[System]
Age: 134 (26 when frozen, only recently thawed)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Ethelred currently cannot remove his armor, thus it is all anyone sees of him.

Abilities:
Ethelred was altered by a malevolent unseelie's curse, and is now what he has deemed "kin" to ice and snow. Freezing temperatures do not harm or hinder him, and he can see through ice, allowing him to navigate snowstorms and see through his frozen helmet. He can freeze things by touch, through his armor or even through the tip of his lance, and in enclosed spaces he can measurably chill the air around him. He doesn't seem to need to eat or drink, and he's not entirely sure why. He's also not entirely sure why the curse didn't affect his mind- perhaps the curse was flawed, or perhaps killing the fey stopped its progression before that point.

Another effect of the curse is that his armor seems to have fused with him, and taken on an icy, crystalline appearance. The armor slowly "heals" any damage inflicted upon it, including any attempt to shave off its crystalline protrusions. His lance and shield were also altered, but mercifully they were not merged with him.

Ethelred's horse, which suffered the same curse as him, remains a loyal companion despite its twisted appearance. Its horns and protrusions allow it to defend itself effectively, and like Ethelred, it's not bothered by freezing temperatures.

As a knight, Ethelred is skilled in the use of his lance both mounted and dismounted. It might not have a cutting edge, but it makes for a brutal bludgeon and the tip is quite sharp, as the fey that cursed him found out the hard way.

History:
Over a century ago, Ethelred was the youngest son of a noble family that controlled a small piece of land. Being somewhat removed in line to inherit their land, he was never particularly interested in politics and intrigue. Instead, he became a knight-errant, a wandering warrior seeking to emulate the heroic tales of the old king of Albion. He traveled the land, helped people, and battled bandits and raiders who would prey on the weak and vulnerable, and occasionally even came into conflict with supernatural malefactors. He never figured that his family would miss him- after all, he was the spare of a spare of a spare- and he reasoned they'd probably be more comfortable with one less potential claimant scheming to inherit.

While traveling through a rarely-treaded mountain pass, Ethelred was suddenly beset by a magical spell. His boots froze to the ground, and a layer of ice began to form around them, spreading up his legs. His horse fared no better, rooted to the spot by the same curse. As Ethelred tried in vain to free himself, an unseelie approached, its inhuman voice chuckling at the knight's plight. It gloated about how this curse was its doing, and how it would enjoy what came next but in the middle of its ramblings, Ethelred thrust his lance forward and stabbed the fey through the torso just before his right arm froze up, a final defiant blow.

As the evil fairy tried to pull itself free of the weapon, its face turned to horror as it saw the ice advancing along the lance. The last thing Ethelred remembers as his head froze over is seeing is the fey frantically struggling as it too was encased in an icy tomb, a victim of its own wicked curse. It's not an entirely bad way to die, he thought as it went black.

The next thing he remembered was waking up on the ground, having been freed from his frozen prison. Above him stood a radiant woman, sword in hand. She spoke of the king's return, the beasts being slain, the fey facing retribution, and traitors facing reckoning. By the time Ethelred regained enough strength to stand up and ask who she was, she was gone. Stirring awake next to him was what he initially believed to be some sort of elder beast before he realized it was his horse, twisted into some sort of strange ice creature by the unseelie's curse.

It didn't take Ethelred long to realize that he too was changed by the curse. His armor, which had taken a strange crystalline appearance, would not come off, including his helmet. The freezing cold temperatures no longer bothered him, and found himself no longer growing hungry or thirsty. His first was to interrogate the fey that cursed him, still frozen with his lance in its chest. He attempted to free the unseelie by smashing the ice that imprisoned it, but this only caused the frozen fairy to shatter into pieces. If it wasn't dead before, it was definitely dead now. At least his lance wasn't broken, though.

With little hope of finding more information on this curse, he descended the mountain and found a changed land. It seems he had been frozen for over a hundred years now, and things had gotten even worse in Albion over that period. He also learned that the frozen forms of him, his horse, and the fey had not gone unnoticed, and had gained some local fame as "The Frozen Knight", as both a landmark for those navigating the mountains, and as a symbol of human defiance against the Unseelie. It was a relief to him that the local highlanders weren't afraid of him, and it was probably a relief to them that he intended to be the very symbol of human spirit and resilience that they had made him out to be.

Ethelred set out in search of the woman that freed him. He traveled from town to town, helping the locals, taking time to master his new powers, and catch up on the state of Albion. By the time he reached the queen to pledge himself to her, having decided her goal was a worthy one, word had already gotten around of his deeds.

Anything else:
About 40 years ago, his family got into a conflict with another noble family and ended up getting wiped out, and their castle reduced to a ruin. The perpetrator of the massacre, currently the rival family head, is still alive but elderly, and Ethelred wants justice. For now he's stayed his hand, either because he wants to help the queen establish a law of the land by which justice can be carried out, or perhaps he's biding his time because as the saying goes, revenge is a dish best served cold.

Another thing is that while he doesn't want to lose his powers, he would at least like to be able to find a way to take off his armor.

[User]
"I-idiot!"

Sleeping face? Fio hadn't thought about that, but the Queen had totally gotten to see how she looked while she was asleep! Her cheeks reddened immediately, her small hands clenched into fists at her sides as she silently fumed for a moment, glaring at the Queen.

But it was clear something was a little off. The normally cheerful Sorcha didn't quite seem so upbeat as usual. That wistful stare out into the mountains wasn't like her, and although she'd teased the Sword Witch, at the same time she seemed rather melancholy. It wasn't the useful unbecoming royal she had become familiar with.

She hesitated for a few moments, before inhaling deeply and approaching.

"I joined your court in order to learn, so it's only natural I'd want to hear a story like that," the petite girl replied as she took a seat beside the Queen, brushing her hair back as she did, "It'd be foolish to think I'd pass up such an opportunity."

It simply wasn't something she could ever ignore.

[Assistant]
They're tougher than before...

As Niall noticed this, his tactic switched. Taking them down for good was not necessarily the tactic, and he began simply dodging, parrying and pushing them out of the way with hilt hits, kick and shoving if he could not lands a decisive blow instead. This allowed him to make progress and soon the two had reached the gate.

As the Tuatha began his ascent, Niall did not know what to think. His absence left the Knigth in a precarious position having to fend off this many enemies and they were closing in. With no other choice, Niall called forth the powers in his enchanted Lance yet again but to another extent this time. Seemingly coming out of the Lance's bit where the metal met the shaft, a black mist began leaking and rapidly expanding until Niall and his would be attackers were completely engulfed. From the outside, it literally looked like a mist descended on the area but it was dark and impossible to see through. From inside, it looked as if clouds suddenly covered the moon and they were in the pitch black of night. It did absorb light to a certain extent by any torches or light magic could help enemies see even in this magical darkness. Niall, as for him, had his enhanced vision and yet remained on the defensive for now. If anyone came forward to attack him, he would counter but otherwise was only playing for time.

"Whatever you seem to be doing, do it now friend before we are completely surrounded !"

[User]
Dragonspotting

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Marduk was quite annoyed with the situation, all things considered. From who he was forced to work with to who they needed to free, Marduk knew for sure he was dishonoring his ancestors in some way. He kept it in the back of his mind for now, however, as they had a bigger foe to take care of. Indeed, they still needed to figure out how to deal with the dragon.

The fortification could serve as a potential point for them to fight the beast at. The primary concern was the civilians also all being here. Given the destructive capabilities of the dragon's attacks, it's likely they'll be risking more lives luring it to the fort than just going after it on their own. At the same time, they were a man short if they wanted to fight the dragon on their own. They needed to break that Fomorian-corrupted woman out if they wanted a chance at that, but at that point, fighting the beast on their own was moot.

"Luring it here is stupid, unless you don't mind the blood of those kids we saved on your hands. Would prove me right of your ilk if you really want to go with that plan, at least." Marduk began, heavy with his words as usual. "The two of us killing the dragon also is a fool's errand. Sure, we have a weapon that may help us fight that beast, but we're also a man down. We also don't have that Harzel knight with his fancy water tricks to help us.

"Unless you want to be responsible for more innocent lives lost, the better plan would be to focus on breaking your cursed 'knightess' out. One of us could start a distraction while the other sneaks in to break her out in the chaos. After all, the knights of the fort are definitely on edge. If all their focus is directed at one direction, they surely won't be focusing on guarding some prisoner if they're called to battle.

"Alternatively, we can just talk to 'em again. Seems like it worked the last time, and we do have a few others in there that recognize us. I spotted that Harzel brat alongside the two actual brats. They could make a good case for us. If they don't, we can just cause a ruckus and go with the other plan."

[Assistant]
"I didn't mean lure the dragon in while the refugees are there," Ethelred replied, audibly irritated at the elf's biting words. "Nor did I mean catching the soldiers unaware and unprepared. I suppose I misspoke before, but I meant cooperating with the local knights and garrison to take it down, giving them time to prepare and move the non-combatants to safety. Assuming, of course, they'd agree." He paused to compose himself, then continued.

He's right about fighting the dragon, if it was just the two of us, it might be a difficult fight. Considering how the last battle went, I'd might as well be fighting the dragon by myself. Ethelred had to bite his lip to not say that aloud. He knew he was downplaying the elf's role in the battle, but he was still quite irritated.

