers. There was a presence in the room, at the side furthest from the dimming light of the flames. A desk, once again, decorated with books, sat a creature content to scribble in ink and write down findings. It had hair not unlike the merman, white and pale, but with more silvery toned strung through-out, fashioned into a thick braid that fell over his robed shoulder.

Once again, the eyes were undeniable. A strangely intelligent tone of lime, characteristically spiked by a reptilian pupil. His orbs were partially hidden behind thin, squared spectacles, which now found themselves pulled from his face, one of a man in his thirties, and folded gently between his fingers. "You are not palace staff, nor dragons from what I can pique... so I must inquire, what brings your presence to my attention, gentlemen?" His voice was eloquent, well pronounced in a language that was not his first. Soft, with a grace and upbrought way about it. As too, was the hand that gentle motioned to the chairs in his, as it would appear to be, study. "Do take a seat. The only reason I can fathom that you bless me with a visit is that one or both of you are injured or unwell. Since I can keenly scent your essence, I'll assume you're both bleeding." The tiny crimson rivulets were apparent on Sindre's chest, but it was the blood from Amanti's foot that sought the old creatures nose.

Glasses placed upon the bridge of his face once more, the fire dimmed marginally as a log crumbled into ashes. "With lumps on your heads, too. Care to divulge as to how you came to meet with such injuries, gentlemen? So that I may better assess treatment for you both-- it would help to divulge the species you belong to." This man, who stepped akin to a paw-print in the snow and spoke like wings over water, was apparently, Doctor Lei.


[System]
(Drawn by yours truly)

"All the best commanders and kings in history used audacity to great effect. Yes, I think I'll use that as my excuse."
Age
21
Country of Origin
Adrestian Empire
Social Standing
The noblest
Crest
Crest of Seiros: Legend has it that Saint Seiros bore this Crest and passed it down through House Hresvelg. Occasionally makes his voice compelling towards those he speaks to, gently urging them to his point of view.
Starting Class
Lord
Weapon of Choice
Sword
Strengths
Sword & Authority
Weaknesses
Faith & Flying
Personality
A man of two worlds, prince Kayden Hresvelg both loves and hates being the eponymous prince of the Andrestian Empire. The pomp and schedule? He could do without. The Andrestian Empire is a kingdom on the decline if his family is any indication, and he would certainly choose any other father if he could. However, he has royal blood with princely looks, a sharp mind, and a swordsman's hands. He was born to be who he is. That, and of course there are perks to being an aristocrat in social settings.

Kayden enjoys making friends both high and low, and though he is no stranger to having friends at court, he finds commoners to be far more relatable and funny than the ever pompous nobles that have to simp or rival him. New things excite him, adventure being an ever present delight he wishes to explore. He's respectful and learned of his country's history, and he's proud of his kingdom even if he believes it in disarray and he has a poor opinion of his family.

Despite the womanizing, the gallivanting, and the love of danger, he is actually a kind soul. He's had far too much grief in his life and seen far too many other princely assholes to ever try and lose his morality because of his station, or any reason for that matter. He finds the new thrills are more of a shield so he cannot dwell too much on the sad state of things, and though he does enjoy reading a good book or spending quiet moments of reflection and melancholy, ask him to join you in a dangerous expedition and he'll volunteer to lead it!
History
Born in utter squalor, Kayden was poor and destitute, meant for his name to disappear into the annals of history forever. But that's a different Kayden. We're here to speak about the fabulous, gorgeous, unrelentingly handsome Kayden of the Hresvelg dynasty, last son of the King and notable rebel in all things royal. Or at least, that's how he'd like to think of himself.

Kayden Hresvelg of House Hrelsveg was the fourth son to be born to the King and Queen, so despite his pedigree, for most of his childhood he felt very unimportant. He play-fought with his siblings often and decided he wanted to be the protector of the throne, a royal knight of the realm! He was taught to be well read and learned in lore, though he never felt he was as smart or talented as his siblings. Of course, that has to be shattered when the plague swept into the Andrestian Empire, including the Imperial palace. Kayden was the second to get sick, though he survived unlike most of his family. Even their best doctors couldn't keep five of his siblings from death, his mother bed-ridden, and further complications in his family arising.

