[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 34

Nationality: Outreman, previously citizen of Angjusk

Occupation: Deputy head of department - Cradle Research & Development

Cybernetics:
* Cradle quick-access implant - Allows access to and from the Cradle environment without additional hardware. This advanced module also reduces fatigue caused by the process, allowing power users multiple entries in a single day.
* Tier 7c 'Cradle Builder' suite - Grants access to the programs created specifically for 'terraforming' the Cradle. Tier 7 out of 20 allows Freyr to auto-build a variety of specialised equipment and propose-build mid level structures.
* Ilyes Brand communication and productivity module - Standard implant for access to Outremer's communications network. Also integrates with many well known productivity tools like a personal assistant, as well as more bespoke scientific tools.

Backstory:
Freyr was born on Angjusk, an older colony than Outremer that was renowned for its military materiel, particularly star ships.

Her mother was an innovations tsar assigned by the government to a consortium of the planet's largest ship manufacturers. During most of Freyr's childhood, her mother's sole task was making sure Angjusk battle fleets were the best money could buy in the Diaspora.

Before she was born, her father owned and operated a series of protein farms across Angjusk. After a chance encounter at a lobby meeting, he was headhunted to co-ordinate the military industrial complex's entire food supply chain. He also met his future wife, as it was Freyr's mother who had recommended him for the job on that fateful day in the lobby.

Freyr was born five years later. Her early life was a whirlwind of schooling, snatches of intimacy with her parents (when they weren't busy) and extended periods with friends. She discovered a natural capacity for learning and excelled in her studies. So much so that she received offers from universities across the Diaspora to come and develop with them.

Her mother and father both pressured her to consider diplomas like Interplanetary Relations or Agrarian Policy. However Freyr was not interested in pursuing a career in politics. Angjusk has been involved in at least a dozen small conflicts since Freyr had been born. She had seen how politicians would destroy entire cultures for the sake of influence, and wanted none of it.

In her first act of defiance, Freyr accepted a position at a school in Babylon, the main city of a far away frontier colony called Outremer. Driven more by the desire to have time away from her planet than by the subjects on offer, she researched what Outremer was known for. It was here that she first discovered the object powering this section of the Diaspora - the Cradle.

She quickly became obsessed with its untapped potential and seemingly unknowable past. She decided to pursue Xenobiology and Machine Intelligence as her subjects of interest, voraciously consuming the knowledge gathered so far on the Cradle.

It was here at the university that she met her future partner, David, who was studying art history. Isolated from her family and friends, alone on a strange planet, Freyr was glad of his unassuming company and kindness. They grew very close over the course of their degrees, and moved in together after graduation. Their daughter Amy was born a few years later.

After Uni, Freyr was picked up by an Outremer administration outreach team and placed in a government career fast lane. Her obsession with the Cradle made her an obvious choice for the Cradle Research & Development department. Once there, she quickly proved herself capable. Several breakthroughs in her first five years meant she was allowed to hand select a team of dynamic young individuals to help pursue her work. A couple more catapulted her into a deputy head of department role, to the ire of some of it's older and more entrenched members.

It was on her 34th birthday that the Cradle abducted her family. It had been acting strangely for weeks prior, rolling back years of terraforming. Freyr had been working round the clock to figure out why, practically living at her field office by the Border. David had bought sweet treats and had Amy with her.

What can only be described as creatures emerged from beyond the Border and overran the camp. A panic spread through the mostly unarmed workers, leading many to flee for their lives. Freyr's last memory of her family was being propelled across the camp by one of the creatures. She could only watch from her position immobile on the floor as they carried off her husband and little girl.

Security forces conducted a sweep of the immediate area beyond the Border, but found no sign of them. So Freyr began looking by herself as soon as her broken bones were reconstructed. Months went by. Her work stopped and her mental health deteriorated. Eventually she was placed on sick leave and her access revoked, after she attempted to use her influence to organise an armed excursion deep into the uncontrolled zone.

[User]
By this point, there was likely little surprise to the fact that Roth'Orsa had a calm, direct response to what the Director-General had showed them. This time, she continued to stare ahead at the screen after the video ended, without actually looking at any of the Human representatives. "Even if you were to give us all information you possess on the Cradle, and give us full access to every aspect of it, we could not guarantee that we would be able to take control of it in time to save your world." Roth'Orsa said flatly. "There are no guaranteed outcomes in any choice we could make. Our best outcomes require trusting in the word of the being we discovered. There is no way to be sure of its honesty, but all evidence we have access to does…suggest truth in some of its claims. It made the claim that it influenced the development of life on our planet, which is…consistent with the accepted hypothesis of the Rahn'Saki prior to these events."

Roth'Orsa's last statement turned the heads of multiple Rothians across the room, including some of the ranking leadership. Vreta was both confused and surprised by what she seemed to be implying. The idea that Rothian life could have been intelligently designed had been a shock to him when the first evidence came to light weeks ago, but Roth seemed to be suggesting that the Rahn'Saki had been considering that possibility even beforehand. Not only did they consider it, but the idea was their favored explanation. He had no idea what had caused them take on such ideas, but it was certainly not a commonly held belief among Rothians as a whole.

Regardless, Roth'Orsa did not pause for so much as a moment to address her own people's surprise. "We believe, with all data considered, that allowing the being to heal the Cradle is the most likely path to ending the crisis on your world. Were the situation less dire, we would recommend greater caution, but to delay risks losing the option of the being's assistance. Is Outremer in agreement, overall?"

[Assistant]
When the rows of faces appeared back on the screen once the clip had finished, many of them wore truly shocked expressions. About two thirds had been instantly ejected from the meeting by the video's clearance level, leaving only nine top officials in the conference.

Freyr knew immediately upon surveying the faces of her superiors that the Director-General had gotten his way. He'd wielded top secret footage from her morning briefing and hyperbole like a club to hammer any sense of caution or due process from his audience. She watched, exasperated, as Outremer's high command discreetly messaged each other while the Speaker made her closing remarks.

Freyr quickly surveyed her colleagues' faces; they looked horrified with the pantomime unfolding before their eyes. She then caught 595's eye - the agent was grim and pale, still not fully recovered from her re-entry. She gave Freyr an incomprehensible look - what was that? Pain? Fear? Sleep starved elation?

Freyr turned back and hurriedly leaned forward in her seat before the officials gave their answer. "As head of Cradle Research and Development, I would like to formally object to reuniting the artefact, codenamed Rothia 1, with the Cradle. Under Diaspora Colonial Secrets statute 43, article…61, the expedition lead can request thirty Earth days of direct study in-situ before presenting official recommendations to the-"

"Dr Lang I'm terribly sorry, but your conflict of interest with the Cradle's operation precludes you from using DCS in this way. Especially in Rothian space." Smith replied coolly, having obviously prepared responses to the primary arcane procedure that Freyr was privy to.

"Dr Lang... As someone who has lost a child too, I know the pain you must be feeling." President DeWinter soothed; all of the faces had stopped talking to each other and were now watching her closely. "I would give anything to see my babies again. But we must do this, or we risk every future generation of Outreman children. For that reason, I'm authorising the repatriation of this object to the Cradle. I hope you will help us, Freyr." Dr Lang massaged her eye sockets, resigning herself once again. She nodded slowly. "Of course, Madame President."

[User]
For the first time, Roth'Orsa actually paused for an appreciable moment to formulate her response. Vreta imagined the Rahn'Saki were discussing among themselves, perhaps with some disagreements among them to account for the short delay. "If we are in agreement, then we should begin preparations to move the device to Outremer. One of our scientists, Nirann, has already submitted a proposal." She said, turning her head towards his holographic avatar and gesturing to him. "If you please."

Nirann was initially surprised to be called upon to speak. The Rahn'Saki doubtless already knew everything he knew, and much more. There was a good reason the rest of them had stayed quiet while the Rahn'Saki were handling diplomacy. Still, he did not hesitate to follow his leaders' request. "Of course. I am aware that the Cradle has, in the past, been adverse to moving from its position within Outremer's crust. We do not know if this new device would be similarly stubborn, but in any case, my proposal would bypass such resistance." Nirann began as he pushed a digital copy of his written proposal to each of the meeting's attendees still present. "Rather than try to excavate the object, we can simply build a Class 1 gateway around it, underground. At the same time, we bring another gateway to Outremer, then simply send it through the wormhole. Even if the object will allow us to move it with no resistance by other means, this process would still be quicker than the time it would take to excavate it from Rothia safely."

"In addition, we also need to discuss our cooperation." Roth'Orsa quickly continued. "This matter has moved far beyond just the concern of Humanity on Outremer. Based on the information available, the list of potential outcomes may impact every living species in our galaxy. We will require full cooperation in the study of these devices, and equal decision-making power for any matter with a potential influence beyond Humanity's concerns on Outremer."

[Assistant]
"Thank you for submitting that proposal, Nirann. We will need assurances that the gate is only temporary, though." President DeWinter smiled at the holographic Rothian then turned her head to address at Roth'Orsa.

"We have discussed the arrangement as a group and could potentially agree to expand the clause on exo-Cradle objects. So we can investigate this entity's compatriots together." The Director-General nodded encouragingly while DeWinter continued. "But we cannot agree to any expansion of our relationship regarding the Cradle. It is still our asset, and willfully relinquishing control to another civilisation would reflect poorly on this administration. Our top priority right now should be returning this thing home."