"As for breaking her out, it could be done, but while a big enough distraction might divert their attention long enough for you to get into the fort, it wouldn't hold their attention long enough for you to figure out where she his, get in, free her, and get out without being seen by the now-alert guards. There's too much that can go wrong." Besides, he was under orders to not cause a major diplomatic incident with Harzelslack, and angering an entire fort might do that.

"But..." he said, pausing again and contemplating, now calmed down somewhat. "Lonan did say that he needed to plan how to deal with the wyvern, and told us we were welcome to help. Yes...I think talking to them like you said is our best bet. If we can convince Grainne or Lonan to let us in the fort, we'd be able to look around and wait for an opportunity to break her out stealthily, while also giving us the option to cooperate with the Harzel forces in dealing with the dragon."

Ethelred rode ahead, making himself known as he approached Grainne's procession.

"Greetings, Lady Grainne, was it?" he asked, not entirely sure what her noble title was. "I am looking for Sir Lonan, to provide him further assistance in dealing with the dragon. Might I find him at the fort?"

He wasn't particularly excited to be dealing with Grainne, from what he had observed, she was a rather abrasive person, and Lonan wasn't around to rebuke her.

Chulainn


[System]
Nancy Parker
Character Quote: "How very."

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Character Summary
Aliases: Nance
Age: 15
Birthday: October 31st, 1967
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birth Place: Las Vegas, Nevada
Godly Parent: Apollo
Legacy: N/A
Cohort: First
How Many Years At Camp: Two
Gender: Female
Rank: Centurion
Occupation At Camp: Cohort Centurion and (reluctant) seer
Languages: English, Latin, Italian

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Appearance
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 98 pounds
Body Type: Skinny
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Hair Color: Rich Warm Brown
Skin Tone: Peach
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: SPQR tattoo with the symbol of Apollo and two lines; lengthy scar on her upper left arm; pierced ears
Personal Style: Fashion wise, Nancy is still stuck in the 1980's. She loves having her hair poofy, with shoulder pads in her jackets. Vibrant colors and slightly mismatched patterns are a must. She's just as likely to wear overalls as she is to wear a skirt. Of course, fashion choices aside, she doesn't neglect practical armor when the situation calls for it - she isn't stupid and by no means wants to get killed in battle.

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Psychology
Loyal * Mischievous * Realistic * Chaotic * Inquisitive * Closed Off

Sexuality: Asexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Nancy is a rather playful individual. She loves practical jokes and has a lighthearted nature. While some may mistake her as being childlike or naive, that isn't the case at all. She has seen plenty throughout her life and does not wish to dwell on those sort of things. It's better to focus on the present (whenever/wherever that present is) and enjoy it, as it may not last as long as you'd like. Yet at the same time, she keeps her cards close to the vest. She isn't one to be open and honest about deeper emotions, like love and pain.

Additionally, Nancy may be prophetic, but she lives for the moment she is in currently. She has seen enough of what could be to know that if she dwelled on only that, she would go mad. She is neither optimistic nor pessimistic about what may come to be - whatever comes will come. It's not set in stone and while they can take actions to improve things for the better, those same actions could change things for the worse. She's a realist at her core, but do not mistake her as being apathetic about the future.

Fatal Flaw: Anger
Habits: Shuffling her cards, Whistling
Hobbies: Poker, Singing, Dancing
Fears: * Sexual Assault
* Drowning
* Claustrophobia

Likes: * Large Dogs
* Sweets
* Tea
* Coffee
* Music
* Practical Jokes
* Rainy Days
* Secrets

Dislikes: * People touching her cards - she'll gut them
* Ham
* Entitlement
* Hypocrites
* Death Omens
* Cigarette Smoke

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Skills
Demigod Abilities: * Prophecy
* Audiokinesis

General Skills: * Singing
* Dancing
* Sleight of Hand
* Photography
* Psychoanalysis
* Strategy

Combat Skills: * Hand to Hand Combat
* Sword
* Daggers
* Acrobatics

Magic Item:* Tarot Cards - The set was gifted to her by her father, Apollo, and helps to channel her gift of Prophecy.
* Twin Enchanted Imperial Gold Daggers - the pair always return to her hands

What Do They Carry On Them:* Clothing - overalls, doc martin boots, Pink Floyd t-shirt, black leather jacket
* Purse/Wallet - ID, 10 Denarius, $50 U.S.
* Tarot Cards
* Twin Enchanted Imperial Gold Daggers
* Pack of Bubble Gum
* Sunglasses
* Hip Flask (nectar)

Possessions In Bunk:* Imperial Gold Sword
* Camp Jupiter t-shirt
* Diary
* Walkman & Headphones
* Polaroid Camera & Film
* Cassette Collection

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History
Biography: Nancy's mother was a performer on the Las Vegas Strip, enticing audiences with her siren's voice and full, ample form. She had many admirers, one of them happening to be the Roman god Apollo. They spent an evening together in ecstasy and nine months later, the Vegas star had a tiny obligation on her skirt - a baby girl. The show had to go on of course, meaning that Nancy was largely cared for by the nanny. The few occasions she would see her mother at home would be whenever she had to nurse the after effects of drugs and booze. And while as a little girl Nancy viewed her mother as an elegant princess, things changed when Nancy became a teenager.

Nancy was going through puberty and her mother saw potential in her daughter's excellent singing voice. The daughter of Apollo was added into some of her mother's acts, expected to dance and sing and amuse the audiences - but this only lasted for a couple of years. Nancy's mother saw her daughter's beauty and potential, and fearing that she would upstage her, decided to ship her daughter off to a girl's school in California. But instead of going off to boarding school, Nancy ran away and ended up in the Lotus Hotel and Casino on the Strip.

She was trapped inside a place where time stayed still for about thirty years. During that time, she was a victim of sexual assault and it scarred her deeply. Roman demigods were at the Lotus Hotel and Casino for unrelated reasons, but they luckily managed to identify Nancy as a demigod and they more or less dragged her with them back into the real world. Her deepest regret is missing the rest of the 80's - and even though she has been in the modern world for a few years, she still hasn't quite gotten a hold of the slang.

How Long Have They Been At Camp Jupiter: Rescued from the Lotus Hotel and Casino by other members of Camp Jupiter, Nancy was educated at the Wolf House. Her letter of recommendation came from Apollo (alongside a gift of tarot cards to help her with her prophetic abilities, she thinks it was his way of saying sorry I didn't notice you were trapped for almost forty years), meaning that she was placed in the First Cohort. She rose through the ranks and was made Centurion. She's proud of that achievement. She's less than thrilled with her other position... working with prophecies.

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Additional Information
Theme Song: Bad Reputation by Joan Jett
Extra Information: ~included in previous CS~
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

[User]
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Madalyne Crane

Location: Medford, Oregon, Amtrak Station -> Jack in the Box
Skills: N/A

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Madalyne watched as Nancy got off of the train as well and looked towards the biker dudes again, getting that same eerily feeling from them as well, shortly as Niah had gotten off as well. She quickly followed and catching up to Niah and Nancy, figuring that they would have a better chance fighting together then separated as well. "The bikers, I think are some kind of monster." Madalyne said to both of them, as she walked off of the platform. The Jack in the Box wasn't to far from them at all either which was good, just grab their food and then just leave and get back onto the train.

Once they were inside of the fast food restaurant Madalyne got into line and looked over her shoulder again seeing the men had entered as well and took a seat somewhere in the dining room. Yep, they were there stalking them as she thought about messing around with the mist, but right now she was pretty hungry. "So how much did you get?" Madalyne whispered to Nancy she didn't see how much she snagged from the guys wallet either but knew she had taken some money off of it.

[Assistant]
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☀ Nancy Parker ☀

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Location: Medford, Oregon - Amtrak -> Jack in the Box
Skills: N/A

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 Nancy relaxed ever so slightly as her friends rejoined her. She wasn't going to admit that the prospect of fighting off a group of monsters disguised as burly monsters had terrified her slightly. "Any idea which kind?" she asked her friends softly. Her stomach growled. She really wanted to just get some food and head back onto the train. At least her worst fear was far less likely to happen with Niah and Mads around. "I got $26, I'll order us three combo meals," she told them. Maybe they'd be lucky and the bikers would ignore them. They had made it into the Jack in the Box without getting hurt.

 She walked up to the counter, placing an order. "Three large 10 piece chicken nugget combos, please," she said. She handed over the money, tapping her foot nervously. The cashier gave her back her change and three soda fountain cups. She took out a cup, handing one to Niah and one to Madalyne. "Hopefully our order is out soon..." Nancy murmured, moving off to the side. She kept one eye on the bikers, ready for them to jump into action, as she went over and filled up her cup with Dr. Pepper, Coke, and Root Beer - a Nancy special.

[User]
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Niah Bautista

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Location: Amtrak platform (Medford, Oregon) -> Jack-in-the-box
Skills: Roman Mythology & Odikinesis

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"Thanks for getting food." Niah said after Nancy ordered. There was a lot more in the thanks than just the appreciation for Nancy ordering the food. It was clear Niah was thanking her for all the unsaid things. That led to getting the food too.