Kayden was now the sole heir to the throne. The hard times coupled with Kayden being an unwilling heir put a strain on his relationship with his father. Not to mention the new mistress his father took, making him a neglectful husband to Kayden's mother, at least in Kayden's eyes. The prince would often travel around the capital, making friends with delinquents and learning swordplay in his spare time, finding solace in his exploits to keep himself busy. Though he was taught matters of state, he retained the stories of old wars and heroic quests far more easily from his father's teachers.

By Kayden's twenty first birthday, his father believed he needed to be taught both discipline and the sword in a more controlled manner, and so sent him off to the Officer's Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. Kayden surprisingly agreed wholeheartedly, wanting some new scenery and wishing more than anything to distance himself from his father. His only regret was leaving his mother, as her only company was the servants and infrequent visits from the King.
Trivia
* Kayden loves boardgames, particularly wargames in which he is very skilled.
* Kayden stand 5'11, and weighs 172 pounds.
* Kayden's first crush was on a female fencing instructor he had when he was 14.
* Kayden's best friend is a a bodyguard back home named Murek.
* Kayden's favorite dish is Beast Meat Teppanyaki, followed by Garreg Mach Meat Pie and Gautier Cheese Gratin.

[User]
Imogen punched and clawed at the robed mage in a frenzied display of resolve and ferocity. Whatever they were doing, it was bad and she knew they must be stopped at all cost. And so she put her all in each strike, keeping in mind the other two that still need to be dealt with. Oh, just one now! Imogen cheered, amazed at Jory's awesome timing. It had been like that throughout this whole ordeal, she noticed; Jory always coming in to finish the bad guys off. His arrows always found their mark right on time! It didn't matter that one whizzed by her face and nicked the tip of her ear; in truth, she expected a lot worse when she realized she was putting herself within target range by tackling the mage.

A sudden flash of light from beside her stopped her onslaught. She braced herself for an attack that never came, pulling the mage up by their robes as she reflexively and unabashedly used them as a shield. Sorry, not sorry. When no fireballs or magic gusts of wind came flying at her, and no Dogberry warnings on top of it, Imogen took the chance to properly survey her surroundings. "Wait, what?"

Imogen gasped when she caught on, scandalized. "Your friend left you!" she told the now unconscious mage she still held by the collar. She had seen these men and women pillage and destroy a whole village, yet somehow it still shocked her to see them betraying one another without a second thought. "How mean! I know you guys are evil and all, but I thought you were at least nice to each other."

Professor Mik's anguished cry had her racing back to rejoin him and the others before she could fully process what was happening. From what she could see, Professor Euphie was badly hurt, although Clary had quickly swooped in to rescue her. She barely heard the call to charge, her blood pulsing too loudly in her ears as a surge of adrenaline carried her feet faster. Luckily, she'd had enough sense to pick her sword back up along the way. Was it strange that she seemed to function better when she was like this? She thought of nothing but the task at hand; keep Professor Euphie and the others safe by helping defeat this monster of a man.

Aubie was already mid-swing by the time she got close, and she spied Jory positioning himself for a shot. Imogen waited until both attacks landed before she rushed in, sliding low and behind the bandit to slice at his legs, hoping to fell him and leave him vulnerable on the ground in case he somehow withstood everyone else's assault.

After seeing what he was capable of, the thought hadn't seemed so impossible.

[Assistant]
[@ScribeOfThoth]

---

 Kellen did all he could to keep the air circulating through his lungs. He could feel the invisible hand tensed around his ribcage, ready to grip and force the air out the moment he let it. His eyes were darting about madly as he tried to maintain this discipline, and they landed up Imogen throwing her blade and proceeding to tackle one of the robed figures. The strength behind her punches made Kellen wince, and he was relieved when he saw arrows fly into the other standing mage, courtesy of Jorah and Kaira. As the final standing figure beat hasty retreat via a spell that almost made Kellen regret his lack of aptitude with the arcane, he recognized in a detached way that the tide was turning.

"Hold it together a little bit longer," Auberon said, facing the bandit. "I'll watch your back, but you have to calm down and watch your front too."

It wasn't much, as far as comforting words went. But Kellen wasn't used to much in the best of times, nor from the devout Galatea who, based on the sparse impression Kellen had formed of him, seemed more focused on heaven than earth. Kellen's brow softened for a moment, and he let out a long shaky sigh.