[User]
"But you are mistaken, President." Roth'Orsa replied, unshaken by the Humans' resistance, and unmoving in her demeanor. "The Cradle is not yours. You did not create it, and as we have learned, its creators are not dead, nor did they willingly abandon it. If what we have learned is accurate, the Cradle is the home of these beings. It belongs to them, and they have the right to it. The Cradle now fits the definition of the native homeworld of an independent, intelligent species within your borders. You do have the right to control first contact, but you do not have the right to deny us access to it for our own…anthropological study and diplomatic activities."

Roth'Orsa leaned forward, maintaining her stare towards President DeWinter. "Even aside from such legal definitions, what happens with the Cradle no longer just concerns Humanity. Every Rothian, every Tindrel, Ulsix, or Paran. Every single thinking being in our galaxy could be preserved or destroyed based on what happens to the Cradle. Consider, President DeWinter, that we are no longer discussing a piece of technology. We are no longer merely arguing about allowing Rothian scientists to satisfy their curiosity studying an interesting computer. We are discussing an existential threat to the continued existence of the Rothian people. This is no longer a matter of intellectual curiosity for us, President, it is a matter of survival. Consider your answer within that context, before you reply. We will not demand Cradle data you have already gathered through the centuries, none of your technologies nor secrets you have extracted, but we will require full and equal access to study the Cradle as it is now. We will require equal involvement in reuniting the device on Rothia with the Cradle, and an equal voice in the events to come involving it. There is nothing less that is acceptable."

[Assistant]
"I can take that first part for you, Madame President." The Director-General asserted. DeWinter nodded, glad to put some distance between herself and this problematic legalese. The man with the shining eyes answered the Speaker.

"The Cradle has always been categorised as a 'colonised habitat' belonging to Outremer, ever since we founded New Antioch. For the past...three hundred and sixteen years it has been sub categorised as a 'Tier 1 government installation'. This means we are authorised by Diaspora law to deny access for any reason. Given these unique circumstances, if this intelligence can prove that the Cradle is it's home we are prepared to fast track it's repatriation. But we cannot do that if you are holding it hostage and withholding it's equivalent of medical assistance. You may well be contravening the Native Populations framework if you refuse to move it to Outremer."

Freyr hung, speechless, on every word of this exchange. It was noticeable how much better prepared the Director-General was now, when compared to the last time they'd been together at the Rothian embassy on Outremer. She saw a man who had inadvertently opened up a can of worms, and was now painstakingly catching and killing all of the loose fugitives with the precision of a surgeon. Freyr also noticed that after his initial admonishment of herself, Smith had become utterly emotionless, perhaps to mirror the Speaker herself.

"Thank you, Director-General. I would like to add that we are well aware of the scale of this discovery. We're looking forward to working together as allies to find a solution. I'm sure we can find some middle ground with regard to data sharing. We will also of course involve Rothia and any other civilisations in the decision-making process."


[System]
Race: Human
Class: Witch
Rank: Iron
Affinities:
Fire: Red and Blue
Special: Plant
Attributes
Strength: Low
Intelligence: Excellent
Agility: Low
Dexterity: High
Constitution: Average
Resilience: Average

Brief Backstory:
The wandering youngster appeared at the guild doorstep one day, promising aid in return for shelter. The previous guildmaster, heavily understaffed and drowning in bureaucracy at the time, reluctantly accepted. Not much is known about the witch, except that if she isn't at the guild hall then she'll be tucked away in her room experimenting with some sort of creation. She frequently issues collection missions to the members for materials she is in need of, the rewards being a part of whatever she's making at the time.

Apart from supplying general goods to the guild, she deals with member registration, finances and any dealings with the kingdom. Her workload is largely never-ending, and though she rarely participates on the battlefield, she is an integral part of the guild's operation.

Weapons: Gathering knife. Whatever creation she has on her at the time.
Abilities: Oleda is a highly skilled crafter, particularly in regards to magical items. The most she's ever admitted to Cel of her history is that she learned potion brewing from her mother and the rest, she claims, she picked up along the way. Creations such as magic restraints, enchanted gathering knives and self-drawing maps are all within the scope of her ability. She also produces goods, with varying degrees of legality, that can be used in combat or reconnaissance. But convincing her those are worth the effort would be the greater challenge.

Her fire affinity assists her with heating and cooling potions, but their application in combat remains largely untested. For those who've caught a glimpse of her residency on the second floor, it is filled with all manner of strange species she's hand-grown herself. However, many are valuable and under heavy enchantment, leading entry to be at the individual's peril.

[User]
Oleda
The guild was empty as violet shadows faded to the rising dawn. Red had just begun to touch the rim of the horizon, trees rustling in the soft light. Birds slowly awoke, beginning their twittering. Oleda's expression was etched into a scowl.

Within the guild, chaos reigned.

The witch stood at the top of the stairs, a bundle of scrolls clutched to her chest. The requests for new supplies, somehow, lost urgency in face of the violent mass of energy currently tearing the guild apart. The deep, distinctive violet of the Rift swirled at the edges, alerting her to the cause. And vines, or perhaps roots crawled from inside the mirror like surface to crack through the wooden floorbards.

From her vintage point she could make out the indistinct colours of a forest, or perhaps a bog. Strange lights within the image threw off her guess.

Oleda sighed, stomping down the stairs with no small degree of frustration. The air roared around her, swallowing sound itself as she dumped her scrolls beneath the guild desk. It's too early for this.

Her hand landed on a nearby stack of papers as the potion holding it down toppled to the floor. The two banners either side of the hall twisted in the air, threatening to rip from their hinges. Oleda spared it all a pained look, settling into the chair behind the counter. There were various things that needed to be tied down, but until help arrived there wasn't much she could do. It's seriously too early for this.

Urgent
A dungeon has appeared in the guild hall. Assist Oleda with investigating and dealing with any threats.

[Assistant]
What is this madness? An indoor storm!?

Mercutio stumbled into the hall, gasping at the oddity before him. The air felt heavy as the violet energy before him pulsed without regard for its surroundings. It beckoned, insisted, daring all to enter into its peculiar domain. The dracolvian clambered against a more secure piece of furniture and held tight. In that moment he spotted a figure. It was Lady Oleda, the guild clerk, sitting on a chair in front of the counter. The expression on her face looked more annoyed than shocked at the present phenomena. Though to be fair, that seemed to always be the case, especially when dealing with fumbling Coppers like himself.

Maybe this isn't as dangerous as it looks? Just then a book came flying in his direction. He ducked behind the table as it slashed over his head and slammed against the wall.

"Okay, maybe not."

Mercutio made a bee line in her direction, picking up loose items scattered on the ground. His arms were full by the time he reached her.

"H-hello, Lady Oleda." His tinny voice echoed out from his helmet.

Her nonchalant disposition contrasted so much with the unfolding mayhem that he too tried to procure the same measure of calm, but his panicky eyes, shifting through the round slits of his helmet had betrayed him.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

[User] Velu had left home two days ago and was now nearing the edge of his forest. Based on what he had heard, the hall of the Adventurer's Guild should be somewhere in this general area. It didn't take him long to find the guild hall. More accurately, he found the rift that had opened at the site of the Guild Hall and had ventured closer to investigate. When he got closer to the chaos that was the newly formed rift, he realized that the rift was forming at the site of the Guild Hall for the Adventurer's Guild. He opened the door to the hall and stepped inside to find even more chaos. "This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" Velu asked the only two people currently within the hall.

[Assistant]
Oleda stared at chaos in front of her. Unsure what to tackle first. Unsure if interfering would make it better or worse.

White knuckles remained clamped down on the loose papers over the desk. She knew theoretically she should pull them out of the storm and under the counter where they'd be safe. Yet she was stumped. Not willing to accept it... Grey blue took in the thrashing winds with a tight-lipped expression. The mismatched wooden boards cracked with roots. The banners as one ripped from its hinges and snagged on a table-

"H-hello, Lady Oleda."

Ah. The witch blinked. A voice she hadn't heard approach over the roaring winds.

She realised her mistake a second late. Her hand had lifted a fraction off the papers and like a great flock of sparrows the air tore them from beneath her palm— twisting and swooping towards the murky surface of the dungeon. Oleda watched as they disappeared with soundless ripples, looking as if she'd bitten a lime. Please tell me those weren't important.

Ah, but they would be. It was her fault for leaving them out, really. She should know by now misfortune followed the guild like an overzealous cat.

"Umm, is that supposed to be here?"

The coppery echo was distinct, dragging her back from thoughts of past catastrophes before she could measure how they compared to now. Her eyes snapped to the fins of the lancer's helm, though the sound of his voice alerted her first to who it was. "Merc-" she said. Her gaze noted the armful of items, dark gloves clutching books and loose rubble against his chestplate. He glanced between her and the howling rift. Eyes shifting beneath the circles of his visor.

"Oh." The question caught up with her head and she blinked, glancing towards the heart of the destruction. Roots had begun curling upwards, weaving around each other as they followed the boundry of the energy. "I'm assuming you mean the incarnation of chaos over there..." A stray mug came whistling towards them, narrowly avoiding Oleda's head. The witch paused her gesture, continuing a little faintly. "-not really, no."

Though it really depends on the interpretation of 'meant'. She was sure the world meant for it to be there, whether because the guild was so charged with magic or the universe hated their guts. But as far as plans for the day went, dealing with an interdimensional rift had not been on the agenda, no.