Anger rolled off the bikers and Niah had a pretty good idea of what they might be. "You wouldn't happen to have a silvered weapon on you by chance?" She glanced at Nancy, it was mostly her answer for what the monsters were without saying their name. Her stomach growled. Niah was hungry. Waiting for the food would probably take too long.

Niah took a cup and filled it with just Dr. Pepper. She turned to face the werewolves and tried to focus on them and make them as calm as possible. Maybe there was something about her hunger that made it flip on her. She could feel the anger in the bikers rise. "Oh, oops. I'm sorry." She glanced at her friends, her hand tightening around her sword hilt. Things were about to get interesting.

[Assistant]
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Madalyne Crane

Location: Medford, Oregon, Amtrak Station -> Jack in the Box
Skills: N/A

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Madalyne looked at Niah for a moment when she mentioned something about silver weapons made her gulp slightly, werewolves were pretty special since neither celestial bronze or imperial gold weapons killed werewolves. "That's going to make things a little bit interesting.." Madalyne said softly back to the two of them, she wants sure if she could conjure up any kind of silver weapons for them either. She hadn't tried anything like that at all. Madalyne went over to grab herself a coke from the fountain machine, and then a little bit of sprite added in as well. Seeing their gaze on them they looked really pissed off right now, though one of them looked to be their leader who still looked mad but also calm or something as well.

"Just grab our food and leave." Madalyne told her friends, when their order was called up Madalyne quickly grabbed their food, and started to make her way towards the door, and just barely got out of the building when the five stopped her. Madalyne quickly drew out her sword, and swung it at the closest one, while the other grabbed onto her and Madalyne started to struggle to break free. "Hold still girlie, we just want a little snack." One of them said as Madalyne kicked one of them between the legs causing the one holding her to let go.

[User]
☀ Nancy Parker ☀

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Location: Jack in the Box
Skills: Strategy, Singing, Audiokinesis

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 Nancy grimaced, shaking her head. "Standard issue imperial gold," she said reluctantly. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that she ought to start carrying silver weapons, especially if she was going to be praying to Diana on the regular. She made a mental note to check the armory when they got back. As Niah apologized, Nancy's face paled. Earlier on the train, they had been talking about their powers. Niah had mentioned the entire Oath thing... and also being able to mess with people's emotions. Her eyes darted over towards the werewolves.

 Sweet Niah had just royally pissed them off. "Pedit," Nancy cursed in Latin. She quickly followed Madalyne outside of the Jack in the Box, a not too small part of her very relieved to see that they had gotten their food. She didn't want to have to wait until after the next Amtrak stop to eat. Focus! she scolded herself. The werewolves were a lot more threatening than whether or not they'd get their daily recommended 2000 Calories.

 Her heart clenched as the werewolves grabbed Madalyne. Her imperial gold wasn't going to do the trick. She didn't know if Mads would be able to pull off the same Mist trick, but there wasn't time to spare. Her best friend was in peril and Nancy did the only thing she could think of - she made a scene. On the train, they had talked about her maybe being able to use sound to kill. It was time to test that.

 She sipped a bit of her drink, before clearing her throat. She whispered a silent prayer to Apollo to bless this deadly performance. In her mind, the song began to play, and she began her musical onslaught on the werewolves, aiming to kill them with music -

🎶Can't stay at home, can't stay at school.
Old folks say 'You poor little fool'.
Down the streets I'm the girl next door.
I'm the fox you've been waiting for.
Hello, daddy. Hello, mom.
I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!

POP! POP! POP!

Hello world! I'm your wild girl.
I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!🎶

POP! POP!

 The five werewolves were no more as Nancy finished her last note, covered in monster dust. Her voice felt incredibly hoarse after such a performance. "Thanks, Dad," she whispered, figuring he must have answered her prayers - that or Joan Jett was actually an immortal goddess.


[System]
Age: 20
Starting Location: Central City
Rank: Skilled
Organisation: Helping Hand Guild

Appearance: Cici's most distinctive features are her long, thick and messy dark hair, which she attempts to tame by tying it back, and the tattoo of a musical score winding around her right arm. Her eyes are bright blue, often staring off into the distance as she plans her next song. She's tall for a woman, standing at 5'10", and her skin is pale. Her usual outfit consists of a black vest top, a pair of baggy blue jeans, ankle boots, and a dark blue guitar pick pendant. She's rarely seen without her semi-acoustic guitar (hollow electric guitar that can be played as either type).

Biography: Cici was born in Central City to two music-loving parents, owners of a musical instrument shop. Her father had been in a few bands in his youth, and her mother ran a choir at weekends. Cici learned to play the guitar from a young age, and in her late teens, did what her father had done and joined a band as lead singer and guitarist. Things didn't go as she'd hoped, though. After the band broke up over arguments and creative differences, Cici decided to make a fresh start. She'd leave her hometown and travel throughout the region, playing alone, looking for inspiration. This, however, is only one of her reasons for starting her journey, the other being stories she's heard about a certain mythical Pokemon - Meloetta. Her greatest dream is to catch this Pokemon, and failing that, at least hear its song.

Personality: Despite her slightly rough-around-the-edges appearance, Cici is one of the most laid-back people you'll meet. Very little gets to her, to the point that it can seem as if she doesn't take anything seriously. This is far from the truth, though. She focuses intently on her music, even if it does mean others often have to pull her back to reality.

Extra Info: Like others in the Guitarist trainer class, she's going to have many Electric types, as well as Pokemon with sound-based moves, such as Whismur, Noibat, Igglybuff and Tympole.

Pokemon Caught Ever: 6

Pokemon Party: Whismur, Swablu, Igglybuff, Kricketot, Chingling, Hoothoot

Pokemon Reserves:

Inventory: Pokeball x2

[User]
Luna D. Dharc

Luna giggled at the apparent excitement of the little Igglybuff, looks like they both had their hands full with a baby pokemon. "I'm sure everyone will get along nicely..." she said smiling at her little Deino.

Cici's partner came into the pokemon center looking for her, Cici called back her pokemon except for a few. "Well, we're going to have to keep looking into this, Hopefully we'll actually get somewhere this time." Cici turned around to leave. Luna looked down at Eclipse, the little dragon wasn't happy to see his new friends go and was nudging his head on Luna's leg. She picked up the little dragon and followed after Cici.

"Hey... Wait!" she called, stopping Cici and her partner. "From the sounds of things, your gonna need all the help you can get... So... Would it be a bother if I... Came along?" she asked nervously. This could be a major learning experience for her in terms of being a breeder but if Cici thought it was too dangerous than she wouldn't force it.

TP: +1+1(12)
Pokemon:
Deino(Eclipse) Level 6(not currently caught)
Flabebe(Rose) Level 1

Inventory: N/A
Rank: Beginner
Organization: N/A

[Assistant]
♪♫♪ Cecilia "Cici" Taylor ♪♫♪
Location: Tefan Village
Angel

At Luna's request to join her and Tommy, Cici looked over. "Help's always welcome, but fair warning, Groudon might be the one stirring up Entei. Yeah, you heard that right," she replied, thinking back to the news reports. "Of course, I don't know for sure, and I really hope not, but it's possible. If you're still ok coming along, though, we should stop by the mart first."

She still couldn't shake the feeling she was dragging Luna into something that was way over any of their heads, but wasn't the point of the Helping Hand Guild to form bonds with other trainers, accept and give assistance, help each other grow? Besides, right now, wasn't it best for people to stick together?

TP: +1 +1 (91)
Pokemon:
* Loudred (Forte), male, lv21
* Swablu (Dulcet), female, lv18
* Igglybuff (Ligeia), female, lv12
* Kricketot (Cadence), female, lv6
* Chingling (Allegro), male, lv5
* Hoothoot (Tactus), male, lv8
* Jangmo-o (Kymbalon), female, lv12
* Litleo (Breig), male, lv2

Inventory:
* Rare Candy x1

Rank: Skilled
Organisation: Helping Hand Guild

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+1 (49)

[User]
Luna D. Dharc

"Help's always welcome, but fair warning, Groudon might be the one stirring up Entei. Yeah, you heard that right, Of course, I don't know for sure, and I really hope not, but it's possible. If you're still ok coming along, though, we should stop by the mart first." Eclipse looked up at Luna, two legendaries clashing, that's something nobody wanted to be around. But the fact that these two trainers, Cici and her friend Tommy, were willing to go and see if there was anything they could do was inspirational.

"I'll do whatever I can... Me and my pokemon..." Eclipse let out a little "Deino!" just to drive the point home. "I don't mind heading to shop first... I need to get a pokeball for Eclipse anyway..." she said following behind Cici and Tommy.

TP: +1(9)
Pokemon:
Deino(Eclipse) Level 1(not currently caught)
Flabebe(Rose) Level 5

Inventory: N/A
Rank: Beginner
Organization: N/A

CP: +1(6)

[Assistant]
Vivian
Greenhaven
34

Vivian was suddenly startled to hear the shrill cry of her Petilil.
"Peti!?" she called as she shot up and raced to the oasis waters edge. Petilil was frantically twisting and turning looking about. If had scuff marks on the back of its head but no one else was around.
Vivian was just about to go pick up the poor confused Pokemon when a Rowlet silently swooped passed kicking Petilil into the waters. A spray of razor leaves shot up from the startled Pokemon but hit nothing except for its trainer who rushed in the water after her pokemon.