"I'll, umm. I can make it." A bit of colour returned to his cheeks as his eyes set on their final obstacle. The Kalonic siblings struck the large bandit, one after the other. Kellen felt hope begin to grow as he realized that they might be able to take the bandit down on their own. But it was after Euphemia's successful strike that the world seemed to tilt. As the bandit wrapped the fingers of one hand around the Golden Deer Professor's neck, Kellen felt a familiar sense of warmth and weightlessness as the edges of objects began to blur. The cry of fear from Michail, who had otherwise seemed above the danger, only reinforced the sudden softness in Kellen's knees. He could feel himself begin to buckle when he saw a rounded line of metal rise above Euphemia's hand, and plunge itself into the arm of the bandit.

Not softly, she fell to the ground. Wounded, but not dead. Kellen felt his knees solidify. In the next 15 seconds, Kellen knew someone would die. He could almost guarantee it wouldn't be him, if he stayed back. But it also raised the chances that it would be one of his classmates. He thumped his chest with a small fist, trying to regain some sense of warmth in his torso. With what remained of his willpower, he would keep himself together - for those 15 seconds.

As Auberon charged in, Kellen followed. His first thought was to try and extricate Euphemia, but he saw Clarissa had had the same thought and was far better equipped to tend to the professor. While the others sought to bring the brute down, looking for weak points in his admittedly failing armour, Kellen's eyes never left the axe that had nearly bisected him. If allowed time to fully swing, Kellen wasn't sure anyone, beyond the professors, would be able to parry the blow. As Auberon wound up to bring the man down, Kellen yelled out a curse and thrust his sword towards the uninjured arm of the bandit and the weapon he was wielding.

[User]
Kayden might be Prince of the Empire, and he flaunted it when it suited him, but he was raised to lead men in battle. To face down an opponent and slay them, riding and charging from the front. The leader aspect might be for the professors here, and truth be told the other guild leaders had more loyalty from the other students than he. They had earned it and he didn't begrudge them. But he could still make good on the 'battle' aspect of his education prior to his schooling here, and Kayden Von Hresvelg was not going to sit by while the bandit leader was still up.

He charged forward to join the others despite the aches from exertion and the small stabs he felt as his clothing raked along the cuts he had received. The sensations of pain fell away when he saw Euphemia being grabbed the neck! It was as if the entirety of the students present received a boost from the Goddess with how they conducted themselves. She wasn't Kayden's professor, but he felt rage at the affront all the same.

Kayden saw Auberon rush in like a bull and Jorah loosed an arrow. Even students from behind the Bandit Leader appeared and attacked! The man was built like an armored carriage; they needed all the help they could get. He sprinted as fast as he could whilst still being in control of his sword, his adrenaline pumping, his heart beat roaring in his ears. Ignoring the wheeze of his breathing, he sidestepped Auberon and redirected his blade once he reached the leader.

"Die, fool!" He cried, his sword whipping in the air before he thrust it forward with all his strength. The Prince of the Empire attempted to shove his blade into the unprotected area below the armpit, now even further exposed from the strap of his armguard having been cut. He prayed to the Goddess this was enough to finally end the brute.


[System]
Can you not feel it in the air? She is coming! The storm!
Title: Black spirit of the unchained tempest

Race: Apparition
Occupation: Wandering spirit, she does as she pleases.
Age: Unknown

Appearance:
Height: 5'9''
Weight: 136 lbs

Procella cuts quite the figure. One moment, there is nothing but the storm, the next, lightning flashes, and all of a sudden she is there, a beautiful woman clad in a dress of deepest black. Her hair waves and tumbles with the wind, never still for even a moment. Her body sways and whirls, moving like a puppet with its strings cut, wayward and unpredictable.

With this strange grace, she dances closer, a strange smile upon her face. A faint laugh escapes her lips, high-pitched and ecstatic, before she raises a hand, reaching out towards you. The world flashes, and everything goes dark.

Thus may be described an encounter with Procella. Strange, wild, and lovely as the storm.

Personality:
Oh, she is mad, all the way through. There is no reasoning with this spirit, for her whims are like the wind, her attentions flying from one place to another with the speed of a lightning strike. Procella is bound by nothing, and will indulge in whatever captures her whimsy. This is rather unfortunate for the world at large, for her adoration and her hatred are both equally deadly. If Procella's eyes alight upon you, you know she is fixated- and so much the worse for you.

Oh, but she is not all unkind. Sometimes she is willing to play calmer games, to make minor conversation, perhaps even call you her friend. But like the storm, she is unpredictable, and even the closest of bonds may be swept away at a moment's notice. Do not trust her, do not drop your guard at any time. For at heart, Procella is a vengeful, vindictive spirit, and does no good for anyone she comes across.