The lancer's stance caught her attention as Oleda dragged her eyes from the chaos. Her brow creased, watching his finicky gaze beneath the visor. The blue glint of scales were somewhat visible around his eyes, reminding her she had yet to see anything more than the rounded helm he wore. "I guess this is your first time seeing a dungeon form," she said.

It wasn't unusual. People usually found dungeons—if they found them at all—after the initial opening and the boundry had been established. Or the destruction drew their attention and by the time they arrived it had become stable. Field researchers tended to encounter them the most, as they were often at the site of magic infused phenomena.

Oleda was not a field researcher. But she had, on occasion, been known to dabble with waystones. It was uncommon knowledge that breaking a waystone could trigger a dungeon forming. After all, as far as anyone knew they worked by warping through the rift.

Long story short, she no longer brought waystones anywhere near her room.

The sound of the guild doors brought a new element to the scene and for one, dreadful moment Oleda feared the force had been strong enough to tear the wood from its hinges.

"This is probably a bad time to ask about joining the Guild, but do you need help with anything?" The stranger's voice seemed to carry across the wind.

"Uh, it's under control!" Oleda called back. As if spiteful of her words a stray piece of wood came spinning towards the two. She squawked, ducking under the counter and pulling Mercutio with her. "I'd stay back! It'll be like this until it forms a proper boundary!"

[User]
The sudden pull from Lady Oleda made him tumble toward the ground. The Trident fastened behind Mercutio broke his fall as it clanged against the top of the counter. Its weight kept him pinned as the butt of the weapon was lodged awkwardly against an overturned chair. He looked a bit like a spit roasted fish that managed to free itself from one arm.

"Well, this is unfortunate..." Mercutio said aloud, wanting to die from embarrassment.

He eventually contorted his way free. Unsheathing his Trident, and untangling it from his Kraken's net, he joined Lady Oleda underneath the counter as he held the weapon beside him.

"Ahem..." The dracolvian let out a large sigh. Hoping to deflect attention from his entangled mishap, he immediately brought up his concern about the visitor. "I hope whoever that is knows about the boundary rule too!"

[Assistant]
She'd forgotten he was a lancer. Oleda blinked as Mercutio's weapon clanged against the top of the counter, giving him a pained look as she debated whether to help. She had the discretion at least to look elsewhere, peeking over the top of the wooden desk as she waited for the copper to right himself.

The roots grasping their way around the edge of the gateway began to twine at the top of the arch. Curling into patterns reflective of the nebulous energy. Oleda's shoulders sloped at the sight, anticipating an end to the chaos. Only to shoot right back up as the draconian raised his voice beside her.

She shot him a look. The clunky armour seemed too large for the small space behind the counter. Though he'd managed to unlatch his weapons and wisely had them to the side, held at the ready.

"...it's less of a rule, she said, a little louder than usual to be heard over the wind. She glanced back at the portal, one arm slung over the counter as she fumbled around for something beneath the shelves. "The energy stabilises eventually. It's a bit like-"

The high-pitched keen that had been filling the hall cut off. Oleda stopped, her head ringing in the absence of the sound. Items began to clatter to the ground in a series of thuds and cracks. The wind subsided, replaced with heavy silence enough to hear her own heartbeat. As quickly as the chaos began, it had ended.

The witch relaxed, her hand falling on the book she needed amongst the bottles and scrolls and dried out ingredients. "It's a bit like a wound," she said again, filling the empty air. The surface of the dungeon hummed, seeming content. "It's destructive at first, but it stems the bleeding on its own given time."

With the chaos tamed it was easier to see the extent of the damage on the guild. Oleda's explanation faltered at the sight of the scoured walls and upturned floorboards. Their newest visitor stood just inside the doors, the sharp taper of his ears alerting her to his nature.

She sighed, rising to her feet. The initial forming of dungeons was hardly the worst thing about them. "Anyway," she said, addressing the new arrival. "Who are you exactly?"


[System]
Age:
24
Position:
Master of Disguise
Appearance/Clothing:

Minus tattoos

Doesn't smoke
^Usually these clothes

Skills:

* Master of disguise
* Jack of all trades (Basic knowledge of everything with experience in many fields.)
* Deception
* Diplomat
* Language skills (Can learn languages quickly, speaks mainly English, German, Chinese (Mandarin))
* Recon
* Stealth
* Melee (Knife and fist)
* Athletics
* Gun combat (Pistol)
* Investigate

Crimes Against The Alliance:
Impersonating many different figure heads (Boy was it a fun)
Stealing crucial information

Additional Information:
* Gets his knowledge from reading books, but does not usually retain expert information for long periods of time

	+ Occasionally will remember expert knowledge in some random field for long periods of time, such as Neurosurgery, usually useless in most situations
* Has had jobs pretending to be different types of doctors, a mechanic, weapons engineer, pilot, heads of government, mercenary, and even a companion
* Usually dresses up in a suit and disguised because he doesn't want people to identify him
* Occasionally dresses up as a female to practice mannerisms, speech and tone (Also to make fun of other men)
* Easily embarrassed when not disguised in some shape or form
* Can mimic voices and body movements
* Has fun pretending to be someone doing something that they would never usually do

Weapons:
* Knife
* Pistol
* Hand-to-hand combat

Possessions:
* Chemistry set for making dyes and perfumes, etc.
* Sewing kit and material for making clothes for disguises
* Make up, masks, fat suits, fake skins, etc.
* A pendant with a photo

Personality:
When Rune is disguised, he is more confident and more outgoing, unless the 'character' he needs to play is otherwise. Since he is usually disguised anyway, he is 'normally', a little sophisticated, and kind. He is reliable and always remains calm. His speech displays maturity and wisdom. He upholds himself with dignity and in a manner that says he would speak of justice, although he rarely mentions anything to do with justice.

On the other hand, when he is not disguised, he is a meek and shy. Unable to speak up much, he usually keeps a distance from others. Not getting closer than needed to them. Unsociable and usually looking down, it would seem he was a completely different person. He does however find it fun to observe people.

Finally, in his occasional female disguise, he ... she? is enigmatic and flirtatious. Always having some sort of fun.

History:

The master of disguise, Rune, was abandoned when he was a child, left with a simple pendant, with a photo of someone he does not recognise, but keeps close. Abandoned on the street, a rich nobleman by the name Weiβ-Schwarz, appeared and took him in. There was a reason the nobleman took him in, it was because of the resemblance to his own son. His son was very arrogant and disrespectful. Weiβ-Schwarz took in Rune to have him be his son's body double and give himself a respectable image.

Rune had therefore trained in learning mannerisms and body language, speech mimicry of the boy he was to act as. Then act as a version of the boy that was respectful and honorable. In doing so, he was treated like he was the son. As time passed, the boy had practically taken over the son's role, and was even considered to be the one to become the heir. However, the real son was not pleased. Suddenly rumors were spread, the son was ruining the family image, committing larceny and many other crimes. Weiβ-Schwarz was considering to have his own son 'removed'.

That was when Rune decided he should leave, and let the family affairs clear up. Going out, he committed larceny in front of many people, before taking off a mask and wig and running off. The Weiβ-Schwarz family was cleared of the rumors. The real son was not as respectful and honorable, but he had started to take his right as heir more seriously. This lead to Rune being free from his disguise, and let him assume more disguises.

Many years followed, and he has been disguising, infiltrating and stealing information for various groups of people to make a living. He is even renown for his imitation of Alliance head figures who, on television, went naked and gave a speech about love and puppies. That was one job he had fun with. People did not realise what was going on until a image of his mask being taken off was found. He became known as a master of disguise and continued on many other jobs after that.

[User]
Hannah groaned as the Captain's barked order came over the comm, coughing up a lung as she pulled herself to her feet with the railing. Make that foot—she limped to the console and propped her hip against it, fingers flying to input the override that would allow the cargo bay to open even with the alarms blaring.

Captain Lee made it to the release, the hatch opened, and some of the haze lessened. The coughing didn't let up, but Hannah slumped against the railing in relief anyway. She let her knees buckle and she sat on the floor, legs swinging in the open air over the cargo bay and her arms folded on top of the bottom rail.

"Captain," she said hoarsely, "Honest to Betsy that wasn't me this time."

She was just about to try some weak joke to try and brighten the Captain's black mood when the stragglers from outside caught her attention. Her eyebrows rose, and she pulled herself to her feet again, painfully making her way down into the hold. She gave halfhearted waves to the newcomers, but figured that if anyone was going to let them on board, it should be the Captain—and she had crates of grenades to shove in a refrigerator. And a busted ankle to deal with. Christ.

[Assistant]
The firefly started to open, black smoke escaping from the hatch. Waving his hand in front of him, fanning the smoke, Rune heard the captain speak. The captain stated that they were alive and wandered who he was. "Name's Jeff. I'm a small time mechanic here. Saw your ship hurling down, wanted to see if you were hurt or not, see if maybe you needed some repairs." As Rune gave a random fake name, someone else came over to the crash site. A mechanic.

Oh damn it! I hope I don't get discovered so quickly. Rune thought to himself, looking over to them. Inside the ship, a hoarse voice called out to the captain. Betsy? Who is that? Looking up at the voice, he saw a young lady, couldn't be older than himself. Seeing her wave, he waved back. "Anyway, exactly what happened here? Do you have a mechanic, Captain? Because it's dangerous being in the black without one." Rune asked the Captain. "If you need some repairs done, I'd like to offer my services. In return, I'd like to travel along to one of the other planets, if you don't mind." Rune demonstrated a full set of tools, ready to be used for the job.