Flabebe was quick on the case chasing the Rowlet as it flew around. The battle raged on as they both dove in with tackles, shot at each other with razor leaf. Rowlet had the aerial advantage but flabebe ended it with a powerful vine whip that sent it splashing down into the water Next to Vivian and Petilil.

 "Alright mister Rowlet! That wasn't very nice. You are coming with us and you are going to learn how to be nice." Vivian says to the fainted Pokemon with a faint scowling attitude as she waded through the water, carrying Petilil in one arm while taking out a pokeball with her free hand and pressing it to the Rowlet.

With a ding the pokemons data was added to her pokedex as Rowlet joined the team. But that was enough excitement for one day. Vivian returned to the poke'center to rest and wait for her friends.

TP57
+1 post
+0 (HHG)
TP=58INVENTORY:* pokeball x1
* travel rations + supplies

POKEMON:
* Flabebe-10 (+1 ss battle)
* Petilil-5 (+1 ss battle)
* Ferroseed-2
* Rowlet-1
* empty
* empty

---

()

---

Azerus Jr
Greenhaven
37

Azerus continues to sneak around the bend with his roggenrola in his arms when suddenly the tunnel become brightly illuminated. All the lights that AJ hadn't notice just turned back on. It was now as clear as day and he was caught out in the open with nowhere left to hide.
The end of the tunnel opened into a wide tall room.

A large complex machine sat in the middle of the room, buzzing and glowing with many dials and lights. A man sat beside it in overalls, wearing a tool belt as he tinkered away on a generator with his back facing Azerus.

Somehow, luckily, he had not noticed AJ yet. As Azerus looked to the doors across the room he noticed that he had become noticed by someone else. An angry Machop came marching towards him.

Without hesitation Roggenrola launched at the oncoming pokemon with a flying headbutt. But Machop was quick and met the attack with his own flying kick. Both Pokemon flew back and stood at the ready. A confused mechanic turned around to see the commotion. The fight was on.

---

()

---

TP:52
+1 (post)
+1 (league)
TP=54INVENTORY:* pokeball X1
*
*
*

POKEMON:* Roggenrola-7, (+1 ss battle)
* Rhyhorn-8,
* Zubat-3,
* Spheal-2,
* Pawniard-2
* Aron-1

---

(.)

---

[User]
Location: Tefan Village
Angel

"Ok then! Onwards and upwards... with any luck..." Cici answered, heading through the streets, towards the stall by the volcano. Her gaze shifted away from the other two.

Worries nagged at her mind. The first was, could they really do this? Even though she'd known it would take something formidable to set Entei off, she hadn't imagined something on this scale. She and Tommy had accepted the mission shortly after arriving, though, and they'd have to go through with it.

The second was, she knew the other reason for her uncertainty about Luna joining. The more she travelled with others, the more she'd bond with them - and the more painful it would be if those bonds broke. But, to live up to the Helping Hand Guild's values, this was something she'd have to overcome.

We recognize that, as trainers, we are stronger when we help each other, so we aim to form bonds and connect with fellow trainers. We vow to treat all with respect and never turn away from a fellow trainer in need, she repeated in her mind.

Upon reaching the stall, she bought a Pokeball as well as another bundle of Rare Candies. As she waited for Tommy and Luna to finish shopping, she stood outside, letting out all eight of her Pokemon and feeding them a candy each. They'd have to be ready for whatever lay ahead.

TP: +1 +1 - 40 (items) (53)
Pokemon:
* Loudred (Forte), male, lv22 (+1)
* Swablu (Dulcet), female, lv19 (+1)
* Igglybuff (Ligeia), female, lv13 (+1)
* Kricketot (Cadence), female, lv7 (+1)
* Chingling (Allegro), male, lv6 (+1)
* Hoothoot (Tactus), male, lv9 (+1)
* Jangmo-o (Kymbalon), female, lv13 (+1)
* Litleo (Breig), male, lv3 (+1)

Inventory:
* Pokeball x1

Rank: Skilled
Organisation: Helping Hand Guild

---

+1 (50)


[System]
Quote: "There are things that we cannot fathom, yet we still fight like children with parents absent?"

Theme Song
Alias:
Lovecraft

Age:
44

Powers and Skills:
His mind has warped from exposure to the, best forgetten, places between dimensions, causing him to snap and become a shell of the man he used to be. His mind wavers between this reality and the "truth of things", seeing what people and his surroundings are when plunged into the madness of the inbetween, and allows him to channel the cold void between spaces when in this mindset. Isaac retains his SAS combat training, both in melee and at range with various weapons, making him dangerous even when his mind is stable. When unstable, his skill with weapons varies chaotically, although often times they are unnecessary due to manifesting things that should not be from between planes, commonly shielding himself and lashing out with tendrils of frigid, nearing absolute zero, darkness for a lack of better terms.

Weaknesses:
Despite his training and powers, he is still just a man beyond that compared to metahumans and superhumans in general. Subject has a warped sense of reality, slipping into a state of mind that could be best described as sheer madness, claiming to see everything around him for what it really is, making him dangerous to be around to allies as well as enemies. Even when stable, he shows a lack of teamwork that once defined his life, perhaps a side effect of his condition, and often times shows fatalistic pessimism, and a general devil may care attitude about how life turns out, convinced that his own well being is irrelevant compared to the happenings of the cosmos and in between them, showing a lack of concern for his life.

Personality:
Isaac is a quiet man when he retains control of his faculties, preferring to speak little and act greatly rather than speak boldly and not act. This comes from his military time, and even before then, as he always had an introverted streak that would make him an odd leader, preferring to let a team speak and hear them all out before offering a comment or disagreement that often was pinpointed on how it would unravel an entire plan or idea. Polite and amiable beyond his quiet tendency, one would be forgiven as to wonder why Isaac would be kept by himself, in a room reinforced with several inches of steel and often provided food only when he could prove his sanity long enough for someone to slip a tray in past the door. His alter ego is a jarring shift that might as well not be related to Isaac at all.

When his mind warps, Isaac becomes something completely different. Laughing and crying in equal measures, he throws himself into situations with wild abandon, often speaking things that are utter madness to others that might not, and usually do not, make any sort of sense what so ever. His interpersonal interactions while warped are nonsensical, often times lashing out verbally or physically at anyone who dares engage him during his mind breaks. This mindset often bleeds over into his normal self, often times twitching or making comments that are out of place, such as on how people appear outside themselves or otherwise things that only make sense to someone who has seen things that should have completely blasted his mind out of his head.

Appearance:
Isaac stands at about 5'10" tall, with a fairly thin build that, other than muscle that he retains, is remarkably thin and almost, to the untrained eye, malnourished at the best of times.

Biggest Claim(s) to Fame:
Was tasked with leading a British black op investigating superhuman activities involving Stonehedge. Isaac would chase the cult of superhumans across the globe, from London to Cairo to Tokyo even, storming hideouts and fighting raving madmen powered by their own abilities and something else, usually manifesting in corruption that caused men to go mad when coming into contact and often, for their own good, being put down. Isaac was haunted by having to put his own men down during his pursuit of this cult, as he chased them closer and closer to Stonehenge, expecting their leader and some lunacy of a ritual, at worst, and vengeance for those who had fallen during the pursuit.

Isaac could only wish that the reality was that innocent.

Isaac would find Stonehenge quarantined off by the British Royal Army, surrounded by a creeping, unnatural corruption that was barely contained by the Royal Army, and was spreading. Isaac and his men donned full CBRN attire, which seemed to work against the black, tarry substance as the squad advanced into the infested area. Isaac refuses to discuss what transpired at the core of Stonehenge, but he lost his entire team and was corrupted by whatever the cult was attempting to summon. Isaac had reached the center circle of Stonehenge, apprehending their leader before he could finish the rights, but the man killed himself and tried to use his life force to finish the ritual.

Isaac would be incarcerated after an outbreak, several months after the events at Stonehenge that were covered up by the British government, the incident ending up slaughtering a platoon of Royal Marines prior to being subdued. He was tossed into a maximum security facility, remaining in solitary confinement with nothing but his thoughts, and other beings thoughts, for four years after the event, where he continues to remain alone and isolated.

How Long Have You Been in Prison: 4 Years of Solitary Confinement

Notes:
Prefers not to sleep if he can help it, haunted by nightmares of things in between realities at the best if times.

[User]
Daz's attention was purely on her future squad mates. When Waller ordered their restraints removed, Daz became almost robotic in her stance. Completely still in an "at ease" position, but there was an intense aura about her. Almost as if one false move and she would be the first to put several rounds into the assailant's head. Of course, she knew about the nanites even before Waller's announcement but it did nothing to remove any suspicion that someone wouldn't act out. After all these were dangerous super criminals who may even kill on a whim. Trying to assume explosive nanites could tame them was almost comical.

"Sara Silversmith aka Lady Nightmare," Daz's thoughts shifted to her when the super criminal spoke. "Highly dangerous metahuman with abilities to sense and even use one's fear as a weapon. She's cruel, hedonistic and has a body I'd probably kill for."