History:
Every now and again, a child is born with a void inside. A gaping hole in their very soul that needs to be filled, with life, with power, and with meaning.

One such child, a small, dark-haired girl, had a void greater than any other. Like a great spiritual whirlpool, she sucked out the souls of any she came near, turning everyone around her into soulless, silent husks. She absorbed their knowledge and memories, but found no meaning within them. Likewise, she had nobody to love, or even form an association with. Alone, she wandered, seeking a meaning for her existence.

With nobody to speak to, she began to make friends with the world around her. Earth became a loyal companion, always there to hold her up when it was needed. Fire was fickle, and angry at times, but showed her flashes of warmth from time to time. The Ocean was cold and distant, but its brother Rivers was kind, giving her the water she needed to survive.

The girl's greatest ally, however, was Storm. Every day she would look up at the sky, searching for the tempest, hoping he might come and visit her sometime. Whenever he did, she rejoiced in the rain and the thunder, enraptured by this strange beauty, this meeting of all the elements. More and more, she fell in love with the storm. And thus, she found her meaning.

The hole in the girl's soul was filled, with the purest essence of the storm itself. She now wore a dress of blackest cloud, and her mind and motivations became as fierce and fickle as the nature of her dearest love. No longer was she a mere human. Procella rose as an embodiment of the wild tempest, a spirit that would plague the world forevermore.

Abilities:

Spirit nature: Procella cannot be permanently killed. The death of her physical body will cause her to disintegrate, and she will vanish for weeks or months on end. Eventually, however, she always re-forms, returning to wreak havoc once again. As a side-note, neither she nor her clothes become wet in the rain, a lightning strike will not affect her in the slightest, and even the strongest of winds will not sway her unless she wishes it to.

Storm attraction: Wherever she goes, the weather worsens around her. The longer she stays somewhere, the stormier it will become, with the wind and rain gradually becoming more severe as time goes on. The closer the weather is to a full hurricane, the stronger she becomes:
- Sunny day: weaker than an average human
- Cloudy/windy day: slightly stronger than an average human
- Rain: as swift and powerful as a peak-level athlete
- Full storm: speed and strength at almost double peak human levels

Mad spirit's dance: Procella's movements are erratic and unpredictable, and she is also extremely flexible. Her fighting style is frankly bizarre, and extremely tricky to read even for experienced martial artists.

Throwing knives: She keeps within her dress seven razor-sharp daggers, for when she wishes to inflict pain. These can be wielded in her hands, or thrown. They are also highly conductive.

Electrokinesis: What would a storm be without lightning? Procella can sense and partially manipulate concentrations of charge, allowing her to unleash arcs of deadly electricity, shut down electrical devices, and alter the direction of lightning strikes.

[User]
The thick trunks make for a solid obstruction to Hisame's predatory gaze, but Procella is not yet where she wishes to be. The knife, thrown at a tree's trunk, was no aggressive gesture, but rather a stepping stone to what came next.

The spirit leaped into the air, sailing towards the thick trunk within which the blade was embedded. Before she slammed against its rough, bark-covered surface, however, one outstretched foot fount the hilt of her blade, and with a sudden bending and release of her pale leg, she propelled herself upwards, using the knife as an improvised foothold to ascend into the canopy.

There, among the drenched yellow leaves that barely clung to life on the eve of winter, Procella crouched on a thick branch, listening to the lilting song of her opponent. The sound jars in her ears, clashes with the noise of the rain. It almost makes her strike right then, and fling more lightning at Hisame, but she manages to restrain herself.

Instead, she waits, and builds her charges. Waits for the sound of thunder.

When the booming roar of a distant strike arrives, she makes her move, leaping from branch to branch while the sound of her passage is concealed by the storm's roar. She keeps her eyes on Hisame- for it is towards the woman that she is moving. But she stops short as the thunder ends, not quite on top of the woman yet.

The invisible shelter is troublesome, and needs to be broken before Procella's knives can taste sweet flesh. But she is running out of blades. Only four now remain tucked in the hidden folds of her strange dress, and those must be used wisely.

She is not without other resources, however. She had built her charges before the thunder, a positive in Hisame, to keep track of her, and a negative in the knife she'd used as a foothold.

Now she builds them further, and another bright arc leaps from the small piece of metal to the shielded woman. The shelter is resilient, but Procella will test its limits, keep on pounding it until she finds a weakness.