[User]
Hitting the comms Iean set out a word in between coughs. "I'm fine here capin. Cough. Hack. We got problems of the critical sort." Iean sprayed some stuff that tried to spark up and some areas still holding heat. Iean shook his head as he looked at the damage. Thankful to be alive he looked up and yelled at the ceiling in Chinese. "What the devil are you playing at? You'll not get this ship without a fight!" The only thing to do now was to find a place with better air.

Making his way to the cargo hold the high ceiling would allow the lower level to be free of smoke so he headed in that direction and when the ship touched down and the doors opened the air would rush to great him. Iean didn't have to wait long to breath free. "Ah that's the good stuff." He stayed close to listen in on the damage report from the captain.

[Assistant]
Captain groaned deeply as she pushed herself to her feet, pulling a bloodied hand away from the deep gash in her bicep and taking out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and taking a long draw off of it. Looking at the two that had come up to check out the crash.

 "Yeah, we had one and if I find that gorram mechanic I will drop him in deep space before he can say Browncoat," she spat as she held the smoke between her teeth.

 "All injuries report to the infirmary, if you can't have someone carry you," she yelled into the com before turning back to the two new comers and then over to Iean.

 "Preacher, take these two to the problem and have them get to work," she said as she pushed the smoke from between her teeth. "One of you start working on repairs, the other bring me a damage assessment in the infirmary. I'll hire both of you if you can get this gorram ship off the ground in less than a week, if not I'll pay one and hire the other. Who ever is better at the job," she said before storming off back into the ship and making her way down to the infirmary to patch up her arm and see who else got the blue blazes knocked out of them.

[User]
Gideon looked over with a mental groan at the other mechanic, the man was downright unflappable in the situation. He looked back at those that were talking and cast glance back to the other potential rival. He stowed his bike to the corner and came back to the fellow grease monkey to talk to him as calmly as he could while waiting for the preacher

"Alright, lets keep this simple, we can't be in there butting heads or else we both going to be stuck on this rock. One of us needs to do the hard work and the other one do the reports. Have you ever done overhauls to a firefly before?"

He had done a lot of work in the war, scrapping and slapping ships parts that were shot down or captured alliance pieces. Of them he had to appreciate purple belly tech, it was all built around like lego blocks. Push it in, pull it out, ultimate efficiency.

"Alright, lets assume for a second everything is (insert chinese here), We have the the two shuttles and the firefly made by the same people who make Dragonflies, her kissing cousin.
After that we got the bumble bee which is the inbred cousin, then yellow-jackets who are the brother from another mother and hornets that look like you from a ways off but aint got nothing to do with you. with Scarabs limping in at the last.

If the reactor is gone, A dragonfly has the same make we can use, but we can cobble together something that will limp with a long range shuttle to take apart or take a huge risk with finding a bumblebee to take apart piece by piece for what we need like a compression coil or the kin. The engine is in the same boat, either a dragonfly for a full replacement or a shuttle for parts. And again for the thrusters.
Hell we can get her just about anywhere for a spell if we scrap both of her shuttled for parts. But i'd rather not kill the babies to feed the momma-bird, she'll know and she'll let us know her displeasure.

Sensor packs we can get from both of those as well as any bumblebee, scarab, or hornet. Same for the whole computer. If the coms are down, then we can get it from anything but the scarab. What do you say?"

[Assistant]
The captain headed down to the infirmary grumbling under her breath as she held her cigarette between her lips in the corner of her mouth. Storming in she rolled her eyes at the mess that had been caused by the crash and started rummaging though what was scattered about on the floor to find what she was looking for.

 After a while she gave up and opted for doing it the old fashion way. Grabbing a gauze she cleaned up the wound and flicked her lighter, letting the flame build up heat on its steel surface. Once the top part began to glow she took a deep breath and pressed it against the wound, cauterizing it. Her breath held and her fingers curled against the counter. Pulling the lighter back she shook her grip loose and shoved the lighter back in her pocket.

 Pulling the cigarette from her lips she paced a bit as she swung her arm about. Her foot kicking a small box, tilting her head she looked down and narrowed her eyes, it had been the kit she had been looking for.

 "Figures," she said as she made her way back out of the infirmary and headed right for the bridge. She needed a damage assessment go the electrical and the rest of the systems.

[User]
Rune groaned, physically as the other mechanic waffled on about the ships related to the Firefly, referring to those ships literally as family, with Dragonflies being the cousins, and all the other insect named ships. "Never spoke to another mechanic that refers to all those ships like that. I've done an overhaul from a firefly, can't imagine it to be much different. I mean they are practically like lego blocks."

Of course, he had done work as a mechanic before, actually overhauling from a firefly. And it was like lego blocks, but it wasn't as easy as he made it sound, as he didn't have quite the technical skills. He mostly had the technical knowledge. "Anyway, yeah sounds like a good idea, splitting the work and taking parts from those other ships. We could even use the thrusters and engine from the Wren class ship. I mean sure the engine and thrusters were meant for a smaller lighter ship, so they would be a slightly different model, but it will work as a makeshift to get the ship off the ground and to one of the other planets to get some real repairs. This place isn't really the best place to fully repair it so yeah." He mostly quoted things from the books and what he could remember. He only hoped that he didn't make a fool of himself and compromise himself. There shouldn't have been anything wrong with what he had said though.

Starting to make his way into the ship, he looked up at Hannah, who was on the railings. "Anyway, I'll let you decide whether to do ship repairs or reports. Or we could both do some of both. Up to you. For now, I think that lady over there could use some help." indicating to the girl on the railings. "Need some help to the infirmary young miss?" Offering her some help.


[System]
Character Sheet
Age: 74
Race: Desert Elf
Description/picture (if you want) Lia can be described as an Arabian Nightmare, her tanned skinned scorched by the sun stand in stark relief of her red tattoo's that cover her arms and legs in harsh geometric lines, dispersed with swirling ivy that trails its way to the center of Lia's body, coming to stop at a solid ring around her belly button. Her face was tattooed in the same way, but here it added a softness to her face that her hard lean body lacked. Years of training in the hot desert sun had left little softness in Lia, but she did mourn the loss of that gentle femininity some days, and was known for brief fits of compassion and caring. Her eyes were a striking tiger's eye color, Honey, sunflower and fresh packed earth mixing into her iris' causing a riot before fading into black at the center and outskirts of her eyes. Her long jet black hair fell to her bottom, and was tied into two long braids skillfully wrapped in cloth of different bright colors. At the Manor, Lia typically wears skinny jeans, doc martins and a simple tight white guinea tea. The angry red hue of her tattoos make themselves known through the thin stretched fabric, and Lia felt a zing of pride. Her plump lips wear constantly being tugged into her mouth by her lip ring, keeping them a bright natural red color. Standing at 5'9, Lia felt easy and confident in her own skin.
[/img]goo.gl/images/asEoGm[/img]
Powers: Fire wielding, some proficiency with air and earth wielding.
Weapons(if any): Throwing knives held by a leather hilt, 2 9mm hand guns strapped to each thigh and a rudimentary throwing spear blessed by her desert elf tribe. True ability uknown.
History: Lia was born and bread in the desert of Marrakesh near Iberia to a small tribe of Desert Elves who had lived peacefully for years with other nomadic beings, humans who made their life on the desert and those who were searching for relief from the manmade world. Their tribe had lived happily, training each generation to be warriors, lovers, and protectors. Keeping ancient customs alive, Lia had an old soul that spoke of generations of ancestors. But she also had a temper. Her powers for fire wielding were too vast, too much for the small unnamed tribe to help her wield any longer. Soon they became wary of her, stopping conversation as she entered the room, declining invitations for hunting or trading trips, so she went alone. She became bitter, the fire in her veins nothing in comparison to the fire the burned white hot in her eyes. With her spine rigid, she walked into her Grandmother's dwelling, a small hastily built hut her tribe erects during the sand storm season for each of its elders. The rest of the village sleeps together huddled into one giant yurt filled with furs and hides, pillows in bright colors and the smell of Shisha strong in the air. Her grandmother was Lia's only living relative, and had been ill for a long time. As elves dont typically age at the same rate as humans, Lia's grandmother must be impossibly old. The millennia lumbering slowly on as Tal's body weighed down and became creased with age. Lia looked at Tal and told her that she needed to leave and discover more help in wielding her impossibly large and growing skill. Tal easily let Lia go, understanding her granddaughters need for something more than nomadic customs and its predictability. Though Lia still kept the sands of Marrakech in her veins, her fire needed something more, and she let that flame at the center of her belly lead her towards the House of Rejects.
Odds and ends: (Want to add something not here??)
Lia has been in the technological world for about a year by the time she finally reaches the doors of the House. While she is basically fluent in pop culture and technology, there are sometimes small and glaring gaps in her knowledge. When angered she turns back into the angry desert nomad, and her fire has been growing steadily after every usage, making it difficult to master one level of power before being driven deeper into the molten core that holds her fire. Over the year she has discovered her basic affinity for Air, Earth and water wielding and has become proficient in wielding them together, but her fire continues to be uncooperative.