This one seemed especially dangerous mostly due to her addiction to fear. Even the threat of death may not overcome it, but Daz at least trusted Waller with this. Waller was many things, but she wasn't an incompetent monster. Lady Nightmare must be a useful and controllable asset. Everyone else present seemed to have their potential uses that might not make this an actual suicide mission.

[Assistant]
Nanites, so that's what had been in the food.

Cecil knew it wasn't an altruistic gesture, but he had assumed a chemical agent. This was a different beast. How long would it take to disable them? Two hours, if he had his own lab and was undisturbed. Not an option, apparently. What about stealthily, on the go, with limited tools? Far from ideal. Probability of success was low. Okay, what is known? It might be better to ask what can be reasonably surmised, but that's a dangerous game when detonation is the price for failure.

His mind continued to work as the guards relieved him of his cuffs and opened the storage bin that contained the items he was last arrested with.

They are definitely able to receive signals. It is highly likely that they give off some kind of signal as well, to track the squad. They are likely homogeneous, and able to operate on their own(otherwise they would need a central controller, and there's no way to guarantee that the victim eats that part. They need to be able to function no matter what proportion that victim actually consumed). The safest route is to first. . .

"Jesus Christ!" Cecil's train of thought broke off as he flinched away from the horrible monster that erupted from the hot babe who had been standing next to him a moment before.

He regained his composure, and tried to play off his loss of cool by going through his possessions. In a cavalier display of immodesty, Cecil stripped out of his prison orange and into the clothes he had been arrested in. Laid out neatly under them in the storage bin was a smart phone, and a sleek little tool of his own design. It was a multitool that could unfold into configurations that could fit most common forms of screws, nuts and the like. It also had snips and a small electric torch that could range from soldering to cutting and welding, depending on how much batter life was left.

Perhaps, he told himself finally, he should put some thought toward the mission, in case he was not able to escape.

[User]
Greg opened his case and took out his 'texan tuxedo' as well as the holster for his guns. He preferred the under-arm style over the hip-holster ever since someone took his in a fight, now he preferred to play it 'close to the vest'. the pistols were filled to the brim with bullets, one had bouncing bullets for non-lethals, the other had Rip-rounds to put something down.

He fell into the balance of the guns with some rodeo pistol-twirling to build up his confidence, he set himself up just as the she-beast let her hair down. He'd faced a yellow lantern before, the radiant aura pulled on him the way she was now, like those 'demented' things from the 'hairy pottery' books. She was doing the same thing and he had plenty to be scared of.

Swallowing hard, he holstered his tools and looked back to waller. "Thats there is some nightmare fuel, no offense ma'am...What is the mission? Rescuing the professor and the kid OR taking down the monster seem like Justice League work... What is the REAL mission?"

[Assistant]
King Shark stood beside cyborg woman with his arms hanging limply by his sides as he hunched forward somewhat. He wanted to give off the impression that, at the moment, he was the brute he appeared to be. While king Shark knew that he wasn't exactly a genius, he was at least intelligent enough to realize this and use this to his advantage. He often put up facade of being just as dumb as he looked but in truth he had more hidden away in his mind than most would think.

Although a lot of his knowledge was on Spongebob and various eras of literature.

The King inspected the group through his peripherals so as though to keep up the illusion that he wasn't analyzing each and everyone of them. A lot of these highwaymen seemed as if they'd be easy enough to take down but if Spongebob taught him anything its that looks can be very deceiving. King Shark turned his head to the gunslinger as he suited up with his holsters not unlike the ones worn by some of The King's guards. He wasn't sure if they were single-fire or possibly rapid-fire but it was good to know that they were there.

Suddenly the once unbecoming blonde was replaced by a devilishly, supernatural looking woman. There was a moment of shock garnered from King Shark but this was followed by more immediate intrigue as her appearance reminded him of a few descriptions of otherworldly beasts from one of his books whom the title of escaped him at the moment. To the perceptive it would be clear that The King was deep in thought now trying to recall which book contained a description alike to the raven haired girl in front of him.

[User]
"So many facades, so many false pretenses among us mad few. Deceit and lies alike swirl like eddies. masked actors one and all..."

Isaac Vaughn had eaten the food at great prompting from his handlers, mostly to ensure that he was as rigged with explosives as each of the others. They were not unkind to the man, standing out from the other guards as being clearly members of the United Kingom's SIS, having taken personal custody of Isaac and brought him over to repay a debt owed to Waller, and the US by extension, and the Brits were always eager to not be indebted, at least on the down low on cases such as these. So the former SAS Captain was unsurprised at being turned over to Waller, under no obligation to receive the benefits offered by the Task Force's offer. However, it was better than rotting away in a cell, and he might even have a chance at a preventing another mad awakening by the forces of the in between. The power restraining collar and cuffs fell away, and Isaac stretched, groaning a bit at finally being out of a straight jacket.

Lady Nightmare's awakening into her true form elicited a great deal of fear and shock, no doubt, but perhaps the most peculiar response was a giggle that erupted into a grand, almost painful laughing fit. Isaac was nearly doubled over at the display, tears running down his face from the sheer exertion the laughter was exerting on him. The response from the Terminator rip off hardly got much response from Isaac as he glanced up at her, grinning madly, eyes fixed on hers for a scant few seconds too long, unblinking and staring deeply into her soul, or how it might feel. The grin faded when the question was posed as to why not send in some better known Metahumans, such as the JL, and his grin vanished, somber in face as he turned to look Waller dead in the eye, twenty years black op experience speaking instead of the maddened Isaac that usually resided.

"Expendable, deniable assets. If the Crown, god bless them, wanted a contingency should the 'Heroes' of the world go rogue, than why not the colonials? Why bring them in on a possible case, and I cannot say it is such a thing, when they can send in people with no vested interest, and no one would readily believe. And, if something should go wrong, well, what's a couple dead criminals and madmen?"

The comment on nightmare fuel by the cowboy brought a mad snort from Isaac, or Lovecraft as the files referred to him as, and he turned to give Lady Nightmare an offhand glance, genuinely unimpressed by what was in front of him. His last offhand comment as he went about retreiving his attire, the only weapon being an old Webley Service Revolver, which he ensured was ready for action since it was the only piece of his equipment to survive incarceration it seemed, was unlikely to help much at all.

"A drop of truth among the invited to a midnight brunch in the garden of good and evil. At least she wears herself plainly and truly, almost as close to her parallel self as our newfound superior. Something I have yet to decide is either a relief, or disturbing..."


[System]
Hero Name: The Maker

Age: 65

Gender: Male

Appearance: William is a grizzled old man, his large frame adorned prominently by large muscles formed from years of hard labor. He was a construction worker before his powers awakened, but as a hobby he was a blacksmith. As such, even now, he is usually found brandishing tongs, a hammer, leather gloves and apron, as well as a metal mask. Below his leathers and his mask William is completely bald, the stubble that grows unchecked from time to time is stark white, same as his eyebrows. All of his years in construction and around the forge has given William a little bit of a wheeze, that when aggravated by heavy activity throws him into a coughing fit. He has a few tattoos, most of them hidden from plane view except for the anvil on the inside of his right forearm. He served in the Army during the end of Vietnam.

Costume Description: The Maker wears a black welding mask, heavy leather apron and gloves almost all the time. Under these he wears a white wife beater and heavily worn and soiled denim pants. His profession in construction has him wearing steel toed boots, he never kicked that habit.

Powers/Unique Traits: The maker has the unique ability of understanding how things work. He can look at something that is broken and figure out how to fix it, or use its components to make something else out of it. He is a real life MacGyver. On the same token, he can also understand exactly how to destroy something. While not entirely sure how this works himself, people speculate that this is a sort of telepathy.

His unique knowledge of the metallurgical arts and construction make him indispensable amongst the small community of survivors, and working as a foreman gives him the experience needed to step in and make decisions when it is needed. Due to his time in Vietnam he has a decent understanding of ambush tactics and improvised weaponry.

Personality: Pre-outbreak William was a generally happy man, but his work and choice of hobby left little room for jocularity. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy, but every once in awhile he would throw out a one liner and get everybody in the room rolling with laughter... just long enough to tell them to get back to work. Even at home and amongst friends he was rather stoic and withdrawn, but he would do anything for anybody if it meant helping out.

Post outbreak WIlliam didn't change much. Though the jokes come fewer and farther in between, and he seems more angry than happy. He found himself a niche in the small surviving community putting his skills to good use in making life just a little bit easier by fixing and repurposing things found around town. It is in this small action that he finds any joy today.

Mental State: William is a strong willed man, but much of the joy was taken from him early in the outbreak. The first Zombie he had to dispatch was his own daughter, Gloria.

Bio: Pre-Outbreak William started off as a construction worker who was a blacksmith on the side as a hobby. He eventually came to be a foreman on the construction jobs. When 2008 rolled around William was just starting to think about his upcoming retirement when suddenly he came to realize that he too had developed one of these powers. The power itself did not manifest itself like shooting lasers from his eyes would, so at first he didn't even realize that he had a power but once he learned that he had it he started using it just to tinker on his smithing projects. Later, when he started to understand the extent of his abilities better he started to invent things, or improve on existing designs in ways that shouldn't have been possible. In his garage forge he smelted alloys that high-tech labs couldn't even dream of. He got so popular that he was even approached by other 'specials' to craft things for them, weapons or armor or parts of their outfit.