[Assistant]
The siren song ends prematurely, fading into the cacophony of thunder: a contemptuous roar which makes the ground shiver as it laps up the downpour. Hisame's eyes stare longingly upon those majestic clouds lit by gamely flickers and cannot help but awe at their emotion; perhaps the heavens themselves flash and boom with wrath toward the abomination of her existence. She peels her lips into a challenging grin and exhales a gleeful chuckle while seemingly forgetting about their prey and the hunt at hand. Indeed, such would prove boring with so many possible locations to make a nest. Let impatience and thirst for murder bring the bitch out of hiding...

Then a flash; a CLAP of crashing when another bolt bashes into the bulwark. Its electric hum prevails long after the blinding fades and once more the strike appears of no avail. She half-expected a follow-through; a revelation and end to the game of cowardice while she continues to peer at the vastly more entertaining sky. There's no indication she paid the assault any mind... no evidence it's regarded as anything above utterly insignificant.

[User]
Thunder cracks and crashes in vain, and brute force proves ineffective once again. The next obvious tactic is a direct attack, but the direction of Hisame's regard gives Procella pause. She had hoped to divert the woman's upward gaze with her lightning, and then strike from above, but this would be too risky now: it is difficult to avoid attacks while in midair, and that sword has a very nasty feeling about it.

It presents a challenge, forcing Procella to consider her actions, to think. She'd much rather keep using mindless destruction, but that is obviously not working. So what does she have? Knives are not powerful enough at long range, and too risky to bring into close range. She has her power over charge, but lightning didn't do the job... on the other hand, that is not the only effect of charge.

It is true that with enough of a difference between objects, a lightning strike will result, but the whole reason behind this phenomenon is attraction. This is the basic property of charge, and the storm spirit knows it well. Opposite charges attract each other... but are usually not powerful enough to move the objects they were in. Increasing the force increases the attraction, but once you reach a certain point, you get electrical breakdown, and the air itself becomes a conductor for discharge, resulting in lightning. The full explanation eludes Procella, she simply sees flashing destruction, but she is not ignorant to the pull betwixt positive and negative.

But if the object is light enough, and the charge significant but not too large... the attraction can cause simple movement. Procella smiles. She knows now, what she can try.

Her arm whips out, and she slashes with a knife at the leaves around her. The uppermost ones are soaked by the rain, made heavy by the moisture, but the ones below are still relatively dry, and very light. She cuts them away, giving each a small negative charge. Meanwhile, Hisame still has a positive charge, since the lightning did not make it through her barrier to neutralize it.

The sensation of the building charge would be similar to the lightning attack, but instead of a blazing spark would come a sudden rush of leaves, pulled from the rivers of wind to fling themselves at Hisame. Of course, her barrier protects her, but the leaves will not go away. Becoming wet and adhesive as they are touched by the rain, and still attracted by charge, they will plaster themselves against the barrier, obstructing Hisame's sight as they pile on. Procella keeps slashing, moving from branch to branch. There are plenty of leaves to spare, and the charge needed is not nearly so great as for an electrical attack: she can sustain this, if necessary, until the shield becomes buried beneath the foliage.

It won't get rid of the shelter, but it will delay the occupant, limit her options. In the meantime, the storm is approaching its peak, and Procella grows stronger and stronger as it does.

[Assistant]
Long crepitation rolls into a rumble and drowns the rain; attention-seeking droplets fall harder and louder upon Hisame's waterproof windshield. She's utterly lost in the lightshow without care for the trivialities concerning a fool throwing electric darts at a board blindly. So long as they maintain that level of futility and refrain from actual disturbance of enjoyment, let them continue their child's play to their heart's content.

...until the view is obscured by leaves bombarding like a horde of angry bats.

She blinks in wonderment and her grin fades into a disgusted scowl; the bitterest of tastes pools in her mouth and the fire of wrath sparks to life in her belly. Fin by fin the storm is blotted out until she's covered like papier-mâché and the lightning lass's idiocy is proven to know no limits. Hisame, now completely concealed from outside sight, is free to act in secrecy. So her face sinks to look levelly forward as she layers her thoughts; then her right hand rises to pull back the hair from the slender curve of her neck and shoulders before letting the limb fall.

