[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 60

Birthplace: New York, New York

Appearance: Lassar stands at 5'11, 161 lbs.

Personality: Lassar doesn't give a shit. He does what he wants, when he wants, damned be the consequences. He loves booze, pot, guns, and not giving shits. He likes the girlies, punks the fuckwads, and asks for spare change whenever possible, because dammit, pot ain't free.

Occupation before the breakout: Hobo, former Green Beret.

Skills: Crack shot with firearms, knows knife fighting.

Fears/incompetencies: Lassar sucks at everything he isn't good at. There's a reason he's a hobo. Man is too incompetent to hold down any job.

Equipment: Pfeifer-Zeliska .600 Nitro Express revolver, Sig Saur MPX rifle, foot long deer horn handle bowie knife, six inch adjustable shaving mirror, a leather belt, various bottles of liquor and bags of weed, an old dusty overcoat filled with holes, steel toed boots.

Group: Unaffiliated

History: Lassar grew up an only child, and he liked it that way. A loner, a rebel, an outcast. It was as if he were a separate species from other members of the human race. Perhaps in some ways, he was. He operated on a level entirely different from others. How so? He simply had no shats to bequeath. He joined the Marines at 18, after having competed in several state shooting championships.

When he left the core at age 38, he was a Green Beret who had seen death in Afghanistan, South Africa, Syria, and Korea. Regardless of his record, he knew of nothing else but war, and descended into a stupor of substance abuse to force his inner badass into hiding, lest he be driven mad like a caged tiger. Not that he gave a shit. Then came the zombies. Now Lassar has returned for one last crusade, to kill shit and not give said shit away.

[User]
Tina would see an old, dirty man walk into sight, waving a bottle of tequila in his left hand and an outrageously massive revolver in his right. He staggered up to the zombie with the slit throat and kicked her in the crotch. As she bent over, he slammed the butt of his gun into the dome of her skull. The zombie collapsed to the ground and lay still. The man took big pull from his bottle as the zombies began closing in around him.

He tucked the gun into the front of his pants and remived from his coat pocket a joint as long and as thick as a tiger dick, and after striking a match across his left eye, would light it. He took a slow drag, smoke streaming from his nostrils. The zombies were almost upon him!

[Assistant]
It was a normal sunny day in San Diego, California. James was at the car shop working on an old Mustang that a client brought over two days ago. The car was lifted on a platform and James was underneath, working at the undercarriage. Bella, James's 2 year old border collie girl was inside the shop too. Energetic as usual. She was basically the shop's mascot. The clients that were coming to get their cars fixed imidieatly fell in love with her mellow, humble and friendly attitude. James's uncle, Dave, returned to the shop after he was gone for about an hour. He had two beers in his hands. "Hey James, come with me!" He said entering the office as James put down the tools, pushed away the tool box and went inside the shop where he saw his uncle sitting on a chair with the beer bottles on the desk. James took a seat himself, as he looked at his uncle surprised.

"As you may or may not know, today is an important day for me. This shop, this business that I opened is officially five years old." He said as he started opening up the bottles.

"And you were an important part of it. Without you I probably would've never succeeded. Or maybe I would have but it would have been much harder. But your dedication to this trade of working with cars and the respect you've showed to the clients that came here made everything so much easy." He said as he grabbed the opened beer bottles and gave James one of them.

Then James and his uncle both shouted to each others "Cheers!" and tapped the bottles together as they started drinking from them. "You know uncle you're a life saver you know that? Coming here was the best decision I could have made. God knows how I could have ended up if you haven't gave me that call and made me that offer." Said James after he let down the bottle from his mouth.

"I guess we both saved each other's lives because I wasn't doing very well in that period either, after my wife, your aunt, died. But that's it, no more sadness this is a happy day come on." Said Dave as both he and James continued drinking from their beers again. "I got some stuff to finish down town." Said Dave drinking the rest of his beer and putting the empty bottle on the desk. "You stay here and keep working. This shouldn't take long. And remember today is Friday. That means were having our weekly movie night and it's my turn to choose the movie and buy the pizza." Said Dave rising up from his chair, getting out of the office and then out of the shop too.

As James got back underneath the Mustang he took a tool and started working but it didn't take long for him to hear all kinds of comotion coming from outside. Screams, car horns ringing and sounds of struggle. "What the hell?" Said James as he got out from underneath the car and went outside only to see his uncle a few feet away, beating to death a man and crushing his head with his foot. "Uncle? Uncle what the hell is going on?" Asked James concerned, as he dropped the tool he had in his hand and ran to his uncle. "This retard tried to turn me into his dinner. But I showed him not to mess with a marine, even an old and retired one." Said Dave quite proud of himself.

Both men looked around them with shock. The world started to fall apart all of a sudden. People eating each other, sudden car crashes. Everything looked like the set of a zombie apocalipse movie. Only this time it was no movie. "You know what kid? I think we should get home while were still in one piece." Said Dave looking at James's Chevelle and running to it. "Hey wait up!" Said James running to his car himself and getting inside, with Bella following them in as she squeezed her way into the back seat barking. James proceeded to start the car and started heading home.

[User]
Doctor

Tina looks at the old man then the Zombies beginning to gravitate towards him. She is uncertain whether she should help him but only for a moment because it wouldn't be human to simply stand behind the protection of her fence at let him die. So slinging the Shotgun for the close range accuracy of her 1911 the tall blonde brings the gun to bear with her left hand first on the nearest to her gate as she pulls a second clip of ACP from the pouch at the small of her back.

 "BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!" barks the former military pistol sending 230 grains of lead at 830 feet per second through the brain cases of four of the nearest shuffling horrors. Her last three rounds in that clip she takes trouble to aim because unlike the first four are outside of point blank range. She then pops the spent clip and jacks in the fresh one giving herself seven more shots.

She tucks the spent clip into the pouch the new one came from then pulls her security remote and calls out to the old man

"I'll open the gate part way and cover you but I will not endanger my position any longer than that".

Then pistol held ready she taps the electric gate button causing the huge 600 pound section of pipe, chain link and wheels to roll back about two feet before she taps the close button that allows the gate to open four feet before the slack is taken up by the motor and it begins to roll closed.

"BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!" sounds off Tina's weapon shattering two more of the horrid remnants of humanity.

She knows she should be scared and would admit that she is but that the adrenaline overwhelmed any debilitating effects.

[Assistant]
Nikki Hyatt

Nikki called Kat and left her a message and prayed that she and Grace were okay. She got up and decided she could sit and cry about it or get off her ass and try to secure the building. Since it was summer there shouldn't be too many inside but that just meant instead of 3000 there might be only 25. She started searching for them and she held her sword in one hand. For the moment she was piling the dead bodies next to the nearest entrance to the building. She figured they could take them outside later. Between killing these things she kept her muscles moving. Too much down time would make her sore later and she didn't need to be off. Just a little bit could mean the difference between life and death.

Nikki found a radio in the attendance office and plugged it in and listened to the rock channel. It was interrupted by the military declaring martial law across the country. Nikki was suddenly worried that Matt would get pulled back before his time was up. She didn't want to think about it. He was coming here and Nolan was with him so she wouldn't have to worry about him. Her dad was in a high rise downtown and she knew in her heart there was no way he was getting out of there alive. She wiped the tears away and lopped the head off of the next walker that came out.

Nikki's favorite teacher came around the corner and she groaned. "I'm sorry Miss Isaac." As she decapitated her Nikki's phone rang and she looked down and ran back to the front door of the school Sword in hand.

[User]
Levi

---

Blood. There was so much blood. The thick oozing crimson liquid was sprayed everywhere. It pooled on the floors, was splattered across the wall and even dripped from the roof.
What the hell had Levi just walked into...

As his brain raced wildly to put together the mass of sensory data he chuckled lightly, slightly amused at the shenanigans played upon him.
It was massive, convincing, expensive.
Then an icy cold fear slowly swelled within him and a sickening fever took hold of his gut and squeezed tightly as suddenly realisation hit him and the world began to spin as he saw the bloody props for exactly what they were.
... His family.

What had he walked into
... He had walked into hell.

They were all here and now they were all gone. Levi dropped the heavy carton of beer he had just fetched for them all and like his hopes the glass shattered all over the floor. His lunch vacated his stomach and he fell to the ground. After a dark moment he proceeded to crawl around as he cried and called for his friends, he wept as he aimlessly searched the gruesome muck finding confirmation after confirmation of his worst fears until there was nothing left to doubt.

His prayers soon came true as he found survivors, Lilly and Kell the young contortionist twins were locked in the empty human fishtank. But how quick and deep the bitter betrayal of disappointment can cut as dreams quickly morph into nightmares, Levi noticed the large powerful arm of what could only be Bronson's, the strong man of the troupe. The muscly man was now but a scattering of limbs amongst two thin cannibalistic identical twins trapped in a blood smeared glass cage.