[User]
Brilliant, yellow irises drifted toward Thortan with his latest round of commentary, a sound similar to 'tchah' offered under her breath. The woman bore no fur, nor was she overtly wolf like save for the canines that extended within her mouth. Had it not been for the eyes, she'd have been mistaken as human. A sigh escaped too at the utilization of the word pup and she shook her head.

The cigarette itself had been snuffed out, her hand coming away from the hilt of her blade as she let the half finished smoke disappear in a brief swirl of shadow magic. "I won't smoke in the common areas, but I'll be damned if you tell me I can't smoke in my own room." A quiet had settled over her features as she returned her gaze to Ophelia, a brief smile coming to her lips.

[Not in 'English'!]"The god my people worship granted us a blessing based in rage, as well. Like the territorial instinct of a wolf we growl, snap and bite at those that even appear to wrong us. Calming the anger was the first step to learning how to navigate our gifts. It appears we have a thing or two in common." The words did not come out in the common dialect of the humans, but rather in the native tongue of the desert elves. It was smooth and without error, though it was the most common form of the language, and not spoken with any particular dialect in mind.

[Assistant]
Lia watched the brief exchange between the two, and it was obvious these two had a longer history than just a few minutes. Her long ears pricked at the sound of her native language being spoken, rather well. Skillfully blended neutrally as to not be distinctive in any particular region. She chewed the womans words a few minutes, rolling it around and gathering all the information she could from them. Her tattoos pulsed once more as she came to the conclusion that these two held her best chance, and that she would gather what she could from them.
 Lia lifted her fingers and called upon her Air, her breath, and guided the stray ciggarette smoke away from Mr. Masters and herself, lazily guiding it into a few patterns and shapes before letting it go well away from everyone.
She turned to the woman, her eyes steady but not unkind, and spoke her true tongue, the melodic and lilting desert language of the Saadian region, and her tattoos glowed once more, this time with love for her native language, and thankful to this woman for her gift, the ability to speak with others as her true self. Her eyes clamped shut as the rage in her belly uncoiled itself a little more, strong emotion turning deadly in her stomach, she deadened her eyes and willed her tattoos quiet, taking a deep breath through her nose. She swung her head back to Masters, tugged her lip ring into her mouth, and narrowed her eyes again.
 " Then lets get started."

[User]
"Most excellent!!" Thortan said excitedly. "Well than, shall we eat?? I am sure you both are positively famished. Please while I prepare the meal, go drop off your belongings, I am sure you will find your room easily enough, and to your liking??" Thortan turned and walked into the house chuckling to himself. He made his way towards the kitchen and began rummaging through the things to make for dinner. His mind wandered as he did so.

"Thortan you scoundrel, why must you always joke at times like these?? The humans have declared war on us!!" Queen Selnexia said in a serious tone.

"M'lady, so serious, while numerous the humans are fragile and don't live quite as long as we do. I am sure their king will tire of this blind jealousy soon enough. No one likes long drawn out campaigns." He said with his trademark smirk.

"You have been away for to long trickster, the humans hate us. They feel inferior to us since I locked away Lumina's in her prison. They feel as though their seat on the council amounts to nothing more than pity!!" The queen stood from her throne and walked up to Thortan. She began poking his chest to emphasize her points. "They will not easily back down, you have to gather our forces and prepare for war!!"

"As you wish, my queen." Thortan said with an exaggerated bow, the smile never leaving his.

The memory felt as though it happened yesterday, while the Queen's right hand made dinner for his new guests his smile grew at what he knew would be coming ahead. Finally peace and fun will return to the world. They just had to do something with the humans first. As he cooked an other memory flashed behind his eyes.

"I told you, fool!! Their numbers are to great to not take lightly!! The castle has fallen!! Now I have lost my kingdom twice!! I must make haste to the secret library, there must be an answer there on how to deal with the humans"
The queen said atop her horse as they rode away.

"M'lady, we must hurry than if we are to lose the army on our tails!" Thortan said keeping up on his on steed.

"No, I have sent word to Liz to lay low for now. She is awaiting word from you or me on what to do next. You must leave me now. You must go into hiding, find those gifted and hunted with no one left to help. You must help them learn, we cannot let our people die out. When I have found a solution I will summon you." She said, visibly upset.

"Self, I cannot leave you. You need my protections!!" Thortan argued. "My knowledge is unrivaled!!"

"Which is why you must go!! Use that to help those who need it. Now that is an order from your queen!!"

"As you wish m'lady!! Don't you dare die!!"

Thortan trip down memory road ended as he was setting the table. He did his best to represent each person's culture in the dishes he had made. For Lia, a hot and spice chicken accompanied by some fresh desert veggies, cactus water imported directly from the Novien desert. For himself, a thick beef stew that he had been cooking since yesterday. For Liz he put the soup bone the plate. He snickered to himself at how upset she was going to be.

[Assistant]
Liz turned to follow Thortan inside, her gaze quickly settling on the scenery. She studied the interior of the mansion just as she had the woman outside, taking in every detail...memorizing every exit, and every hiding spot. It was the involuntary process her mind launched into anytime she entered a new structure. Her own mind was not far from Thortan's, though neither of the two realized that of course. Memories of her own were flickering through her mind. The first time she had met with the Queen it was when tensions had initially risen.

It was worth noting, in Liz's own mind, that the tensions were not without merit. Whatever she had advertised it was obvious the Queen had no intention of giving the humans any real power in her envisioned empire, and it was only a matter of time before they would figure that out. Liz had seen it quickly, and she had offered her opinion without hesitation. When the Queen had laid out her vision for Liz she could not help but be impressed. It was something she could support, and so here she was.

Those early days had been full of thrills. Constant work had been rolling in for the assassin, and she had barely a moment to spare for the sake of sleep. It was ideal, for someone like her. The waiting had her restless, irritable, and anxious. She wanted to see things moving, to watch that progress the way it should. The more reclusive Kingdoms, Liz felt, were to blame. Even her own people. To name support without providing men...it seemed pointless. Had the numbers come together properly, they would have at least matched the humans more evenly, if not managed to outnumber them outright.

A hiss escaped from her nostrils as she let her mind work through the train of thought, and by the time she found herself settling at the table she was cutting that thought process off. It wasn't much use at the present moment. Even within a mansion, even with her history working as what the elves deemed a 'royal assassin', she was far from polite. Her cloak had most certainly not been removed, nor had her weapons. Her constant attire gave off the appearance of being ceaselessly ready for a fight, and yet here there should be none. The leathers, at least, were well worn in and there was none of that irritating creaking and groaning one often heard from newer leathers. She attempted to get comfortable, waiting for the food they had been promised.

[User]
Lia entered the mansion, fists clenched at her side. The house, if you could call it that, was huge. A stark contrast to her beloved crowded yurt, stuffed with friends and comrades. Until her power had grown way beyond, until she became someone shunned from the village. She looked at her early laugh with a mix of longing and bitterness, of a lover denied a touch before they were ready to be alone. This place would do nothing to remind her of home, and maybe that was a good thing. Because her fire was never able to be contained in the desert and dunes of Saadia. Her mind drifted to Samir, wondering if he was alright. He refused to leave the human realm, staying behind to help the stragglers of the exodus, the lost ones trying to get somewhere safe. As much as he proved to be a useless teacher for her, they had grown to be friends. Sharing rice and fruit together on the floor of his tiny market room, sleeping face to face on that same floor, exchanging stories and hopes for the future. She had told him where she was going, even though he had received his own invitation. He decided to stay back just a little longer, new lost elves were coming to him weekly looking for a way out of the realm that was becoming increasingly volatile to our kind. Lia had never had a hand in politics, never much cared. Her power, after a certain age, ended up consuming most of her attention and energy so all the stories that came from the traveling traders fell on deaf ears. She knew the war would never touch the tribe, but she was concerned for Samir. She hoped he bailed before he got himself killed.

 Lia trailed behind the group, taking in all the rich wood and ornate-ness of the house that still held a tasteful appeal. She took a seat at the table and said nothing. Her hands clenched at her side, her nails a steady pressure into her palms, slicing half moons into the fleshy part of her hand. The action kept her in the current moment, and grounded. When her mind wandered the flame built, fueled by whatever thoughts her mind seemed to wander to. She took in the table, followed by a deep breath, and waited for the next thing to happen.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 27

Place of Birth: New York City, New York

Sexuality: Bi-curious at most.

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation: Mathematician

Power: Regenerative healing

Cost of power's use: Instead of making someone else's wounds and injuries disappear altogether, Jen will absorb some of the damage if not all of it.

Appearance: JJ stands at about 5'7 and has a tongue piercing. Character image

Skills: To say she's good with numbers is a big understatement. JJ also has some computer code knowledge. Additionally, on her down time, she enjoys some kickboxing training.

Personality: JJ is a very rational person, mainly due to her specific upbringing at home. She stopped believing in Santa at a very young age, and when her friends were mesmerized by something they didn't quite understand, Jen always ruined the magic by providing the most logical answer she could up come with. Needless to say, she more or less remains the same person today. She's obviously not a woman of faith, and she never was. Jen is as much of a book nerd as she is a social butterfly, although depending on the circumstances, sometimes one trait trumps the other by such a difference, that it leaves those around her feeling somewhat perplexed.

History: Jennifer was born and raised in New York City. She comes from a family of intellectuals--her mother is a neurosurgeon, and her father is an engineer. Being that she's an only child, JJ was heavily influenced by her parents' passion for science from an early age. She had a small group of friends, but she also spent a lot of time behind books. Maybe this side of her stemmed from her environment, or maybe it was genetic. But more than likely, it was a combination of the two.