A pause precedes an alignment of her sword before it pierces the trapezes through. There's not so much as a wince while the blade is pulled upward in a wet, freeing slice and hissing crimson spray; like paint it rolls down her arm, torso and leg in tandem with the katana's rest at Hisame's side. The once rusty coat now swirls with a vivid, sparkling claret and drizzles blood upon the soaked earth below. In time her self-infliction closes and the wait to loose her scorching fury must be endured; as the adage goes: playtime is over.

[User]
With the curtains now drawn around the mysterious shelter, it is almost time to bring the show to a close. Each of the two strange women have a moment of reprieve from the other, a moment to recover and prepare, but it is evident that each will try to strike soon. The storm is now reaching its peak, and its growing rumbling betrays impatience.

Procella is strong now, drawing power from the tempest. Having finished cutting away leaves, she stabs one of her knives high up in the bark of the tree she sat in- leaving her with three left -and leaps down to the ground, landing on both feet with almost casual ease. From there, she kneels, and stares with eyes drunk on bloodlust. Her knife hacks into nearby bark, scoring it deeply and producing showers of splinters and chips, though it is a poor substitute indeed for the sweet, soft flesh and rains of blood that it seeks. But the spirit holds herself back. The moment is not long away, for her power is building now.

She had already created a strong positive charge in Hisame, used in both her earlier strikes and to attract the myriad leaves. But there was another use for it, one she had predicted she might need. Now, she raises its concentration further, worsening the imbalance with every second, to more and more frightening levels. There is a limit to how powerful Procella's lightning attacks can be, a limit to how much imbalance she can create at once, but in this case she is only doing so for a single node, and pouring everything into it. This time, she was not striking alone.

For in storm clouds, negative charges have a tendency to gather in the lower reaches, and in turn create a net positive in the surface of the ground. When the net difference between the two is high enough, lightning is produced naturally. Normally, this would strike tall or conductive objects, but the massive positive charge being built up in and around Hisame is massively attractive, not only ensuring that lightning will strike there, but making the bolt more powerful.

And, in but a moment, it comes. Through the cover of leaves, it is unlikely Hisame will even realize what is happening until those above her are turned to ash, and the blazing light of true lightning throws itself against her barrier, the raw fury of nature enhanced and directed by Procella in an attack that outshines her previous little sparks like a bonfire to a candle.


[System]
Age/Gender: 30/Male

Nationality: Norwegian

Appearance:

Rank: Corporal

Preferred Role: Grenadier/Special Forces Operative

Brief Background: Born and raised on the countryside in eastern Norway, Erik was up for the compulsory military service of the Norwegian Armed Forced, though he was allowed to finish his studies in Maritime machine operator before being drafted. Once drafted, he was one of few draftees that enjoyed the military life and all it had to offer, and so he decided to stay. He soon found a longing for tougher challenges, and after serving in Afghanistan and peace-keeping operations outside the Somalian coast, he applied for the best the Norwegian army could offer: FSK, Forsvarets Spesialkommando. Everything about Erik afterwards was top-secret, even more so after his transfer to the so-called Task Force Zero.

Notes: (Any added info that doesn't fit elsewhere)

[User]
The helicopter descended slowly onto the landing pad on the fantail of the Ticonderoga-Class Guided Missile Cruiser. As soon the rotary wing aircraft was on the deck, the pilot shut the engines down and the US Naval personnel responsible for maintaining the ship's aircraft began lashing the bird to the mooring rings on the deck. This was to prevent the helicopter from being tossed overboard if the ship were to hit rough seas.

Sergeant Morse exited the aircraft and followed the other members of Alpha Team down the ladders, walkways and ramps, over the side and into the zodiac rubber boat at the water line. The waves were not rough, but enough to make the boat rise and fall a foot or two. Tyus took the stern position to operate the till at Captain Upton's direction. When the members of Alpha Team were loaded, Sergeant Morse guided the boat out away from the ship to wait for the Bravo Team. Once they were loaded the boats raced towards the shoreline. Sergeant Morse kept his eyes on Captain Upton to receive guidance on direction and speed.

After concealing the rubber boat in some bushes and covering with palm branches, the team moved out towards its primary Observation Post (OP). The team trekked through rough jungle terrain, up and down hills, all the while sweating their asses off. Roughly one hour later, a silent hand and arm signal communicated a halt. The team was at their OP and time to set up.