Levi touched the glass, he leant against it, he hugged it, talked to it and even apologised to it, all whilst the viscous dead girls snapped and clawed at him from the other-side. They smashed their own faces against the glass, broke their nose. Levi could see the sinew and flesh amongst their teeth, the death in their eyes.
Bronson's large stage hammer lie in the cage with them, now red it was covered in so much blood, his hand still tightly grasping it.

It was a zombie apocalypse.
It was here.
Brain dead, empty and in shock Levi gathered some things and snuck out to see if it was true.
It was,
It was all true. Carnage ran rampant all around him. People fighting, screaming, eating each other, dying, getting back up. What was he to do. Then he saw it, an empty taxi.
Having no other plan he ran for the taxi, hurtling over a bent over muncher as it feasted on a corpse, Levi dove into the taxi and took of before he could even slam the door shut.

He drove for some time aimlessly, trying to out run the chaos like it was a wave that would die down, but all around him he saw it spread.
Then out of nowhere a woman on the side of the road caught his eye, she waved him down and he recognised her face. Did she recognise his?
That strange unplaced familiarity was like a warming light in the chaos of darkness. Levi quickly pulled over for her.

"I need to get to my baby!" She demanded. Startled and panicked Levi looked around as the chaos grew closer, they had to go, get far away, and now!
"No way bitch! You know what's happening?! It's the goddamn apocalypse! People are eating each other!" he quickly snapped back.
Panic over rode all his sense and he didn't even hear the words coming from his own mouth.
Clearly she didn't agree with what he said because before he realised it she had jerked the door open and yanked him right out of the car.
His heart dropped along with the sound of the door locks.
"What the hell bitch?! Open this door! Goddamn it!" Levi shouted as he pounded on the car. He couldn't believe it.
The woman said something else from within the safety of the vehicle just before it sped off, running right over his foot on its way.

With a horrid limp a terrified Levi chased after her. He couldn't stay in the streets. he wanted that car back, he wanted his things back, he wanted a familiar face. So he chased her and chased her, he picked up a push bike and managed to just catch which streets she turned. By the time he came across the car he was exhausted. It was parked in front of a house. His bag still lay on the back seat. Levi carefully slipped into the drivers seat, the keys were gone.
"Bitch" he curses just as the lady from before comes running out the front door holding a child.

[Assistant]
Lassar shrugged and walzed through the gate. On his back was slung a compact rifle and shoved haphazardly into his boot was a bowie knife. He had on his head a backwards camouflage baseball cap. He'd stop next to Tina, belly thrust out and eyes lazy. He smelt of beans, pot, and gunpowder. The hobo smacked his lips, plucked the joint from his mouth, and offered it to Tina with a near-toothless smirk.

"Try summa this boy, it'll put hair on yer' ass."

Where had he come from, who was he? He looked like a complete bum, but somehow had been able to afford a set of undoubtedly expensive guns. He didn't seem to be in good shape, but his lax figure and ease of motion harkened forth not the frailty of an old man, but the lounging latent energy of a big cat in Africa.


[System]
Age: 24
Height: 6'-0"
Weight: 170lbs
Allegiance: Aspirian Royalty
Distinguishing Traits: Wherever the party is, Cas is bound to be there also. He's a free spirit with a tendency to act without thinking through the consequences, although due to his cushioned upbringing and high status, he rarely has to face them. Despite his wild lifestyle, however, he has a soft side and has been known for taking in stray and injured animals he finds in the streets of the capital city.

Short Bio: As the son of the reigning king, Atlas Maydestone, Caspian has lived the entirety of his life in the capital of Aspiria. He was born with a silver spoon in hand, enjoying the finest luxuries the country had to offer even when he was as young as five years old. This experience shaped him as a person. He grew up seeing the glass half-full and believing Aspiria was every bit as perfect and amazing as his father wanted him to think it was.

As a child, he spent most of his education being groomed to take over as the next king but never really took his future duties seriously. In his mind, it was so far off, there was no reason to worry about it. That is, until his father's health took a sudden decline when he turned eighteen. Suddenly slapped in the face by the reality that he was actually going to be the next leader of an entire country, he began to pay more attention to his teachers and did his best to understand all the different jobs he would have when his father died. However, the more he studied, the more he realized how unqualified he was for such an important role.

To deal with his rising sense of insecurity, Cas delved back into any and every social event he could find around the capital city. Partying and drinking with friends took the edge off his fears and helped him to forget about the impending future of his kingship. Deep down, he knew his coping strategy wouldn't change anything, but for now, it was good enough to keep him from getting absorbed in the weight of it all. He would just continue to put it off until he had to face it, the same way he handled the Scourge.

The rebellion (better known as the Scourge by everyone who lived in the capital) was the other big, glaring problem he tried not to think about. To make the enemies seem less imposing, he and his friends would make crude jokes about them and discuss all the creative ways the king could punish them for treason when they were eventually defeated by the state, but secretly, he was always on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious. As the crown prince of Aspiria, he'd heard the threats the rebels spat about himself and his family, and he was concerned about what could happen if they ever managed to get inside the stronghold walls.

He just hoped the military was strong enough that he would never have to find out.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

[User]
Iris smiled just listening as Cas called the formal events overrated and how he preferred the atmosphere of bars, still another place she doubted she could go too. A part of her wondered if he had said it to make her feel better, especially as he went on to say the events were kind of snobbish and full of gossip. It was hard not to be curious about it, but it was just a grim reminder of the fact she would never attend something like that, she probably wouldn't even go into the bars or anywhere in the Capital. At least in the districts she didn't have to hide, and she could go where she pleased, not that there were many places to visit but she didn't have to hide away for fear of arrest.

Drawn from her thoughts by what Jay said she looked up about to ask what he meant by a sugar baby, but thought better of it closing her mouth as she listened to them talk on slowly understanding by what they truly meant. It was weird to think that some people where into that, just having an easy life without having to do anything. Some sort of sugar baby was a new concept to her, but you couldn't really get those in the districts. Of course, there were people that would sleep around to earn something extra, but nothing on that kind of level.

"Yeah." Iris smiled agreeing with the boys about it being a good choice, though it wasn't her taste she felt like chiming in, so she didn't seem too out of place here. Perhaps she would enjoy it more with the food and that was the hope because she didn't want more things cropping up to highlight how she didn't belong, not when it was already playing on her mind.

Even with her worries she felt like Cas had caught on, she felt the gentle touch on her back, tracing patterns and it began to calm her. It was such an appreciated gesture and it made her feel better that she wasn't openly drinking the champagne, he had to understand what she was feeling she hoped he did. Though it did bring up the question of what kind of future they could have together, something she didn't want to think about but found it hard to stop wondering on the subject matter.

"Oh!" Smiling as she caught Jays question she nodded, "I'm feeling a lot better, despite being stuck with Miles and having to put up with him daily." Making a playful comment as she relaxed a bit more at the fact she was close to Cas and she could feel his touch soothing her. "I've been taught a lot more card games, well remembered how to play. Also, can we talk about the crap reality shows you have here? Do people actually watch that kind of rubbish? I was so shocked and well, curious I couldn't stop watching it at first. Honestly I don't get it!" Laughing as she looked towards the door hearing the buzzer of the door again for their food. "I hope that's the food!"

[Assistant]
While Jay and Iris talked, Caspian sipped idly at his drink and glanced at Miles, who was also listening to them talk. The other high born's gaze was fixed not-so-subtly on Iris's face, making it obvious that he was still enamored with her. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Even though he'd just talked to her and gotten confirmation that she didn't want to be with anyone other than him, it was annoying to watch one of his friends become infatuated with her too. He was even a little surprised by the strength of his frustration. He'd never guessed that he would be the possessive type, but then again, he'd never had feelings for the same woman as Jay or Miles before, so they'd never competed. Now that he and his friend were both interested in Iris, he felt the irrational urge to lay claim to her even though nothing would happen between her and the other man.

Trying not to dwell on it, he turned away from Miles to listen more closely to the others talk. Jay shook his head when Iris brought up the reality TV shows that were popular in the capital. "I don't like them either," he agreed with her. "Why watch something like that when you could be watching exciting action movies instead?"

"You just don't like anything that doesn't have guns, hot women and cars," Miles debated with a scoff. "I think the drama is fun, and so do a lot of other people. It's also easy to turn viewing parties into drinking parties really fast."

At the sound of the doorbell, they both glanced at the bedroom door along with Cas. "Should be," Miles confirmed to Iris, standing up from the sofa. "I'll go get it." He headed out the door again to get their food, and Jay made himself comfortable right away by sprawling out with his legs up on the couch, taking over the whole piece of furniture.

"He can sit on the floor when he comes back," he justified, resting his head on the arm of the sofa with a sly smile.