Jen's "drug of choice", so to speak, was numbers. Her favorite class all throughout elementary, middle, and high school was always math. In high school, she was offered various scholarships for universities, and she accepted them despite the fact that her parents could very easily afford her education. At the ripe age of 25, Jen earned her doctorate degree in Mathematics from NYU. That same year, she moved to Buckehead after she accepted a position at a local research university.

All was going great for Jennifer until that ill-fated Saturday evening. Being that she and her parents made a rather decent donation to the Wildlife Foundation hosting the gala that evening, they were invited to the event as a gesture of gratitude. Her parents still live in New York, thus it was only Jennifer who was in attendance from the small family of three; a decision that she'll forever regret.

[User]
Ashton froze with surprise at this new information. It seemed as if the SWAT
team has decided to pay the group a little visit. Who knew the federal government was going to take this much action so soon. The natives and terrorists yes, but he guessed the government was just as bad. That is, if this anonymous tip was of any use. Or even real. But at this point, they had no choice but to believe it, as the alternative was just not an option in case it was true. Taking on a full SWAT team was not a smart idea for anyone.

"Oh for the love of god please don't call us the V-Club. We are not some superhero group. Besides, I lost my card club awhile ago. So if you guys don't mind, I'd love to get this show on the road sooner than expected."

Ashton clutched his five-seven in his suit jacket, pulling it out and putting the silencer on the barrel. He had a few extra clips in his jacket, but he didn't plan to shoot unless he had to. Fully opening the door that Jennifer peeked through, the businessman waved with his gun for the group to follow him.

Making his way to the front, he kept his hand on his gun but concealed by the flap of his jacket as he navigated through the busy club. He figured going through the dance floor would help them blend in a bit. They wouldn't be expecting them to waltz out the front door right? And there would be lots of people around for cover.

"Come on, we're almost to the front."

[Assistant]
She followed closely behind Luna as they headed to the front door, the atmosphere around of them of loud music, flashing lights, and people dancing only adding to the chaos of the SWAT team chasing after them. Jennifer looked back to make sure that Violet was right behind her, and when they cleared the dance floor, they picked up the pace for the front door.

The brief moment of relief was gone after they stepped outside. Jennifer heard something land near her feet and she looked down only to see a small canister, that which instantly started leaking white smoke. Jennifer covered her nose and mouth with one hand, but her eyes started to burn. "Subjects are outside the front door!" she heard someone say before a figure in an all-black uniform and a gas mask approached them with a rifle aimed in their direction. In the midst of her choking fit, Jennifer turned around and attempted to put as much distance in between them as possible, but she'd barely taken a couple of steps before a pair of arms grabbed her and pushed her to the ground.

"Don't move! Hands behind your back!"

Jennifer knew that resisting was useless, and she complied with the officer's orders. Just when she felt like she was starting to choke, Jennifer was swiftly pulled up off of the ground and pushed away from the contaminated area by a strong hand that had wrapped itself around her upper arm. She looked over her shoulder to see what was going on with the rest of the group, but she couldn't make out the dark figures moving through the cloud of smoke. Her coughing started to subside a bit, but tears still flowed down her face as another side effect of the gas.

@Polaris North @DarkwolfX37

[User]
Violet

"Never said we were heroes." Violet responded to Ashton. "But as a Variante, you don't get a choice. You're in the club whether you like it or not."

As everyone left the room and started through the dance floor, Violet slowly followed without a care for what might come next. Just before she got out the door, the teargas started to roll in and the crowd began panicking. She wished she could say she was surprised. At least the text had been right, that was something.

"Don't move, hands behind your back!" she heard someone shout. ... Does this idiot mean 'behind the back of your head?' Geez, even strike squads can't police right. Although, this smoke...

Violet began silently giggling to herself hysterically. This was a good chance to do some field testing. She quickly slid back to Luna. "Hey, get me the lamb's keys. Take Jaybird's car to get out of here if you know which one it is, otherwise steal one. I'll cover your escape. Make sure not to let any of my little Vs get hurt, kaykay?"

With that she began to hide in the smoke when she noticed that Jennifer was being molested. Shit. Alright then... A tune began in her mind and she began nodding her head to it. I'm beginning to feel like a rap god... After a second of focus she'd brought out a fifteen meter spool of metallic wire from a compartment on her bracer. ... from the front to the back nod, back nod... She cleared the distance from the door to the right side of the club in a single quick hop and began wrapping one end of the wire to the metal drainpipe just inside the alley there. ... thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

[Assistant]
Clearly, this was no time for jokes. But Violet seemed to think otherwise and Ashton even went with it. She could understand why Violet would say something like that, given that she was young and could be turned into lighthearted jests. Though someone like Ashton was someone she did not expect to do that. But oh well, they were still teens after all. The blond haired bodyguard quickly followed behind Ashton as they began making their way to the front.

The blaring music beat against her eardrums, the constant moving of the people in the bar, the flashing lights - everything was distracting her. She couldn't hear the SWAT team nor can she see them. Were they already inside? It irritated her but it did not seem that people were even paying attention to them, armed and ready to kill.

The moment they stepped out, Luna heard a small clank. A canister. Almost immediately, everything in her body moved. She held no responsibility for any of them now - to Ashton, maybe, but their contract had ended and they were just simply travelling together as per agreement. She heard Violet speak, talking about getting Jennifer's, she assumed, car and giving her the keys to Ashton's car.
No time to argue. She dropped the keys in the teen's hand and then left.

Luna raised her gun but she felt someone push down the automatic rifle and then deliver a punch to her face. She managed to dodge the punch but she lost the rifle in the process. "Come now, Ms. Yvilkov, you should just surrender." The SWAT member was armed with only a handgun but it was already pointed at her. She raised her hands, looking like she gave up. "Good." He moved towards her, lowering the gun ever so slightly.

Chance. Take. Luna grabbed hold of his wrist, pulled and then sent a kick towards his face and then quickly letting go. The male was disoriented and the gun was now on the ground. "I'm surprised you know of me and you still carelessly moved towards me." She said. It's hard to fight with someone like him.

"Tick tock." The man said with a small chuckle and Luna realized that the gas had already spread towards her. Her eyes burned and she quickly slapped her hand over her nose and mouth but it did little to protect her. She glared at the man before turning around and running away. Get a car, and quick. She blinked multiple times but knew that teargas wasn't exactly easy to expel from the body. Once it's there, she had to hope against all odds that she would be able to perform her duties properly.

The SWAT member quickly tried to grab her to restrict her but she judo flipped him before coughing violently under the gas. No time to spend trying to get this guy to black out. She needed to get to at least one car. Her eyes were blurred and she felt tears stream down her face as a reaction from the gas. This wasn't going so well, she knew it. But with the SWAT member after her still down and hopefully the others too busy with her groupmates, she would actually get to the car.

[User]
The SWAT officer had placed Jennifer in the back of a black SUV, her hands remaining uncomfortably handcuffed behind her back, and in a matter of seconds they screeched away from the chaotic scene, that of confused bystanders and club goers who had flooded outside into the parking lot to see what the commotion was all about.

"You haven't read me my rights, you know," Jennifer added to break the silence after some time. In turn, the officer—who had by now taken off his helmet as well as his gas mask—only looked at her through the rear-view mirror. She stared back, but she was once more met with silence save for the typical traffic noises of a busy city intersection.

"But you don't have to," she sighed as she finally accepted the fact that this wasn't a typical arrest. Jennifer leaned her head against the glass window. She figured that she might as well attempt to track their path through whatever familiar road they drove through, if only to figure out where she was eventually going to end up.

---

A little while later, Jennifer noticed they pulled up into the back parking lot of some tall, grey building. She was helped out of the vehicle and ushered through a back door. It was getting late at that point and Jennifer couldn't help but wonder whether she was going to get any sleep at all.

"Have a seat," the officer finally said after opening a door and motioning for her to seat on one of the chairs on either side of the table. Jennifer did as she was told and then waited in the all too quiet room.


[System]
Death Korp Trooper Number:
Trooper 17431

Appearance:

Height:
5'6"

Age:
27

Sex:
Male

Class:
Death Korp Grenadier

Equipment:
- Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) -
Also known as a Hellgun or, more rarely, a Hotshot lasgun, the Type XIV (Heavy) is the standard issue weapon for all Grenadiers serving in Death Korp regiments. They are, at least by the Grenadiers themselves, intensely disliked due to perceived unreliability in the field during extended operations and a Krieger's general preference for the default Type XIV Lasgun (More commonly known outside of Krieg as the Lucian Pattern Lasgun). However, with the proper maintence that each Grenadier performs routinely, the weapon performs its intended role as a high power Lasgun, capable of punching through heavier armor and providing, on full auto, a withering rate of fire. The Type XIV (Heavy) utilizes a backpack unit to power it, and a Quick Recharge Generator included in the backpack unit is generally overtaxed, due to the design of the weapon and its power output. Ansgar, like many Grenadiers, would have preferred a Type XIV Lasgun over the Heavy variant, but as a Grenadier, he is required to carry it.