Captain Upton assigned sectors for the team members to observe and secure a perimeter. One member would face the rear to observe anyone approaching from that direction. Sergeant Morse had been using his AN/PVS-14 Night Vision sights since they left the ship. He was accustomed to the greenish hues providing him images of what was in front of him. There was no sign of their suspected opposition known as the Valkyrie Network last known to be operating here in Indonesia. He grasped his SCAR 17, placing it on the ground in front of him while laying in the prone position.

In whispered tones, Sergeant Morse conducted a radio check with the Combat Information Center (CIC) aboard the USS George Washington. This was to insure they had radio communications with the ship that would provide Close Air Support (CAS) if the need should arise. The radio check was successful and SGT Morse advised the CIC there were no requests at this time. The last word, Dash received from the Team Commander, Captain Upton was there would probably not be a need for it. But as everyone who has ever been in combat knows, it is better to have and not need than to need and not have. Have you ever met a soldier in a firefight who had too much ammunition?

---

Sergeant Czerepusko followed Corporal Thatcher and the Bravo Team to their Zodiac. The Alpha team's craft pulled away and waited for the B Team to load up. Once the two were loaded, they sped off in the direction of some unspoken Indonesian island. Romek, also known as Scooter had no clue where he was.

Once they were ashore at their insertion point and the rubber boat, concealed, the Sniper Team, now known as Team Sigma donned their Ghillie Suits. They followed the B Team lead by Chief Bastion on the way to their pre-designated Observation Positions (OP). Team Sigma broke off from Merlin's team more than a kilometer before they reached their OPs. With his Bor rifle secured to his back, Romek kept the Mini-Beryl carbine slung high under his right arm, ready to use if needed.

Upon reaching OP Charlie, Corporal Thatcher found a suitable firing platform. Sergeant Czerepuszko set up near a tree. He crawled into position, extended the bipods on his Bor Rifle and stored the carbine. He looked down the sites using the AN/PVS-14 Night Vision sights. From where he lay, he could see several potential contacts. He made a mental range card of various objects within his field of view. Most of the items on his range card spread from six hundred to nine hundred meters. He counted no fewer than fifteen potential hostiles either standing still or moving about in his field of vision.

"You are right about the views, Wraith," Sergeant Romek Czerepuszko responded. Romek actually enjoyed listening to the New Zealand accent. It was pleasing to his ears. He found understanding the South Pacific Islander quite easy. "I am ready to fire," Scooter responded to Wraith. Then he keyed his throat mic, "Eagle, this is Scooter. Team Sigma in position. Eyes on target. I count fifteen hostiles. Weapons Hold, over." Sergeant Czerepuszko informed the Team Commander, Captain Upton that the sniper team arrived at OP Charlie, were ready for the next phase of their operation. He could see 15 potential targets in his field of vision and that he would not open fire until told to do so. There are three weapons statuses: Hold, Tight and Fee. Hold means to not fire until ordered to do so; tight means do not fire unless fired upon and free means fire on any confirmed enemy target in your field of vision.

[Assistant] Breach closely followed behind Sergeant Morse as he led through the mission. She kept her weapon drawn and steady as she walked behind him, being prepared for anything that happened. Of course she had her uzi out due to it being just a safer situation to use it at close range, and a giant explosion would probably cause a lot of commotion which would cause this mission to pretty much be screwed. It was a fair trek before the group stopped at their OP and set up their base. Breach understood what was up and took the rear with her grenade launcher equipped, a set of generic night-vision goggles on her face, and her clothes covered in muck. On the ground she stared around at the environment and very carefully tried to not give away the position the group was in, but she couldn't help but be a bit jumpy with the occasional animal running past and the illusion of it being a hostile. Thank God she kept the safety on when she tried shooting a fox. Eventually, Breach calmed down and wasn't as jumpy, and waited for the moment where things went to shit and she could use her explosive friend. Hushedly, she spoke out to her squad mates: "Awaiting orders..."

[User]
"Copy that Wizard. Hold position" Upton said as he resumed scanning the front of the base, looking for something to cause enough of a distraction to give Bravo time to move. The front of the base was eerily quiet. Both guard towers were unmanned, ditto for the gate checkpoint. In fact, JB could only see a single guard, leaning against the corner of the large building that dominated most of the base's interior, at least up on this end.