"He's gonna sit on you," Cas warned amusedly. He'd known Jay and Miles long enough to expect that when the latter came back, they were just going to end up wrestling over the couch because of the former's shenanigans. It happened almost every time.

He turned back to look at Iris, deciding to participate in the conversation she had started up before. "I think reality shows are popular because a lot of people here like the idea of being on TV," he posed. "There are so many different ones with so many different themes that pretty much anyone can send in an audition to join. Especially the dating shows. I bet they get hundreds of applicants every season." He paused, then added, "And a lot of people just like judging the cast over everything they do wrong." He shrugged. "I like a few of them, but they're pretty hit or miss for me as a genre."

[User]
"Yeah I think even I'd prefer watching the action movies. Some of it was just absolute dribble. I was not a fan." Shaking her head in amusement as Jay happily conversed with her, it was nice to just have a casual conversation with someone else. Someone other than Miles for the past week and Jay seemed genuinely interested which was nice. That and she knew Jay had no intentions of making any sort of moves on her unlike Miles, it felt strange to think of that because she had honestly been so oblivious to it but now it seemed so obvious she couldn't believe she had missed it.

How will I even approach that subject? Maybe we are over thinking it. Maybe he doesn't like me. Iris thought to herself as she glanced down at the flute of champagne in her hands that she had barely touched. Glancing up for a second nodding as Miles said he would go get their food, a part of her nervous to try this new pizza that she had never tasted before. It would be interesting to see if she did like it, hopefully she did because she didn't want to feel different from the others over it or be pestered about not liking it. Again just another thing she knew she was overthinking, but everything was building up for her especially when she felt like she had no one to talk too.

Chuckling as she watched Jay get comfortable on the sofa, she rolled her eyes when he said Miles could sit on the floor, "As if he would. You better not be ruining my bed there I don't want to sleep on the floor." Making a fun comment to keep the mood light and happy, especially as she was enjoying the company of everyone here even if she would rather prefer spending it with just Cas.

"Really? Why do people want to be on TV? I don't get it, especially knowing that all those people would watch." Iris shook her head not liking the sound of it at all, but then it was different for others they might be more in tune with things like that. "Dating shows? Oh gosh I bet there are some hilariously bad ones of those." Grinning as she looked up at Cas considering his next words around how people liked to judge others. There was so much truth in those words, people liked to judge others and their lifestyle. Always having an opinion when it was none of there business, "I guess… I don't see the attraction, especially if you're just going to pick out all the fault when they do wrong. Speaking of TV, I did watch a really strange film. A part of me thought I had made it all up! But again, I didn't have much else to do so I ended up watching a lot of rubbish. It kind of makes me miss going outside."

Finding her gaze look over at the window looking towards the outside wondering on when she could go out, if she could even go out. The back of her mind still convincing herself that she should just go back to the districts. Maybe I could slip out one night without anyone noticing?

[Assistant]
"Because it would be cool to be famous for something," Jay answered matter-of-factly when Iris asked her question. Despite what she and Cas said about Miles, he sprawled out even more on the sofa with his hands behind his head and both feet kicked up on the opposite armrest. "I wouldn't mind getting word out about my autobody shop and being recognized for it. If a producer came along and said he wanted to make a show out of what I do, there's no way in hell I'd turn that offer down."

"Being famous is also overrated," Caspian pitched in, wrinkling his nose at the subject. "You lose a lot of privacy, and everything you do has consequences because people are watching your every move. It gets old fast." If he'd had his choice, he would have preferred to be a contestant on a reality show over being the heir to the crown. At least that way, his lack of privacy would have been temporary rather than something he would have to put up with for the rest of his life. There were some perks, he couldn't deny that, but for the most part, he found himself dreaming of escaping from his fate and being a regular high born.

"Yeah, yeah," Jay rolled his eyes. "We all know how you feel about it." He and Miles had heard the spiel many times before, since the prince was fairly vocal about his distaste for the spotlight. They knew he would have preferred to live his life under a rock rather than put up with paparazzi, reporters, nosy supporters, interviews, and all the other things that came with being royalty in Aspiria. Neither of them understood it though. To them, being a member of the royal family sounded amazing, and they would have traded places with him in a heartbeat if they could.

Cas didn't bother to reply. He knew his friends didn't understand the weight that came with being the crown prince. Even if he'd liked the attention—and he didn't always enjoy it—he also had to take into account the responsibilities, private classes, meetings with dignitaries, involvement with the military, and all the pressure he was under to meet the expectations of the monarchy's main ring of support. It was a lot for one person to handle.

Glancing down at Iris, his smile returned as she carried on the conversation about TV shows in the capital. "Oh yeah?" he mused. "What was the film about? Now that you've said that, you're gonna have to tell us the details."

At her mention of going outside, Cas followed her gaze to the window. He wished he could assure her that she wouldn't be cooped up much longer, but in truth, he had no idea how long it would be until she could leave the Kinders' home. The soldiers might believe she had left the capital, but they still knew her face. If she suddenly reappeared in the streets, they would arrest her immediately. He paused in his absentminded tracing of her shoulder blades, perplexed by the thought. Maybe he could talk to Jacob about it. Surely the guard would have some ideas as to how he could smuggle her from Miles' bedroom to a safer location—

"Who's ready to eat?"

Abruptly, Caspian's thought were interrupted when Miles burst into the room carrying two large, cardboard boxes in his hands. The smell of hot pizza wafted through the space, and his stomach growled reflexively. Closing the door with his leg, Miles strode over to the coffee table and set the food down on the surface along with a set of four plates. Dusting off his hands, he turned toward Jay, "Move over, jackass. You're in my seat."

"Make me," Jay winked at him challengingly.

Without hesitation, Miles dove for him, and the two began wrestling over the sofa just as Cas had predicted. The prince snorted and leaned forward in his chair. "Mind grabbing me a couple slices while they're occupied?" he asked Iris, placing his hand on her collar. "One of each kind of pizza, please. They're both great."


[System]
Appearance: Tall for a gnome, short to anything else. His skin is sickly pale and long straw like white hair has a hint of faded red.
His limbs are scarred with fire and chains. He wears grey rags and a thick leather apron. He is covered in soot and grime.
His jet black eyes suggest his fey herritage, the grey lines under it suggest he hasn't enjoyed much sleep lately, or even ever.
Race: Bleachling Gnome
Class: Blight Druid
Main-Hand Weapon: Steel broadsword sized and balanced for an Orcish Warlord.
Off-Hand Weapon: the broadsword is too large for Furnace, so it becomes a two-hander for him.
Secondary Weapon: smiting hammer
Armor: rags and a leather apron
Powers:
Immolate: Furnace can naturally burn his own and readily available energy sources. The flames either fan out to scorch everything nearby or concentrate to melt metal. This requires concentration to manifest, but just energy or fuel to maintain.
Enervate: Furnace can force energy to become positively charged, if he infuses this into a living being it heals wounds and energizes the creature.
Animate: He can also force energy to become negatively charged, this has the opposite effect as Enervate does. He doesn't know it, but he can use it to heal undead and temporarily animate corpses.
Skills: Crafting(Forging weapons and industrial tools), spell-craft(specialty: energy flows) , appraise (he can tell the structural integrity and purity of objects and materials, he has no concept of monetary value though.)
Weaknesses: He has never met a real person. Thus he has no idea how anything social works. Everything is new and wondrous to him.
A former slave he has a weak will and no instincts to speak of. He can easily be bullied around and clings to anyone who shows him kindness.
Personality:  Annoyingly submissive, unnaturally calm, depressingly accepting, surprisingly hopeful.
Themesong

Background: At a very young age, before he had a chance to acquire memories or even a name, Furnace was taken from his home in a bandit raid.
The bandits spared his life when they had seen his race's knack for magical fire, so they decided to "raise" him for that purpose.
This meant stick him in a small cell made of stone and devoid of light. The only opening and sliver of light was the entrance to their war furnaces. Which he was forced to keep alive day and night for as long as he could remember. Though he never got to see his captors, just the weapons of war he made, he was able to catch parts of conversations through the roaring blaze. This way he managed to learn the language but not much else. Since they never bothered to name him he concluded his name was Furnace.
Alone and shackled Furnace toiled through in timeless darkness until one day, months, years or decades later a voice spoke from the earth.
"What do you desire child?"
He had pointed at the small light at the end of his jail.
"Freedom? One day.."
For years to come the voice would come back sporadically and talk to Furnace.
Never did the otherworldly being reveal his origin or goals.
Furnace didn't care. He learned to channel his energy rather than burn it into the air.
He learned of other creatures, races, worlds outside.
And with every bit of knowledge his craving for freedom grew.
The voice always preached patience.
One day there was a loud commotion outside the forge. Screaming and the clash of weapons.
Weapons which sound Furnace recognized, against those he didn't.
Hopefully he dared to let the fires die.
A hand reached into the pit and helped him out, broke the shackles. Furnace was free and blinked as he saw the sun for the first time.