- Grenadier Carapace Armor -
Intended for deployment where the fighting is fiercest, Death Korps Grenadiers are equipped with heavy Carapace Armour that has been integrated into the standard Krieg kit. This comprises the Mark IX helmet, a rebreather facemask, three-piece shoulder guards, a chest plate with additional abdomen plates and shin and knee guards. All are made of Plasteel and reinforced with a layer of Ceramite for additional strength, heat resistance and weight reduction. The armor, coupled with uniform and Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) makes a very heavy loadout, adding in the miscellaneous equipment they carry as well, however, the protection is vastly appreciated by the Grenadiers in general, due to their role as the leading edge in storming trenches and hostile emplacements, needing the protection to get close enough to do their jobs, not so much concerned with survival.

- Explosives -
As his former squads Demolitions expert, Ansgar carried the standard explosives load out alongside extra tools, for when the Engineers could not keep up with the assault but were preoccupied elsewhere. Besides several Frag and Krak grenades, Ansgar also has several demolition charges, rated for taking out hardened bunkers when put in place. Ansgar modified the charges so that, in a hurry, he can pull a detonation cable and heave the charge at a target, the normally delicate and precise procedure for arming the charges ditched in favor of emergency target removal. And, as a Krieg Engineer before he was assigned as a Grenadier, he has learned to build improvised explosives that served him well in the trenches when supplies on conventional explosives were running short, as well as utilize Chemical weapons safely.

- Melee Gear -
Ansgar carries two weapons for melee combat, one obligatory and the other actually used. The obligatory is his bayonet, which the Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) lacks a mount for, another reason it remains unpopular among Grenadiers, and typically serves as much as a tool and last resort weapon than anything else. His actual go to is a Entrenching Tool, edges sharpened to allow him to carve through hostiles as well as bludgeon them, and retain the intended purpose of digging trenches and other necessary fighting positions.

Notable Deeds:
- Tyranid Assault on Thresis IV -
Raised from birth to be a Death Korp Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger, or known by his Trooper designation 17431, will never state when he was sent to war, something that tends to bother people who ask that are outsiders to Krieg and their necessary methods of providing the Imperium the soldiers it needs. Assigned fresh to an Engineering Platoon, Ansgar would spend a great deal of time digging trenches and laying mines in the defense of a Shrine World, Thresis IV, directly in the path of a Tyranid Hive Fleet Splinter. The Tyranids, despite being vastly reduced in numbers compared to a true Hive Fleet, descended like mad locusts, slaughtering over 90% of the Death Korp forces deployed on the planet. Of that 10%, Ansgar Staudinger was one of the survivors, the only from his platoon, found near death after turning an entire trench line into a raging biochemical inferno, equal parts fire and chemical weapon that was effective on the Tyranids. Sharing the compound make up with other Death Korp Engineers, the biochemical fire was used to great extent to halt and drive back the Tyranids, making the then rookie Staudinger's trial by fire a literal, and resounding, success.

- Nightmares Beneath Thrasis II -
As part of the Thrasis campaign his regiment was assigned to, and the arrival of Tyranid complicating greatly, Ansgar Staudinger was deployed with a fresh Engineering platoon to assist in the breaking of a siege on Chaos held factories on the system's forge world, Thrasis II. Utilizing conventional tunneling and, when they detected they were almost at the entry point, Hades Breaching Drill, to punch into the Chaos held Foundry, Ansgar and his fellow Guardsmen stumbled into something straight out of the most feverish of a heretic's nightmares. The Warp had bled over into the belly of the foundry, with daemons and mutants in equal measures assaulting the woefully unprepared Krieg Guardsmen. However, they had a job to do, and they were able to hold their ground, keeping a secure tunnel long enough for support to arrive and push deep enough into the Chaos corrupted foundry, to the dark heart and plant enough explosives for the resulting explosion spotted from orbit. Whether it was the sheer amount of explosives put in place, or partially due to Chaos corruption was never decided. However, as one of the only survivors again by virtue of Luck or being Blessed, Ansgar was reassigned by a surviving Commissar to the Death Korp Grenadiers.

- Hellscape of Thrasis I -
Nearing the end of the Thrasis System Campaign, Ansgar found himself a freshly minted Grenadier, no longer an Engineer although he often worked closely with them during breaching actions against enemy defensive lines. However, upon touching down on Thrasis I, the Kriegers found something unlike anything anyone could be prepared for. The Foundry was merely a foretaste of what was to come, as planet spanning rituals had allowed the Warp to taint and corrupt great stretches of the planet, forcing Guard forces to struggle through conventional defenses one day, and make a mad dash through Daemon infested hellscapes that should not be the next. What Ansgar refuses to mention to a soul, due to an oath he was put under at the end of the conflict, was the arrival of Grey Knights, of the Emperor's most holy Ordos Malleus. Alongside Adeptus Sororitas support, which Ansgar learned to have a deep, healthy respect for, the combined arms forces stormed the capital of Thrasis I, a den of pure evil and corruption that made the rest of the planet look like a Shrine World in comparison. Once again, whether by luck or the Emperor's own intervention, Ansgar found himself as one of the only Grenadiers, and Krieger's period, to survive the assaults into the city, arriving at the Hall of Governing as it had been christened during Thrasis I's founding as a colony, only to find horrors so unspeakable even the Krieg born Grenadier refuses to speak of them now. But, between the Grey Knights and Sisters of Battle alongside his own humble contributions at that point, which mostly consisted of survival, Ansgar lived to see the end of the hellish campaign on Thrasis I. With literally no regiment to return to, and having become aware of the most secretive of Space Marine chapters, it was decided to induct him into the Inquisition, sending him to serve where needed most.

[User]
" just let us know when you are going to do so, no go take your position."

"Can we start already? The more we delay, the more likely the Orks will spot us through sheer dumb-luck." Adrianne commented as the Psyker was still waiting by the door, glancing across the rest of the assembling party as they were preparing for the assault through the black, violet glowing lenses of her skull helmet.

Her fingers danced impatiently across the shaft of her staff as she let out a sigh behind her helmet, taking a few steps further away from the entrance as she was growing increasingly uncomfortable about standing near where the Orks would inevitable pour out from once they had gotten it through their thick heads that they were under attack! ... unless they somehow managed to figure the ambush out before it even happened, which would be a rarity though not impossible!

"With my powers I can slow the green tide down as they pass through the door. It should make them sitting targets for you to take down, provided you have enough firepower." The Psyker continued, before switching to Vala.

"Tech-Heretic! Do you have a bead on the Greenskin Nobz yet? The sooner we start popping heads, the better!" Adrianne said with an impatient tone.

She did not know why, but the Psyker felt an unnatural urgency in her; some unknown force was urging her forward, and she had a foreboding feeling in the back of her head telling her that with every second wasted, their future woe would only grow!

[Assistant]
" ... " Vala sighed silently as she was given orders to snipe the warboss. As far as plans went, this was surprisingly, decent one for this forsaken Imperium they had. Truth be told, Vala expected the crazy leader to tell them to charge head first into the wall of greenskins and throw their lives away in glorious combat, lucky it didn't seem that perculiar brand of zealot insanity was at play right now, no one knows for the next time though." On it." Vala replied as she broke from the group and headed for a good spot she needed to take down that warboss.

 Quickly and pretty quietly she moved around, picking a good vantage point with direct view of the warboss and quickly laid down, activating her sniper las cannon and taking aim. It came to life as she took aim at the warboss's head. Vala growled lowly at the psycher's commented.

 "In position... prepare for showdown. 3..2..1.." She informed over the comms and then pulled the grigger, unleashing the burning fury upon the warboss's head, the beam had barely finished when she ejected a heatsink powercells and took aim again. She had to wait a few seconds for it to cooldown and she can safely fire again.

[User]
The sharp whip and hiss of the tech-heretic's overpowered weapon caused a silence to fall upon the entire building, as the blundering greenskin in the other room slowly became aware that one of their warbosses's had just become one head smaller.

... and was currently very dead.

"DA BOZZ IS DEAD!"
"I'Z DA BOSS!"
"'UMIEZ!"
"SMASH 'DEM!"
"WAAAGH!"

The Ork's response was nothing short of predictable, as a the entire Horde within the main chamber turned around and surged towards the narrow entrance leading to the party.

"I will slow them down." Adrianne said before she stepped out, pointing her staff towards the ground at the entrance that the green tide was falling through!

With mystic words that seemed to echo unnaturally across the chamber, the ground where the greenskin passed through became distorted; the physical laws becoming confused as gravity began to push and tug in random, constantly shifting directions; as if the xenos had suddenly became caught up in a set of invisible waves pounding and disorienting them from every direction!
Green brutes would slam onto the ground, into each other or fall ten feet up into the air before slamming down! To greenskin resilience, it was hardly major damage beyond a rough ride; except for the occasional Ork who slammed into the spiky bits of another, but the resulting invisible waves caused the Orcs to become bogged down and clumped together in the narrow exit, creating a bottle neck.

"That was eas,-"

"FWHOOM"
"WHAAAAAAAAA!"

Adrianne was about to comment with a smirk behind her skeletal mask as she stepped aside and back behind cover, just as the roaring sound of a rocket could be heard as an Ork stormboy just flew over the mess and into their room; the suicidal greenskin strapped to a live rocket!

"Oh, uhhh... incoming from above!"