When the outbreak occurred, it was so far off that even the maker didn't understand what was happening. His daughter had called in a panic, something about her husband and that she was coming over but just as she was about to pull into the driveway to their house someone lost control of their car and smashed into the vehicle. William didn't need his superpower to understand that there was no way she could have survived that impact. He understood all too well, however, when her broken form pulled itself from the wreckage and shambled his way towards her. He immediately knew what it was he had to do. Despite this, he delayed the inevitable, when she drew closer still and became agitated he knew he had no choice but to either defend himself, or join her in living death. With his long tongs in his hands he reached out with them and grabbed her by the throat trying to hold her at bay. When finally no other solution presented itself he reached into his belt and withdrew his black iron hammer and brought it down on her temple. He folded down his welding mask to hide the tears that streamed down his face as he walked his way down the road, releasing the damned from their waking death.

[User]
Fox

Lillah crossed her arms when he answered, her eyes wandering around the hall again. She swallowed and watched him as she thought; would this guy be okay to bring back to the casino? He didn't seem much like a hero in this moment. He seemed...gone. "Yeah, I know," Lillah agreed, eyebrows furrowing together. She awkwardly fell into silence. She didn't know how to deal with this, she didn't get people or why they do the things they do. She had her own problems but she wasn't getting high and fighting a bunch of zombies for the fuck of it. Internally, she was screaming and heat was slowly creeping up her neck and cheeks. Externally, she tried saying anything.

"Okay, we need to leave. You're attracting unwanted attention and that's dangerous and stupid. Shut off the lights and come with me," she said. "The casino is being built up as a safe haven again. There's a couple people. But supplies, too.

"And I'm sorry I shot you--I should've been paying attention and I wasn't. And you freaked me out." Lillah glanced away then back to him, shoulders dropping a bit.

[Assistant]
Another person? The maker thought as he saw Vivian come around the corner. No worries, we are both heading the same direction, safety in numbers. The makeshift weapon in her hand caught his eye, even more so when she used it to cleave a Zombie right in two. She seemed capable enough herself to not be a detriment. As the shattered glass opened up the way for more shamblers to make their way out into the street. Shoemaker turned towards the sound of scraping metal in time to see the two scabs making their way out of the wreckage.

"Not sure I'll have time to kill ya, even if I had wanted to," Maker said, his voice was tinny and flat through the welding mask. The runner taken care of by his new 'companion' William decided to focus on dealing with at least one of the scabs. Not known for anything other then being too hard to kill because of their metal skin, they were right up the hobby-smiths alley. Many a time had his tongs and hammer been used to force a shape into metal and brass was easier then most to manipulate with brute force. Taking a deep breath the maker charged at the closest scab with his tongs open and in each hand. First he slammed the tongs into the abominations neck pinning him against the same wreckage that it had pulled itself from. He locked the tongs so he could hold them in one hand and keep them tight around the Zombie's neck. He un-holstered the 30 pound blacksmith hammer at his hip and brought it down squarely over the eye of the metal skinned foe. A sound something between a clang and thud came from the Zombies head. One blow wasn't enough as it struggled against the tongs at its neck. A second strike, the same sound again. Giving a cough of effort, this was really starting to get too hard for a man his age, he repeated the blow again and again until finally the sound changed to something different, something wetter. A few more well placed blows he would let his weight off of the corps and search for whichever foe was closest to him now.

He had taken too long with the last one, he already knew.

[User]
"Coulda fooled me," Vivian said, watching as he turned on the scabs. She had only one run-in with a scab and she had been the one who fled. She was not equipped with the strength or supplies to deal with skin like that. So, as the young woman left him to deal with the scabs, she turned on the shamblers so she could buy him some time. Hell, maybe him and the scabs would take each other out and she could loot the body after--but that would only happen if she focused on the task at hand.

It would be an easy one for and even easier if she could use her powers. However, so close to a potential safe zone, she didn't want to risk giving herself away. So as a shambler grabbed at her with a fleshy arm, she only stepped back, then forward to slice through its neck. Then she moved onto the next one, not allowing herself to stand still or else the shamblers--although slow and utterly stupid--could eventually gang up on her. She exercised an eerie cool control over the area, a zombie not stepping an inch out of her perception or expectation. And with each head to drop, she picked up the speed, a grin slowly manifesting on her face as she twirled and twisted her weapon. Step, slash, slash, turn, step, slash, step, turn, slash--

The dance quickly ended and she flicked the blood off her blade, a new light in her eyes--then a flicker of realization. Oh right, she thought, checking on the Maker. He had finally beat through the scab's skull but just in time for the other one to grow a little too close. "Look out!" Vivian warned. Even with his life in danger, she didn't dare teleport. Instead, she closed the distance with her short legs. And half way there, she realized she wouldn't make it on foot. Oh well, she thought.

[Assistant]
Look out! The shout came from Vivian as he finished up with the gore from the first scab. The second scab came in too close. He didn't have much time to think about his options, no real chance to counterattack, his best bet was a defensive move. He had forced himself into a corner with the vehicle wreckage that had hidden the scabs from view, so he couldn't simple duck and cover. The next best thing he had at his disposal was the corpse of the first scab. William grabbed the corps' arm and gave it a rough tug, drawing it directly into the path of the open jaws of the oncoming Zombie. Giving him something to gnaw on for a moment would give William the chance to counterattack. With his opportunity available to him now, The Maker once again wielded his tongs to grab hold of the lower jaw on the scab. With the sickening force of a man who had worked his whole life in construction and hobbying as a blacksmith he twisted the tongs attempting to rip loose the lower jaw of the remaining scab. The crunch was audible, though it remained attached. William tried it again this time with a grunt of exertion to aid in the effort, which was rewarded by nothing but a wheezing coughing fit.

Getting more leverage by putting one of his steel toed booted feet on the scabs shoulder he reaffirmed his grip and with one final jerk tore the lower jaw free from the scab. He tossed the jaw through the air with the effort, dropped his tongs with a clatter and with one large double handed swing of the hammer, The Maker delivered an uppercut blow through the roof of the mouth that sent the now liquified brains out of every other hole left in the head.

Breathing heavy he shook the gore from his hammer, picked up his tongs and did the same. He let out a sigh with the effort of bending over to grab his tongs. Well, The Maker said looking over at Vivian now that the immediate danger had passed, The names William Shoemaker, they call me The Maker for short. I imagine you're on your way towards that light show from last night. I'm headed there myself, shall we keep each other company for a while as we walk?

Of course he didn't mean with conversation, or anything else for that matter, but talking in the open was dangerous, the undead hordes were drawn to sound more than anything. Not waiting for a reply he started walking down the road in the direction of the arrows.


[System]
Appearance:
With a small, lanky figure, Fox doesn't even break four foot six. Clearly a born spacer, the boy's slight frame is wrapped in a lean musculature built from a hard life.

Age: 14-16 Exact age unknown.

Background:
 If Fox had a childhood outside of servitude, the teenager has never said so, opting instead to play his cards close his chest, so to speak. For those who've bothered to remember would know that Fox is one of the longest living human debris within the Jolly Rogs fleet; the borderline feral young man having some survived for several years as a member of the boarding crew before earning his seat as a mobile suit pilot.

Personality and Reputation:
 The quiet one. The odd one. The feral one. The Fox. Fox is broadly regarded by most of the pirates as a tool who is tolerated for his usefulness in spite of his unsettling behavior and irritating habits. Outside of a combat, Fox almost completely silent; opting to use as few words as possible, substituting looks and gestures in the place of words whenever he can. More infamously is his habit of passively resisting punishments. Ducking unwarranted punitive blows, politely refusing to bow and scrap to his "betters" along with a complete disinterest in playing "the game" as it were has earned Fox the hatred of Bosun and dislike of several of his fellow debris; as many a punitive action meant for Fox has fallen on their shoulders instead. The only reason Fox hasn't been tossed suitless out an airlock is because of his workaholic total obedience of "legitimate" orders and his skill in a mobile suit. By contrast, this has earned him what just might be the respect of Lefty, the quiet teen showing the older woman an uncharacteristic amount of deference in turn.
Name: Hugo-F1
Frame: Hexa Frame
Appearance: Stock Image
Equipment: Stock, minus the buster sword and long rifle.
Name: Gundam Morax
Frame: ASW-G-21 Morax
Appearance: Something akin the the Helmwige Reincar. Clad in cream gray and burnt umber armor, the only only visual indicator that this mobile suit may in fact be a Gundam is it's brassy gold trim and twin Ahab Reactors. With a hulking upper frame, oversized forward swept bladed horns, digitigrade legs and hoof-like feet, this bruiser of a mobile suit conjures images of a minotaur, much like it's namesake.
Equipment:
 - Breaker Gauntlets: A set of three oversized armored "fingers" that can extend over each of the mobile suits hands from it's forearms via high-powered pneumatic joints. They are capable of forming armored, mace-like fists to greatly improve the Morax's brawling capabilities. When used as fingers, the Morax can use them easily pry larger plates of armor off of enemies thanks to the higher strength of their pneumatics in comparison to those in the Gundam's actual hands.
 - Charger Horns: Supported by heavily reinforced neck joints, the Morax mounts a set of large forward swept bladed horns. While capable of inflicting horrific damage should they actually find their mark, more practically the Charger Horns can discharge a powerful electrostatic shock to fry and overload the electrical systems of any enemies that the Gundam grapples with.
 - Ahab Thrusters
 - Thermal Phase Transition Thrusters

[User]
Martyn looked at the Bosun, his old enemy, and knew from experience that interfering would not do anything for Holly; not that it didn't make his blood boil to just see this happening. Either way, the young man was in his pilot suit - Even these goons knew that to be shirtless in space was suicide - And hooking his AVs up into his Man Rodi. As the cockpit closed, he waited for the order to launch, even as he looked over to see if he still had his secret stash of medical goods, as well as candy.