Other: There is a strange creature from other worlds who's taken an interest in Furnace.

[User]
Carver pondered the girl's question for a moment. "Heavy? I suppose it is, but not so bad once you begin to see the benefits," he responded, unsure if he was still talking about armor. "Truth is, I can't imagine I could ever do anything else. I was raised in a monastery - every day I prayed, trained, read, bettered my body and my mind until the Knight Commander deemed I was ready. Past a certain age, of course, I would have been allowed to leave, but... I never wanted to." He smiled fondly at the memories of his youth, particularly the phrase he now repeated that one of his teachers had been so fond of. "There's so much wrong in the world. One man can't fix it all, but... think about how much he'll do if he tries."

He shook himself out of his nostalgia and stood up. "Apologies, you didn't ask to hear my life story. Are you feeling well, my lady? I should think our companions will be returning shortly."

The woman in black was still here, he realized with a start. He shouldn't have lost track of her. Careless. She could have hurt someone while he was pontificating. He'd have to do better to keep an eye on that one.

[Assistant]
Alula listened contentedly as Carver talked about his early life. She wasn't sure why, but even the voices kept quiet as he spoke. Listening to him speak so fondly of events of his past made her feel strangely happy. She might not have memories of the past, but he did. It must be nice, to think on the before and expand upon. And while she felt like she should have been jealous or sad, she wasn't. She tipped back her hat, as if trying to see better through hazy eyes.

"The kindness of one has the ability to grow in the sunshine and change the lives of many."

She smiled softly, pulling her hat back down over her eyes. She felt fine, in fact she felt more levelheaded then normal. She figured it had something to do with him being a paladin.

"I am...quite alright..." She spoke slowly, as if confused. She was surprised that she was feeling so stable. "I am...eager...to begin this...adventure."

[User]
Suki sighed as she watched mostly everyone split up to go shopping for supplies. "There's not alot one can't get without gold." Muttering softly to herself with a bemused smile, she glanced slightly at the paladin, internally frowning as she noticed that his attention seemed to be on her.

Choosing to pass time doing something else, she started walking off in the direction of the marketplace. However, unlike the others, she wasn't shopping. She had stayed in one place for long enough, so she was starting to worry about possible religious members locating her here.

[Assistant]
Separ
As Separ exited the store, feeling like a chump after what happened with the shopkeeper he ran into the cloaked girl. Separ couldn't help but smile when he saw her, and it even made him temporarily forget about what happened in the general shop. Sure, he barely knew the girl, but he was glad that both she and all the others had agreed to stay in the group. Separ could finally start his own adventure. Separ immediately walked over to the cloaked girl. "Hey, how's it going? I managed to buy us some tents and sleeping bags, as well as a medkit and backpack. Are you out shopping to, if so can I accompany you? Though, as of now I have no money." Separ glanced from side to side before sighing. "Please don't ask, I'd rather not talk about it." He exclaimed before looking once again at her. "So are the others with you, or are they still near the tavern? and umm, what did you want to buy?"

[User] Vis looked got up from his crouched position and took the bobbin of thread from the man behind the counter, stowing it in his leather backpack. He had no idea what he was going to do with it but he felt it would become useful at some point. He looked down to the gnome, "Nithe buy, yeth now we go tho buy bread." Unfortunately, Vis didn't know where the baker's district was but he could find out. Looking for the nearest permanent structure, the facade of a small temple, he approached it and rested his hand on the windowsill testing it's sturdiness, it seemed to hold. Vis clambered up, putting his hands on the heads of saints and gargoyles and ascending the face of the temple until he was near the top. He hold on with one hand and leaned away from the face of the temple, Vis saw plooms of white smoke and deduced that was where bread was being made. Climbing back down he returned to the gnome and walked with him to the bakery and purchased stale bread for two coins a piece, buying 8 in total.

[Assistant] Suddenly, guards started running through the streets. Upon first glance, one would assume they would be running after someone and most likely the people who caused trouble at the local tavern. But the guards kept running, and as they drew closer, you could tell they weren't running after, but away. Screams started to fill the streets as kobolds (small dragonfolk with no wings), goblins, men wearing chainmail and black tunics, and even an ettin (two-headed giant) started to swarm the village, destroying and slaughtering everything in sight. The goblins set fire to the stands and the ettin destroyed many houses and even the tavern. A dark silhouette of a man on a horse could be seen amongst the smoke in the distance.

[User]
Furnace furiously pondered the meaning and intent of this group.
He saw them break, tear and burn the stands, carts and houses.
Two huge heads sharing one body came storming past him, massive flail in each hand.
As he crashed trough several stands at once, splinters and raw materials flew trough the air.

Deconstruction

It dawned on Furnace what they were doing. They were harvesting materials for the forge.
He saw creatures armed with swords and clubs run to the creatures from the village and hit them until they stopped screaming.
Was this a fight? Or could they also harvest life?

 "A life is cut short so another can begin. Lives are lost in the forest of life to allow the young to grow."

Was this what the tired girl had predicted?

Either way, Furnace was exited by this development. Much to learn.
And in the spirit of learning new thing Furnace took the wrapped package from his back and let the cloth fall to the ground.
With two hands and significant effort he held aloft an orcish broadsword.
It was about his size and looked right at home between the flails, blades and axes of the newcomers.
With care and calculation he mimicked the lumbering brute's movements as he rand after him, then past him, then into a stand.
With as mighty a swing he could muster he brought the heavy blade down upon the wooden board.
The thin plank snapped instantly, causing copper and tin trinkets to fly everywhere.
As Furnace was showered in shiny but function-less pieces of metal he looked behind him at the two-faced giant, looking for confirmation that he got it right.

[Assistant] The ettin was about to slay the little one when he had suddenly attacked on of the stands, this caused the ettin to think that the little one was one of them and so he nodded and continued his rampage.

[User]
Furnace trembled a little as he regarded the judging eyes of the towering creature.
The ettin nodded approvingly. He did it right. He was learning so much today!
Happily Furnace followed and continued to smash barrels, poles and carts along with the brute and a growing group of other creatures his size.
They did the same. When he jumped, they did. When they struggled to reach up to the thatched rooftops with their torches, he kicked a barrel over to them so they could stand on it. This was going great.

That moment he remembered the barkeep, and how he had displayed so much fun cutting the friend collector, clearly he loved a fight.
As they were near the tavern Furnace ran ahead of the band and smashed the wooden door open.
He pointed inside and yelled at the rampaging group. "In here! There's good fighting and food in here!"

[Assistant]
As Vis walked out of the bakery, sixteen coins lighter and with 8 loaves of bread under his arm, screams echoed out from the other side of the market and people started running away from the direction of the comotion. The owner of the bakery, a woman in her thirties steppes out to see what was going on, Vis turned back to the bakery and ushered as much people inside as possible, he turned to the owner and yelled over the commotion, "Ith there a bathement thoo thith bakery?!"
She thought for a moment and nodded, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him to the kitchen, she pointed to a large slate preparation table, "It's under there!" she yelled as what was going on outside was getting closer. Vis groaned with frustration and pushed all his mass against the table, whincing as it grated across the floor, exposing a dusty trap door. When the table was no longer obstructing it, Vis opened it up and climbed down, it was large and could easily hold everyone in the building. He climbed back out and yelled into the main room for everyone to get into the basement, they did as they were told and when the trapdoor shut and everyone was inside, Vis pushed the table back over the hatch and he heard rough voices from the front room. He drew his rapier and escaped through the back door, he'd be back for the people in the basement.

[User]
Even moments before the attack Alula's soft and comfortable smile suddenly turned into an expression of extreme horror. She took stumbling steps away from Carver. She appeared to double over slightly, frantically pulling down her hat and covering her eyes as if she was trying to block out the horror filled visions.

"Misfortune does not come in drops it comes in storms. I can see the clouds gathering upon the horizon"

This voice was different from her normal, lazy, speech. But it was also far different from the commanding and dominant voice. This one sounded calm, almost wise and knowing. But the voice didn't match Alula's expression of pain and dread. Her entire body seemed to be shaking, a bright glow emitting from her eyes and from a source within her robes.

She spoke in a grim voice, suddenly looking up at Carver with fear. She could see the monsters on the horizon.

"Please ser Paladin you have to go! Something is coming it's not safe here!"

It was strange, she didn't seem to be talking about the monsters destroying the town. She nearly collapsed onto the ground, gripping her staff in an iron fist. "And when it comes they will come."

[Assistant]
Furnace noticed the iron friend and tired girl still standing where he last left them.
They were looking at him. Or they were looking at the large group of creatures working hard on harvesting stone, rock and coal. Or the disagreeing cries of people running and hiding everywhere.
Why did they do that? Was it part of the harvesting ritual?
Furnace waved at Carver and Alula.