[Assistant]
Ansgar remained silent while waiting for the time to act, and he was not terribly fond of waiting. The tech heretic had dropped the Ork Warboss, only to have another Ork promptly take over and start barking more orders that boiled down to attack the team. The psyker decided to step in and began rallying her powers and sent the ground bound Orks stumbling and staggering about, disorganizing them and forcing them to funnel into a narrow throughway. Perfect, the Krieger smirked under his rebreather, as he ignited the nozzle of the flamer, moving within range of the Orks starting to pick themselves up and resumed pushing forward. "Engaging ground bound Orks, stand clear."

With that warning, Ansgar sent a gout of chem laced flames pouring into the front ranks of the Orks, much to an extremely immediate effect. Anyone too close to the fumes, and lacking protection, would be subjected to a burning sensation in their eyes, throat, and general skin irritation, with amplified results as exposure lasted longer. The Orks coated in the green tinged flames wouldn't stop burning, the flamer fuel self oxidizing when burning through living organic material. Originally he'd used the mixture against Tyranids, but it worked against Orks just fine as well, due to their exposed hide. For that reason, alongside setting a rocket on fire as it plummeted towards their ranks being a bad idea, meant he focused his efforts on the Orks not with rocket packs.

"Will suppress until Rocket Orks dealt with." Ansgar didn't know if the rocket Orks had a specific name or not, so he just referred to them as what they were, Orks with Rockets bolted to their backs. Any Orks bold enough to approach within range of the Krieger's flamer was quickly doused in fire, which would likely send them to the ground since their flesh was literally burning away and nothing they did would smother it.


[System]
Age
18

Gender
Female

Height
170cm

Weight
65 kg

Appearance

"My life is what lead me to this point, not me."
Personality
In Akemi's past life, she was always happy and joyful for the majority of her life, she would always congratulate other pianists in the competitions that she participated in. With her friends she was a little bit sarcastic, but only for comedic purposes so all of them could make it through school, her friends would often see her performances as well to cheer Akemi on. When learning about new things as a child, she would always listen and be dedicated to finish what she started. Akemi was like that until she was sixteen and in high school, her parents told Akemi that she would be marrying a man when she was eighteen, which made Akemi very upset.

After being informed of her upcoming marriage, she started to become extremely depressed and stopped participating in piano competitions, which started to worry her parents a lot. Every single time her fiance would always come visit, Akemi would freeze up, telling him that she was busy doing something. Akemi kept this up for two years, being full of fear and isolating herself from the world. On her wedding day her fear and sadness had reached a peak, to the moment where she ********** (If you read bio you may have an idea).

She will be in very sarcastic and jolly in the afterlife, but can be upset easily, even though she doesn't show it.

Short Bio
Akemi was born into a rich family, living in mansions, maids, the classic rich life for a person like her. She didn't have any siblings, so she would always be by herself in her home, as her parents are always on business trips since they both lead a major company. The company that her parents lead is called Aero Music, where they make musical instruments and sell them off to their stores in the city. Also, forgot to mention that Akemi lives in Azabu, Tokyo, Japan, the richest part of Tokyo. Akemi would always try to find something to do as a young child, so she decided to learn the piano in her home, her parents eventually reached a decision to get her a tutor due to them working all the time. When she was eight years old, she had started to play in piano competitions to become the best pianist in Japan.

Akemi had started to win many competitions as she grew up, she had to be the successor to the Masuko family line, since their family was very rich, well known and powerful after all. Akemi had always went to a private school growing up, she was always sent to an all girls school since her parents didn't want Akemi getting any boyfriends. Akemi continued to dominate in all of the competitions to the point of her becoming bored once again, she was getting famously known for her talent but it was starting to become everyday life. Akemi tried dating some of the girls at her school, and realized that they actually helped slightly in her bored life.

Eventually her parents arrived home one day when Akemi was 16, and brought a young man home with them. It was revealed that Akemi had to marry this man, which she was immediately surprised about. Upon meeting this young man, she didn't like him from the start, she always felt fear at the sight of him. Two years later, their marriage was set to be on January 1st, but the problem was that the bride never showed up. Her parents scavenged to find their daughter, and found her dead body in her room, with a knife in her abdomen. There was a note besides her dead body, but what did it actually say?

Other
Theme Song

Sexuality
At first Akemi will not know what her sexuality is, but she'll realize that she's Homosexual.

[User]
~Unending Beat!~

---

BGM

The madder red hue of the sunset bathed the Afterlife once more. It happened many times before and would happen again for all eternity, as long as there was need for unaccomplished souls to be cleansed of their earthly burdens, this place would exist. Or so was the belief of a certain lone girl that even now played the majestic piano that decorated the music room.

The Sonata, aptly named "Tempest" was a portent of things to come and an greeting for those who would soon be joining the Afterlife, her domain for as much as the girl could remember. "It's about time, can you feel it as well? All their pain, their suffering?" She said, without taking a look behind her, or even caring to open her eyes, to another girl that had just arrived behind her, how she noticed it was a wonder, since the only sound on the red bathed room was that of her play. Or, perhaps not, after all weren't gods meant to be omniscient beings?

"Please, greet them in my stead." The girl pleaded as her fingers slid effortless across the keyboard, the moment she reached the climax of the piece...

• • •

"Huh? Where am I?" A girl with long brown hair held in place with a golden bow, groaned painfully as she woke up with the worst headache she felt in her whole life. Perhaps, said head ache had something to do with the fact that she seemed to have fallen asleep on nothing but a hard concrete pavement.

"No, the problem is why am I here, no matter where this is. After last thing I remember is..." Harumi trailed out, recalling the scene vividly as if it had happened a minute ago. Two men, dressed as police officers, forced her into a cruiser and took her to a bridge near the city limits, chocked her and... something else, before leaving her to die on the frozen waters of the mid-winter river. "I should be dead, and cold and soaked to the bones. Nothing of this makes sense, was I dreaming? Or is this another one of ***-kun's dirty acts?" Harumi wondered of what she had gone through her whole life wasn't enough suffering.

Looking around, Harumi noticed that she was at some kind of school campus with the setting sun quickly splashing its raspberry hues over the building, in the distance a few heavy clouds loomed over the distant mountains, portent of an oncoming storm. She spared the time to look at herself and find that she was dressed in an uniform that she didn't even remembered wearing before. There was no one on her immediate vicinity, though the girl —Harumi Shizuka— could see what looked like silhouettes moving to a big building on the other side of a bridge that was barely visible from where she was because of the early evening darkness.

"Anyway, dilly-dallying will do me nothing. I might as well go there and see what I can find about this place." With that in mind, Harumi go back to her feet (at long last) and set towards the Annex, hoping to get there before the oncoming storm hits the academy grounds.

[Assistant]
Akira Hato
"Can you say those words... one more time?
Please let me believe what you believe...
Let me believe that life is wonderful."

"DON'T!"

Akira stood up in a cold sweat. He looked around, curious about where he was at, and for some reason worried. Worried... About what? Akira couldn't remember. He tried to think but... Nothing. Nothing came to mind. All there was in his head was... Instincts? Something about himself, he knew that much. He knew his name. He was Akira Hato. He knew... He knew this dress he was wearing was cute, but could use some accessories. He wonder where he got this uniform, and if this is what all the boys wear.

There was also Akira's surroundings. It looked like he was at some sort of boarding school, and it was getting late. Clouds were rolling in and they looked like rain clouds. There where mountains in the distance, and thick fog beyond that. It was kinda creepy actually; looking around, it seemed like there was a thick fog all around the area except the school. Perhaps it was just the weather. "Where am I?"

Standing on his feet Akira walked towards the school buildings. While he wasn't certain what school he was at, or why he was even here, his most concerning issue was getting out of the coming storm, and maybe finding a bathroom. Since he awoke on the floor he must be dirty, and that was not cool. He needed to wash up and make sure he was looking his best! With any luck perhaps he could also fight a costume room or wherever the school keeps their spare uniforms, give himself some options to improve his wardrobe.

"Honestly, who would leave me laying in the dirt like that anyways? The nerve of some people!"

[User]
"I'm glad, I will no longer have to suffer this fate of mine."

Those were the final thoughts of Akemi before she died, all she wanted was to escape that torturous world that she had lived in. Her life was what was leading her to make her decision, no matter what she said, it would not matter in the final thoughts of her parents. Before Akemi closed her eyes to pass on, she could see her parents running towards her, then closing her eyes to allow her to pass on. The pain that she had held for all of these years, it had finally allowed her to have the courage to do such a thing. Akemi was only hoping that she had actually died though, it was the one thing that she wished for. Eventually, Akemi opened her eyes and sat up, looking around at the surroundings.

"I-I'm supposed to be dead..." Akemi said as her eyes had widened, she was hugging her knees close to her chest, tears starting to form in her eyes from fear and sadness. "Why am I not dead...?" Akemi said as her voice had started to break, she then stood up from the ground, looking towards the main building of the school. She put a hand to her stomach, where it was extremely sore from what she did earlier. Akemi grit her teeth as more tears had fallen from her eyes, she just wanted to stomp on the ground without causing a scene, despite her crying and all. She took a looked over towards the students entering the school, she then looked to her own uniform, which actually seemed to be a different one from them.

"Did they drop me off at the wrong school? And where is this?" Akemi said as she looked around once again, the school looked as if it was in isolation with all of the trees and empty plains. "My parents may come back, and try to make me marry that monster. I need to prevent that." Akemi said as she grit her teeth, rushing into the school and trying to find at least something to help end her suffering. Once Akemi was inside the building she stopped running and stood there, starting to hear a beautiful tune in her ears.

A... piano...?