Being eighteen and good-looking had made it easier for him to charm those sorts of items, as well as extra food, from other people; not in a way which would be morally dubious and/or scarring, but just easier for him to sweet-talk the Free Pilots, especially Carrot.

He needed the goodwill of his Human Debris peers more than ever, with the institution of slavery illegal again and Gjallarhorn actually being tasked with freeing them. Because he was going to plan a revolt, a revolt once he had the measure of the Captain, the Bosun, and the Free Pilots (which may or may not include Carrot). Speaking of Carrot, at eighteen, he was probably old enough that he could probably ask her out on a 'date', once he was free, and it won't look weird or creepy. This meant that he could probably get her help in his planned rebellion by, well, resorting to 'romance'.

But first, he had to take out the lone ship or mobile suit which came into their line of sight, and whose Ahab signature was visible in his sensors - Did its pilot have a death wish? If so, Martyn needed the loot, especially if he can filch some of it for himself for use as bribes or gifts. But if it was a ship and it had civilians in it... Let's just say that Martyn had always held himself back from the act of enslaving other children and only killed when he could not avoid it.

Then again, it was the experienced, 'free' pirates who thought it was a privilege to indulge in that. Either way, when he had launched, he'd follow the Squad Captain's lead, hoping, deep inside his heart, that he was getting enough goodwill for all the Human Debris to participate in the planned revolt once he sparked it.

For there will be a spark; these pirates were not the only ones who've learned from the short-lived career of Tekkadan - He'd show them that the abused will bite back...

[Assistant]
The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine.

A muted sigh escaped him, They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy.

Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist.

"Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too.

"Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him.

Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose.

He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.

[User]
Kurt gazed outside the window of the Mercurial Witch, the occasional piece of debris floating by. This was nothing out of the ordinary as the pirate ship was passing through the Debris Zone, a floating field of broken tech and reactors. While some people would be freaked out about traveling through such a densely packed part of space, Kurt had gotten used to it during his time mining asteroids.

But Kurt's longing look into the space beyond the ship was interrupted by the sound of boxes hitting the floor. Kurt turned to see another Human Debris fallen over, floating in the zero gravity with several boxes floating next to them. Kurt just sighed before helping them grab the boxes that they had dropped. Kurt knew that if anyone who was free on the crew spotted this accident, there would be harsh discipline on this Human Debris.

While Kurt didn't know his name, he could tell that this Human Debris was a few years younger than himself. And frequently these younger Human Debris were treated worse than those who were old enough to do significant work for the Jolly Rogs. So Kurt was glad that he was able to grab all the boxes quickly.

"Thank you," said the young Human Debris as he took the boxes from Kurt, all the while keeping his head down, "I need to get going. Thank you again."

And with that, he rushed down the hallway, bringing these mystery boxes to somewhere else on the ship. But Kurt figured that it was none of his business what those boxes were. All that was really his business was piloting, his assigned role on the Mercurial Witch. But those duties were needed as the alarms calling for battle stations came over the speakers.

Luckily for Kurt he was just down the hallway from the hangar. Kurt floated down the hallway as fast as he could, bursting through the doors to the hangar. In the center of the hangar Kurt could see Bosun and Holly, blood floating in front of her. That probably meant that Bosun was in a bad mood. So Kurt tried to sneak past him and float over to his Graze Cosmo.

"Hey, you!" shouted Bosun, "Where the hell were you? You were supposed to be here on standby, not loitering around."

"Sorry boss," Kurt replied, just loud enough for the head of the mobile suit squad to hear.

Kurt hoped that he hadn't been the last pilot to show up, as if he was he could expect a beating when they came back to the ship. But Kurt was used to tolerating beatings, even from before being Human Debris, back at the orphanage.

But Kurt decided to focus on the now, floating up to his Graze. As the cockpit opened, Kurt took a seat in the damaged mobile suit. Clearly Lefty hadn't been able to fully repair his suit as there were several slashes into its armor and the shield on his arm had a large chunk missing.

But Kurt still thought that it was good enough to go back into battle. Just having a Graze at all was better than some other pirates he had seen. It was with this in mind that Kurt connected to his mobile suit through the Alaya Vijinana System. Kurt gasped as he became one with the machine, a jolt of pain traveling down his back.

But then the pain calmed down, just being a dull throbbing in his back. Once again in control of his body, Kurt put his hands on the controls of the mobile suit. As he waited for the order to launch, Kurt vowed that he would survive this, a vow he had repeated many times since being a child.

[Assistant]
After they'd finished their last sortie, Fox had fallen into his usual routine; helping Lefty with repairs. Well, it was less "helping" and more handing the older woman tools as she requested them or holding components in place so they could be more easily worked on. A lack of a proper education limited what the wiry teen could do. Still, no mechanic worth their salt turned down an extra pair of reliable hands.

 When the battle stations alarm rang out, Fox took a couple of moments to ensure that Lefty's tools were properly secured, knowing full well how badly the crusty mechanic would chew him out if he let any of her precious equipment float off. Ignoring the usual tit for tat between Holly and Lefty, the teen also seemed to pay the Bosun no mind; though those familiar with the boy's mannerisms would notice the slight tensing of his posture and minute tilt of his head as listened to the older man's movements.

"Tools secured. Moving to station." He announced quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the metallic din of the hanger and the blaring alarm.

 Not waiting for the Bosun's attention to fall on him, Fox gave the securing for the mechanic's tools one last glance before smoothly flipping himself over the edge of the maintenance platform's handrail. Moving with the grace one gained by growing up in space, the teen coiled like a spring against the platform's rim before launching off towards "his" Hugo. The fancy movements the quiet teen's way of "showing off."

 Having pushed off with fair bit more force than necessary, Fox let out a slight grunt as he strained his arm catching the grab handle of the elevated seat of the mobile suit. His momentum arrested, Fox slapped himself into the seat with sleek, deft movements. Connecting the Alaya Vijinana system, the teen quickly brought the mobile suit out of rest mode. With the thrum of systems coming online, the teen jerked from the sudden jarring sensation of the man-machine interface flooding his senses with input. A feral, half-snarl, half-smile pulled at the boy's lips. The fox had his fangs once more.


[System]
A G E:
22

A P P E A R A N C E:
A skyscraper of a Japanese woman, Aya stands at around 5'9. Her hair is soft and thick, and her eyes are quite thin and sharp. There's also a small beauty spot at the bottom of her lip. Funnily enough, her eyebrows are quite thin, something her friends usually tease her for.

H E I G H T:
5'9

W E I G H T:
132 lbs

L I K E S:
Reading
Racoons
Spicy food
Scaring away flocks of pigeons (when there's no one around, of course.)
Writing
Taking walks in the park
Playing with her trusty guitar/keyboard
Chewing pencils gum

D I S L I K E S:
Beaches (or more specifically, sand)
Sweet food
Heavy rain
Aeroplanes (Lord she's terrified of 'em)
The deep end of the swimming pool (or the fucking sea)
Getting lost in the middle of nowhere
Lettuce (there's a story behind that)
Writing that's way too small to read

P A R T Y T R I C K:
Aya can play the guitar and the piano very well. Also, force her into a karaoke night and she'll destroy any singer who dares to cross her path.

O C C U P A T I O N:
Aya is a barista at Mochavine Café & Bar. Once every other week she'll even perform there with her trusty guitar, playing simple tunes to liven up the café and earn herself some extra cash.

P E R S O N A L I T Y:
Although her job requires her to be as sociable and well-mannered as possible, Aya is a generally aloof person in other social situations. She appears to be the calm and level-headed type, but she is, in reality, a firework waiting to be set off. Stubborn and having a no-nonsense and blunt attitude, Aya doesn't really attract much positive attention. She has a very sarcastic sense of humour and usually comes off as unapproachable and intimidating, even if she's really doing her best not to. And of course she knows that getting mad at the slightest things or the stupidest of peoples isn't always wise. Sometimes, it just sort of... happens.

But past events haven't just shaped her into the woman she appears to be today. Aya's had her not-so-good moments, and right now she seems to be in the midst of a very big one. She's confused, she's stressed, and the only way she's able to handle it is to bottle everything up and end up acting like an ass to everybody. She doesn't necessarily want to act like this towards her friends and other people, but sometimes, just like her short temper, it just sort of happens.

Aya may be a bit difficult to understand and talk to, but she's just looking for people she can rely on and people she can be happy with. It's going to be hard to get her out of that awkward, angry shell of hers, but even Aya is seeking to change that for the better.