[System]
Physical Form:
 Tall, well-muscled, and stable, he is the pinnacle of physical perfection, even by the standards of some who would call themselves 'Immortal'. He is 6'8", and weighs at 300 pounds, in his normal form.

In his alternate form, he gains a sentient sword, and a set of armor which is actually part of him. In this form, sometimes his face is visible, but more often than not, he keeps his mask on. He is 7'0" even, and weighs 450 pounds.

Abilities:
 Normal Form / [CONDITIONAL USE] Carnage Form - Athinar has decided to forgo magic that affects others, in favor of a magic that supplements his already impressive strength. His Carnage Form is a shell, which looks like armor, but actually is a super-dense exoskeleton. While in this form, he is significantly slower, but is immensely more powerful in terms of strength and defense.

 [CONDITIONAL USE] Summon: Carnage Blade - Athinar has the ability to summon his Carnage blade at any time, however it is smaller and less impressive when he's not in Carnage form, although it still is alive, and speaks to him. The blade's name is Requiem. Basically what the sword looks like, except with glowing red runes down the middle.

 (Normal Form - Rock Style) Blood Palm - Athinar uses the blood spilled by anyone, including his own, in a fight, to empower his fist's attack.

 Martial Arts - Athinar was trained in three forms of martial arts by the monks. However, he is only the equivalent of a black belt in one, and slightly competent in the others.
 (Skilled)Rock Style  - Athinar stays solid, and in place, for the most part. He uses his fists, elbows, and occasionally trips the enemy, but tries to keep his feet steady. For if he can, not much in the terms of human force can move him, but if anyone has trained in Windstance (or was strong enough), they could move him through sheer momentum and weight transfer.

 (Beginner)The Path of the Cyclone  - Not so much a martial art as a series of moves, executed one after the other, this unarmed style is used to fight large groups of enemies. There are twelve moves altogether, in three groups. However, Athinar was only taught the first group, and cannot continue the momentum of the Path.
 - Leaping Tornado: Athinar lunges forward, landing among his enemies.
 - Unseen Tempest: Athinar waits three seconds for enemies to close in, ready to strike.
 - Stormblade: Athinar ducks down beneath a man's weapon, and elbows him in the chest/neck area.
 - Cyclone Kick: Athinar does a roundhouse kick, tripping all surrounding enemies.
However, these are usually poorly executed, due to lack of training.

 (Beginner) Celestial Mirage - This is possibly the martial art that he's learned that he has the most trouble with. It is a kick-based martial art, one that forces you to maintain patience. It's attacks come in bursts, to draw the enemy out, and allow the student to analyze the situation. However bad Athinar is with this, it was still one of the arts he learned from the monks, and he views it as a useful, albeit F*CKING INFURIATING skill.

Personality: Athinar gets intense pleasure from seeing other creature's blood. No matter the circumstances, or whether he is allied with them or not. When he is not getting excited by bloodlust, he is usually a very calm, collected individual, who is quite intelligent, surprisingly. When blood is near, he turns into a vicious man, taking pleasure in drawing blood, tasting it, etc. Afterwards, he is, shall we say, *ahem* easily excitable. If you know what I mean. However, this doesn't mean that he's not smart. He is extremely smart, in his bloodlust, and will be able to craft plans on the fly, if they end in violence and killing.

Relationships:
Emily- Thinks that the homunculus is beneath his attention, generally, unless she does something big and shiny.
That Which Consumes Peace- A fool, disobeying the Boss, but made a nice save, getting Shukra mildly punished.
Ekushka- Hasn't met her yet.
Narza- Is quite fond of the little ghost, curretly.
Shukra- A pompous ass who fails at commanding.
Darkwraith Kor- A good fighter, like Athinar, who shares his bloodlust. Enjoys his company.
Azavarn- Too flamboyant.
Umbra/Christopher- Thinks that Christopher is a bit off, but doesn't know why.
Torrens- Doesn't have any opinion of him, but thinks that a fire demon might be useful.
Clotho- Has a strange fixation on Clotho's chitin.
Twitch- Has disdain for the ratty, well, twitchy kobold. Maybe if he actually did something, he might be useful.

Backstory: Athinar is the reincarnated form of an ex-Dungeon Keeper, banished from his former world, and born to a new life in this one. However, he don't remember shit, and the only benefits were the impressive physical abilities you see today. He was born to an order of monks, who trained him in every combat style, unarmed and armed. However, this revealed his darker secret, his love for shedding blood. Killing them all, he was guided by a voice in his head, who told him that if he joined with him, he'd get to kill, kill, and keep killing. So he met up with the Dungeon Keeper, and started killing.

Other: If Athinar seems too powerful, remember that he was converted to the Dungeon Keeper's cause by him just saying that he could kill people if he joined him. He's not dumb, but he does have quite the one-track-mind, and is quite susceptible to manipulation, in both forms. Like, REALLY susceptible. A novice hypnotist could put him to sleep.

[User]
Balothiss was normal at one point then he was frozen the next he felt the cold getting to him it should have killed him but he was too angry to die to a spell so weak compared to his ability to cast his innate magic.

He felt the ice around him grow warm as he summoned fire balls but they merely looked like heat signatures in the dark on the ice and as the ice began melting he began putting more effort into the flames which turned from just orange red to fiery blue with a hint of yellow as his head freed from the ice he bellowed loudly with anger and he looked around to see 'Cold stare' stuck in ice as well.

It took him about 10 minutes to free himself from his icy tomb but Balothiss was determined not to die at any cost and he surely would not die at the hands of the blue robed person who froze him.

Balothiss started melting areas and he began trying to free 'Cold stare' making sure to try and not burn him with the fire that he summoned.

Once he freed him Balothiss looked at him and said with annoyance and rage.

"I am not pleased at all by this blue robed person who froze us I want to tear the bastard limb by limb and burn the coward to death in his final moments of breath!"

Balothiss huffed and his eyes were blood shot and irritated from the melted water that got into his eyes.

"Let's go kill that filthy bastard!"

And with that Balothiss motioned for 'Cold stare' to follow him as he melted his way out of the ice and it took quite a long time but they found themselves out of the ice without trouble at all.

"What do we do now?"

He asked 'Cold stare' who was constantly viewing what he was doing but not at all saying anything to Balothiss.

"What are our options!"

Balothiss asked.

[Assistant]
Cold stare was quiet. The ice affected him not in the least he simply stayed in the spot awaiting the other to break free. He saw the one who froze the warrior and the question asked had the same answer Cold stare applied to the dwellers of this village. As a reflex he brought his blade vertically to his hood and then swung it wide in front of him. The fallen defender thought, Evil must spread if they are to learn their lesson. This user of ice definitely stood in the way.

Cold stare advanced in the direction the caster was last seen he ignored obstacles and barriers moving through them. killing cowards who used them to hide. The further he got from the fires the faster his cold aura returned. This night would not be the night for a savior. This was not cold stares night either, it belonged to righteous evil in all its dark purity. He was merely a vessel for the wrong in this world to find expression. Cold stare followed the trail that caster left behind, his warmth of life would be his demise.

[User]
Balothiss followed close behind Cold stare who didn't answer his question verbally but he did it through action and the answer was 'Kill' and Balothiss smiled as he ran behind Cold stare.

He cleaved his sword from his left to his right cutting down anywho jumped in his way Balothiss was painted in blood and he had a determined look on his face a deep frown as he followed along behind Cold stare who was hacking down guards and focusing keenly on the caster with murderous intent in his eyes.

Cold stare wanted to kill the caster as much as he did so he followed along minding his surroundings making sure he would be ready if he was going to be surprised by an opponent and he was careful to keep a close eye out for other spellcasters.

[Assistant]
Xallihion will immediately attack the second the Dwarves turn their backs to the ambushers, his mental command ringing in the minds of his slaves, Kill them. With a drawing of power and a single wave of his hand, Spectral Tentacles will erupt from the walls of the tunnel, blocking the Dwarves retreat and even snaring two of the unlucky Dwarves, crushing and ripping their bodies apart as the rest of the Dwarven patrol freezes in place. At the same time, Xallihion's five slaves will rush out and charge down the tunnel towards the Dwarves, their mining picks at the ready as they close in on the patrol. The patrol will turn in time to see them and most will be able to respond to the sudden attack from the slaves by drawing their weapons.

 Xallihion's mental voice will ring out, loud enough to be heard by all in the tunnel, You are mine now slaves. Bow before your new Master. With his powerful mind, Xallihion breaks the weak mental barriers that most of the patrol have around their minds, with five of the Dwarves dropping to the ground as he rips their will from them. The slaves show their worth by holding the remaining three Dwarves busy, but they suffer terrible wounds in doing so. Drawing his wand, Xallihion will point it at the remaining members of the patrol and will activate its power, launching a barrage of six arrows of pure force at them. The arrows speed down the tunnel unerringly as they slam two at a time into the three Dwarves, blowing large holes into them and quickly killing them.