'Before anything else, we need visual confirmation' he thought, setting his sights on what appeared to be a large propane tank poked away around a far corner 'Not that they'd need it in this weather'

"Sigma, scan those hostiles again, any of 'em stand out to you? Different ethnicity or maybe someone who looks like they're in charge? We need confirmation Primary Target or Targets are in the base before we even bother to engage. Over"

----

"Joker here, we're camped up about 60 meters back from the trail. The grunts stopped at an outpost, little more than a checkpoint you'd pass in the road... except there's no road anywhere around. We have a clear line to ghost them, advise. Over"

He looked across at Viking and whispered to his squadmate.
"Anything silent on ya? Left mine at home, gonna have to get up close with the knife if we get the order"

[Assistant]
"Sigma, scan those hostiles again, any of 'em stand out to you? Different ethnicity or maybe someone who looks like they're in charge? We need confirmation Primary Target or Targets are in the base before we even bother to engage. Over"

Romek listened to Captain Upton's voice. He focused his eye on the Leupold Scope to get a better look at the occupants of the base. He scanned each individual in his field of vision that he could see. After scanning for more than several seconds he came to an obvious conclusion. Of the fifteen combatants he was looking at, there were obvious differences in two different races of people.

He counted ten soldiers who all stood roughly five feet to five feet six inches in height. They had lightly tanned flesh, black hair and Asian almond shaped eyes. Their uniforms were the same camouflage pattern used by members of the Indonesian Army, but none wore the Indonesian flag on the right shoulder or the name tapes over the breast pockets. Their uniforms appeared worn and old. These soldiers carried an assortment of Russian and Chinese built small arms and wore Chinese made jungle hats. A few were unshaven and none appeared as though they were currently serving in the Indonesian Army. They did appear as though they may be veterans of the local military but currently spending their time as rebel insurgents.

The second group of people he could identify numbered at least five and appeared closer to home for the Polish Paratrooper. They were all between five foot nine and six foot five in height. Their flesh was pale white. Two of them wore full beards and mustaches. Two wore camouflaged jungle hats, one wore a light blue beret and the other two wore olive drab bandannas tied in a knot at the back of the head. They also carried Russian built small arms. The camouflage uniforms they wore were slightly different from their local insurgent counterparts working with them. As an Eastern European, Romek thought the uniforms were the same as those used by Russian Infantry, but then noticed something strange about them. It was quite possible this group originated from Southern Russia near the border with Georgia or Azerbaijan. 'Chechens?' Romek thought to himself. 'What the fuck would Chechens be doing on a South Pacific Island?'

"Eagle, this is Scooter, I can identify ten local insurgents clad in the same camouflage uniforms worn by the Indonesian Army, minus the standard identifying patches of active soldiers; possibly Indonesian veterans. Another five appear to be Eastern European; possibly Chechens or Azerbaijanis, wearing Russian Camouflage uniforms. They appear to be experienced hard core troops who have seen action, over." Romek was slightly nervous about this revelation. He knew, if these guys were Russians or Chechen veterans, they would not role over on them. They would fight to the death. 'Who the fuck is this Valkyrie Syndicate anyway?' Romek thought to himself in Russian. He figured if he was going to be working against Russians or Chechens he should freshen up his Russian.

[User]
The journey from the aircraft carrier to the cruiser, to the zodiaks and finally up on the beach of the island went smoothly. But that only meant one thing for Viking, especially when they split up into their respective fireteams and went into the jungle; something very shitty would hit the fan sooner or later. But Viking kept his mouth shut, for him mentioning this to the others was both unlucky and redundant.

"Roger that, Merlin.". Viking had stopped dead in his tracks and fallen onto his stomach, just in time to realize what Merlin had been been so pissed about; two tangos, Indonesian mercs from the looks of it right in front of them. Luckily they didn't spot the group of highly-trained spec-ops that would shred them to pieces before they could say "Who goes there?", and soon they were on their merry way away from Fireteam Bravo. And behind them followed Viking and Joker.

It was safe to say that Viking hadn't expected to find a checkpoint in the middle of the jungle, without an actuall road to check the points of...or whatever checkpoint actually meant. While Joker radioed back Merlin, Viking tried to take a more thourough look at the checkpoint from where they were hiding. Apart from the two patrolmen, he could count two more tangos guarding the checkpoint, idly chatting with each other. They obviously didn't except either Joker or Viking to raise a little hell for them, if that was neccesary.

"Both my rifle and pistol are supressed, if you need to borrow one. Going in close also works. But why is there a checkpoint out here, I can't see any tracks of a car or truck, not even an APC or tank. Do you recon they're hiding something there?"