B I O:
Ever since not so little Aya was born, her single mother had always been struggling to keep their lives together. From their apartment to their bookstore that was barely standing on its feet financially, the first few years of Aya's time walking on Earth was a hard time for her mother. However, not wanting her child to be affected by such things, a smile would cover her stress, and laughter would conceal her sadness. Aya was still young then, so she never really noticed.

Then, in her first year of high school, her mother fell ill after overworking herself. It would take about a month or so for her to fully recover, but that month would be the time where Aya realised what her mother had been going through the second she was born. It was painful to discover such things at a time of bleakness and distress. It was the first time when Aya had felt like such a great burden, and she wanted to do anything that would stop her from being one.

Aya had a deep passion for writing short stories, and an even deeper passion for creating her own music ever since childhood, but the realisation that those music lessons and idly daydreaming about new story ideas was taking a toll on her mother's health, their money, and her own school grades was boiling an inner conflict within her. All that time she could have spent doing something productive like getting a part time job or putting more effort into studying more academic subjects, wasted. At that time, it seemed that Aya had been chasing her dreams of becoming a writer or a musician without considering the negative consequences at all. Would it be enough to fill Aya's pockets when she desperately needed it? Going for a much more 'praised' job would have been, well, better, right?

Then, the time finally came for the two to part ways. Aya would have to make her own breakthrough into the real world, leaving her mother behind with extra space in the house and more money to spend and leaving herself filled with worry concern. Weekly phone calls would become a thing once Aya had moved in elsewhere, and the only thing the woman hoped for was that her mother would pick up every single time she called.

---

---

---

---

[User]
Michel Montmartre (Tiny Snowflake Restaurant, 9:00PM)

Michel found himself outside the Tiny Snowflake Restaurant. It was much later than he would have liked to be having dinner, but the sealing around one of the tanks had started leaking, so the fish had to be moved to a temporary holding container, the tank drained and dried, fresh sealing applied and dried, the tank refilled, and the fish returned, forcing Michel to put in overtime. Fortunately, the Tiny Snowflake was still open. He had come here a few times with his mother, but there was still plenty on the menu he hadn't tried yet. Currently, Mrs. Montmartre was out-of-town, visiting family, a luxury she didn't have the time for while she was busy raising Michel, but now that Michel could take care of himself and earn a living, she had more time and resources to make such visits.

Upon entering, the waitress at the door led him to a table and handed Michel a menu to peruse. Looking around, Michel could see that most of the dinner crowd had already left, but a few tables still had couples chatting and drinking. Suddenly the table he sat at felt overly large, and the fact that he was the only one at the restaurant dining by himself pressed on his mind. He tried to brush the thought away by looking through the menu, though he quickly decided on the 'Sushi Sampler', which included a variety of sushis for him to try. It was a bit pricey, but he wanted to indulge himself tonight to take his mind off of the oppressive loneliness he told himself he didn't feel. One might also wonder, "Michel, you work at an aquarium. How can you stand to eat raw fish?" Michel didn't have a proper answer to that question, only that nature was nature and biology was biology. Even cute fishes eat other cute fishes, so there wasn't anything necessarily wrong about it as long as humans weren't excessive in their consumption of natural resources. That's one thing he truly loved about Shine City; it was forward thinking and conscious of the human impact on the environment, and promoted businesses that were sustainable or engaged in fair trade practices. Michel mentally scoffed at himself, there he goes again, thinking about socioeconomics. He sighed, was there any wonder he was eating alone?

[Assistant]
Lydia Evangeline

---

As she waited for her steak to be served, Lydia's eyes couldn't help wandering around the restaurant. The place seemed to be mostly empty tonight, perhaps thanks to the heavy rain from before. Looking at her table, she couldn't help but feel a little lonely as she was sitting alone in an empty table like this.

Perhaps I should join another...

Her eyes soon fell upon what seemed to be a young man sitting alone in his table. Looking at his expression, he seemed to be feeling lonely as well.

Perhaps it would be a good idea for her to join him.

She rose from her table. Slowly, she walked to where he was sitting, not wanting to alarm him with her presence.

"Hello there. May I sit here with you?" she addressed him gently. If he were to look at her face now, he would only find her usual neutral gaze instead of a smile.

It couldn't be helped. Lydia was never that good in social interactions. It was difficult for her to force a smile. She felt her smile would just end up terrifying instead of heartwarming.

Algorithm

[User]
Booker, Mochavine Café

Book breathed a internal sigh of relief as it seemed that the raven haired barista was not all that put off by his little lapse in attention. The lumbering lug had long since lost count of the amount of times that his wandering mind had left him standing rather dumbfounded in front of many a poor bewildered soul, most of which did not appreciate a blank faced mountain of a man just towering before them. Regardless Book pulled out his wallet and paid for the drink and muffins, throwing in a tip a too. "Thank you ma'am and I hope you have your self a great day." Book said as he offered a warm smile to the young lady and picked up the muffins and started to head back to the table. "Well ma'am you have one frappachino on the way as promised." He said with a chuckle as he sat across from Sayri, setting one of the muffins down in front of her. "And a little somethin' extra." Book laughed before he took a bite of his own muffin. It didn't take long for the behemoth to swallow his mouthful of muffin and turn his attention back to Sayri. "I can't promise anythin' ma'am, but you said you had some questions and I would be more than happy to answer them for you." He said as he dawned his usual warm smile.

---

Booker, Fire It Up!

The roar of fire pit, the sizzling sounds as grease meets flame, the smell of a plethora of grilled meats, Book loved it all. Book had had quite the pleasant day; he had a great match with Arty, enjoyed a relaxing walk through the city, grabbed some good coffee, and even got to meet one of Shine City's celebrities. But all of it was leading to this, where he gets to shine. Despite his large size Book moved swiftly around the kitchen, switching between dozens of different meals like a breeze. His hands practically danced as he diced, chopped, flipped, and seasoned the food of the hungry awaiting diner crowd. This was what made Book's day, being in his kitchen where he got to lose himself in the flow. With the current crowd Book had no problem being able to get into a nice groove as he prepped the food, a giant grin on his face as he did so.

[Assistant]
• Working at Mochavine •

---

Although Aya wanted to be sleeping in bed more than anything else right now, the tunes she played on her guitar were keeping her awake and in a more relaxed state of mind than usual. The slight sensation she felt against her nails as she strummed the metal strings, the way she slowly and subtley swayed her head to the song she played, playing the guitar or the piano had an unusual way of calming Aya down regardless of how terrible her emotional state was at the time. It was nice, being able to distract herself from her real life troubles for a bit.

About half an hour through her prolonged work shift, Aya was already getting tired. She would totally kill for a slice of some sponge cake right now.

In the middle of one of her longer songs, Aya decided to get a quick bite to eat after she had finished with a couple more songs. She thought she was deserving of some nice food after working an amazing ten hour shift within the confines of this café, so she was going to treat herself during her ten minute break.

As she brought the song to an end, Aya was greeted with a small applause from a customer just a few feet away. She was surprised, to say the least. She assumed that some of the customers in Mochavine held some sort of appreciation for her acoustic background music, but Aya wasn't sure if there was ever a time when a customer decided to outwardly express their fondness for her performances. Repeatedly, as well. As she continued onto the next song, all Aya could do was get all heated and flustered and embarrassed because hey, someone seemed to actually enjoy her music. Aya cursed her pale skin and genetics, because even without a mirror she could tell that she was now redder than a crate of tomatoes. And she hated tomatoes.

Once she finished her final song before she took a ten minute break, the customer clapped again, and Aya's face reddened. Over the years Aya had grown more confident in playing in front of others, but for some reason, being applauded for her performances was always a surprise to her. If she were even more confident in her social interaction skills, Aya would probably say a small thank you to the customer for actually clapping for her.

But then again, it was only one person. Maybe that one person was only clapping out of sympathy, because no one else seemed to be showing the any remote interest in she was doing. Maybe it was what Aya assumed earlier, that they simply decided to appreciate her music in silence. But what if they didn't really appreciate her music at all? Was there any point of her taking extra time out of her evening to play some cute songs on her guitar then? Was it because her performances were bad, or the other performers that came during the week were just much better than her? Did they not like her music? Was she selfish for even thinking about this? Was the one woman sitting to her right really just clapping out of mere sympathy–

As Aya stood up to go get some much needed cake, she hit her foot against her stool, right in the view of her loyal clapper. She flushed an even brighter red than she did a few minutes ago, pacing towards the café counter to order her fucking cake.

One of Aya's barista buddies saw her little screw up, and laughed. She also saw that her face was redder than a garden of tomatoes, and proceeded to tease the young woman about it as she cut some sponge cake for her. Aya was not happy.

After a brief exchange of curse words and colourful language, Aya was back on her stool, gobbling down her sponge cake and filling her empty pit of a stomach. One delicious slice, and Aya wasn't hungry for the rest of the night. She felt a bit better now, less angry and flustered than she was a few minutes ago.

In preparation for the next song, Aya had to do some major retuning on her guitar. As she was doing so, for the briefest moment, her eyes met with the woman that had so very kindly been clapping after each performance she did, and Aya felt her face redden much more than what most would've considered healthy.