Stand up Slaves, your Master demands it. The five Dwarves that Xallihion ripped the will from begin twitching before standing up and standing there, their faces blank as they await their new master's orders. Gather anything of use, weapons and armor, for it seems that someone has begun to finally play the Game. Walking past the new Slaves, Xallihion will dispel the Spectral Tentacles from the tunnel, waiting just long nough for his slaves, wounded or not, to quickly scavage the corpses and form up behind him. Let us go see what this new player has brought to the Game, and with that, Xallihion will lead his force down the tunnel excitement beginning to rise from inside his cold calculating heart.

[User]
As the sorceress was abandoned by her guards, Athinar kept moving forward, breaking the fleeing ranks of men like so much water upon a stone. Then, the street before the sorceress and himself was suddenly clear for the nine meters ahead. Sprinting across the gap, Athinar had halved the distance, when she turned her attention back to the massive fighter, pointing at him. Immediately, Athinar knew that she had cast some kind of spell. A hex. Dehydration. It'll make me shrivel up, and then make my blood escape. Athinar paused, cocking his head. Where had that come from? (Anyone with soul sensing abilities would be able to feel the pressure from Athinar.) Shaking his head like a dog, he began to run forward, only to be forced to stop in his tracks, and fall to his knees. He started gasping, his lungs now dry. Head pounding, tinges of black fading into his vision.

Would he be stopped like this, by a puny mage? No! Roaring with rage, even through the dehydration, time seemed to stop, and the borders of the world seemed to liquefy, like quicksilver. A dark mist poured out through the surrounding alleyways, and swirled around Athinar. Circling him, as if studying him, the mist spoke.

So... you don't want to die here?

Athinar said nothing, because he couldn't move. The mist flew closer, until it was in his face.

I suppose I could help you out a bit.

As the mist faded, and time seemed to flow, a black, featureless figure waved at the edges of his vision, ominously.

We'll be in touch.

And then with a snap, time returned. Athinar stood up fully, without the feeling of being choked. Looking down at himself, steam still rose from his body, but it stopped almost instantly. In his hands, was a black, guardless, hand-and-a half sword, one that had several dull runes engraved into the blade. It was about half a foot wide, and three feet long. Curious, Athinar waved it around a bit. It was weightless. Curious. Shrugging, and cracking his neck, he grinned. Whatever happened, it had rendered the sorceress' spell ineffective.

Pouncing towards the priestess, he cut horizontally, chopping the woman in half. Her torso flew upwards, spraying beautiful blood, and her legs stayed standing, spurting like a geyser. The look on the woman's face was that of extreme surprise and terror, at which Athinar began laughing madly, baying like an animal. Looking around at the other guards, he saw some knight in shining armor. Literally. Growling, he sprinted, holding the sword easily. If anyone got in his way, he would barrel through them, shoving them out of the way.

(Note: Anyone who was in position to see the mist come out from the surrounding alleyways, would only see smoke pour out, and in a cyclone, turn into the blade in Athinar's hands. It happened almost too quickly to see, so if you were distracted, you would've missed it. Narza would have felt an immense power, unstoppable by herself, pass through the walls of 'us'.)


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

Established in the wake of Westwel's destruction, the Runan Isles Savior Corps is by no means the most impressive program on Illun, but it's well-funded and well-run by a few survivors of Westwel's own Corps.

Character Info

Name – Besca Darroh
Age – 35
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Originally from Westwel, Besca Darroh has been around Saviors her entire life. Her grandfather had helped fell the Modir who would become "Dragon," and her father had headed Westwel's burgeoning Savior program. She met dozens of pilots, watched as their connection to the Modir ate away at their minds and bodies. Other nations treated their pilots like a resource to be burned through, kept at arm's length in all but public affairs. Besca, however, went out of her way to engage with Westwel's pilots and even piloting candidates, caring after them with a degree of humanity which was, frankly, missing in the programs of other nations. Her methods were derided as frivolous and naïve by her peers, but the pilots appreciated it, which, to her, was all that mattered.

She lost many things in Westwel's fall; her home, her father, her friends, and no small piece of her faith in humanity, but ironically enough she didn't lose her job. When Runa took in her country's refugees, and subsequently acquired their first Savior, they came to the last living member of Westwel's program for help in founding their own.

Nowadays, Besca doesn't often involve herself in the politics of the program. Technically speaking she isn't even chief of operations—a position occupied by the Runan government—but rather, her duties revolve around "pilot maintenance." While she hasn't lost her desire to make life easier for the pilots, she isn't nearly as incorrigibly optimistic or sunny as she once was.

Character Info

Name – Dahlia St. Senn
Age – 18
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Dahlia was a toddler when her home was destroyed by the Modir, spirited away from Westwel in the arms of a family friend. She spent the first fourteen years of her life in the quiet, lakeside town of Hovvi. She was, like many children, absolutely enthralled by the Saviors, so when she tested positive and was whisked away into orbit, Dahlia thought her dream had come true. She missed her friends, and her adoptive father, but this was her opportunity to do something important. This was her chance to help.

She had no idea.

Runa's Savior, Dragon, had not been phased by a single pilot until Dahlia entered the cockpit. With its potential finally unleashed, she was able to end invasions within minutes—which was crucial, because she couldn't remain connected for much longer than that before the giant's neural regeneration reached critical levels.

Dahlia has become Runa's WMD, and as such, she actually doesn't pilot as much as she did before R.I.S.C. acquired its two other Saviors. Besca has become rather protective of her, not wanting to risk putting her in situations where she may be forced to over-exert herself, or risk being overtaken.

Character Info

Name – Hadrian Ghaust
Age – 38
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Hadrian Ghaust is Helburke personified. He is strong, unrelenting, stoic to a chilling degree, and utterly devastating in the cockpit. Ghaust is also a veteran pilot, having commanded the Savior Marrowman in service of the Helburken crown for 20 years, and despite a phasing speed so slow that he rarely deigns to use his magic at all, he was well on his way to becoming one of his country's most accomplished pilots.

However, Ghaust's priority has always been the fight against the Modir, and Helburke's clamor for political power is something he viewed with silent disdain. To him, using Saviors to settle diplomatic disputes isn't just wasteful, it's shameful. So, when Helburke ordered him to bring Marrowman to bear against the newly-risen Runa's Dragon, he refused. When, then, he was given the ultimatum of going through with the duel or forfeiting his rank and position, he looked his general in the eye, ripped the pilot's medal from his collar, and left his home behind.

Overnight Ghaust was made a Pariah in Helburke, and his home turned against him. He was forced to leave, and though several foreign programs sought him out, Ghaust denied them all, even passing up a pilot's seat in Eusero. Instead, he went straight to the burgeoning program in Runa, who was more than happy to take him.

Character Info

Name – Safie Calhan
Age – 22
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

R.I.S.C.'s newest pilot, Safie has spent the past year earning her place at Dahlia and Ghaust's sides. Born and raised in Runa's largest city, Queenshand, Safie was one of countless starry-eyed youths who dreamed of the day she'd get to step inside the cockpit of a Savior. A positive connection-test put her on the path, but it was the months upon months of personal training, rigorous study, and nights spent running sims until dawn that pulled her ahead of the other aspirants. With a phase potential speed just above average, she was a perfect fit between Runa's other two pilots.

While Dahlia has accrued something of a heroic mythos about her, she's often reclusive and hesitant to make many public appearances. Safie on the other hand loves to meet the people she's helping, be that with personal visits, answering fan-mail, or simply getting her hands dirty cleaning up after the messier invasions. Some see her approach as distinctly Euseran, but Safie didn't become a pilot for the attention, she became a pilot because it was the right thing to do.

Character Info

Name – Lucis Abroix
Age – 25
Affiliation – Casoban, on loan to the R.I.S.C.

Casoban's sole effort to save Westwel, while ultimately futile, planted the seeds of goodwill between it and Runa. Casoban has always lived in the influential shadows of Helburke and Eusero, but allied with Runa, the two manage a strong presence on the world stage.

As a show of solidarity, Casoban has even begun sending a Savior of its own as backup to Runa's invasions. Enter: Lucis Abroix.

Lucis is perhaps one of Casoban's most beloved pilots, despite having only a handful of deployments to his name. Handsome, personable, with a poetic flare and the voice of an angel, many people back home already consider him the face of Casoban's Savior program—a role he is more than happy to play. Lucis makes regular public appearances, seemingly never missing an opportunity to espouse his love for the beauty of the world, and his burning desire to protect it from the Modir.

[User]
Dahlia joined her, panting, and showed no qualms about using the wall for support. She leaned back and slid down to a sit, peeling the helmet off her head. Hair was sweat-stuck to her face, she blew strands out of her mouth and took long draws from her own water bottle. It seemed like she was even more winded than Quinn was. Perhaps that shouldn't have come as such a surprise; Dragon wasn't a marathon Savior after all, it was a sprinter.

"Good," she breathed hard between gulps. "You're getting quicker. S'good. Gotta watch the blindspot—if I hadn't caught you with that hook, I think you would've gotten me."

These sessions had been good for Dahlia, too. Teaching was more difficult than she'd suspected it would be, harder than Besca or Ghaust made it look, and she was always anxious that she might explain something poorly, or unintentionally help foster bad habits. Her lessons weren't perfect, and were far more about instinct and reflex than anything else, but seeing Quinn improve so much in such a short time—especially with her particular background—gave her confidence.

It also reminded her that one day, perhaps sooner than not, Quinn might have to put what she'd learned to use. That was much harder to square herself with, but she tried, if for nothing else than to make things for Quinn easier. There was enough stress in this job already.

"We can call it for now, what are you feeling for lunch? Tohoki Grill? CB Danes? We could always grab whatever's in the mess, or something from the vending machines. Your call—I'm starved, I'll eat anything."

It was true enough, but Dahlia and Besca had both been making efforts to give Quinn choices where they could. They kept the schedule as strict as the higher-ups commanded, but when it came to things like meals, or movie night, or even just what she did with her spare time, it was important that she felt she could choose.

She got up off the ground, tossing her gloves and pads into the hamper. She gave her sister an expectant smile. "So? I'll text Besca once we're settled down."

[Assistant]
Ah. They were done. God, she couldn't chug down the water fast enough. She pulled the helmet off, readjusting her eyepatch strap where it started to slip, and spiked it into the ground—not the most comfortable, was it?—before shaking her braid back to the center. Her chest was still heaving, sucking in long, deep breaths. Still, she couldn't help but huff out an almost scornful amused breath, which was about as far as she ever came to laughing these days.

"Hah, you and I both know that's not true. I'm still a looong way from beating you." She took another long drink. "Definitely gettin' closer though. Almost tagged you with that last one." She was...mostly satisifed with how she'd done. That kick had strained her a little more than she wanted it to, though, and it wasn't even a particularly high one. She penciled in train flexibility more on her mental docket.

One last pull from the bottle and she'd drained it, dropping it to the ground and knocking it into the wall with a gentle tap. She always tried to catch it with her foot, but it almost never worked. One day, she thought.

"Your call."

As always, being able to choose sent both a warm thrill and a cold shock down her spine. Being able to choose meant being able to choose wrong, after all, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was disappoint anyone, especially her new family. As time went on, though, the feeling was starting to drop, and making decisions was starting to come more easily to her.

"Been craving some noodles," she said, tearing the last of the pads off and sending them after Dahlia's, "and we've been eating at Dane's a lot the past few days. You okay with Tohoki?"

Walking over to the exit and wiping off her forehead, she fished her phone out of the little mesh pocket by the door and slid it into her own. She still marveled at the sleek little dark gray thing sometimes. She owned a phone. Quinnlash Loughvein owned a phone! A month ago she never would've dreamed of having one, and now she slid one into her sweatpants pocket every morning. It was didn't even seem real.

Kicking out the improvised doorstop, she yanked the door open—it was getting easier every day—and stood in the frame, propping it open. "Lead the way, Deelie."

It wasn't just to be polite. Something about leading people somewhere, she'd found, dropped a ball of anxiety into the pit of her stomach. She was trying to get better about it, she really was. But today, she just wanted to follow.

[User]
"Lead the way, Deelie."

And Deelie did. She'd picked up early on how Quinn didn't much like spearheading things, which was, again, entirely reasonable. Her having picked the place was an accomplishment itself, so today, Dahlia would lead the way, hold the doors, bring them to their seats, and Quinn could breathe a bit easier.

The garden commons were bustling. This month had seen RISC's numbers bolstered again, not quite to its strength before Hovvi, but enough that the Aerie didn't feel like a ghost station anymore. Those had been hard weeks; Dahlia would come here now and then, to sit under the center pastel and imagine herself under the shade of the woods near her home. It was so quiet. What crew had remained worked in tight shifts, only a few dozen were ever around, spread so thinly around that for a while the only faces she saw besides Besca and Quinn were Follen, and the janitorial staff.

Now the tables and benches were full. The cafeteria on the floor below was packed, and Danes above sounded much the same. Tohoki Grill was a proper sit-down place, with an "outdoor" patio umbrellaed by scarlet tsubaki trees. Dahlia led the way inside. Lamps hung from the ceiling, their bulbs covered and set to flicker like dim candles. False windows were set into the wall, and behind them were digital screens that pushed artificial noonsun light through the slats.

It smelled good in here. Like fresh fish and spices, and meat cooking on open fires through the wide-windowed kitchen. The head chef was a heavy-set and absurdly happy man from Tohoki, who made a point of putting extra servings on the plates of his skinnier customers. Quinn often found herself a lucky recipient.

A waiter brought them to a corner booth, secluded but not isolated—Dahlia never sat them somewhere where they were entirely alone. They ordered their drinks, and took a third menu. Dahlia texted Besca where they'd settled.

"So what're you feelin'? I might try the sake-saffron chicken—Besca says it was all she ate for a month once and she never got sick of it."


[System]
Character Sheet
Martox Orihime (Or-eh-hyme)
Character age
Male

Race/People
Tundal

A race of humanoids from the icy Northern tundras. Often born with a higher proficiency in magic, especially with fire-type spells to help them keep warm. Typically used as battle-mages in the military because of their innate ability to use more destructive spells. Typically shorter and with thicker hair.

Appearance
Relatively tall compared to most Tundal people, Martox stands at 5'7" with a more athletic build. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and he often keeps a 'messy' look to the hair on top of his head with his beard being trimmed to look more scholarly. He carries a sling bag on the his back to hold extra books and any other goods with him which also has a sheath of sorts for him to put his staff in when not in use. On his left leg is a bag which he holds his personal journal, any money he has, and any food when he has it. Under the bag on his leg he keeps a concealed steel dagger. His clothes are light, making it easier for him to move freely, with patches of leather over vital/more commonly hit parts on his body to help guard against attacks. On his left side his rank in the military is sown into the leather, a staff to symbolize that he is a mage superimposed on two yellow chevrons pointing down to the ground.

 Always wears the cape/robe but often puts his hat on his hip.

 The middle crystal being ice with the swirls going around the crystal being red.

Traits
Skills
-Master in fire magic
-Proficient with ice magic and lightning
-Novice in illusion spells and with necromancy
-Knows one self healing spell and one friendly healing spell
-Good at sneaking and stealing
-Skilled with staff fighting
-Good with people

Flaws
-Slight temper; While he won't blow up to minor things that happen to him, he will hold grudges
-Despite wanting to be a great mage he doesn't know much healing magic
-Not very strong; He mostly relies on his magic to help him out, but he's more nimble than tough
-Lazy; He likes to take a lot of breaks and take shortcuts whenever possible

Personality
While Martox is typically considered friendly and kind to people he meets once, he's often considered cocky or arrogant to people that know him longer than a few days. Despite this, he's very critical on himself. He wants to be a great mage, and sees his shortcomings as a handicap. But, he also uses this to further improve himself. He has a lot of drive to do good and to better himself, even though it doesn't show often because of his laziness. After the battle with The Necromancer though, it's clear that most of that cockiness has left him, though traces of it still obviously remain. He is more devoted to do the right things in life, trying to free himself of his guilt after helping The Necromancer.

Background
 Martox was born in the Northern Tundras in a small village of about 20 filled with other Tundals. There he was raised to use his magic abilities to primarily keep warm and to hunt for food. But Martox wanted to know more about magic and more about the outside world than just staying in the village like most of his generation would be content with. When a caravan came through one day, heading down to the main city, Martox, only 16 at the time, quickly hid among the cargo in the back of the wagon. When he arrived at the city, he didn't plan on what exactly he was going to do, just that he wanted to expand on his magic knowledge. After asking around the city for a while he was pointed in the direction of a prestigious mage that was said to often take in pupils who wished to learn. Eager, Martox rushed to the old mage and requested to be his apprentice. But Martox was too young and didn't have any money on him so he was sent away. After that, Martox struggled to scrape up coins to afford food and inns. He went hungry for many nights before he took up the art of theft. He would primarily try to steal at night and, after a few years and getting caught several times, he started to get pretty good at it. Taking food was an easy chore for him. At 20, he had plenty of friends and even started to work for the local blacksmith as a fire tender. He often attributes the only reason that he wasn't in jail was because of his charm.
 He continued to work for the blacksmith and to steal food, to save as much money as he could, for about 5 years. When he was 25, and with a purse full of coin he again went to the wizard. Who, this time around, took his money and started to train him in the art of magic. The wizard started teaching him more destruction type spells until Martox became proficient at them. After that, Martox started to learn illusion, which he thought would help him steal more easily, and the very beginnings of healing. But, before he got very far along with learning those, he was caught for stealing again. But this time, it wasn't one of his friends in the guard that had caught him. So he was left with a choice. Join the military, or go to prison for 5 years. While the second option appeased to his lazy side, the first option seemed to suit him better. It would give him a chance to further his magic training and he would be fed with a warm bed to sleep in every night.
 In the military, Martox was actually very happy. But, instead of being able to continue the training he was working on, he was made to work on his destruction skills more. Eventually, he was able to work his way through the ranks and actually became a pretty well respected mage in his unit. Martox decided not to leave after just his 5 years of required service. He continued for another 2 years, placing him at 32. After that, he had a good bit of coin and was incredibly good with his destruction magic. Martox desired to work his other arts further though, so with a half-heavy heart he left the military and began to travel. Training with who he could, when he could on his illusion skills, ignoring his healing.
 After traveling a bit, he had heard news of a powerful necromancer. Instead of immediately thinking the worst of this mage, Martox was excited. What he had heard, instead of dangerous or evil, was a teacher. Someone who could train him in the art of necromancy, something Martox had never been able to learn and always wanted to, another magical art to put on his resume. So he went in search of The Necromancer, picking up clues here and there of him. Eventually, Martox had found him, before his rise to power and before his armies had been risen to fight against the living. Martox requested to be his apprentice, and that he would pay any price The Necromancer demanded. Instead of coin though, The Necromancer just asked that Martox gave him undying loyalty. Martox obliged, knowing that he would do whatever he felt like doing in the end regardless. So The Necromancer started to train Martox slightly, but using him mostly for other things. Martox was never asked to go into a village and kill any people, so he never knew of The Necromancers true intentions. When Martox was eventually taught to raise the dead, he did so for the Necromancer, unknowingly helping him increase the size of his army for the future war. One day, while raising dead and studying to better himself in the skills he knew, The Necromancer came to him and requested for him to follow. So Martox did. When they arrived to their destination, Martox had finally seen the army being conjured.
 Appalled and taken by surprise, Martox demanded that The Necromancer explain what the massive undead army was for. So he explained his plans to destroy the world and how he was going to kill every living thing in his path. The Necromancer reminded Martox of his vow to be loyal, and offered immortality to him by making him into a lich. But Martox refused, and even attacked The Necromancer. But he was quickly dispatched. But, before the killing blow could be dealt, The Necromancer was distracted by a militaristic attack. In the few seconds Martox had, he ran away. When Martox had heard of a team of Heroes being assembled, he knew he would have to join. Some of The Necromancers massive armies were his doing, but he didn't want to go back there. It took him several weeks before he joined the team, joining only a week before they were planning to attack. There, he met another wizard named Concara who was more than willing to help him learn more magic. Martox kept secret that he was once in The Necromancers apprenticeship. Two days before the team planned to attack, Martox came out and told the group that just a month before he was helping The Necromancer build his armies. At first, Martox was attacked and subdued. But he explained that he didn't know what The Necromancer was planning and that he could help them attack, giving them weaknesses and other things that would help in the battle. Eerily, the team allowed Martox to help them.
 Concara still accepted Martox and trained him as if nothing had happened. They became very close in that week, and Concara explained that it didn't matter what Martox's past was. Just that he was there doing the right thing now, and he knew that Martox just had a strong desire to learn any magic he could. When it was time to move out, Martox was noticeably nervous. He did not want to return to The Necromancer and fight him again, he had almost lost his life once already. But he pushed past his fears and went with the team to fight. Martox fought valiantly in the fight beside Concara. Both of them taking out hundreds of undead, eventually making their ways to the last lines, inching closer to The Necromancer. When they finally pushed through and Martox encountered The Necromancer, he obviously recognized him. The Necromancer had quickly hit Martox hard blowing him back and then fighting Concara. Before Martox could get back though, Concara was downed. The Necromancer looked at Martox and grimly smiled at him before firing an icicle through Concara's chest. Before Martox could react though, The Necromancer fled to deal with the other heroes attacking on other fronts. When Martox got to Concara, Concara smiled and handed him his staff, Ignis et Ice, before passing away.
 Martox then spent the next ten years training and bettering himself in magic. Though he still never focused much on healing. He traveled a lot and tried to do as much good as he could. But he started to stray away from necromancy spells until recently. He never totally forgave himself for helping The Necromancer come to power.

Items
Quite a bit of coin, one magic book on necromancy and one on illusion, his journal filled with teachings and runes, and Ignis et Ice, a staff which increases the range of his spells significantly and increases the power of ice and fire magic spells.

[User]
As if on cue, the sound of approaching footsteps reached the party at the cabin. Or rather, staggering footsteps. A lone figure dislosged itself from the shade beneath some pines and came hobbling towards the cabin. The occational clink and clank of steel revealed that the person was armored, and the pale light of the moon reflected off of a sword being dragged in the dirt behind the figure. As it came closer, signs of struggle or battle became apparent; the sword was stained with a splatter of dark red, and blood was dripping from the tangled mess that was the figures head. It stopped a good few feet away from the party, slowly swaying this way and that, before finally raising its gaze. There was no mistake, it was Celeste. And by the looks of it, she had recently been fighting. Hard. Her left hand hung limp and useless at her side. The only part of her with any kind of vigour left was her right hand, clenched so tight around the hilt of her sword that her knuckles were white.

As one of the heroes tried to move against her, she hissed audibly and added, whispered through gritted teeth, S-stay away! I... I don't... I can't...

A violent spasm went through her body and she shrieked with pain. Her head snapped forcefully backwards, and then to the side. From there her gaze was once again turned against the heroes, giving them a sideways glance. There was something off-putting about that glance. She was also smiling cruelly, as if she knew a secret the people in front of her didn't and she was mocking them for it. She spoke once more, this time with a calm, steady voice.

Ok boys. Let's see what this bitch goes for.

Without any warning Celeste lunged forward, no more staggering but seemingly in perfect health, and swung her sword at the one closest to her!

[Assistant]
"WOAH! Woah watch it!," Oryx shouted as he lunged to his side, dodging Celeste's blade and watched as it sliced through his armchair. The piece of furniture slip in half, plopping onto the ground with heavy thuds. This seemed impossible! Celeste would never betray them like this. What did she mean? That couldn't of been her speaking that last moment before she attacked.

The Vanguard rolled from another quick swing and grabbed his shield as he scrambled to the front door, holding it up against a third heavy strike. Celeste's blade clanked against the blessed wood, leaving nothing but a small notch.

Oryx back stepped against the wall, holding his place so that he could best defend against more strikes. His blade would be useless here, for he wanted nothing to do with another dead ally. Not on this day! Oryx let himself be used as Celeste's punching bag, or her puppeteer's if he had the right idea. Dispite the blessed powers of his shield, every swing cracked and splinted his very hands and fingers. Too much punishment like this, and he wouldn't be able to hold a young kitten, much less a shield.

"Something is afoot here," Oryx announced and he blocked another vicious attack. "Obviously. Watch yourselves friends for this is not our Celeste, and whomever this be is out for our hides. If one of you could hold her down, I think I can help!"

[User]
Martox set his cup down on a ledge, himself facing away from the door, as he heard footsteps start to enter the cabin. Without turning Martox exclaimed, "Ah! Finally the last of us join in!" He turned to see Celeste, but she was obviously not herself. Martox's expression quickly went from one of a jester to one of a soldier, stoic with a mix worry. He watched her closely as she spoke at first, seeming to almost struggle to do so. As she swung her sword down, splitting the chair in two and almost taking Oryx with it, Martox finally moved. He ran towards his bag that was sitting next to the barrels of ale and pulled Ignes et Ice out and again turned to Celeste, who was now bringing her sword down onto Oryx's shield. Not much more time before Oryx would be in a bad way, she was coming down hard on him. Martox tried to think of something quickly, he didn't wish to hurt Celeste, but time was of the essence and planning something wasn't a luxury they could afford right now.
 Martox brought his staff down with a hard thud to the ground, spreading ice towards Celeste's feet, hoping to make her slip if she moved. He quickly ran around while the ice made its way underneath her and tried to find a good shot to hit he sword with a fireball to knock it out of her hands. But she was moving too quickly, slashing down to fast for him to be able to line up the shot. He didn't want to miss and burn the cabin down, or, even worse, hit Oryx or another teammate. He decided he would have to wait to see what would happen, or until another opportunity arose to disarm her.